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that it was but momentary,' ' brief and involuntary,' and 'of very brief duration.' Our readers have seen, in Colonel Pickering's letter, that the halt was ordered by Washington; and, so far from being momentary, it continued for nearly half an hour, long enough for the British to form and manœuvre as they chose. These facts destroy the entire foundation of the new theory, for it is perfectly obvious, that this delay was the first and principal cause, if not the only one, of the retreat of Sullivan's division, and thereby the rout of the whole army, by so contagious an example. Had the rear divisions of the army, which were stopped during the conference mentioned above, been brought up immediately to the support of Sullivan, there is every probability, that the action would have terminated very differently, although other causes might have led to a defeat. As things actually turned out, however, it is certain, that the parley at Chew's house was the first and chief cause of the

discomfiture.

Judge Johnson writes with a singular misapprehension of the train of events, as they occurred at this stage of the action. He says, 'It is true, that on reaching Chew's house, Sullivan's column was halted.' Yet it appears from Colonel Pickering's letter, that this is not true at all. Sullivan was several hundred yards in advance of the house, and actually engaged with the enemy, before it was known that any such obstacle existed. And what is still more remarkable, we do not find, that the author has anywhere mentioned the circumstance of the flag of truce, or the death of the brave and unfortunate Lieutenant Smith. Historical justice will hardly excuse such an omission. These incidents militate, to be sure, against the new theory, because they could not have occurred without something more than a brief and involuntary' pause; yet, we suppose, this would hardly be urged as an apology for passing them over.

But we must hasten to a close, having already, as we fear, trespassed unreasonably on the patience of our readers, although several topics have been left untouched. What the author will think of our presumption in questioning his infallibility, or in taking it upon us to point out a few of his mistakes, we cannot say; for he sets himself up very high, quite above the sphere of the common order of writers, shrouding the beams of his countenance in most disastrous eclipse,' frowning terror upon daring critics, and insisting that he is not to be looked at through the same puny optics, and judged by the same rules, as the multiVOL. XXIII. NO. 53.

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tudes, who are clambering up the sides of the mountain of fame, on whose summit he has seated himself with much apparent composure. Unfortunately, we have but one set of optics, through which to view the moving panorama of authors, and if he suffers a diminution by the giddy height to which he has lifted himself up, the fault is not ours. We have seen it hinted, it is true, in a certain quarter, that 'the dignity of the Supreme Federal Court' is likely to be jeoparded, by bringing down a judge from his lofty preeminence, and placing him on the stand of critical investigation, in company with the hackney tribe of scribblers, such as reviewers, poets, essayists, novelists, jinglers of rhyme, oration makers, and the like. The thing does not appear to us in the same light. If a learned judge condescends to write a book, and a great book too, we hold it to be his duty, so far to imitate the virtues of Job, as to bear patiently the inflictions of merciless reviewers. What else are books written for, in these days, but to be reviewed? Not surely to be read. If our author really thinks so, we beg he will forthwith consult his publisher, and see how the supply, in the case of his own work, has corresponded with the demand.

The subject is, moreover, to be viewed under another aspect. We should be the last to speak lightly of dignities, though we do not believe in the divine right of kings, of bishops, or of judges. But the dignity we reverence is that of conduct and character. We consider true dignity to consist in a correct deportment, respect for others, and an upright discharge of duty, in whatever station a person may be placed by Providence. This is the whole amount of dignity. Hence it by no means follows, that he is the most dignified man, who sits in the highest place, any more than he who writes the largest book, or makes the longest speech to the empty seats in Congress hall. In short, there is no connexion between true dignity and station. Particular systems of action are adapted to particular stations, and all that dignity demands is, that these systems be properly applied. He, who misapplies these, is undignified. So a judge may be very dignified, when clothed in his robes, with wisdom on his brow, and thought in his features; but let him dress himself in a cap and bells or act the harlequin in the halls of justice, and the dignity of the judge will be no longer seen. The crier of the court may sustain all suitable dignity, while sitting in the crier's box, but place him on the bench, and he will be instantly transformed into another kind of personage. From these hints we infer, that dignity is not confined to particular professions, nor classes of persons, not even to judges of the Supreme Court, although we are willing to confess, that when this body is convened, we know not a more imposing spectacle. Yet we maintain, that all dignity is not centered there, but much of it is to be found in other parts of the community; and even we, humble reviewers as we are, have the vanity to believe, that we have our share of dignity to uphold. In this respect, presumptuous as it may seem, we assert the right, nay, exercise it too, of putting ourselves on a level with the writer of the Life of Greene,' not by going up to the top of the hill where he sits, but by supposing him to have come down, for a short space, into the little valley where we dwell. Or, to speak more à la militaire, we meet him on the common ground of authors, a ground on which he has chosen to enter the lists, and where he has no right to look for any other than equals. The dignity of the craft, and not of the Supreme Federal Court,' is here to be regarded; and if the author of the 'Life of Greene' thinks that we, as a portion of the brotherhood, have not had this dignity sufficiently before our eyes, in what we have said of his work, we have only to entreat, upon the principles of equal justice, that he will cast back half an eye over the wanderings of his own pen, and then judge whether our dignity as reviewers, or his as a biographer, has met with the severer contusions. There is a maxim in the books, lex æquitate gaudet. It may here be reduced to practice.

We thought to subjoin a few observations on the general merits of the Life of Greene' as a work of history, but perhaps an opinion sufficiently accurate can be formed, on this point, from what has already been said. One remarkable fault, however, and one which, in our view, renders the book of almost no value, as a work of reference, we shall here mention a second time; we mean the total absence of authorities. The new description of the battle of Germantown, which we have seen to be so full of errors, is given without reference to a single authority in the work itself. There can be no greater defect than this in a history, in which many new facts are professedly brought out, and new opinions advanced. The chief value of a written history is in its truth, and next, in the evidences of its truth. We had before stated this objection strongly, and the author's reply is not less remarkable for its brevity, than its courteousness. He affirms, that the objection 'is not worthy of the most common understanding,' and that he had done enough to state generally in his Introduction the origin of his materials. In this we differ from him toto calo. But the strongest thing of all is yet to come. Says this accommodating historian, who carries himself so suaviter in modo and fortiter in re, 'any one, who had approached me in the attitude of a gentleman, might have satisfied his curiosity, or more laudable feelings, by a private inquiry.' What an immense facility is here offered to the student! All historical authority is hereafter to be settled, and all doubts cleared up, by a private correspondence with the author, whether he live ten or ten thousand miles off, in the present or a past age. No more notes of reference are wanted, no more consulting of hooks; the author himself is to be the centre of a correspondence with all the world, a living commentator, never to die, never to be weary of his great and varied vocation. No future Brodies or Lingards shall sharpen their pens, to assail the historical veracity of our author; a private inquiry, provided it be made in the attitude of a gentleman,' shall open the portals of knowledge, remove suspicion, and silence skepticism,

ART. XI.-A Sketch of the Internal Condition of the United States of America, and of their Political Relations with Europe. By A RUSSIAN. Translated from the French, By AN AMERICAN. With notes. Baltimore. 1826. 8vo. pp. 163,

A FOREIGNER's account of our institutions and manners always finds eager readers in America. We entertain this curiosity in common no doubt with all other people; but in us it has been heightened by some accidents in our situation, into a sort of impatient anxiety. Our portrait has been drawn by those, for the most part, whom some very intelligible feelings have prevented from regarding us with much good nature, while, at the same time, certain affinities existing between us, have encouraged a hope of better treatment at their hands. What has magnified the provocation is the respect we entertain for them at heart, and the means they possess, through the diffusion of their language and literature, of giving currency to the error. It is John Bull, in short, that has most sorely moved the spirit of Brother Jonathan. That sturdy personage is no favorite, indeed, nearer home, nor is the dislike of him, among his continental neighbors, to be dated only from the era of Lord Castlereagh. Long before that time he had acquired the unlucky fame of over pertinacious nationality; would quarrel with the skies of Italy for being too bright, and with his neighbors of France for being too gay; and, with that insular prejudice, which the most philosophical of his own historians has remarked in him, was always mightily inclined to think that there was little worth having out of England. Now we cannot allow the wealth of our kinsman to be any apology for his ill manners; and it is with a kind of amazement, that we see him wandering over the world, and every where piquing himself on sullying his national reputation with his individual peculiarities, and, above all, by a sulkiness, which, making every allowance for the vapory sky he was born under, is quite incomprehensible.

But if our elder brother regards with scorn all deviations from his own standard of notions, even in those who speak a different tongue, and live under different laws from his own, he suffers a sort of angry surprise, when he sets foot on these shores of his own planting. Here every thing is at once aliud et idem, the same, yet not exactly the same, with what he has been accustomed to see at home. Where language, dress, manners, and modes of all sorts, are wholly different, comparison is less easy, or their respective merits must be adjusted by that general fitness of things,' which always leaves much to be said on both sides. But here, where he sees a prevailing similarity to his own institutions, and where the general imitation on our part seems an implied acknowledgment of superiority on his, the particular differences, arising out of physical and moral circumstances, are apt to strike him rather as awkward resemblances, than as intended deviations. He is less lenient towards them for much the same reason, that he ridicules more unsparingly a Scotchman's or an Irishman's blunders, in English, than those of a Spaniard or an Italian. It is pretty obvious, in short, without recurring to more serious causes of difference, why we should meet less grace at the hands of England, than of countries, which, having fewer affinities with ourselves, might seem at first, less likely to appreciate us fairly.

In justice, however, it must be owned, that a part of all this

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