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But the Crusades humbled this pride by creating these wants, and the baron's thirst for power, his love of tyranny, and his hatred of freedom, all yielded to his insatiate demand for money. A demand which in modern society has humbled the arrogance and fettered the supremacy of power, and maintained the balance between its higher and lower orders. A demand which published to the astonished slave of the eleventh century that there was a power paramount to rank and titles; that by grasping it the serf might one day supplant his lord; that gold would out-dazzle armorial bearings; that it was office at court, in the camp renown, and in the church salvation; that by accumulating it, bodies politic might resist the oppression of their feudal sovereigns, assert their rights, and establish them on the basis of constitutions and charters. From the operation of this cause in increasing the amount and augmenting the influence of wealth, the cities of Germany and Italy, which before the Crusades were oppressed in all their social rights, became bulwarks of freedom; embodied forms of the principle of democracy. Before the influence of wealth was felt, they paid for a mere nominal protection by absolute subjection to their protectors; but now they were entirely disfranchised, invested with the privileges of municipal jurisdiction, of suffrage, election and self government, and liberty was declared “such an essential part of their character, that slaves were liberated who took refuge in them.” In the language of an elegant writer, “it was the poverty of the feudal lords which extorted from their pride those charters of freedom which unlocked the setters of the slave, secured the farm of the peasant and the shop of the artificer, and gradually restored a substance and a soul to the most numerous and useful part of community.” Thus has the power of wealth contributed to the triumph of equality, by breaking up hereditary tenures, by humbling the pride and diminishing the importance of birth, by opening other avenues to honor and influence, by inspiring the degraded minds of the lower orders with ambitious energy, by disfranchising individuals, chartering cities, and consecrating in the midst of a dark and barbarous age, a hallowed spot, where the humbled spirit of man could soar and wheel in the pure atmosphere, and with the proud consciousness of freedom. The omnipotence of knowledge.—In comparing the influence of knowledge with that of other causes, in advancing the principle of democracy, omnipotence may be safely predicated of it. It has manifestly done more than all other causes combined. The same convulsion which gave life to commercial enterprise, revealed to society the might of mind, and that the ethereal principle may glow with as much vigor and purity in the peasant's breast, as under purle and ermine. Communication with the East, the necessity of aws, and the progress of society, called into exercise the powers of the understanding. Knowledge became a patent of nobility, a passport to the favor of kings. Arbitrary distinctions yield to intellect, force to reason, antiquity to truth, the sword to the PREss. Poetry, philosophy, the sciences, the arts, the schools, swell the growth of equality, and call forth from the shop, the anvil and the plough, a vast array, invested with heaven's nobility, who take their places by the side of kings, and look down upon nobles. Knowledge and wealth reflect aid upon each other. New fields of enterprise are thrown open. Fresh laurels are won by mind. Every discovery, every invention, every master-piece of genius, speeds the progress of equality. The ambition of tyrants contributes to its success. The feudal lords slaughter each other. Wars develop the importance of the people. Kings elevate them to awe the noble, and are awed themselves. The baron's mace is broken the regal sceptre trembles' prerogatives yield to the supremacy of majorities. Equality is soon arrayed against thrones and dignities; the rights of the many against the oppression of the few ; the principle of democracy against the self-preserving instincts, the life struggles of power. All Europe is the Waterloo. Which will triumph : We have hitherto contemplated the principle of democracy as struggling against institutions for perpetuating power, against hereditary birth, transmitted wealth, prejudice and proscription. We have yet known nothing of its intrinsic evils; for its wild ambition, its resistless energy, its insatiate thirst for advancement, have been directed against the barefaced oppression, the gross and palpable injustice of civil society. Danger has been to it a bond of union, adversity has tempered its violence and restrained its excesses. Under the eye of these stern monitors, its vices have been tamed, its virtues fostered; it has never yet obeyed the unchecked promptings of its nature, it has never known the curse of prosperity. But the nineteenth century has exhibited an anomaly to the world, democracy triumphant. A new continent has been thrown open, vast in territory, exhaustless in its resources, free from the ancient establishments, the deep rooted customs and prejudices of the Eastern world ! Its free soil acknowledges no feudal lord, is ignorant of all servile tenures. Its hospitable bosom is open alike to the king and the slave. Hither the principles of democracy have been transplanted. It has breathed its own spirit into government, society, laws and religion. Its active energies, its resistless enterprise, are settered by no moral restraints, no natural obstacles. It ranges from sea to sea, from pole to pole. The dangers and the destiny of American democracy Such are the topics, such the theatre which the prosecution of this inquiry presents to our view.


Grand Master,

SceNE, Rhodes—the battlements of the City.

Enter Grand Master.

solus. Thou land of ancient story, Palestine!
How art thou fallen. Dark o'er thy hills has swept
The storm of Moorish vengeance, and the doom,
For ages resting on thy destiny,
Has wrought its stern and terrible decree,
Purpling thy plains with Christian sacrifice.
Oh! that my lot had been of theirs, who fell
Before Judea's shrines, faithful to death—
Conquered but not enslaved When shall the tide
Of Moslem conquest cease to roll its waves
From land to land, quenching the light of truth
And hope from Christendom. Ev’n this fair Isle,
Above whose shores my dream had been to plant
For aye the standard of our holy faith,
Has caught the spoiler's eye, and his dark hosts
Are eager for their prey. How proudly there
The crescent slings upon the morning breeze
Its dewy solds, radiant with day's first glories'
As proudly too, fierce Sultan, shall the cross,
With answering wave unfurled, send back to thee
Our stern defiance.

Oh! 'tis a weary task,
To school the heart—whose joy hath been, amid
The rush of battling hosts, to quench its own
Deep thirst for valor's noblest energies—
Into such still and passive fortitude

Enter De A maral.

De Amaral in the back ground. Ha! yonder muses the old dotard. Now,

&rand Master.

Sir Knight, be cool and calm aye such a calm,
As lulls the elements, before the storm
Doth hurl its desolation. This be mine ! [coming forward.]
Most noble chief, I greet thee well. Thou'rt sad,
Methinks, this morn. Perhaps my presence here
Is unwelcome. -

Nay, brave De Amaral!
The first free breath of Heaven is not more sweet
To him who leaves the couch of sickness, than
Thy face to me. Yet there is a dull sense
Of Death upon my spirit, weighing down
Its eagle dream of conquest to the cold
Reality of unrelieved despair.

De Amaral. 'Tis but the gloom of night, that lingers still
Around thee, and should vanish with the morn.
Thou art our leader, and we would not see
Upon thy brow the shadowing of fear,
Lest it should prove contagious.

Grand Master. De Amaral,
Thou dost not read me right. Seest thou aught
Of fear traced on this care-worn brow 2 Thou said'st
It well, I am your leader, and 'tis this
That stirs these anxious thoughts. What boots the meed
Of victory to me—the trophy won
In glory's name—the offered loyalty
Of bannered thousands, is upon the heart
The weight of tenfold care doth heap its might 2
The humble peasant at his cottage hearth,
When evening dews descend, finds his repose,
The labors of the day o'erpast. But rank
What is it 'tis but pre-eminence in peril–
To ward the fold of faith assailed, and stand,
In every danger, on the vanward tower—
To watch, guard, counsel, lead, bear wrongs and die.

De Amaral. Ha! would I might relieve him of these cares. [Aside.]
My sire, I have a boon to ask of thee,
If thou dost think me brave—

Grand Master. If I do think thee brave! Was that well said,
De Amaral? Whose sword is deadlier,
In the fierce strife of warriors on the field,
Than thine Say on, what would'st thou?

De Amaral. Ha! has Man looketh not upon the heart! [Aside.]
That thou would'st give to my defence the tower
Of Elmo, at the southern gate, that fronts
The Turkish camp.

Grand Master. Yes, that or any post
I freely yield to thee, knowing it safe,
While life is thine. Farewell the morning hath
Its duties for me, and I must not stay.

De Amaral. Sire, farewell [Erit Grand Master.]

Have I deceived thy sleepless vigilance,
Old man 2 And thou dost trust me! Ha! I tell
Thee thou dost lean upon a reed. 'Twill pierce
Thee like a dagger point. Thou hast forgotten,
But I, never. Time ruthless destroyer!
Thou heart-mocker! Over the struggling mind
Thou pourest the deluge of returnless years—
Heaping on memory clouds without flame,
Or voice, cold, deep and dark, like a dim shroud
Around the spirit's sepulchre. Yet thou

- Hast chronicles of darker import, tyrant!

Which even thy power from the fierce blazonry
Of passion cannot blot. Oh! there are things
Recorded here on the heart's registry,
That tell of pride insulted—love spurned— -
The high soarings of wild ambition crushed—
And all, that has a power to stir the hell
Of hate within the heart's deep chambers, speak
To urge me forward to revenge. They come
To me in sleep, with the awe breathing voice
Of midnight visions—they are first to greet
Me when I wake, they linger last at eve—
Mid danger, hopelessness, fear, breathing one,
One deep, remorseless passion, born of hate
And agony, revenge! Revenge for all !
And the response shall come! [Curtain falls.]

2d. Evening continued.

“Erras, erras; nam exsultantem te, et praesidentem tibi,
Repriment validae criticorum habenae.”

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AFTER reading my piece I looked towards Jumble, expecting to receive his ready approval. No wonder then that I was startled on seeing his phiz suddenly elongated to the measure of eighteen inches by three on “Ward's improved premium scale;” and positively shocked, when it was as soon contracted to three by eighteen on the same rule, while he fairly shook the room with laughter.—“Zounds!” said I, “who would have thought that such sublime conceptions”— another hysterical burst, and I seized my hat convulsively, fully determined on “Bedlam and a straight jacket,” for my friend, when I was again surprised to see him become perfectly calm.

“Did you never hear,” said he, “that there is but a step from the sublime to the ridiculous f’’

“Yes, a thousand times; but what can you mean?” (somewhat doubting his sanity.)

“Nothing; only Napoleon took that step.”

“Ha! Jumble were you then laughing at me?”

There was no mirror opposite, but I suppose my eyes flashed lightning, for in an instant he was palsied. A solemn pause ensued, (during which I contrasted the late storm at sea with the tempest raging in my bosom,) when at length Josephus, in a tone which subdued me, apologized by saying “that he merely wished to try my temper.”

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