smelling; for, your nostrils are turned down- | number of these mercenary troops in his pay, ward, but mine are wide, and turned up toward with a view of employing them in an attempt heaven, to receive smells that come from every part," &c.

which he had long meditated upon his brother's crown and throne. Affairs being at last ripe for action, he collected at Sardis his Grecian force, about thirteen thousand strong, where they were joined by about a hundred thousand Asiatics, with the ostensible purpose of marching against

to the Persian yoke. Xenophon, in his third book, explains the manner in which he was drawn into this enterprise.

And thus for some time in detail taking off the uncouthness of his own person, in a better vein than it was ever done by his bitter satirist, Aristophanes. The world is not ready to admit that a man when he is once dubbed a philoso- the Pisidians, a mountain race not yet subjected pher, can ever after say any thing in sport; but we make him, whether he will or not, always speak oracles. So it has fared with many of the ludicrous paradoxes of Socrates, uttered in the humor of the moment, by way of parrying a jest, or of showing the skill with which he could handle the light weapons of the sophist. At the banquet he was rallied by one of the guests upon the intolerable temper of his wife, Xantippe; and his pleasant reply has induced half the world to believe that he really married a vixen by way of improving his own temper,

The concluding incident of the banquet is referred to by Mr. Addison in one of his Spectators, (No. 500,) but he attributes to the eloquence of Socrates, in a discourse on marriage, the effect which was produced by a scene between Bacchus and Ariadne, as exhibited by the party of the Syracusan.

Xenophon's account of the Expedition of Cyrus and the Retreat of the Ten Thousand, is, in our opinion, a most perfect specimen of historic writing, containing also much of the interest of personal narrative. Upon this we must touch but briefly; premising, however, a general outline of the condition of the parties engaged in that enterprise, and the causes which involved them in its perils.

The ascendency which Sparta held in Greece at the time of this expedition, was partly acquired by the alliance and aid of the rich and voluptuous court of Persia. At the same time the Persian held a doubtful empire over the maritime states and cities on the borders of the Hellespont, the eastern coast and many of the islands of the Archipelago, and the adjacent shore of the Mediterranean sea. Darius Ochus died: Artaxerxes, his son, ascended the throne, and Cyrus, brother of Artaxerxes by the same mother, became satrap of the western portion of the empire and "general of all the people assembled in the plain of Castolus." In the wars which the Persians were constantly waging with their half conquered provinces in the west, large bodies of Greek adventurers, won by Persian gold, formed their most effective troops. These naturally fell under the command of Cyrus, who seems to have formed a high estimate of their military skill and prowess; and he kept for many years a large

"There was in the army an Athenian, by name Xenophon, who, without being a general, a captain or a soldier, served as a volunteer; for, having been long attached to Proxenus by the rights of hospitality, the latter sent for him from home, with a promise, if he came, to recommend him to Cyrus; from whom, he said, he expected greater advantages than from his own country. Xenophon having read the letter, consulted Socrates, the Athenian, concerning the voyage, who fearing lest his country might look upon his attachment to Cyrus as criminal, because that prince was thought to have espoused the interest of the Lacedemonians against the Athenians with great warmth, advised Xenophon to go to Delphos, and consult the oracle concerning the matter. Xenophon went thither accordingly, and asked Apollo to which of the gods he should offer sacrifice and address his prayers, to the end that he might perform the voyage in the best and most reputable manner, and, after a happy issue of it, return in safety. Apollo answered, that he should sacrifice to the proper gods. At his return, he acquainted Socrates with this answer, who blamed him because he had not asked Apollo whether it were better for him to undertake the voyage, in the first place, than to stay at home; but, having himself first determined to undertake it, he had consulted him on the most proper means of performing it with success; but since, said he, you have asked this, you ought to do what the god commanded. Xenophon, therefore, having offered sacrifice to the gods, according to the direction of the oracle, set sail, and found Proxenus and Cyrus at Sardis, ready to march towards the upper Asia. Here he was presented to Cyrus, and Proxenus pressing him to stay, Cyrus was no less earnest in persuading him, and assured him, as soon as the expedition was at an end, he would dismiss him; this he pretended was against the Pisidians."

The Greeks, all except Clearchus, the Lacedemonian general, who was no doubt from the first in the counsels of Cyrus, were led on by various artifices, until it became more dangerous to return than to go forward; then they at last

consented to move forward on the actual expedi- this respect, because while he was engaged in tion against the Great King. difficulties, he saw a great light proceeding from Jupiter."

That the sleep of Xenophon on that fearful night should be short and troubled, we can well believe. That the young wanderer, (for we are satisfied he was then a youth, though this is disputed by the learned; and what will not the learned dispute?) that the young wanderer, on such a night, should dream or think of his paternal house, and that his dream or reverie should be tinged with the dark hue of all around him, is perfectly consistent with the philosophy of the human mind; and his firm and courageous spirit, the buoyancy of youth and hope, might well dictate the happy interpretation to his troubled dream. Then follows a council of officers and men-the choice of generals, in which Xenophon was chosen on the part of the Athenians

His narrative of the march is brief, but full of interest; but our limits will not permit us to touch upon any of its incidents. At length the army of Artaxerxes appeared, covering, with its locust swarms, an immense plain between the Euphrates and Tigris, about one hundred miles above the city of Babylon. The battle was joined, and the account which Xenophon gives of it calls to our recollection forcibly the remarks of M. Cousin, of the myriads of men who meet and contend in battle in Asia, and of whom and of whose deeds the history of their country retains no trace. There, indeed, the individuality of man is swallowed up and lost in the mighty ocean of being, and they therefore have no history. At the first onset Cyrus fell; but the Greeks drove the enemy opposed to them from the field: they encamped on the battle-ground, the march, and the means taken by the Perand made fires to dress their food of the darts and arrows of the Persians and the wooden shields of the Egyptians; and for two days they believed Cyrus to be alive and conqueror.

The conduct of the Persians subsequent to the battle, satisfies us that their first object was to get the Greeks in their power, by any artifice, and make such fearful example of them as would prevent the future march of their armies into Persia; but if this were impracticable, to lead them where they could find their way, through many difficulties, out of the kingdom, and to harass, but not cut off, their retreat. For this purpose they first negotiated: they furnished the Greeks provisions, and led them down the Tigris many days' march out of their route, partly that they might see the numerous army which was marching from Susa and Ecbatana, to the aid of the Great King, and partly that, on failing to ensnare them, they might dismiss them by the shortest way out of the kingdom into the mountains of the Carduchians, where they would probably perish by the rigor of the climate and by the swords of that warlike people.

The night after the commander, Clearchus, and the other principal officers of the Greeks were taken by treachery and put to death, and when the Greeks lay disheartened in their camp, without officers and without order, not knowing what to do, expecting an attack and unprepared for defence, Xenophon says he "was of the number, had his share in the general sorrow, and was unable to rest.".

"However, getting a little sleep, he dreamed: he thought it thundered and a flash of lightning fell upon his paternal house, which, upon that, was all in a blaze. Immediately he woke in a fright, and looked upon his dream as happy in

sians to force the Greeks into the Carduchian mountains.

The snow, two fathoms deep, which they encountered in this inhospitable region, has caused much discussion and some doubt, but we do not perceive that it is at all wonderful. It was in the midst of winter-they had approached the latitude of 43°-those mountains are the most elevated part of western Asia, for they give rise to the Euphrates and Tigris, and the rivers which flow northward into the Caspian and the Euxine seas, and the climate, which throughout nearly all Europe is insular, rendered mild by the western breezes from the Atlantic, is here far removed from their influence, and corresponds with the same parallel of latitude and the same elevation in the interior of the American continent.

The army suffered much; but they felt their capacity to overcome every difficulty, and face every danger that awaited them; and they met them cheerfully. One encounter of wit between Xenophon and Cheirosophus, the Lacedemonian general, is worthy of notice.

While they were marching through the country of the Chalybians, they saw the natives in great force posted on a hill to dispute their pas sage. Cheirosophus proposed to attack themXenophon objected, and advised that they should "steal a march" on them under cover of the night, and take possession of a hill which commanded that on which the enemy was posted.

"But why," said he, " do I mention stealing? since I am informed that among you Lacedemonians, those of the first rank practise it from their childhood, and that instead of being a dishonor, it is your duty to steal those things which the law has not forbidden; and, to the end that you may learn to steal with the greatest dexterity

and secrecy imaginable, your laws have provided | milder climes. Hence the unmixed and primithat those who are taken in theft shall be whip- tive Britons are still found, after so many ages, ped. This is the time for you to show how far (conquered but not expelled) in the mountains your education has improved you, and to take of Wales. A kindred people of the Celtic race, care that in stealing this march we are not disco- in spite of Gothic and Moorish conquests, still vered, lest we suffer severely." occupy the mountains of Biscay in Spain, and the Pyrennean portion of Catalonia is held by a still more ancient people, who are believed to have occupied it before the Phenician navigators pushed their discoveries to the shores of the Peninsula. So it is universally, whenever a mountain region of great extent is once possessed by a people far enough advanced in civilization to provide for their own sustenance and to know

Cheirosophus answered, "I am also informed that you Athenians are very expert in stealing the public money, notwithstanding the danger you are exposed to, and that your best men are the most expert at it; that is, if you choose your best men for your magistrates-so this is a proper time for you to show the effects of your education."

In passing through the country of the Taoch- the arts of war, they and their posterity hold it eans, a wild mountain race, who inhabited fast-forever. nesses, into which they had conveyed all their provisions, the Greeks suffered much with hunger.

"At last the army arrived at a strong place, which had neither city nor houses upon it, but where great numbers of men and women, with their cattle, were assembled: this place Cheirosophus ordered to be attacked the moment he came before it."

At length the fastness was stormed.

But we must hasten to a conclusion. We cannot even refer to the various other productions of our author; but we earnestly recommend him to our young readers, as one whose works are full of interest, and as the master of a style which for neatness, perspicuity and beauty, has never been excelled.

INFLUENCE OF MORALS.

By a Native of Petersburg, Va.

"And here followed a dreadful spectacle indeed; for the women first threw their children down the precipices and then themselves; the men did the same. And here Eneas the Stym-less likely to attract public attention than moral essays; phalian, a captain, seeing one of the barbarians, who was richly dressed, running with a design to throw himself off, caught hold of him, and the other drawing him after, they both fell down the precipice together, and were dashed to pieces,"

It does not appear, that Xenophon kept a regular journal of his marches and the incidents which occurred on either the Expedition or Retreat. It is probable the account was written many years after from memory, and that hence some geographical errors crept in, which have so much puzzled his commentators. But his general accuracy is confirmed by modern travellers; and ancients, as well as moderns, from the age of Marcus Crassus and Mark Anthony down to the present time, concur in fixing the same character to the wild and primitive, and it would seem unchanging, inhabitants of the mountain regions through which he passed.

Perpetual occupancy appears to belong to a mountain race. Their barren hills, which are fruitful in no product

"But man and steel, the soldier and the sword," seldom invite the inroads of the conqueror, while the passionate love of the mountaineer for his wild fastnesses and still wilder freedom, forbids him to wander in search of fairer lands and

There is, perhaps, no branch of literature, which is and yet there is no subject which, in this age of superficial reading, is more beautifully instructive. To throw around the sublime truths of morality the attractions of a graceful style, and to commend the cup of bitter ingredients to the diseased palate, by touching its brim with earthly sweets, is a task, which the writer of these essays has rashly assumed and imperfectly executed. Leading errors which have long been assumed as unquestionable dogmas, have been rudely assailed; time-honored prejudices, which have been intricately interwoven with the fibres of our heart, however repulsive to our cooler judgments, have been combatted; and notwithstanding the novelty of the positions, which have been hardily assumed, and as confidently maintained on this unpopular theme, we have been well pleased to observe the tolerance of the public in the calm perusal of strictures upon received opinions hitherto unquestioned, and deemed to be indisputable. But that the patience of our readers may not be abused by frequent disquisitions upon a subject so apparently unattractive in itself, we propose turning aside for a season from the paths of severe disquisition, to tread the flowery and enchanting regions of the marvellous.* We propose in the present number to discuss the influence of Romance on Morals, and to estimate the merits of works of fiction by the dictates of a liberal but sound judgment, and not by the austere rules of

It is proper to state, that in the discussion of this interesting

question, we have borrowed largely from a manuscript placed in our hands by an intelligent friend, whose genius beautifully illustrates whatever it touches.

morality. To judge thus harshly, would be to strip countenance, expel Homer, Walter Scott, and the

whole regiment of romancers. But while thus discharging a solemn duty, he would pour out perfumes upon their heads, and entwine their brows with garlands of flowers. He might be supposed thus to address them : "Here o'er our minds stern reason holds her sway. Here the law commands and regulates our action. We are happy, because we are just; we are just, because our imaginations are quiet, and the violent passions tamed or driven from our hearts. You cannot, sublime enchanters, add one item to our felicity, but you may render fastidious our placid mediocrity. Depart then, amid the acclamations and applauses of those who banish you. Depart from among us, and search for a world in which this sacred power of custom and

them of all their beauty; for, these sportive creations of the fancy, like the wings of the butterfly, when pressed too closely by the hand of the admiring naturalist, lose that flower of beauty, which seems to have been woven of air and light. We are slow to imitate the eagerness of the child of fortune, in the Eastern tale, who, not content with the brilliant prospect around him, rashly applied the mystical unguent to both eyes, whereby the fountain of light was sealed forever. There have been, and are stern moralists, who utterly repudiate all works of fiction, and we can readily appreciate the purity of their design; there are others, no less virtuous, to whom they are a perennial fount of delights. And it is somewhat strange, that the skeptic Bayle, who rashly questioned the sublime truths of revelation, fear-laws does not exist. There, perhaps, you may be useful of the demoralizing tendency of these works, forbade ful-there, perhaps, you may be necessary; here, your their perusal, while the pious Francis of Sales, declared allurements would be vain or injurious. Away-there that they were his greatest delight. But in the present is such witchery in your presence, that were it suffered state of society, we very much doubt, whether any salu- any longer, it would render your departure useless or tary effect would flow from the sweeping denunciation impossible." Such are the sentiments which Plato of the philosopher; and we are strongly inclined to sus-entertained, when he banished the poets from his happy pect that the fervent spirit of the Saint infused much republic. Let the sentence be pronounced when the of its ardor into his admiration. dreams of the philosopher shall have been realized. But where is that favored people, that virtuous assembly of men, that renders it possible to put in execution this brilliant chimera? If it were in any of those bright stars of which we have spoken, to what other place than our earth could the romancers and poets come, when expelled from those blissful seats? Is it not here, that as soon as truth presents itself we shut our eyes, that are unable to bear its vivid light? When Moses strode down from the mount of God, clothed with the power and radiance of celestial truth, did not the Israelites bow down, and pray that they might no more be oppressed with its overpowering manifestation? And when the blaze of truth was thrown upon the path of the persecuting Saul, in his journey to Damascus, was he not overthrown and subdued in the pride of his rebellious heart? Frail descendants of the erring man, to allure us in the thorny paths of truth they must be strewed with flowers. The cup of virtue is dashed from our indignant lips, unless the edges be rubbed with earthly sweets. Let us not be presumptuous, since to believe ourselves better than we are, we become still worse than we really are. Let us be careful-for, in our present condition, if it could be proved that romances are of themselves bad, it would still be a question worthy of investigation, whether they are not a necessary evil. It becomes necessary oftentimes to prescribe the use of one poison to counteract the force of another. We should be careful, however, to mix them in such a manner that the noxious qualities may destroy each other. How often, even in morals, does one passion gain that triumph over another, which no force of reasoning could obtain? Whilst, for example, anger impels us to take signal vengeance of our vile enemies, pride exclaims that the offence could not ascend from such baseness to our dignified breasts. So that we think we pardon, when, in fact, we despise; and the voice of ungovernable pride we style philosophy.

Truth is the supreme good, the first aliment of the soul. To search after truth is the only employment correspondent with the high destinies of man. But, like the Egyptian Isis, truth is a mystic divinity covered with a veil, which we will endeavor to raise, but which no one can entirely remove. Is then the love of the marvellous-is fiction-is a wandering from the formal paths of severe truth, of the essence of man? Who shall solve the mystery of man, or explain his propensity for the marvellous? Why is he now the kneaded clod, and presently filled with celestial fire, too proud to crawl upon the earth, and too feeble to soar to the skies? Before his fall, the understanding, the imagination, and all the faculties of his mind, were harmoniously blended, and all was light; but since his disobedience, those faculties are disturbed and confounded. Wherefore then should not the imagination be indulged within the limits of innocent amusement, where there is no intention to deceive in fact? To seek for truth is the travail of life. But who would ask of mortal man, whose life begins in tears and ends in sighs, to suspend the action of that enchanting faculty which imagines and creates? The future life, which most interests us, is veiled in mystery, and it is only by the aid of the imagination that we can frame a salutary conjecture of the world beyond the grave. In forming a correct opinion of the influence of the marvellous upon mortals, we must take man as we find him in his social condition. It may be, that in some of those stars that shine with divine magnificence in the firmament, there is a people so enlightened, so happy, so virtuous, as to require no exertion of the imagination; who, unlike ourselves, do not wander in the dusky twilight, but bask in the meridian splendor of truth. And if this state of things prevailed on our globe; if that pure and enlightened reason, which the poet of philosophers imagined, in his lofty dreams, were the possession of the children of Eve, there would no longer be any necessity for such entertainment, and they should be strictly prohibited. Some sublime moralist, venerable for his age and virtues, might arise among us, and with a stern

It is also worthy of inquiry, whether romances be not a useful vent to the unbridled curiosity of man, who is always hunting after new things, caring little about a selection, and generally embracing more eagerly

those which will drag him to ruin? Nor should it be forgotten, that it is no easy matter to find a better remedy for the evils of idleness, in which every virtue dies, and every vice acquires renovated vigor. It might also be well, before deciding so dogmatically, as some persons do, that all romances ought to be proscribed for their intrinsic malice, to reflect profoundly on this severe sentence, because something may perhaps be found in the condition of our souls, that may make us hesitate before we pronounce a judgment so rigid. It really appears to us, that if there were nothing else, a sufficient reason to hold us in suspense might be found in the universality of romances at all times, and among all nations, It is an axiom, as certain as if it were in Euclid, that an opinion, generally believed to be true in every age and by every people, must be true. And it is unquestionably true that all nations have agreed in considering romances as one of their dearest delights. In speaking of romances, we do not confine ourselves to the vulgar acceptation of the term, because at present that term is restricted to too narrow a signification, which originally comprehended every narration of a fact, that had not actually happened.

complains that the love of the marvellous rendered uncertain the history of these nations.

That incessant wheel, which turns time and manners, has placed at the bottom those who once stood at the top of civilization; still the flight of ages has not been able to cancel the primitive character which the powerful hand of nature has impressed upon them. That air and that sun are still the same. Lying fame will no longer say that even Homer robbed from the altars of Memphis the poems of his virgin fancy, and sung them for his own at the tables of the Grecian chiefs. But in that very place, where those temples reared their lofty heads, flows a crystal fountain, called the fountain of the lovers, which furnishes a sweet argument of continual romancing to those inhabitants, who, in this alone, have not degenerated from the prowess of their forefathers. And the Koran itself, which is the base of all their belief, is it not for the greater part a romance, which, in the midst of the soundest precepts of morality, recounts the strangest follies that ever entered the dreams of a feverish brain? Every thing in these countries launches beyond the limits of verisimilitude, because the warm imagination of this people is always in search of the marvellous.

And in fact if we wish to consider romance in all its bearings upon moral and civil life, we must still enlarge The Persians themselves, who were always so obserthis idea, and extend it to all the creations of fancy, vant of truth, and are on that account highly praised which present us with a world different from the real by ancient writers, are no longer the same when there world, or which show us the real world itself through a is a question of inventing a narrative. They let their prism that totally transforms it into joyous colors. We geniuses loose to the wildest deliriums, and you seem have neither strength nor courage to throw ourselves to be listening to the brilliant fictions of the Arabians. into the immense fields of erudition, and to mount up These last, however, excel, in this respect, all the people through the different ages to the first origin of romances. of the east; nor could it be otherwise with a nation, But wherever we cast our eyes, we find them in favor which is said to possess alone more poets than all other with the mass of the people; and in this respect there nations put together. The poet and the romancer are is no distinction between the mysterious wisdom of the brothers, and we shall consider them in the same light. Egyptians and the credulous ignorance of our own sava- In all nations, a state of repose seems to have been ges. At the base of the pyramids, and on the borders necessary to the indulgence of this propensity for the of lake Maris, a crowd sitting with legs across still marvellous. In India, the climate is so romantic and listens to the tales of the Arab camel-driver, with the poetical, and has so powerful an influence over the peosame anxiety that the other group on the banks of ple, that modern institutions wither away on that contilake Superior, and in the midst of their bears and bea-nent and never take root. How is it possible that in a vers, drinks with delighted ears the stories of the cunning juggler who entertains them. And if the delightful gardens of Ionia frequently beheld their myrtles carved with fabulous remembrances, so do the rugged rocks of Scandinavia present at every step the deformed runic characters, which recount similar fictions. Every country appears to have equally inspired its inhabitants with this genius, and it is only when we wish to come nearer to the present conceived idea of romances, that our eyes are involuntarily turned to the east.

life so indolent and careless as that of the Indians, men could refrain from following the impulse of that faculty which imagines and creates? In the ease and idleness of the bodily members, when the necessities of positive existence are abundantly provided, the spirit redoubles its action, and boldly launches into the ideal world. But when a nation is coming out of a state of primitive barbarism, and is approaching a state of ordinary civilization, it feels what it wants in order to equal other great and illustrious nations. Hence it rouses itself, as from a sleep, and in the real objects which surrounds it, seeks for strength and splendor. Then its activity and

From the east we have received, with the sun, every ray of light; and beholding how those once happy regions are now buried in barbarism, one might be tempt-repose are divided between battles and the formation of ed to think it a punishment similar to that of Prometheus for having communicated the divine spark to the nations of the earth.

The Egyptians and the Arabians, the Assyrians and the Persians, are the first whose romantic narratives are recorded by tradition. Nor did this people apply themselves to the sole task of confounding and enveloping real events in imaginary histories: but morality, polities, and religion, were all wrapped up in allegories and fctions, so that one of the sacred prophets formerly gave the Arabians the name of fabulous, and Strabo

laws; the name of country and glory are blended together, and the ambition to satisfy its pride, searches for power and riches, things altogether real, and which cannot be contented with vain and empty illusions. In a word, when a nation is composing, with actions, its history, there is little room for romance, which only acquires favor when victory or defeat has introduced the peace of triumph or the peace of slavery. No praise can certainly be derived to romances, from the consideration that in times of power and glory, they are little esteemed by the nations of the earth. But we do not wish to

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