without control, claims authority to control the will of the subject. Only when law begins to be founded on the immutable principles of right does it become a proper object of reverence. We pass now to the second stage of development, and we find its conditions in the constitutional monarchy. Law is no longer derived from the will of a single individual; a separate source, a higher sanction is recognized. The sovereign still rules, but in conformity to a law placed over him. The moral power of law is here first recognized as a distinct element, though not yet wholly divorced from the physical. The sovereign no longer regarded as the only source of law, still acquires dignity as its representative, and law not yet self-sustaining is strengthened by the dignity of royalty. There remains but one more step to the complete emancipation of law, and this we find in a democratic government. Here the substitution of moral for physical force as the sustaining power of government is complete. The only importance which attaches to the power of the magistrate is conferred upon him by the law which he represents. Thus the growth of this moral power tends inevitably to popularize government. For of these two elements, the moral and physical, one is the complement of the other, sustaining to it an inverse ratio. Any increase of the moral element prepares the way for a corresponding decrease of the physical. But the former is not, like the latter, concentrated in the band of one or more individuals; it is distributed throughout the community. And where the power which sustains government resides, then the authority to exercise it must likewise ultimately reside. The tendency of despotism, on the other hand, is toward centralization, because physical force is incapable of any such distribution. Again, the growth for reverence for law may be seen in the diminished severity of its punishments. The relation of the penalty to the offense is one of the most intricate parts of the whole subject of law. An undue lenity or security will defeat the ends of justice, but the true proportion is often most difficult to determine. From the nature of the case there can be no absolute standard. An ample discretionary power in the hands of the magistrate is alone sufficient to meet the varying requirements of the case. But by what principle is he to be guided in the exercise of the power? The right of society to punish is unquestioned, while the source of this right is a matter of dispute. Some find it in the dictate of self-preservation which animates society; some in its supposed beneficial influence on the offender; the good both of the of fending and injured parties demand it, and this is its warrant. But while the well-being of society and of the individual can in no sense constitute the right, they must constitute the rule or measure of punishment. The law must be vindicated to satisfy the sentiment of injured justice. But the law must also be respected to prevent the repetition of the offense. Punishment thus sustains a two-fold relation; as a satisfaction to justice and a safeguard to society. Among a lawless people the penalties of crime must be severe; the law must be a "terror to evil doers." But when a reverence for law pervades the minds of the community, its rigor may safely be relaxed. Ancient and modern criminal codes become thus an index of the respective states of society. And here, as in government, we find that moral has been superseding physical force. The catalogue of capital offenses has been reduced to two. In some cases even the death penalty has been wholly abolished, and where retained, is stripped of all the barbarity which formerly attended it. The law no longer resorts to ingenious artifices to increase and prolong the torment of its victim, no longer exposes him to the insults of an angry mob, but chooses the most natural and easy way to execute its sentence. The question may here arise, why, as civilization advances, a severer rather than a lighter punishment is not demanded? For not only is the example of crime relatively more injurious, but, also, in the enlightened sense of a cultivated society, there must be a deeper conviction of its guilt. The answer to this is found partly at least in the following considerations. In the first place, the discrepancy is more apparent than real. Legal penalties derive their corrective efficacy not from the absolute, but from the relative distinction which they make between the peaceful and offending citizen. When life, liberty and property are insecure against the attack of the assassin and robber, it matters little that they are occasionally imperiled by law. But in proportion to the security of these rights, any act of law which sacrifices them becomes more solemn. The supremacy of law has made them sacred, and even put it out of its own power to lightly disturb them. Again, modern justice, if less vindictive, is more searching and discriminating. In a rude age, when the relations of society are less numerous and intimate, fewer safeguards are demanded. The law takes cognizance only of graver and more open offenses. But as these relations multiply in number and importance, additional securities are demanded. It is the nature of law to encroach more and more on personal liberty. Acts which in one age pass unreproved, become in the next grave offenses in the eye of the law. Thus by punishing these minor trans gressions, the evils from which greater offenses spring are in a measure corrected the growth of crime is checked in its infancy. Thus in both the defensive and offensive departments of government, in the strength which nerves the arm of justice, and in the sword which it wields, we see the growing importance of moral force. Thus too history works out the problems of destiny. The moral power of law shall go on "conquering and to conquer," till the vision of the poet is realized, "When the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe A. V. N. Conversation Again. "True bliss, if man may reach it, is composed Of hearts in union mutually disclosed; And, farewell else all hope of pure delight, Those hearts should be reclaimed, renewed, upright."—COWPER. In the last number of the Lit. appeared an article on Conversation, presenting views and inculcating sentiments which we cannot regard as otherwise than erroneous in theory and harmful in practice. Accordingly, as nobody else will take up the gauntlet thus thrown down to the lovers of truth and honor, it has fallen to us to expose the fallacy of such opinions, and briefly offer one or two suggestions upon the subject, more, as we think, in accordance with reason. But inasmuch as the author of said article is the Chief Magnate of the Editorial Corporation, (be their name forever exalted,) we shall proceed with our task in the most respectful manner possible. And our readers may imagine us expressing our views to the dignified personage mentioned, with hat in hand, eyes bent upon the ground, and the whole frame in an attitude of profound reverence. Yet we wish to notify him, through the press, that henceforth our conversation with him will be as guarded as possible. For, by his own pen, he has revealed intentions with which we can have no sympathy. If he practice his own preaching, he proposes to analyze our character,-which is no difficult task,-to find out our weak points, and they are many,-and to mould us to his purposes, which, from the methods he recommends to others, we infer to be neither lofty, honorable, nor agreeable. Such an ordeal we have no desire to pass through. But let us consider the object of Conversation, as set forth in the article before us. "We may start by defining the end of rational talking to be instruction, and particularly the analysis of character. This latter is the abso lute and universal foundation, the sine qua non, without which all discoursing is random and futile; here we must begin and here we must end." Then follow a few very just remarks with regard to attaining the end last mentioned. The estimate here placed upon instruction as an object in Conversation, seems to us very fair-far more so than is often presented. It is one of the objects, but not the chief, not that which gives good conversation its character. It is an excellent element, but not an essential one. The highest style of discourse may be carried on, and neither party impart or receive information. Strike the art out of existence. We might know somewhat less, and the less readily too, but the main sources of intelligence, observation, reading, study, lectures, &c., would remain to us, and the great want now felt for the first time in human life, would not be the means of knowledge. The deprivation would strike deeper than the intellect. It would make a desert of the social part of our nature. It is this social element in us, this idea of companionship, this feeling of something in common with others, whence conversation takes its rise. All souls have a common origin, common interests and a common destiny; hence intercourse and communion. It is a law of our being that we must communicate and receive. Daily, hourly, the soul has its message of sympathy to send, its tones of friendship or enmity, of harmony or discord to hear, and conversation is the only means adequate to the end. By it we make others partakers of our joy, give comfort to the sorrowing and administer balm to the afflicted. Yet it is not in these more marked and striking ways that its excellence, value and necessity chiefly appear. But in the thousand little interchanges of every day life in the greeting that reveals kind courtesy-in the passing word that means less than the tones of voice in which it is uttered — in the commonplace observation that only teaches that a soul is opening a door for its own thoughts and ours to commingle-in the sallies of humor that cheer our spirits-and in the spicy remark that stimulates our wits-in these, and in multitudinous other ways, we may see how, as the hours pass on, conversation is blessing our life. Just here becomes evident the part that "analysis of character" plays in this art. It is a means, not an end. This communion of soul with soul, can be carried on only where there is a mutual understanding. Its fullness and freedom is in a great measure determined by the extent of our knowledge of each other. Our sympathy flows only in channels. where we are sure it will be met, and we are sociable only when we have at least something in common with another, and know what that something is. Wherefore it seems to us that the writer in the last number of the Lit. says very truly, "here we must begin," but is grossly mistaken in saying, "here we must end." While the power to read character is indispensable in life, the proposition that the main end of talking with a man is to analyze him and to find him out, needs only to be clearly stated and it refutes itself. Do we never hold sweet and profitable converse with those whom we have understood long and well? However, this ground, though strongly taken, is not maintained throughout the whole of the essay before us. This Polonius betrays on the next page to the one we have quoted from, a desire worthy of the most accomplished politician. Read it! "Having by these and similar means studied your man, you have wherewith to mould him to your purpose." Indeed! "Mould him to your purpose"!!! Is this recommended as an honorable, legitimate use of conversation? Is it fair that each one make his neighbor play second fiddle to himself? That is poor general advice which will not apply to everybody. Suppose every one should attempt to make his acquaintances serve his own selfish ends! What disappointments, bickerings, insufferable jargons, would result! But mark the means. "One of the most powerful aids here is flattery." Flattery! We had supposed it to be mean, utterly contemptible to flatter. It has been our opinion that the man who will condescend to do so, deserves to be deprived of the power to talk at all. But verily we have been mistaken. Here is a new gospel. All moral obligations and high toned honor are stricken out of human intercourse, and smooth, deceitful flattery, which, according to Milton, the Devil had the honor of introducing into Paradise, is set forth in glowing colors and recommended to men. And so immaculate is it in its nature, excellent in influence and effective in operation, that it is all-important, and hence alone receives consideration. Let us pass on. None but a coxcomb "Never flatter a man as you would a woman. will be won by a compliment to his personal appearance, none but a pedant by praise of his learning." Then follow some shrewd remarks to the effect, that flattery should be indirect rather than direct, that the medicine be administered in homoeopathic doses, and so mingled with sweetmeats and the common food of the patient, that he will not suspect its presence. Thus he may take it down, as thousands have arsenic in VOL. XXIII. 6 |