EDINBURGH

No. 251. NEW SERIES.

GREAT MEN.

Ir is universally remarked that now-a-days there are no great men-no great statesmen, authors, artists, dramatic writers, orators, theologians, or philosophers. Everywhere we see but a lifeless mediocrity-cleverness, and sometimes brilliancy of acquirements—but no great depth, scarcely any towering genius, little courage or ability to soar to commanding heights. Where is there now any great scholar; where a Shakspeare, Milton, Scott; where a John Kemble; where a Newton; where anybody in the superlative? The days even of Bonapartes are gone! Ample scope is there for usurpation; but we look in vain for a Usurper! The Hour is come; but where is the Man?

This is exactly one of those subjects which admits of being treated pro and con. Much may be said on both sides, without any decided preponderance one way or another. In the first place, it will not escape observation that the alleged scarcity of great men is very much caused by a general advance throughout society. For one great writer in a period of literary darkness, we have now a hundred writers of ordinary, though no mean capacity, all actively exercising their pens. For one artist of inapproachable excellence, we have thousands who can at least please us with their productions. We have, to be sure, no Newton; but look at the multiplicity of minds turned to philosophic pursuits, each poring on the face of Nature, and occasionally disclosing new and interesting features. If no man towers over his fellows, it may be because all have to climb higher than the great men of former times did, in order to be conspicuous. Where discovery has been pushed to its limits, we cannot reasonably expect to have any more discoverers. There are mariners of as ardent temperament as Columbus, and as willing to encounter dangers, but in what direction can these longing geniuses go in quest of a new continent? In maritime discovery, as in many other fields, the work is pretty nearly done. America, the solar system, the principle of gravitation, the laws of chemical affinity, the balloon, the steam-engine, and a thousand other things, can be discovered only once. If physical science has not actually got to the end of its tether, all within the circuit of the tether has been gleaned so marvellously bare, that in these latter days we are left comparatively little to pick up. Lucky fellows those Newtons, Keplers, Columbuses, and Watts !

True in one sense; but let us not be led away by a prevalent tendency to exaggerate the glories of past times and despise the present. After making certain allowances as to the absence of such commanding intellects as that of Shakspeare-a man not for a day, but all time-it may be fairly questioned if there ever was any period of the world's history which so abounded in

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men eminent for their talents, respectable for their aims and acquirements. For anything we can tell, the discoveries to be made by these men and their successors may be as grand as those of Newton, as useful as those of Watt. Great as has been our advance, we are to all appearance only on the threshold of knowledge. All things seem to prognosticate that in a century hence we shall be looked back to as pigmies in the arts-' gatherers of pebbles on the shore.' The discoveries, the inventions, the researches of the passing hour are all calculated to convince us that there yet remains a field of inquiry, which appears the more boundless as we advance. But, setting aside any such hypothesis, and taking matters only as they are, we would be inclined to speak of the present age as relatively anything but contemptible either in arts or learning. That the individuals who excel do not rise into a distinguished pre-eminence, is accounted for by the fact-a fact become proverbial-that the world does not know its great men,' at least not till it has lost them. As no man is great to his valet-de-chambre, so no man is thought much of who may be seen any day walking in the public thoroughfares. It is only when he is dead and buried, and no longer takes a part in commonplace concerns, that his merits are understood and appreciated. Washington, in the midst of his mighty struggles, was aggrieved by a thousand detractions. Priestley, whom we are now in the habit of looking back to as a great man, was very far from being considered great while he lived. Chased from his home by a fanatical mob, and coldly sympathised with by men of learning, he died an exile from the country which was unworthy of him. would be telling a twenty-times told tale to go over the histories of great authors' from Homer downwards, who were treated not in the handsomest manner while they were living and pouring forth their deathless effusions. Unfortunately for men who in some way distinguish themselves in literature, arts, philosophy, or statesmanship, they are usually judged of while in life not exclusively in reference to their services or labours, but to a large extent in subordination to professional and other jealousies, or in connection with sectarian and party views. In Great Britain, a native has much less chance of gaining celebrity for his discoveries in science, or his excellence in art, than a foreigner. Had Liebig been a professor in a London instead of a German university, he would scarcely have been listened to with the patience and respect he has been. should not only have been too familiar with his name and person, but have been jealous of his reputation. It is a totally different thing when we have to investigate the pretensions of a man who lives a thousand miles off. He is then, as respects our own affairs, as good as dead, and is not likely to trouble us. One can make nothing

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by condemning him, while it is quite safe to praise him: we can in his case afford to be magnanimously impartial. No man receives such numerous and cordial testimonials of his high claims to consideration, as he who is going to quit the scene of his labours. Enemies hasten to swear to him an everlasting friendship. Rivals weep bitter tears that they are to lose so great a luminary from their system. The wailings on such occasions are ever put to good interest. We all know how to be generous when the generosity places any object of desire the more surely within our reach.

But more than this: all have small prejudices to cherish, and it is not usual to speak with respect of a person who in anyway deranges the complacency of foregone conclusions. The outer world, in a state of happy innocence, imagines that the learned, so called, are worshippers at the shrine of Truth. Alas! how few are there who are not followers of idols. Each has his cherished fancy, which he feels bound to combat for in all circumstances; and wo to the man who audaciously brings distrust on his opinions! While motives so ungracious, independently of considerations of a sterner and less creditable nature, are permitted to influence the judgment, can we be surprised that so few living men attain the distinction which we ordinarily call 'great?'

If in the present age there be any peculiar impediment to the rise of great men, it may be said to consist in a widely-diffused taste for and habit of criticism, the occasional unjudging severity of which has unfortunately the effect of repressing talent unsupported by ambition. If there be no great statesmen, have the public generally laboured to raise men into power in whom they can place unqualified confidence? Perhaps the critics are more faulty than the criticised. In the United States, as we are informed, the more enlightened portion of the community, from a regard for their own feelings, take no part in politics, and studiously keep out of place. And in our own country, it is pretty obvious that on similar grounds the best men' systematically refuse to come forward as candidates of office. An upright man, with no selfish purpose in view, does not choose to expose himself to obloquy, or to have his services paid in public ingratitude. Thus a people may lose something by being too quick-sighted in detecting errors. A charitable consideration of human infirmities has more than Christian duty to recommend it it is the soundest policy.

So much for the general influences which tend to repress the growth of 'great men.' Let it, however, again be remembered, that in very many instances the check on greatness is independent of external circumstances. No individual can expect to travel on the path to fame without getting rubs by the way. The more prominent a man becomes, the more is he exposed to challenge; and it would be well for him not to mistake the cavillings of the envious, or the morbid grumblings of the habitually discontented, for the expression of a healthful and general opinion. The satisfied say nothing it is only the brawler and busy-body who make themselves heard. Besides-and here, perhaps, is the pith of the whole matter-do the great in skill and intellect always conduct themselves in a way to disarm jealousy and secure approbation? How frequently men of talent, yielding themselves up to the petty impulses of a restless temperament, are observed to destroy the reputation which admirers are willing to accord, and to which even enemies could not properly, for any length of time, present a feasible opposition. In such cases the would-be-great man is less judged of by his talents than his failings. Great in science, literature, or art, he is perhaps infirm in temper, sensual in indulgence, weak in resolution, imperfect in his moral sense. The world may be captious, neglectful; much grievous wrong may sometimes be a consequence of unworthy jealousies; but, on the whole, a man's chief enemy is himself. When Horace Vernet suffered the indignity of

having his pictures refused admittance to an exhibition in the Louvre, did he fly into a passion, and go and kill himself as an ill-used man? No. Without muttering a word of complaint, he exhibited his productions elsewhere, and lived to be at the head of the French besides artists. We repeat an advice formerly offered school of painting-a lesson worth taking by others -NEVER COMPLAIN: the world flies from ill-used men. Go on, true soul! faint not in doing the work before thee; but do it quietly, and leave the rest to Him who overshadows us with the wings of his Providence! Remember that the small oppressions of coteries are but transient, and act with slight effect on the truly great-great in sentiment as well as intellect. We are each of us on trial, and if conscious of rectitude, need not fear the verdict of the tribunal. W. C.

THE SILVER MINE.

A YOUNG cavalier was riding down a street in the city of Mexico leading towards the Alameda, when his own name, pronounced in piteous accents, arrested his attention, and caused him to rein in his steed.

'Oh, Don Vicente, noble caballero, have pity on me, por el amor de Dios; for charity, good senor, save a poor Indian, who is innocent as a child unbaptised.'

The person who uttered this appeal was evidently, from his looks, his garb, and his speech, one of that unfortunate race who, originally lords of the Mexican soil, have been for centuries in reality, if not in name, the serfs of their Spanish conquerors. The cavalier could even distinguish by his pronunciation that he was an Indian of the Tarascan tribe, who differ in language, as well as in some traits of character, from the Aztecs, or proper Mexicans. His situation sufficiently accounted for the vehemence of his intreaty, since he was then in the clutches of two sturdy alguaziles, or constables, who grasped him by the shoulders, and hurried him forward with the least possible regard to his personal comfort. They stopped, however, when Don Vicente turned his horse and rode towards them, saying, 'What is the matter, alguaziles? Who is this man, and what has he done?'

To this question, put by a cavalier whose rich dress and high bearing bespoke his claims to attention, one of the alguaziles replied with gruff civility that the sanguinary ruffian had just stabbed a white man, a water-carrier, in an adjoining street, and they were conveying him to the acordada, or city jail, to await his trial. The 'sanguinary ruffian,' who, by the way, was a small, simple-looking man, the very personification of pacific meekness, earnestly protested his innocence of the crime. He declared that he had merely stopped from curiosity to witness the progress of a game of monte, which was going on in the street; there were many other bystanders, some of whom were betting on the fortunes of the principal gamesters. At length, he said, a quarrel had arisen, though about what he did not exactly know. Then knives were drawn, and presently a man fell dead, stabbed to the heart. Some of the people ran away, and among them a carbonero, or coal-porter, a large, strong, black-bearded man, who, he believed, was the real culprit. As for himself, he waited to see what would be done with the dead man; and when the police came up, to his amazement two or three of those present, and whom he had seen talking with the carbonero, had pointed him out as the guilty person; and that was all he knew about it.

'But, hombres,' said the cavalier to the officers, 'this Indian carries no knife. How could he have stabbed the man?'

'Oh sir,' replied the oldest alguazil, that is the very proof of his guilt. The murdered man was stabbed with his own knife, drawn out of his belt before he had any warning of the intention. It is a piece of true Indian craft and villany.'

'Do not believe it, noble Don Vicente,' exclaimed the Indian. Why should I murder a man whom I

for the visions which now unfolded themselves before his mental sight almost dizzied and confused him by their brightness. He wrote a hasty note to Catalina, imploring her to defer her consent to any marriage which her father might propose for only a single month, by which time he had the strongest hopes of a most favourable change in his position. Then taking with him two or three armed attendants (for the roads of Mexico in those days were no safer than at present), and an experienced miner, he set out on horseback for the Sierra Madre, distant about forty leagues from the capital. A Mexican Indian can rarely be induced to mount a horse; and in this instance Paquo and his venerable relative preceded the party on foot, at the usual regular trot in which the natives make their journeys. Notwithstanding the great age of the elder Indian, he kept ahead of the horses all the way, without appearing in the least fatigued on their arrival at the mountains. The silver vein was found exactly as he had represented it, cropping out' at the surface of the ground; and the miner declared that there could hardly be a doubt of the abundance of the mineral wealth which it contained. Vicente took instant measures for claiming, or, as it is called in Mexico, denouncing' the newly-discovered mine, by laying an information before the proper tribunal, and commencing the necessary works for the extraction of the metal; this being all that is requisite in that country to give a complete property in any mine, without reference to the previous ownership of the land in which it is found.

In less than a month the miner's predictions were amply verified. By that time it was known all over Mexico that Vicente Aldama was working a clavo,' or deposit of ore, which had already produced him fifty thousand dollars. The Conde de Loyzaga, therefore, with a promptitude which did honour to his paternal sensibility, complied with his daughter's request, first to defer, and then to break off entirely, the treaty with the Marquis of San Gregorio. He still declared, how ever, that he could not think of giving his daughter's hand to any one under his own rank; and possibly this declaration was the remote cause of an announcement which, before the close of the year, created some interest, though not much surprise in the city-namely, that Vicente Aldama had just been created Count of Esparza a title for which, it was said, he had given half a million of dollars; but probably to him, with a seemingly inexhaustible mine at his command, both the money and the title appeared of equally trifling value, compared with the greater treasure which they were the means of procuring him.

The traditional account from which the foregoing narrative has been derived does not enlighten us with respect to the subsequent history of the personages to whom it relates. All that is certainly known is, that the fortune of the Aldama family, or at least a large portion of it, has survived the revolution which has swept away their costly title, along with much other rubbish equally expensive and worthless.

THE IRISH INUNDATION. SOME notice was recently taken in this Journal of the influx of Irish into England; but the Prison Inspector's Report on the Northern Districts, which has made its appearance since then, forces the subject upon us anew. In a country like England, already overstocked with labour, a large addition every year to the supply, beyond the natural movement of population, would be in itself a prodigious evil; but the addition in question is attended by circumstances that render it absolutely intolerable, and we feel that we should be neglecting our duty if we failed to make use of the peculiar opportunities we enjoy of access to the public, in calling attention to the subject.

*No. 249. Public Health Act.

At the time of the union between England and Scotland, the former was not an over-populated country; but still her supply of indigenous labour appeared to be quite great enough in proportion to her working capital. The intrusion of our countrymen, therefore, who naturally flocked to the richer field, was reckoned an insufferable hardship, and every means was adopted for compelling them to stay at home. This, as it turned out, was exceedingly fortunate for the 'beggarly Scots;' for a strong monarchical government controlling, and finally annihilating the feudal influences, left them, for the first time since their existence as a nation, sufficiently at peace to enable them to develop the resources of their own neglected wastes; and the result was, that in process of time the jealousies and animosities of the northerns and southerns died away, and the two countries became one in mutual interest and mutual respect.

Ireland is now, so far as natural means are concerned, far better adapted than Scotland was then for the support of a large population. Setting aside the superior capabilities of the soil for agricultural purposes, it possesses a dormant capital in mines and other resources, such as, if brought into activity, ought to raise the people to a high pitch of prosperity. The Arigna iron mines are supposed to be equal in value to any in England; they are surrounded by coal-fields of almost unlimited extent; and are close to the water-highways of Lough Allen and the Shannon. Elsewhere throughout the country are found, as well as iron, the ores of copper, gold, silver, lead, manganese, antimony, cobalt, zinc, nickel, chrome, and bismuth; together with immense beds of coal, and what has been found of as great importance for like purposes, bogs of turf, convertible into charcoal for smelting, and already used extensively in generating steam. The lakes and rivers of Ireland facilitate in a very remarkable manner the means of inland transport; and their available water-force is estimated at half a million horse-power.* Such is the country in which the mill-power actually in use amounts, including steam and water, only to 3650 horse-power; while all the rest,' as Mr Vereker observes, to the value of hundreds of thousands of pounds, flows, like Pactolus, carrying its wealth into the sea.' Such is the country whose inhabitants flock over to England by thousands, to fling their labour into an already overloaded market, to inundate our workhouses, harbour in our jails, and spread the gangrene of crime and mendicancy in the bosom of our population.

We have no design at present to inquire into the nature of the fatality which drives the unhappy Irish to our reluctant shores. The position of the country, however, apart from its causes, has never been more clearly stated than by Mr Nicholls, the poor-law commissioner. Ireland,' says he, 'is now suffering under a circle of evils, producing and reproducing one another. Want of capital produces want of employment- want of employment, turbulence, want, and misery-turbulence and misery, insecurity-insecurity prevents the introduction and accumulation of capital, and so on; and until this circle is broken, the evils must continue, and probably augment.' In the meantime, the great majority of the natural capitalists-the landlords-sneak quietly out of the way, carrying with them the keys of the treasures we have enumerated,

*See Sir Robert Kane's Industrial Resources of Ireland,' and 'Absenteeism Considered in its Economical and Social Effects;' the latter being a shilling's worth of striking facts and sound reasoning, by the Hon. John P. Vereker.