"A _little_ learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: These shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again."

The editors of public journals are, in many instances, men of education and highly respectable abilities--men of taste and learning--men of integrity, and refinement, cherishing a just regard for the rights of individuals, and of the community. There is a very different cla.s.s of men, who, however incompetent to improve the minds or the manners of the public, have a small smattering of knowledge; hold a reckless, rapid pen; and, by the aid of the scavengers, whom they employ, to rake the gutters for slander and obscenity, cater, daily, to the foulest appet.i.tes of mankind. There are some, who descend not thus, to the very nadir of all filth and corruption, but whose columns, nevertheless, are ever open, like the mouths of so many _cloacae_, for the filthy contributions of every dirty depositor; and who are ever on hand, like the Scotch cloak-man, in _Auld Reekie_, to serve the occasions of a customer.

The very phraseology of the craft has a tendency to the amplification of an editor; and to give confirmation to the confidence of ignorance. The broken merchant, the ambitious weaver, the briefless lawyer, the literary tailor are speedily sunk, in "_we_," and "_our sheet_," and "_our columns_," and "_our-self_."

This confidence of ignorance has rarely been manifested, more extensively, upon any occasion, than in connection with the indictment, trial, and condemnation of Dr. Webster, for the murder of Dr. George Parkman.

The indictment was no sooner published, than three _religious_ journals began to criticise this _legal_ instrument, which had been carefully, and, as the decision of the learned Chief Justice and of the Court has decided, sufficiently, prepared, by the Attorney General of the Commonwealth. This indictment contained several counts, a thing by no means unusual, the object of which is well understood, by professional men. "If the crime was committed with a knife, or with the fists, how could it be committed with a hammer?" It would not be an easy task to convince these worthy ministers of the Gospel, how exceedingly ridiculous such commentaries appear, to men of any legal knowledge.

Judge, Jurymen, and Counsellors are severely censured, for the parts they have borne, in the trial and condemnation of Dr. Webster. By whom? By the editors of certain far-away journals, upon the evidence, _as it has reached them_. The evidence has been very variously reported. A portion of the evidence, however deeply graven upon the hearts, and minds, and memories of the highly respectable jury, and of the court, and of the mult.i.tude, present at the trial, is, from its peculiar nature, not transferable. I refer to the appearance, the air, the manner, the voice of the prisoner, especially, when, in opposition to the advice of his counsel, he fatally opened his mouth, and said precisely nothing, that betokened innocence.

I do not believe there was ever, in the United States, a more impartial trial, more quietly conducted, than this trial of Dr. Webster. Party feeling has had no lot, nor share, in this matter. The whole dealing has been calmly and confidingly surrendered to the laws of the land. With scarcely an exception, from the moment of arrest to the hour of trial, the public journals, in this vicinity, have borne themselves, with great forbearance to the prisoner. The family connexions of Dr. Parkman have held themselves scrupulously aloof, unless summoned to bear witness to facts, within their knowledge.

It has been a.s.serted, in one or more journals, that even the body of Dr.

Parkman has not been discovered. The reply is short, and germain--the coroner's jury, twenty-four grand jurors, and twelve jurors in the Supreme Judicial Court have decided, that the mutilated remains were those of the late George Parkman; and that John White Webster was his murderer; and the Court has gravely p.r.o.nounced the opinion, that the verdict is a righteous verdict, and in accordance with the law and the evidence. This opinion appears to meet with a very general, affirmative response, in this quarter. The jury--and the members of that panel, one and all, after twelve days' concentration of thought, upon this solemn question of life and death, appear to have been conscientious men--the jury have not recommended the prisoner, as a person ent.i.tled to mercy.

In view of all this, the editor of a distant, public journal may be supposed to entertain a pretty good opinion of his qualifications, who ventures to p.r.o.nounce his ex-cathedral decree, either that Dr. Webster is innocent, or, if guilty, that, on technical grounds, he has been illegally convicted. There is something absolutely melancholy in the contemplation of such presumption as this. But, under all the circ.u.mstances of this heart-sickening occurrence, it is impossible to behold, without a smile, the extraordinary efforts of some exceedingly benevolent people, in the city of New York, who are circulating a pet.i.tion to the Governor of Ma.s.sachusetts, not merely for a commutation of punishment, but for a pardon. This, to speak of it forbearingly, may be safely catalogued among the works of supererogation.

If the Governor of Ma.s.sachusetts needs any guidance from man, upon the present occasion, his Council is at hand. The highest judicial tribunal of the Commonwealth, entirely approving the verdict of an impartial and intelligent jury, has sentenced Dr. Webster to be hung, for a murder, as foul and atrocious, as was ever perpetrated, within the borders of New England. Talents, education, rank aggravate the criminality of the guilty party. "To kill a man, upon sudden and violent resentment, is less penal than upon cool deliberate malice."

If there be any substantial reasons, for pardon or commutation of punishment--any new matter, which has not been exhibited, before the court and jury--those reasons will be duly weighed--that matter will be gravely considered, by the Governor and Council. But, if the objections to the execution of the sentence, upon the present occasion, rest upon any imaginary misdirection, on the part of the Court, or any misunderstanding, on the part of the jury, those objections must be unavailing. After a careful comparison of the evidence, in the case of Dr. Webster, with the evidence, in the case of Jason Fairbanks, who was executed, for the murder of Betsy Fales, the _concatena_--the chain of circ.u.mstances--seems even less perfect in the latter case. Yet, after sentence, in that memorable trial, Chief Justice Dana, who sat in judgment, upon that occasion, was reported to have said, that he believed Fairbanks to be the murderer, more firmly, upon the evidence before the court, than he should have believed the very same thing, upon the evidence of his own eyesight, in a cloudy day--the first could not have deceived him--the latter might.

If an application, for pardon or commutation, be grounded, on the objection to all capital punishment, that objection has been too recently disposed of, in the case of Washington Goode. The majesty of the law, the peace of society, the decree of Almighty G.o.d call for impartial justice--WHOSO SHEDDETH MAN'S BLOOD BY MAN SHALL HIS BLOOD BE SHED!

With the eye of mercy turned upon all--aye upon all--who have any relation to the murderer, the better course is Christian submission to the decrees of G.o.d and man. What may be the value of a few more years of misery and contempt! G.o.d's high decree, that the murderer shall die, is merciful and just. His judgment upon Cain was far more severe--not that he should die--but _that he should live_!--that he should walk the earth, and wear the brand of terrible distinction forever--"_And now thou art cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand. When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength; a fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be upon the earth.

And Cain said unto the Lord, my punishment is greater than I can bear.

Behold thou hast driven me out, this day, from the face of the earth; and from thy face shall I be hid; and I shall be a fugitive and a vagabond in the earth; and it shall come to pa.s.s, that every one that findeth me shall slay me. And the Lord said unto him, therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him seven fold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any one finding him should slay him._"

No. Lx.x.xVII.

It may be said of a proud, poor man--especially, if he be a fearless, G.o.dless man, as Dirk Hatteraick said of himself, to Glossin--that he is "_dangerous_." It is quite probable, there are men, even in our own limited community, of an hundred and thirty thousand souls, who would rather die an easy death, than signify abroad their inability to maintain, any longer, their expensive relations to the fashionable world.

What will not such a man occasionally do, rather than submit gracefully, under such a trial, to the will of G.o.d? He will beg, and he will borrow--he will lie, and he will steal. Is there a crime, in the decalogue, or out of it, which he will not, occasionally, perpetrate, if its consummation be likely to save him from a confession of his poverty, and from ceasing to fill his accustomed niche, in the _beau monde_? Not one--_no, not one_!

Well may we, who profess to be Republicans, adopt the wisdom and the words of Montesquieu--"_The less luxury there is in a Republic, the more it is perfect. * * * * Republics end with luxury._"

A significant ill.u.s.tration of these remarks will readily occur, to every reader of American History, in the conduct and character of Benedict Arnold. Among the dead, who, with their own hands, have prepared themselves graves of infamy, there are men of elevated rank, who have made shipwreck of the fairest hopes, in a similar manner. But, far in advance of them all, Arnold is ent.i.tled to a terrible preeminence.

The last turn of the screw crushes the victim--it is the last feather, say the Bedouins, that breaks the camel's back--and the train, which has been in gradual preparation for many years, may be exploded, in an instant, by a very little spark, at last.

There are periods, in the lives of certain individuals, when, upon the approach of minor troubles--baleful stars, doubtless, but of the third or fourth magnitude--it may be said, as Rochefoucault said of the calamities of our friends, that there is something in them, not particularly disagreeable to us. A man, whose afflictions, especially when self-induced, are chafing, at every turn, against his already lacerated pride, and who is seeking some apology, for deeds of desperation, often discovers, with a morbid satisfaction, in some petty offence, or imaginary wrong, ample excuse, for deeds, absolutely d.a.m.nable.

Such were the influences, at work, in the case of Benedict Arnold. In 1780, in obedience to the sentence of a court martial, he was reprimanded by the Commander-in-Chief; but in terms so highly complimentary, that it is impossible to read them, without a doubt, whether this official reprimand were a crown of thorns, or a crown of glory. At that very time, Arnold's pecuniary embarra.s.sments were overwhelming. Without the rightful means of supporting a one-horse chaise, he rattled up and down, in the city of Philadelphia, in a chariot and four. The splendid mansion, which he occupied, had, in former times, been the residence of the Penns. Here he gave a sumptuous repast to the French amba.s.sador, and entertained the minister and his suite, for several days.

Hunger, it is said, will break through stone walls; even this is a feeble ill.u.s.tration of that force and energy, which characterized Arnold's _pa.s.sion_ for parade. To support his career of unparalleled extravagance and folly, he resorted to stratagems, which would have been contemptible, in a broker of the lowest grade--petty traffic and huckstering speculation--the sale of permits, to do certain things, absolutely forbidden--such were among the last, miserable shifts of this "brave, wicked" man, when his conscience came between the antagonist muscles of poverty and pride. For some of these very offences, he had been condemned, by the court martial. Even then, he had secretly become, at heart, a scoundrel and a renegade; and, covertly, under a feigned name, had already tendered his services to the enemy.

The sentence of the court, sheer justice, but so graciously mingled with mercy, as scarcely to wear the aspect of punishment, supplied him with the very thing he coveted--a pretence, for complaining of injustice and oppression. He sought the French amba.s.sador; and, after a plain allusion to his own needy condition, shadowed forth, in language, not to be mistaken, his willingness to become the secret servant of France. The prompt reply of the French minister is of record, most honorable for himself, and sufficiently humiliating to the spirit of the applicant.

The result is before the world--Arnold became a traitor, detested by those, whose cause he had forsaken, and utterly despised by those, whose cause he affected to espouse--trusted by them, only, because they well knew he might safely be employed against an enemy, who would deal with him, if captured, not as a prisoner of war, but as a traitor. I have, thus briefly, alluded to the career of Arnold, only for the purpose of ill.u.s.tration.

No truth is more simple--none more firmly established by experience--none more universally disregarded--than, that the growth of luxury must work the overthrow of a republic. As the largest ma.s.ses are made up of the smallest particles, so the characteristic luxury of a whole people consists of individual extravagance and folly. The ambition to be foremost becomes, ere long, the ruling, and almost universal, pa.s.sion--in still stronger language, "_it is all the rage_." In a certain condition of society, talent takes precedence of virtue, and men would rather be called knaves than fools: and, where luxury abounds, as the poorer and the middling cla.s.ses will imitate the wealthier, there must be a large amount of indebtedness, and many men and women of desperate fortunes. We cannot strut about, in unpaid-for garments, nor ride about, in unpaid-for chariots, nor gather the world together, to admire unpaid-for furniture, without an inward sense of personal degradation.

It would be a poor compliment to our race, to deny the truth of this a.s.sertion. True or false, the argument goes steadily forward--for, if not true, then that callous, case-hardened condition of the heart exists, which takes off all care for the common weal, and turns it entirely upon one's self, and one's own aggrandizement. Nothing can be more destructive of that feeling of independence, which ever lies, at the bottom of republican virtue.

This condition of things is the very hot-bed of hypocrisy,--and it makes the heart a forcing-house, for all the evil and bitter pa.s.sions, envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness. Pastors, of all denominations, may well unite, in the chorus of the churchman's prayer, and cry aloud--_Good Lord deliver us!_

A very fallacious and mischievous estimate of personal array, equipage, and furniture has always given wonderful preeminence to this species of emulation. It is perfectly natural withal. Distinction, of some sort, is uppermost, in most men's minds. It is comforting to many to know there is a _tapis_--"_the field of the cloth of gold_"--on which the wealthy fool is more than a match, for the poor, wise man; and, as this world contains such an overwhelming majority of the former cla.s.s, the ayes have it, and luxury holds on, _vires acquirens eundo_.

None but an idiot will cavil, because a rich man adorns his mansion, with elegance and taste, and receives his friends in a style of liberal hospitality. Even if he go beyond the bounds of republican simplicity, and waste his substance, it matters not, beyond the circle of his creditors and heirs; if the example be not followed by thousands, who are unable, or unwilling, to be edified, by aesop's pleasant fable of the ox and the frog.

But it never can be thus. The machinery is exceedingly simple, in these manufactories, from which men of broken fortunes are annually turned out upon the world.

When once involved in the whirl of fashion, extrication is difficult and painful--the descent is wonderfully easy--_sed revocare gradum_! The maniac hugs not his fetters, more forcibly, than the devotee of fashion clings, with the a.s.sistance, occasionally, of his better half, to his _position in society_.

These remarks are, by no means, exclusively applicable to those, who move in the higher circles. This is a world of gradation, and there are few so humble, as to be entirely without their imitators.

What shall we do to be saved? This anxious inquiry is not always offered, I apprehend, in relation to the concerns of a better world. How often, and how oppressively, the spirit of this interrogatory has agitated the bosom of the impoverished man of fashion! What shall I do to be saved, from the terrible disgrace of being exposed, in the court of fashion, as being guilty of the awful crime of _poverty_, and disfranchised, as one of the _beau monde_? And what will he not do, to work out this species of salvation, with fear and trembling? We have seen how readily, under the influence of pride and poverty, treason may be committed by men of lofty standing. It would be superfluous, therefore, to inquire, if there be any crime, which men, heavily oppressed by their embarra.s.sments, and restrained thereby, from drinking more deeply of that luxury, with which they are already drunk, will hesitate to commit.

No. Lx.x.xVIII.

There is a popular notion, that sumptuary laws are applicable to monarchies--not to republics. The very reverse is the truth. Montesquieu says, Spirit of Laws, book vii. ch. 4, that "_luxury is extremely proper for monarchies, and that, under this government, there should be no sumptuary laws_."

Sumptuary laws are looked upon, at present, as the relics of an age gone by. These laws, in a strict sense, are designed to restrain pecuniary extravagance. It has often been attempted to stigmatize the wholesome, prohibitory laws of the several States, in regard to the sale of intoxicating liquor, by calling them _sumptuary laws_. The distinction is clear--sumptuary laws strike at the root of extravagance--the prohibitory, license laws, as they are called, strike, not only at the root of extravagance, but at the root of every crime, in the decalogue.

The _leges sumptuariae_ of Rome were numerous. The Locrian law limited the number of guests, and the Fannian law the expense, at festivals. The Didian law extended the operation of all these laws over Italy.

The laws of the Edwards III., and IV., and of Henry VIII., against shoes with long points, short doublets, and long coats, were not repealed, till the first year of James I. Camden says, that, "in the time of Henry IV., it was proclaimed, that no man should wear shoes, above six inches broad, at the toes." He also states, "that their other garments were so short, that it was enacted, 25 Edward IV., that no person, under the condition of a lord, should wear any mantle or gown, unless of such length, that, standing upright, it might cover his b.u.t.tocks."

Diodorus Siculus, lib. xii. cap. 20, gives an amusing account of the sumptuary laws of Zeleucus, king of the Locrians. His design appears to have been to accomplish his object, by casting ridicule upon those practices, against which his laws were intended to operate. He decreed, that no free woman should have more than one maid to follow her, unless she was drunk; nor should she stir out of the city by night, nor wear jewels of gold, or an embroidered gown, unless she was a professed strumpet. No men, but ruffians, were allowed to wear gold rings, nor to be seen, in one of those effeminate vests of the manufacture of Miletum.

The very best code of sumptuary laws is that, which may be found in the common sense of an enlightened community. Nothing, that I have ever met with, upon this subject, appears more just, than the sentiments of Michael De Montaigne, vol. i. ch. 43--"The true way would be to beget in men a contempt of silks and gold, as vain and useless; whereas we add honor and value to them, which sure is a very improper way to create disgust. For to enact, that none but princes shall eat turbot, nor wear velvet or gold lace, and interdict these things to the people, what is it, but to bring them into greater esteem, and to set every one more agog to eat and wear them?"

No truth has been more amply demonstrated, than that a republic has more to fear from internal than from external causes--less from foreign foes, than from enemies of its own household.

To the ears of those, who have not reflected upon the subject, it may sound like the croaking note of some ill boding _ab ilice cornix_--but I look upon extravagant parade, and princely furniture of foreign manufacture, the introduction of courtly customs, transatlantic servants in livery, _et id genus omne nugarum_, as so many premonitory symptoms of national evil--as part and parcel of that luxury, which may justly be called the gangrene of a republic.

But does any one seriously fear, that an extravagant fandango, now and then, will lead to revolution, or produce a change in our political inst.i.tutions? Probably not. But it will provoke a spirit of rivalry--of emulation, not unmingled with bitterness, and which will cost many an aspirant a great deal more, than he can afford. It will lead the community to turn their dwellings into baby houses, and to gather vast a.s.semblies together, not for the rational purposes of social intercourse, but for the purpose of exhibiting their costly toys and imported baubles. It will tend to harden the heart; and render us more and more insensible to the cries of the poor; for whose keen occasions we cannot afford one dollar, having, just then, perhaps, invested a thousand, in some glittering absurdity. It will, ultimately, produce numerous examples of poverty, and fill the community with desperate men.

The line of distinction, between the liberality of a patrician and the flashy, offensive ostentation of a parvenu, at Rome, or at Athens, was as readily perceived, as the difference between the manners of a gentleman, and those of a clown.