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I feel his presence now,

Thou mightiest of his vassals, as I stand
And watch beside thee, on the sparkling sand,
Thy crested billows bow ;-

And as thy solemn chaunt swells through the air,
My spirit bows and joins thy ceaseless prayer.

Life's fitful fever o'er,

Here, then, would I repose, majestic Sea;
E'en now faint glimpses of Eternity

Come o'er me on thy shore;

My thoughts from thee to highest themes are given,
As thy deep, distant blue is lost in heaven.

LINES,

TO ONE WHO WISHED TO READ SOME LINES I HAD WRITTEN.

BY MISS ANNE C. LYNCH.

NAY, read it not, thou wouldst not know
What lives within my heart;

For from that fount it dares not flow,-
'Tis but the voice of Art.

I ne'er could bid my proud heart speak
Before the idle throng;

Rather in silence would it break
With its full tide of song.

Yes, rather would it break, than bare
To cold and careless eyes,

The hallowed dreams that linger there,
The tears and agonies.

My lyre is skilful to repress

Each deep, impassioned tone;

Its gushing springs of tenderness
Would flow for one alone.

The rock that to the parching sand
Would yield no dewy drop,
Touched by the pilgrim prophet's hand,
Gave all its treasures up.

My heart then is my only lyre;
The Prophet hath not spoken,
Or warmed it with celestial fire,
So let its chords be broken.

I would not thou should'st hear those lays,
Though harsh they might not be,

Though thou perchance might'st hear and praise,
They would not speak of me.

Providence, R. I.

A PROTEST

OF FOURIERISM AGAINST THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE DEMOCRATIC REVIEW*:-In the article on Brook Farm, in the last Number of the Democratic Review, Mr. Brownson has preferred charges against Fourier's doctrine of Association, which are not only unjust and ungenerous, but which, coming from the able and distinguished source they do, and being widely spread through the columns of a work so influential and respectable, are calculated to excite the most unjust and injurious prejudices against Fourier and his sublime discovery. As Mr. Brownson confesses that he " has not as yet been able to submit to the drudgery of fully mastering the system of Fourier," I might feel justified in simply remarking, in the place of argument, that it is then highly unfair on the part of any writer to undertake to criticise facts of which he avows the deficiency of his own knowledge. Indeed, I shall not take this opportunity of proving to Mr. Brownson the unfairness and utter groundlessness of his charges against Fourier: I shall do so in a work on Swedenborg and Fourier, which I intend to publish in a short time, in which the attempt will be made to demonstrate to all the defamers of Fourier's great System of Association, that " Fourierism," instead of being "practical atheism," is living Christianity. For the present I must content myself with giving Mr. Brownson's and all similar charges against Fourier's doctrine of Association a full and unqualified denial. What, sir, is it possible that misguided brilliancy of intellect should err so far as to accuse of atheism a man who, solitary and alone, has dared to proclaim to hs dis

tracted and wretched fellow men, that God's providence rules all things, even the minutest particulars of man's domestic affairs? Has it come to this, that the man whose life has been a life of the noblest charity, and of intense communion with the Spirit of Truth and Holiness,-that the man who gloried in his discovery of the only true doctrine of Association, for no other reason but because he knew and felt that the ultimate result of its realisation will be "love to God and charity to man," is it possible, I ask, that such a martyr of true Christianity should be thus branded with atheism by men who advance a claim, extensively recognized by the higher intelli gence of the day, as philosophers and philanthropists? I am unwilling to speak of the injustice of which I complain, in terms equivalent to my own strong and earnest sense of it. If Mr. Brownson errs in regard to the scien tific portion of Fourier's system,--if, after a careful investigation of the facts of the system, Mr. Brownson feels authorized to consider it in a different light from the disciples of Fourier, any opponent of kindred worth and they will be prepared to meet him, or powers, in fair and legitimate argument. If, from the little acquaintance he seems to possess with Fourier's sys tem, Mr. Brownson feels authorized to infer that Fourier denies the progress of humanity, I take much pleasure in assuring him, and every reader influenced by his statement, that he is entirely mistaken. Fourier and his disciples show with mathematical precision that without the moral and intellectual development of humanity, such

* Although contrary to a rule rarely if ever departed from, of not making the pages of this Review a mere arena for the controversies of antagonist theories, strangers to its editorial control, yet, under the peculiar circumstances in which the justice is requested at our hands of publishing this Protest, or remonstrance against incorrect imputations, proceeding from a respectable school of opinion, feeling itself aggrieved and injured, we have not felt at liberty to decline its insertion. We deem it unnecessary to point out the particulars in which the writer misapprehends the proper meaning and scope of the remarks of which he complains, as our readers are in full possession of all the means of judgment for themselves.-Ed. D. R.

as has taken place, and is taking place up to the present moment, the doctrine of Association could not have been discovered, and could still less be realized. If Mr. Brownson understands by Progress a continuation of our present in coherent and complicated system of society, he is perfectly right in asserting that Fourier and his disciples deny that Progress. If, however, he understands by Progress a movement onward towards the realisation of universal education, justice, liberty, and truth in one word, of universal and practical Christianity-he and Fourier agree perfectly in their ideas; and all that the disciples of the latter pretend is nothing more nor less than that the doctrine of Association teaches, in a positive and scientific manner, how that only true Progress can be realized. As to the perfection of human nature, Fourier simply pretends to have discovered (and at a future period I hope to prove to Mr. Brownson's satisfaction the correctness of that discovery) that every human soul is a passional organism, a complex of twelve impulses which Fourier terms Passions; of the five Sensitive Passions-the five senses; the four Affective Passions-Love, Friendship, Ambition, and Paternity; and of the three Regulating Passions Alternation, Emulation, and Enthusiasm; all of which Passions are ramifications of one common Pivot, called Unityism or Religion. According to Fourier those twelve passions are constantly stimulating man to action, and will sooner or later arrange the social world harmoniously to their natures and their relations to each other. Until this result is accomplished, the isolated development of a single passion will lead man to material and spiritual disorder. Religion, without the cheering influence of Love, Friendship, and Ambition, will degenerate into cold and despicable egotism; Ambition, without Religion and Love, will engender the selfish desire of dominion; Love and Friendship, without Ambition, will lead to the petty spirit of the family caste. Alternation, or the desire of change, will lead to fickleness; isolated Enthusiasm will engender fanaticism and rash and violent deeds; and Emulation, without her sister passions, will realize that competitive spirit of Civilisation which is the warfare of satanic spirits upon earth. But by

VOL. XI.-NO. LIV.

82

the collective and simultaneous development of those seven divine tendencies, which constitute the Essential life of the soul, the passions would be equilibrated among themselves, and the excessive expansion of each would be checked, as it were, by a mutual agreement, and without infringing upon the absolute liberty of any. The harmonious and continual development of the twelve passions constitutes the true, the essential freedom of man. Bossuet has given an analysis of the passions, but it is incomplete on the face of it; Fourier's analysis is true; it dethrones all metaphysical sophisms and the fawning and lying bel esprit of Civilisation. Does Mr. Brownson identify Progress with the hollow metaphysics of the established schools, the shallow speeches of politicians, and the exuberant verbiage and high-sounding nonsense of the hired and fawning orators of the day?

As to Mr. Brownson's remarks on woman, they only prove so entire a want of acquaintance with Fourier's views of her nature and true position in society, that I can only commend, both him and the readers of the Democratic Review, to the sources in which they can easily possess themselves of the information necessary to form a judgment entitled to either his own confidence or that of the public.

And what signify those questions in regard to determining and compensating the degrees of skill in a “ Phalanx ?" Does Mr. Brownson mean to argue against facts by pleading ignorant of them? I would repeat the recommendation to study the works of Fourier and his disciples, and all these questions will be found categorically answered. It will there also be learned that Fourier justifies the use of superior skill on the part of any man only so far as he uses it for the benefit of his fellow-creatures; and that, on their part, it is perfectly just and natural that they should consider the man who devotes his skill to bettering their condition and increasing their moral comforts, as a messenger from heaven, and that they should love and respect him more than they love and respect themselves.

One more remark and I have done. If Fourier presents his system as a "scheme of world-reform and of social organization," he does it for good and

substantial reasons. If one single Phalanx exist somewhere on this globe, it will be universally imitated with rapidity and success. Either will the necessity of realizing economies or of procuring good investments for capital, compel men to form Associations; or men will be induced to form similar combined households by the desire of enjoying as much happiness as the members of that first Association; or if such an Association launch upon the market of a city its fourfold increased produce, of the highest beauty, and at twofold reduced prices, the mechanics and cultivators in and around that city will be induced to enter into such associations, by the superior advantages of such an immensely productive power, and the work of reform will go on peaceably, joyfully, and to the universal satisfaction of humanity.

As to the mode in which the transition from Civilisation to Association is to be best effected, the disciples of Fourier, at the same time that they entertain no doubt of the truth of his discovery, yet do not all agree. And while we most respectfully, though not without some feeling of regret and indignation, protest against the unjust treatment here complained of, we invite Mr. Brownson to bring his bold, free, and noble intellect to aid us in discussing this first step towards a realisation of our doctrine; to investigate with us the means best calculated to secure the final triumph of the magnificent and universal philanthropy which, however feebly and unworthily, we do our best to advocate and promote.

New York, Nov. 10, 1842.

C. J. H.

TO A MOUNTAIN TORRENT.

BY MRS. C. M. SAWYER.

FAIR stream of the mountain! with musical flow,
On, on to the ocean thy bright waters go!

Through dark mountain rift, and through evergreen glade,
Now smiling in sunshine, now singing in shade,

Ever foaming and rushing and leaping along,

Thou fillest the glens with thy echoing song!

Ah, well do I love, when some mild autumn day
Invites me along by thy borders to stray,

To seek the green depths of these wilderness shades,
Whose dreamy repose no intruder invades,
Save when some lone bird cometh hither to perch
On the dark waving alders or whispering birch,
Then startle the glen with her long piercing cry,
As she wheels in slow circles far up in the sky!
Here, forgetting the world and its cares and its toil,
Its jarring pursuits and its busy turmoil,
How oft have I lingered long hours by thy side,
To hear the deep voice of thy murmuring tide,

And watch the wild flowers that I flung on thy wave,
Till they vanished, engulphed in that watery grave;

While I thought, "Thus the hopes of our youth's sunny day
By the dark waves of time are swept coldly away!"

Wild, beautiful torrent! the shadows that rest,
In tremulous shapes, on thy turbulent breast,
Are cast by the same grand, old primeval wood,
That ages ago on thy lone bosom stood;-

Ere thy course by the white man was traced, or among
These forests the axe of the emigrant rung!

Yet their boughs are still green, and their trunks are as sound,
As firmly their roots are enchained to the ground,

As in those vanished days when the Indian maid
Beneath their broad arms with her wild lover strayed,-
When the bold, dauntless red man, unconquered and free,
Was lord of these lands from the mount to the sea!
But, alas, for that race!-we now seek them in vain,
In their favorite haunts by the stream and the plain,
They are gone-they are lost-and from mountain to shore,
The track of their footsteps will meet us no more!

But, ha! what strange vision is this I behold!
Methinks from mine eyes a dark curtain hath rolled !
A thin, wavy mist, an impalpable cloud,
Steals over the glen like a tremulous shroud;
And, lo! the pale dead of long centuries, seem
To rise on my sight like the shapes of a dream!

They come from their beds by the stream and the fount,
From the dark waving forest, and wild craggy mount;
They come, the dusk maiden with long raven hair,
And childhood whose breast is a stranger to care!
Yet sad is the brow, and reproachful the eye,

I meet as each shade glideth silently by !

But who are those grim, frowning phantoms, that stand
Glaring on me with upraised and menacing hand?
I know them!-stern sons of that race swept away,
Whose bones the rude ploughman turns up to the day!
They have come back, wild unquiet spirits, once more
To gaze on the fields where they hunted of yore!
They seek their old homes 'mid the wilderness shade,
Where their glad, laughing children in infancy played;
They look for the smoke curling over the wood,
Which told where their wigwams in quietude stood,
Where the dusky wife toiled her rude feast to prepare,
And dress for her hunter the haunch of the bear!
But the wigwam hath vanished, the children no more
Are found in the haunts where they gambolled of yore,
And e'en on the site of their forefathers' graves,

Springs the tall, tasseled broom, and the yellow corn waves!

They turn their eyes burning with wrath and despair,
And pale, gleaming tomahawks flashing in air,

A yell-a swift bound--they are circling my head,

I shriek--I implore--and the vision is fied!

Where am I?--how strangely yon pine branches wave!
Methought I had passed the cold bounds of the grave!
Away!-let me fly from this fearful ravine,
Where visions so dread, so appalling are seen!
Away! lest yon steeps, that far up in the skies
Like giants embattled, on either hand rise,
Close o'er me, and leave me a prey to the wrath
Of the spirits of vengeance that circle my path!
Swift!-swift!-I am free! I emerge from the dell !
Farewell, thou wild torrent! for ever farewell!

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