can be litigated at all, and always acceptable to those who have not from the first determined to have the whole." Nothing, we are persuaded, could throw half so much doubt, in the minds of other nations, upon both the justice of our claims and our honesty, as this refusal to arbitrate; and as to the probable result of that procedure, we make no question that the boundary awarded would have been that which all circumstances point out as the most reasonable and the only one-that which we have ourselves four times offered-the 49th parallel, deflected to the south at De Fuca's Straits, so as to pass through the middle of those splendid waters, leaving the most ample harbors on both sides. But there is another and a higher reason than anything of profit, or loss, or common honor, personal to this country, why we could have wished that proposition had been accepted. “A mixed commission of jurists and civilians, with an umpire"-from different countries to settle such difficulties as have always heretofore engaged nations in What a precedent! What an epoch might thus have been created! What an example would it have been to all time of the wisdom which might govern the world! For our own part, we could have been willing to have yielded up even the harbors of De Fuca's straits-we had almost said the whole of Oregon. And this proposition came from a British statesman, and was rejected by an Amer war! by demagogues, for some time—as vultures sailing against the wind smell carrion at a great distance that there would prove to be a vast amount of political capital inherent in that question, under some form. The only thing wanted was a way to make it available-for which the Democracy are not usually at a loss. Accordingly, as early as the session of 1842, they had begun in Congress to agitate for that purpose. In the Baltimore Convention they made haste to seize upon it as their property. They summarily declared that "our" claim-that is, the people's-that is, the Democracy's-to the entire region of Oregon was unquestionable. They might almost as well have declared that it was not questioned. What sudden wisdom had fallen on that body, or on any portion of that body— the elite of "the masses"-that they gave utterance to loud and positive assertions on such a question? There were undoubtedly some men in the country who had paid sufficient attention to the subject to discern very clearly its various relations, historical and international, though exceedingly complicated and demanding much abstruse research. But were there in all probability four such men in that select mixture? We make no hesitation in doubting whether there were two whom either taste or circumstances had led to the laborious study necessary to a mastery of the question. But what if there were ten-the number which would have saved Sodom? How large a part was that of the heterogeneous populace which at Baltimore, in May, 1844, resolved that "our right to the whole of Oregon is clear and unquestionable?" Can ten men be responsible for the opinions of five hundred? Five hundred, at second hand, for the opinions of the people? Or can the majority vote themselves into knowledge-as the New York city authorities, at the public expense, furnish themselves with refreshments? Or is the Democracy When the new Administration entered right by intuition? Questions more sigupon office, many of the old questions nificant than the answers to them would were at rest or had mainly lost their be satisfactory. However, with characavailability for party effect. They dared teristic unanimity, that politic body, not, just then, contemplate any material considering themselves the "body politic" change in the Tariff, by a false avowal, voted the whole matter a plain case, and of which in many parts of the country that the country recognized no patriotism they had been raised to power. The which did not cover Texas and Oregon. Texas controversy was to all practical Of course, what the Democracy knew, intents settled. The only question of their President must abide by, as this was public interest sufficient to create a genea case where it would not do for the ral excitement and give a chance to creature to be less wise than the power strengthen party lines, was the Oregon that made it. Besides, his knowledge on dispute. It had been instinctively felt the subject was, in fact, just about equal to ican! "con "Historia decus est," (says Lord Bacon, in his treatise De aug. scien., cerning the advancement of knowledge,") "et quasi anima, ut cum eventis causæ copulantur-It is the ornament, and as it were the soul of history, that with results causes are connected." We will endeavor, on this hint, to inquire out the reason of a movement for which no reason has been given. theirs. Accordingly, in his Inaugural Address-for which undoubtedly he studied the Oregon question all over in order to be certain he declared our claim not only indisputable, but to be maintained up to the last foot. Like the Yankee-already found peddling by the Chutes Falls and the Walla-Walla-he went "for the 54th and a leetle norther." Like his father in the faith and spiritual director, General Jackson, he was disposed, if withstood by imperious Britain, to "arbitrate at the cannon's mouth." This bold stand they had thought to take, not from any native boldness in themselves, nor because they were so sure of the right, and believed in an emergency Heaven would help them. But they supposed, from long inductive reasoning, that what the party leaders asseverated, the party would demand; and they were weak (shall we say base) enough, to be influenced on such a question by such a supposition. They were even persuaded, that the hostility to Great Britain is so deeply fixed in the general mind of the country, that the most affronting position possible would meet with most favor from the mass of the people thus increasing the ranks of the Administration from the lines of their opponents. But when the President came to enlarge a little-a very little— his knowledge on the question, he began to see that there were some difficulties, both intrinsic and extrinsic, to "give him pause." It was seen that there were a few considerations in favor of English rights in that region, and that they had quite forgotten the action of their predecessors in the case. More to their guidance, it was found that very little value was set on the territory, that the mass of the people did not want war, that England did not want war-in short, that the national honor was not half sensitive enough, and would not tolerate the idea of a war, consequently not a warspirit, on any extreme grounds. What then? The grounds were, of course, to be moderated. If then a war-cry could be skillfully manufactured, little danger, much popularity, might come of it. Accordingly, the compromise was offered of yielding nearly half of the region of which the whole had, without reservation, been so loudly claimed. This the British Minister most unwisely rejected. It ought to have been accepted, for it was clearly as much as England had any right to expect, and its rejection gave the party in power just the opportunity they were waiting for. The strong statement of Mr. Buchanan came out; thoughtless, ambitious men, in and out of Congress, talked blusteringly, and endeavored to draw party lines upon the question. But intelligent men on all sides took American ground, yet denounced war; business was hindered, the public mind depressed. While the Administration were finding it impossible to fill their sails with this wind, came the proposal for arbitration. It was rejected-" reason not given." True, a reason was offered, but of what worth, or reality, we have seen. Yet the truth is evident. From the Oregon Question,-unfortunately Americanized-they had gained but little power; from the war cry, nothing but rebuke. And now-to arbitrate !It would take, as they express it," the great interests of the Republic out of the control of the United States:"-" out of their control," is our reading of the fear. What particular eclat would attend their permission for others to settle a great national question? what loss of reputation not ensue, that they had not been able to settle it themselves? what of the power that should belong to executive energy? to diplomatic skill? The country had looked to them to finish the dispute; the country must be obeyed! It was clear, that "the great interests of the Republic" must not go out of the hands of the Administration. But these personal considerations, though undoubtedly of wonderful weight, were, in our opinion, by no means the controlling reason for this rejection. There was, in our belief, a new' and secret policy--as suddenly conceived as it was firmly adopted-which had been for some time influencing the movements of Government, and which now at once decided this matter. And it is to this point, chiefly, that we ask the attention of the country. We have not space to dwell upon it, and shall content ourselves at present with a simple indication of its nature. We never supposed that the Administration or the party wanted war, so much as they wanted the war-spirit. They wished to gamble with the terrible chances of this excited state of things, to increase their power. But when, as we have shown, the " signs of the times" so signally failed them, soon after the opening of Congress, they were forced to seek another resource. We have said that the President and his Cabinet dared not contemplate any immediate change in the tariff of 1842. Yet, notwithstand ing his swindling professions during the canvass, Mr. Polk always designed tha the Tariff of '42 should be altered. Some time in the course of his four years' usurpation he hoped to do thus much evil. Suddenly began to come the startling train of news from England. The destruction of crops, the prophecy of famine, the resignation of the Ministry, the failure of the new one, the return of the old, the announcement of the fall of the corn-laws, of the reduction of duties, and of a general change to take place in all the commercial policy of the nation, followed each other faster than successive packets and steamers could bring them. It had already been significantly hinted, that England's commercial relations were so important, her estimation of the excellence of her manufactures and of the beauty of reduced duties in foreign ports so high, that, if her honor were not touched, it would not "be difficult to arrange the Oregon question." These hints were not lost on this side of the waters. And when this new and surprising combination of circumstances referred to took place, a "monstrous clever" design struck the Administration. That it might partially have dawned upon them before is possible, as it could not have been difficult for Mr. Walker to fall pretty early on so ingenious and evil an expedient. It was resolved to make the Oregon dispute and rumors of war, which in themselves were now shorn of political effect, the immediate means of breaking down the Tariff. For this purpose the war panic was to be sedulously fostered, the disposition of Government kept dark, and general uncertainty as to all future results maintained, while a bill should be prepared which--bad enough to create, in quiet times, universal alarm -should, in this state of suspense, be accepted for the sake of--PEACE. That England has had any understand ing with this government on the scheme, or has acted with reference to it, need not be asserted. She was obliged to change her financial policy for home reasons, and her military preparations are, beyond question, necessary for many future contingencies. But everything has happened as well as if designed for the end required. Great Britain maintains a calm, prepared aspect; her statesmen talk with dignity, in Parliament, of English rights and English honor, but also of the extraordinary and reciprocal benefits of trade between the two countries; her public journals present the same oppos ing views, but with more breadth and freedom. On this side, hasty-minded military orators are permitted to make war-speeches in the dark; a bill of reduced duties is constructed, but carefully kept away from the public; and the party papers are left to talk blindly, now of the necessity of standing for all Oregon, now of the blessings of free trade. England, however, fearing that such an Administration, or such a party thrusting them on, might force the question into inextricable difficulties, and dreading a war, in the present state of her social elements, more than she could value any commercial concessions whateverbesides doubting, it is probable, whether she could really obtain from the United States any important or permanent concessions of the kind-most wisely proposed to submit the Oregon dispute to arbitration. That proposal was, of course, rejected. For it would not do to "take our great interests out of the control of the Republic!" In other words, it would not do to throw away the only question that could be made subservient to their political designs. Arbitration agreed to, public' excitement would sink at once, and they might hope in vain to persuade the people to throw down the Tariff. Thus, then, this state of things-disturbed, uncertain-is to be indefinitely kept up, that the government may take advantage of the anxiety and patriotism of the country, of the public sense of honor and dishonor, of the dread of the evils of war, the love of the blessings of peace, to aid them in forcing upon the people's reluctant acceptance a ruinous reduction of duties--an evil only less than war. The nation is called upon to watch their action. They may succeed for a timefor a time only. They shall be hurled from power as suddenly, and as much to their surprise, as corrupted Fortune first raised them to it. The desert in the case will be infinitely greater. The merits for which they were elevated to the govern ment of a great Republic-one of the four chief powers of the world-were, in any point of view, undoubtedly small. But if they continue this covert, uncertain and utterly selfish policy, from which, as yet, they seem never to have departed except to throw dust in the pub. lic eye, they will not be long in making it evident that they are not the Administration for a people whose true dignity, interest and honor, they are not only unwilling to subserve but unable to appreciate. RECENT FRENCH NOVELISTS. THANKS to cheap publication, and stealing-made-easy, by the refusal of Congress to pass an international copyright law, our country has been flooded of late with cheap translations of the recent French Novelists; the most conspicuous among whom are Vicomte d'Arlincourt, Victor Hugo, Balzac, Dumas, Paul de Kock, George Sand (alias Madame Dudevant) and Eugene Sue. There are numerous others who figure as feuilletonists in the French newspapers; a favorable specimen of whose powers is to be found in the “Sketches of conspicuous Living Characters of France," recently translated by our accomplished countryman, Mr. Walsh. But the only object of the present paper is hurriedly to trace the characteristic features of the leading novelists whose names have been given above. Many of the works of these authors have been made familiar to American readers through the medium of translations varying in fidelity and excellence of execution from good to execrable; though even in the most faithful of these much of the author's peculiar merit is necessarily lost, for the attempt to "paint the odor of a violet" would not be more futile than the hope of conveying the idiomatic beauties of one language by the words of another, totally different in character and construction. The French language especially, from its peculiar idiom and nice shades of verbal meaning, is, above all others, the most difficult to be faithfully rendered in another tongue, without sacrificing the sense. Thus, unconsciously, we commit a great injustice in judging of their master-pieces through the medium of translations, which, even when they convey the meaning, present it denuded of that drapery of well-selected words, which constitutes the indefinable but potent spell of style, in which the main excellence of these writers in the original will be found to consist. If this be the case with the best translations, how much more forcibly must these remarks apply to the bad ones, which are in the proportion of about ninety-nine in every hundred. After having instituted a careful comparison between several of the French novelists in the original and in translation, the conviction has been forced upon us that our Gallic neighbors have suffered foul wrong at the hands of our publishers. These gentlemen seem to have picked up some of their translators out of the streets, thrust Nugent's Dictionary violently into their hands, with a copy of the novel "to be done into English," with full license to cut, hack and hew the wretched author according to their pleasure-haste being the chief requisition, that some other "enterprising publisher" might not forestall the publication and reap the profits. The translations of Messrs. Herbert, Deming, and some few others whose names have not reached us, constitute honorable exceptions to these strictures, being in general well and faithfully executed; but the excellence of their work serves only to render more evidently wretched the abortive attempts of the literary pretenders who swarm about the purlieus of the paradise of publishers and penny-a-liners-modern Gotham. The writers of whom we propose to treat, and whose names we have given above, represent four distinct classes or schools of French fiction, each numbering in its ranks hosts of disciples and admirers, who in turn depreciate and condemn the productions and artistic principles of each other. The Vicomte d'Arlincourt stands confessedly at the head of the historic school. His "Cinq Mars" is the most striking and powerful fiction of its classworthy of Sir Walter Scott, whom he has evidently made his model. It is founded upon the fortunes of the celebrated favorite and conspirator, whose name and history are familiar to all conversant with the incidents of that stirring epoch when the fading light of chivalry still faintly gleamed above the horizon, and shed its last noticeable rays over the person of the hero of this novel: whose life was indeed chivalry put into action, and whose daring schemes and tragic fate invest him with an interest which even romance must fail to heighten. A character such as his, in the hands of a man of true genius like D'Arlincourt, could not fail to enlist the sympathies of every reader, and has earned for him the proud title of the "French Walter Scott;" a compli ment as high as it is merited, for in his works alone, of all we have referred to, there is nothing to be found which can revolt the most fastidious delicacy. All is chaste and correct. Decency and morality are never sacrificed to dramatic effect; a compliment we cannot conscientionsly extend to any of his cotemporaries, with whom " producing a sensation" is the one thing sought and desired, heedless of any scruples of propriety or decorum, so that result can be attained. Neither our space nor our object will permit us to enter here into a detailed account of all the writings of the French novelists. It is not our intention to give a catalogue. One may easily_be_obtained of Berteau in Broadway. Desiring merely to indicate the peculiar characteristics of each author, by reference to his best productions, we will dismiss the Vicomte with the recommendation to the fairer portion of our readers to procure and read his novels, in which they will find abundance of romantic incident, a fund of historic information, and much of the honey of sentiment, untainted by the poison of a refined sensuality, which conceals base sentiments under flowery words. He is an honor and an ornament to the French literature of the present day; and for nothing does he merit more praise than for his stern refusal to purchase a more extended popularity by pandering to the morbid and vicious taste for the coarse and sensual, which unfortunately prevails so extensively among his countrymen, and which has found its fit exponents in some of the writers of whom we shall presently speak. Victor Hugo, the next on our list, is the chief of the romantic, as opposed to the classic, school; a man of acknow. ledged genius, but of very equivocal taste who has written some of the best and some of the worst books of any author of the day-scorning all mediums, and transcending all bounds, on one side or the other. Bold, creative, audacious spurning all dictation-reckless of criticism-careless of common prejudices, yet voluntarily submitting to the most galling fetters self-imposed he is the slave of his own peculiar theory and ideas of art; which are so wild, odd and outré, as only to be redeemed from ridicule by the power and energy displayed in their development. To Victor Hugo must be accorded the honor of being the true parent of the "literature of desperation," so much in vogue at the present time. He was the first who dared to descend from courts and palaces, for heroes and heroines, to the walks of lower life; and like most daring innovators, he rushed from one extreme into another. His characters are literally picked up out of the streets-Esmeralda, the loftiest and purest of all his creations, being nothing better than a wandering Gipsy vagrant, dwelling among the thieves and vagabonds of Paris. His stronghold is in the morbid anatomy of the passions; and from the depths of social and moral degradation he summons up scenes of the most touching pathos and overwhelming horror. "In his "Notre Dame de Paris," (in our opinion his greatest work,) the conception of the character of Claude Frollo, the priest, is one of the most masterly to be met with in the range of modern fiction. The hidden workings of an impassioned heart, stung and tortured by ill-directed passions, long suppressed but never thoroughly subdued, and bursting forth at last only the more fiercely because of that long restraint, are laid bare with a terrible fidelity and force, which fixes and fascinates our unwilling interest. The gradual steps by which the stern and solitary priest is forced down into the abysses of crime and wretchedness, his desperate struggles to arrest his own descent, and his final fall, are all portrayed with a gloomy depth of coloring worthy of the pencil of a Salvator Rosa; and they inculcate the warning lesson, that in the conflict between principle and passion, the latter will too often triumph where the pride of intellect is the only safeguard summoned to resist its strong appeals. The various scenes in which the priest is introduced with Esmeralda, where his insane passion inspires him with almost superhuman eloquence, and the convulsive throes of his maddened heart wring from him bursts of wo and agony as deep as they are strong, haunt the memory of the reader long after he has perused them like the recollection of some sudden and painful dream. The first appearance of Esmeralda, in the courtyard and beneath the monastery, surrounded by an admiring crowd, and glittering with youth, and joy, and hope, presents a striking contrast to the final aspect of the same Esmeralda, when tottering into the doomchamber, pallid, worn, haggard-reduced to a skeleton-a weak victim, prematurely blasted by the infernal machinations of her foe and lover, the wretched priest. The scene, too, in the condemned cell, |