BRITISH MANUFACTURES.

THE following tabular view of the manufactures of Great Britain, is chiefly formed upon the calculations and researches of Mr. Grellier, and were published in1802. A distinct view of so important a branch of the wealth, industry, and ingenuity of that opulent nation, as accurate as the nature of the subject will admit, and with the perspicuity peculiar to a table will probably be acceptable to many

readers.

A. B.

turers.

to

of No. of workmen workmen.]

wages

each

to each.

per man.

wages.

The Letters of the British Spy. Originally published in the Virginia Argus, in August and September, 1803.

Richmond: Pleasants....pp. 43.

THE fiction on which the title of these letters would lead us to suppose them built, is very favourable to curiosity and invention. If we mistake not, it took its origin, as most schemes of the kind have done, in the prolific imagination of the French. The first example was set in the voluminous, and once popular work of "The Turkish Spy ;" and has been followed by a numerous train of Chinese, Jewish, &c. This, before us, is the second instance of the kind in America; for a well known writer published, formerly, what he called "The Algerine Spy."

The mystery and danger encircling the character of a Spy, give his adventures a peculiar and uncommon interest; and the business of his life being to inquire and observe, and his foreign prejudices leading him to view every object in a new light, there cannot be a part more favourable to original and striking speculations. Most of the Spies, however, with whom we are acquainted, seem to have forgotten their true character; and turn out, upon examination, to be nothing more than men travelling for their own amusement.

1

The letters before us, are written, in the character of an English traveller, to Mr. S*******, alias Mr. Sheridan. They are few and brief, and exhibit but very few points in that immense picture which the United States constitute in the eye of a stranger. The traveller arrives at Richmond, and there he chiefly continues. He begins his correspondence with some remarks upon American, that is Virginian rever ence for rank and wealth, and some

VOL. I....NO. IV.

account of the local situation of Richmond. He then digresses into some geoligical speculations on the origin and age of our continent, which, after some time, provokes a reply, that is also published in this collection. He next discusses the eloquence of America; states its defects and their causes, and draws the portraits of several eminent pleaders at the bar. We likewise meet with various thoughts on the subject of style and eloquence in general.

There is some liveliness of fancy, and a sparkling style in the effusions of this writer: there are many marks of a juvenile and undisciplined pen, and in most of his recitals we have found that degree of interest and amusement which it was probably the whole intention of the writer to afford. The following portrait of a pulpit orator will serve as a specimen of this performance.

"I have been my dear S******* on an excursion through the counties which lie along the eastern side of the Blue Ridge. A general description of that country and its inhabitants may form the subject of a future letter. For the present, I must entertain you with an account of a most singular and interesting adventure which I met with, in the course of the tour.

"It was one Sunday, as I travelled through the county of Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near a ruinous, old, wooden-house, in the forest, not far from the road side. Having frequently seen such objects before, in travelling through these states, I had no difficulty in understanding that this was a place of religious worship. Devotion alone should have stopped me to join in the du ties of the congregation; but I must confess that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness, was not the least of my motives. On

4

enunciation and his voice of affecting, trembling melody....you are to remember the pitch of passion and enthusiasm to which the congregation were raised....and then the few minutes of portentous, death-like silence which reigned throughout the house....the preacher removing his white handkerchief from his aged face (even yet wet from the recent torrent of his tears) and slowly stretching forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the sentence...." Socrates died like a philosopher"....then pausing, raising his other hand, pressing them both, clasped together, with warmth and energy to his breast, lifting his "sightless balls" to heaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice...." but Jesus Christ.... like a God!....If he had been indeed and in truth an angel of light, the effect could scarcely have been more divine. Whatever I had been able to conceive of the sublimity of Massillon or the force of Bourdaloue had fallen far short of the power which I felt from the delivery of this simple sentence. The blood which, just before, had rushed in a hurricane upon my brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feelings, had held my whole system in suspense; now ran back into my heart with a sensation which I cannot describe; a kind of shuddering, delicious horror! The paroxysm of blended pity and indignation to which I had been transported, subsided into the deepest self abasement, humility and adoration! I had just been lacerated and dissolved by sympathy for our saviour as a fellow-creature; but now, with fear and trembling, I adored him as.... ❝ a God!"

"If this description gives you the impression that this incomparable minister had any thing of shallow, theatrical trick in his manner, it does him great injustice. I have never seen, in any other orator, such an union of simplicity and majesty. He has not a gesture, an attitude, or an accent to which he does not

seem forced by the sentiment which he is expressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest, too solicitous, and, at the same time, too dignified to stoop to artifice. Although as far removed from ostentation as a man can be, yet it is clear from the train, the style and substance of his thoughts, that he is, not only a very polite scholar, but a man of extensive and profound erudition. I was forcibly struck with a short, yet beautiful character which he drew of our learned and amiable countryman, Sir Robert Boyle: he spoke of him, as if "his noble mind had, even before death, divested herself of all influence from his frail taber. nacle of flesh;" and called him in his peculiarly emphatic and impressive manner, "a pure intelligence.... the link between men and angels!"

"This man has been before my imagination almost ever since. A thousand times, as I rode along, I dropped the reins of my bridle, stretched forth my hand and tried to imitate his quotation from Rousseau; a thousand times I abandoned the attempt in despair, and felt persuaded that his peculiar manner and power arose from an energy of soul which Nature could give, but which no human being could justly copy. In short, he seems to be al-, together a being of a former age, or of a totally different nature from the rest of men. As I recal, at this moment, several of his awfully striking attitudes, the chilling tide with which my blood begins to pour along my arteries reminds me of the emo tions produced by the first sight of Gray's introductory picture of his bard.

On a rock, whose haughty brow,

Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Rob'd in the sable garb of woe,

With haggard eyes the poet stood; (Loose his beard and hoary hair, Streamed, like a meteor, to the trou bled air)

And with a poet's hand and prophet's

fire

Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre,

"Guess my surprise when, on my arrival at Richmond and mentioning the name of this man, I found not one person who had ever before heard of James Walbell! Is it not strange that such a genius as this, so accomplished a scholar, so divine an orator, should be permitted to languish and die in obscurity within eighty miles of the metropolis of Virginia! To me it is a conclusive argument, either that the Virginians have no taste for the highest strains of the most sublime orotary, or that they are destitute of a much more important quality, the love of genuine and exalted religion. Indeed it is too clear, my friend, that this soil abounds more in weeds of foreign birth, than in good and salubrious fruits. Among others the noxious weed of infidelity has struck a deep, a fatal root, and spread its pestilential branches far around. I fear that our excentric and fanciful countryman, Godwin, has contributed not a little to water and cherish this pernicious exotic. There is a novelty, a splendor, a boldness in his scheme of morals peculiarly fitted to captivate a youthful and an ardent mind. A young man feels his delicacy flattered, in the idea of being emancipated from the old, obsolete and vulgar motives of moral conduct; and acting correctly from motives quite new, refined and sub limated in the crusible of pure, abstracted reason. Unfortunately, however, in this attempt to change the motives of his conduct, he loses the old ones, while the new, either from being too etherial and sublime, or from some other want of congeniality, refuse to mix and lay hold of the gross materials of his nature. Thus he becomes emancipated, indeed; discharged not only from ancient and vulgar shackles, but also, from modern fine-spun, tinseled restraints of his divine Godwin. Having imbibed the high spirit of literary adventure, he disdains the limits of the moral world; and advancing boldly to the throne of God, he questions him on his dispensations, and demands the reasons of

his laws. But the counsels of heaven are above the ken, not contrary to the voice of human reason; and the unfortunate youth, unable to reach and measure them, recoils from the attempt, with melancholy rashness, into infidelity and deism. Godwin's glittering theories are on his lips. Utopia or Mezorania boast not of a purer moralist in words,. than the young Godwinian. But the unbridled licentiousness of his conduct makes it manifest, that if Godwin's principles are true in the abstract, they are not fit for this system of things, whatever they might be in the republic of Plato.

"From a life of inglorious indolence, by far too prevalent among the young men of this country, the transition is easy and natural to immorality and dissipation. It is at this giddy period of life, when a series of dissolute courses have debauched the purity and innocence of the heart, shaken the pillars of the uuderstanding, and converted her sound and wholesome operations, into little more than a set of feverish starts, and incoherent and delirious dreams, it is in such a situation that a new-fangled theory is welcomed as an amusing guest, and deism is embraced as a balmy comforter against the pangs of an offended conscience. This coalition once formed and habitually consolidated, “farwel, a long farwel" to honour, genius and glory! From such a gulf of complicated ruin, few have the energy ever to attempt an escape. The moment of cool reflection, which should save them, is too big with horror to be endured. Every plunge is deeper and deeper, until the tragedy is finally wound up by a pistol or a haltar. Do not believe that I am drawing from fancy; the picture is unfortunately true. Few dramas, indeed, have yet reached their catastrophe; but, too many are in a rapid progress towards it. These thoughts are affecting and oppressive. I am glad to retreat from them by bidding you adieu; and offering my prayers to heaven that you may never lose the pure,