SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON

(1792-1867)

T IS said by one of the biographers of Sir Archibald Alison that between 1842, when his "History of Europe" was completed, and 1867, five hundred and forty-seven thousand volumes of the work had been sold in versions representing the principal languages of Europe as well as Arabic and Hindustani. If his essays, of which three volumes were collected in 1859, do not fully explain this popularity of his history, they show that with his strong conservative prejudices he had an intellect which no prejudice could confine. Though himself an opponent of Democracy for England, his prophecy of its results in America, published in 1835 as a review of De Tocqueville, can be read in the last year of the nineteenth century with admiration for the clearness of its foresight. Alison was willing to concede limitless possibilities to "democratic vigor duly coerced by patrician power," and in his own edition of the essay he italicized the qualifying clause.

He was born December 29th, 1792, from a distinguished Scottish family. his father, Rev. Archibald Alison, author of "The Nature and Principles of Taste," being an author of wide reputation in his own generation. Educated at Edinburgh University, the younger Alison showed there the taste for the great Greek poets which appears in his essay on "Homer, Dante, and Michael Angelo." He was admitted to the bar, and in 1822 became one of the four "advocates depute" for Scotland. His essays on the "Criminal Law of Scotland" won him the admiration and patronage of Sir Robert Peel. After the appearance of his history Lord Derby made him a baronet. He died May 23d, 1867. Besides his essays and his "History of Europe," he published "The Principles of Population," in opposition to Malthus, and other works on historical and political subjects.

I'

THE FUTURE OF AMERICA

F WE examine the history of the world with attention, we shall find that amidst great occasional variations produced by secondary and inferior causes, two great powers have been at work from the earliest times; and, like the antagonist expansive

and compressing force in physical nature, have, by their mutual and counteracting influence, produced the greatest revolutions and settlements in human affairs. These opposing forces are northern conquest and civilized democracy. Their agency appears clear and forcible at the present times, and the spheres of their action are different; but mighty ultimate results are to attend their irresistible operation in the theatres destined by nature for their respective operation.

We, who have, for eighteen years, so invariably and resolutely opposed the advances of democracy, and that equally when it raised its voice aloft on the seat of government, as when it lurked under the specious guise of free trade or liberality, will not be accused of being blinded in favor of its effects. We claim, therefore, full credit for sincerity, and deem some weight due to our opinion, when we assert that it is the great moving power in human affairs, -the source of the greatest efforts of human genius,- and, when duly restrained from running into excess, the grand instrument of human advancement. It is not from ignorance of, or insensibility to, its prodigious effects, that we have proved ourselves so resolute in resisting its undue expansion: it is, on the contrary, from a full appreciation of them, from a thorough knowledge of the vast results, whether for good or evil, which it invariably produces.

It is the nature of the democratic passion to produce an inextinguishable degree of vigor and activity among the middling classes of society- to develop an unknown energy among their widespread ranks-to fill their bosoms with insatiable and often visionary projects of advancement and amelioration, and inspire them with an ardent desire to raise themselves individually and collectively in the world. Thence the astonishing results-sometimes for good, sometimes for evil-which it produces. Its grand characteristic is energy, and energy not rousing the exertions merely of a portion of society, but awakening the dormant strength of millions; not producing merely the chivalrous valor of the high-bred cavalier, but drawing forth "the might that slumbers in a peasant's arm." The greatest achievements of genius, the noblest efforts of heroism, that have illustrated the history of the species, have arisen from the efforts of this principle. Thence the fight of Marathon and the glories of Salamisthe genius of Greece and the conquests of Rome-the heroism of Sempach and the devotion of Haarlem-the paintings of

Raphael and the poetry of Tasso-the energy which covered. with a velvet carpet the slopes of the Alps, and the industry which bridled the stormy seas of the German Ocean - the burning passions which carried the French legions to Cadiz and the Kremlin, and the sustained fortitude which gave to Britain the dominion of the waves. Thence, too, in its wider and unrestrained excesses, the greatest crimes which have disfigured the dark annals of human wickedness—the massacres of Athens and the banishments of Florence—the carnage of Marius and the proscriptions of the Triumvirate-the murders of Cromwell and the bloodshed of Robespierre.

As the democratic passion is thus a principle of such vital and searching energy, so it is from it, when acting under due regulation and control, that the greatest and most durable advances in social existence have sprung. Why are the shores of the Mediterranean the scene to which the pilgrim from every quarter of the globe journeys to visit at once the cradles of civilization, the birthplace of arts, of arms, of philosophy, of poetry, and the scenes of their highest and most glorious achievements? Because freedom spread along its smiling shores; because the ruins of Athens and Sparta, of Rome and Carthage, of Tyre and Syracuse, lie on its margin; because civilization, advancing with the white sails which glittered on its blue expanse, pierced, as if impelled by central heat, through the dark and barbarous regions of the Celtic race who peopled its shores. What gave Rome the empire of the world and brought the venerable ensigns bearing the words, "Senatus populusque Romanus," to the wall of Antoninus and the foot of the Atlas, the waters of the Euphrates and the Atlantic Ocean? Democratic vigor! Democratic vigor, be it observed, duly coerced by patrician power; the insatiable ambition of successive consuls, guided by the wisdom of the senate; the unconquerable and inexhaustible bands which, for centuries, issued from the Roman Forum. What has spread the British dominions over the habitable globe, and converted the ocean into a peaceful lake for its internal carriage, and made the winds the instruments of its blessings to mankind, and spread its race in vast and inextinguishable multitudes through the new world? Democratic ambition; democratic ambition, restrained and regulated at home by an adequate weight of aristocratic power; a government which, guided by the stability of the patrician, but invigorated by the activity of the plebeian race, steadily advanced in conquest,

renown, and moral ascendency, till its fleets overspread the sea, and it has become a matter of certainty, that half the globe must be peopled by its descendants.

The continued operation of this undying vigor and energy is still more clearly evinced in the Anglo-American race, which originally sprung from the stern Puritans of Charles the First's age, which have developed all the peculiarities of the democratic character in unrestrained profusion amidst the boundless wastes which lie open to their enterprise. M. Tocqueville has described, with equal justice and eloquence, the extraordinary activity of these principles in the United States:

"The inhabitants of the United States are never fettered by the axioms of their profession; they escape from all the prejudices of their present station; they are not more attached to one line of operation than to another; they are not more prone to employ an old method than a new one; they have no rooted habits, and they easily shake off the influence which the habits of other nations might exercise upon their minds, from a conviction that their country is unlike any other, and that its situation is without a precedent in the world. America is a land of wonders, in which everything is in constant motion, and every movement seems an improvement. The idea of novelty is there indissolubly connected with the idea of amelioration. No natural boundary seems to be set to the efforts of man; and what is not yet done is only what he has not yet attempted to do." From a review of De Tocqueville.

NE

HOMER, DANTE, AND MICHAEL ANGELO

EVER did artist work with more persevering vigor than Michael Angelo. He himself said that he labored harder for fame than ever poor artist did for bread. Born of a noble family, the heir to considerable possessions, he took to the arts from his earliest years from enthusiastic passion and conscious power. During a long life of ninety years, he prosecuted them with the ardent zeal of youth. He was consumed by the thirst for fame, the desire of great achievements, the invariable mark of heroic minds; and which, as it is altogether beyond the reach of the great bulk of mankind, so is the feeling of all others which to them is most incomprehensible. Nor was that noble enthusiasm without its It was his extraordinary good fortune to be called to

reward.

form, at the same time, the "Last Judgment" on the wall of the Sistine Chapel, the glorious dome of St. Peter's, and the group of "Notre Dame de Pitié," which now adorns the chapel of the Crucifix, under the roof of that august edifice. The "Holy Family" in the Palazzo Pitti at Florence, and the "Three Fates" in the same collection, give an idea of his powers in oil painting; thus he carried to the highest perfection, at the same time, the rival arts of architecture, sculpture, fresco, and oil painting. He may truly be called the founder of Italian painting, as Homer was of the ancient epic, and Dante of the great style in modern poetry. None but a colossal mind could have done such things. Raphael took lessons from him in painting, and professed through life the most unbounded respect for his great preceptor. None have attempted to approach him in architecture; the cupola of St. Peter's stands alone in the world.

But notwithstanding all this, Michael Angelo had some defects. He created the great style in painting, a style which has made modern Italy as immortal as the arms of the legions did the ancient. But the very grandeur of his conceptions, the vigor of his drawing, his incomparable command of bone and muscle, his lofty expression and impassioned mind, made him neglect, and perhaps despise, the lesser details of his art. Ardent in the pursuit of expression, he often overlooked execution. When he painted the "Last Judgment" or the "Fall of the Titans" in fresco, on the ceiling and walls of the Sistine Chapel, he was incomparable; but that gigantic style was unsuitable for lesser pictures or rooms of ordinary proportions. By the study of his masterpieces, subsequent painters have often been led astray; they have aimed at force of expression to the neglect of delicacy in execution. This defect is, in an especial manner, conspicuous in Sir Joshua Reynolds, who worshiped Michael Angelo with the most devoted fervor; and through him it has descended to Lawrence, and nearly the whole modern school of England. When we see Sir Joshua's noble glass window in Magdalen College, Oxford, we behold the work of a worthy pupil of Michael Angelo; we see the great style of painting in its proper place, and applied to its appropriate object: but when we compare his portraits, or imaginary pieces, in oil, with those of Titian, Velasquez, or Vandyke, the inferiority is manifest. It is not in the design, but the finishing; not in the conception, but the execution. The colors are frequently raw and harsh; the details or distant parts of the piece