with writing and common arithmetic, appear to have been, the last time any thing was heard on the subject, the best, and nearly the whole provision for the literature of the capital, New Orleans; and in the settlements at a distance from it, "a person who could read and write was considered as a kind of prodigy." The English Americans are said to be still more deficient than the French. As to religion, a small quantity of the popish ritual, on a Sunday, forms, of course, the christianity of the greater part of the people; and the major justifies and applauds them for being as merry as they can the rest of the day, and for keeping clear of what he calls a "sullen countenance, gloomy subjects, a set form of speech, and a stiff behaviour." He insists they shall by all means have a religion, "a pure and rational religion," he says, "such as is contained in the sublime pages of revelation;" for, "it is of infinite use to mankind in a temporal sense." But not even for the sake of this, the most important of all the benefits of religion, will he consent to have the Indians disturbed, in their devout and laudable adherence to the creed of their forefathers. The book contains a variety of passages in which the writer appears to take considerable credit to himself, as a philosopher, for placing religion in the light in which it is regarded by politicians of the very inferior rank.

There is a desultory entertaining description of the "Charac ter," taken in a general and comprehensive sense, "of the Louisianians." The representation of the "aborigines" too much resembles that in Guthrie's Grammar, and in Robertson. To be sure, it forms a striking picture, ready for the use of every successive exhibition. But if a man pretends to paint in the sobriety of truth, in the very scene where the reality is displayed, and absolutely from the life, it is unpardonable to play off again on our imaginations the horrible visions of the long courses of torture and cannibalism. Why cannot we obtain, at last, the mere plain truth as to the degrees and modes of cruelty which captive enemies are condemned to suffer?

There is an ineffectual attempt to revive, under some appearance of probability, the notion of there being a Welsh tribe of Indians somewhere in North America. The major compensates to himself the extreme penury of his religious credence, by believing such a proposition as that it would be easy enough for Prince Madoc to make three successful voyages to America before the invention of the compass, and two straight back to Wales.

The most curious and interesting chapter of all (but it admits not of abridgment) is that on the rivers of North America. We will transcribe the description of the confluence of the two noblest

1

of them, the Missouri and the Mississippi, the former of which, he says, is decidedly the greater river.

"The junction of the two great rivers is in north latitude thirtyeight degrees, and forms an interesting spectacle. The two islands in the mouth of the Missouri oblige him to pay his tribute to what is denominated the father of rivers, through one large, and two small channels. As if he disdained to unite himself with any other river, however respectable and dignified, he precipitates his waters nearly at right angles across the Mississippi, a distance of more than twenty-five hundred yards. The line of separation between them, owing to the difference of their rapidity and colours, is visible from each shore, and still more so from the adjacent hills. The Mississippi, as if astonished at the boldness of an intruder, for a moment recoils and suspends his current, and views in silent majesty the progress of the stranger. They flow nearly twenty miles before their waters mingle with each other."

For an American the composition is tolerable; but the major has a good share of those words and phrases, which his literary countrymen must, however reluctantly, relinquish before they will rank with good writers. The standard is fixed; unless it were possible to consign to oblivion the assemblage of those great authors on whose account the Americans themselves are to feel complacency in their language to the latest ages.

Reflections sur le Suicide. Par Madame la Baronne de StaëlHolstein.

[From the Edinburgh Review.]

THE appearance of a dissertation on a subject which has already produced so many volumes of commonplace, is in itself alarming. But the name of a celebrated writer dispels this natural apprehension, and excites an expectation of more than ordinary originality, which is the only good reason for the reviving a question apparently exhausted. In fact, it may require as vigorous an effort to dig through the rubbish with which mediocrity has been for ages loading a truth, as it did originally to conquer the obstacles which obstructed the first thinkers in their way to it.

It must, however, be owned, that the present publication is chiefly remarkable as an event in the life of the author. The persecution of Madame de Staël will be remembered among the distinctions of female talent. It is honourable to the sex, that the independent spirit of one woman of genius has disturbed the triumph of the conqueror of Europe. "All this availeth me nething, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate." This almost solitary example of an independence not to be intimi

man.

dated by power, nor subdued by renown, has very strikingly displayed the inferiority of Napoleon's character to his genius. That he is disquieted by the disapprobation of a powerful mind, may indeed be considered as a proof that he has not lost all the sentiments which ought to accompany a great understanding-and that power and flattery have not yet obliterated all sense of what constitutes the true value of praise. But this disquiet has driven him into a persecution so little both in its principle and its means, as to form a characteristical incident in the life of this extraordinary He appears to have curiously sought out the most suscepti ble parts of her mind, and the most vulnerable points of her situa tion, that he might inflict his wounds with more ingenious cruelty. He has harassed her by successive mutilations of those works of which he professed to allow the publication. He has banished her from the societies where the terror of his power could not silence the admiration of her genius, and where the blended intercourse of friendship, reason, wit, and eloquence, formed a gratification which a refined enemy would have thought it honourable to spare. Every suffering was through some kind affection, or some elegant taste. Every wound was aimed at a noble part. In her escape from his dominions, she found one of his generals become the actual sove reign of the country of her husband; and to him she dedicates this little volume, from which we learn, with singular interest, and with scarcely any surprise, that there were moments in which misfortune made her seek the aid of meditation to compose and strengthen her mind, and that she now offers to her fellow sufferers the medicine which has quieted her own agitations.

From the time of Rousseau to the rebound of public opinion caused by the issue of the French revolution, suicide was one of the favourite themes of paradox and declamation; and Madame de Staël, it seems, had formerly written on it, not so much with the temper of philosophy, as with that hostility to received doctrines to which the vivacity and pride of youthful genius are prone. Her mature reason has easily discovered, that the more general judgments of the human race on subjects of moral conduct, disguised as they are under a thousand fantastic forms, obscured by vague, passionate, hyperbolical, and even contradictory forms of expression, debased by the mixture of every species of prejudice and superstition, and distorted into deformity in their passage through narrow and perverted minds, have still some solid foundation in the nature and condition of man. Very little moral truth is to be found in its native state; and it is one of the most impor tant offices of philosophy, to recover it from the impure masses with which it is confounded by the common observer.

It is natural that reparation for youthful paradox should be ample even to excess. A generous mind deems no atonement suffi

cient for its own errors; and disdains the arts by which the inevi table variations of human opinion are easily concealed from the multitude. As eloquence always partakes of exaggeration, it necessarily magnifies the apparent dissimilarity between the different opinions of an eloquent writer. Where the colouring is most splendid, the contrasts are most striking; and even the slightest shades of difference will be more perceptible. Every revolution of the present age has been an event in Mad. de Staël's private life. In a person of ardent sensibility amidst the agitations of an eventful life, we shall not severely blame some tendencies towards new exaggerations; and we cannot wonder that she should be disposed to an almost undistinguishing partiality for the character and measures of the enemies of her persecutor. The operation of so just a resentment on judgment, is neither to be forgotten nor condemned. In estimating her character it may, perhaps, be respected; but in weighing her authority it must be deducted. Whatever may be the oscillations of a susceptible mind in a stormy atmosphere, Madame de Staël, we are persuaded, is destined to be the permanent advocate of justice, of humanity, of resistance to tyranny, and reformation of abuse. Her animosity to corruption and oppression will ultimately be without distinction of party or country-or with no other distinction than that superior indignation which enlightened minds feel, when these evils disgrace and weaken the cause which they themselves espouse.

On the question of suicide, it is perhaps possible to state the whole truth more plainly and dispassionately than has been hitherto done. It must be admitted, that every act by which a man voluntarily causes his own death, is not criminal. All such acts are, however, suicides. Whether a man produced his own death by swallowing a cup of poison, or by mounting a breach, (supposing death to be in both cases foreseen as the inevitable consequence of the act,) it is evident that in both cases he equally kills himself. But it is obvious, that there are circumstances in which it is a duty to do acts of which a man's own death is the necessary result. This is no uncommon dictate of military obedience. In all operations of war, it is a duty to hazard life; and a greater degree of the same obligation may require its sacrifice. If it were constantly criminal to cause the destruction of one's life, there must be a criminality of the same kind, though of an inferior degree, in risking it. It is vain to say, that a volunteer on a forlorn hope has a chance of escape; for it may be said with equal truth, that there is also a chance of the failure of the deadliest poison. The agent, in both cases, expects his own death and in that of the soldier, the moral approbation is highest, and the fame is most brilliant, where death is the most certain. This, indeed, is so far from being an uncommon case, that it comprehends a very

large class of human actions; being not only the duty of soldiers, but of all those who are engaged in eminently perilous occupations --and occasionally of all human beings. It is required from men of the most obscure condition, who are neither trained to any delicacy of moral perception, nor supported by the prospect of reputation. Its violation is punished by death, or by the heaviest and most irremissible disgrace. Maternal affection renders the feeblest and most timid women capable of discharging this stern and terrible duty.

Besides these suicides of duty, there are other cases of the hazard or sacrifice of life, which, not being positively prescribed by the rules of conduct, are considered as acts of virtue of the most arduous nature, requiring singular magnanimity, and justly distinguished by the most splendid reputation. Codrus and Decius present themselves to the recollection of every reader. When a Scotch Highland gentleman personated Prince Charles Stuartwhen Madame Elizabeth presented herself to the furious rabble as Marie Antoinette-every human heart acknowledges the generous virtue which made the first sacrifice, and the second expose life, in order to preserve the life of others, to whom they were bound by no stronger ties than those of attachment and friendship, strengthened by the momentary impulse of compassion. But these suicides of patriotism or loyalty are acts done in a conspicuous place, by those who are bred from their infancy to consider honour and disgrace as the first objects of human pursuit and avoidance. Innumerable instances, however, of the same sort, in totally different circumstances, show the power of human nature to do the same acts without the bribe of fame. Backwardness in mounting a breach, or boarding a ship, is a rare occurrence. Volunteers for service of the most desperate danger are easily found. Every case of a shipwreck, or a fire, exhibits examples of devoting life, for the preservation sometimes of utter strangers-very often, indeed, of persons to whom there is no obligation of duty, and no tie of affection. Mere compassion renders the lowest of the mob for a moment capable of so sublime a sacrifice.

There are other suicides, which, without being either demanded by duty, or performed for the preservation of a community or an individual, are yet generally considered as acts which, whether they be strictly moral or not, can only be performed by minds of the most magnanimous virtue. The suicide of Cato is of this class. It was not to defeat usurpation, or to preserve the laws and liberties of Rome, that he destroyed his own life. In that case, the moral qualities of the act would have admitted no dispute: but it was done when he despaired of his country. It arose from his horror of tyranny, and the feeling of intolerable shame at the prospect of life under an arbitrary master; and it is to be justified by