"The preparation of iron has become the most essential branch of industry, in consequence of the immediate profit it produces to the masters of forges, of the general good that society draws from it, and of the advantages it offers to governments. No other occupies so many arms, produces so active or so constant a circulation of money, or exercises so direct an influence on the riches of the state and the ease of the people. It is therefore the particular interest of every government to favour it, to sustain it by the most efficacious measures, and to carry it to the highest degree of prosperity." Karsten—(Introduction.)
The measures proposed for this purpose, include bounties, the advance of capital, and the prohibition of foreign iron. Such is the uniform practice of by far the greater part of the nations of Europe. The governments receive the most advantageous returns for such protection.
"In the imposts of all kinds, that it derives directly or indirectly from the establishments themselves, the workmen employed, and the numerous personnel whose existence is linked to that of the manufacture of iron. But that which ought most particularly to fix the attention of government, consists in the precious advantages which are derived from it by rural economy, by other branches of industry, and which it affords for internal security and external defence." Karsten.
It has been seen, that we cannot consider that measures of such extent are required in our own country. Still, were we, as all European nations are, in direct contact with rival or hostile powers, their necessity would be imperative.
Art. V.—The Siamese Twins. A Satirical Tale of the Times, with other Poems, by the Author of Pelham, &c. J. & J. Harper: New-York: pp. 308.
This production furnishes one of the most remarkable instances to be found in the history of literature, of the wide difference between notoriety and merit. No work ever came from the press whose anticipated excellence was more loudly proclaimed, and none, we are persuaded, ever more disappointed high-wrought expectation. That the author of Pelham was about to favour the world with a great poetical production of a satirical character, was announced in the different periodical works, with all that elation and pomposity which indicated the assurance that some important addition to the poetical literature of England, was about to take place. Prophetic eulogy was strained to the uttermost. Public anxiety for the appearance of the mighty work, became all that the booksellers could wish. Every one was not only eager to read, but prepared to admire, and impatient to praise—for the fashion of praising this author, whether he wrote well or ill, had set in; and who in this age of polite pretensions, would dare to be unfashionable?
Nor has the attentive author himself been deficient on this occasion, in the fatherly duty of bespeaking public opinion in favour of his offspring. In a preface remarkable for that startling species of modesty by which a man becomes the trumpeter of his own greatness, he predicts that, if not immediately, at least in eight or ten years hence, his works will make such an impression, as to occasion a revolution in the poetical taste of mankind, and become the model of a new school in the "Divine Art." The confidential puffers to whom the idea was imparted, in despite of whatever doubts they might entertain on the subject, scrupled not to give publicity to the prediction. A work destined to such an illustrious career, could not fail to be endowed with an exalted and overpowering excellence of some kind, and also of a kind different altogether from any that had hitherto given satisfaction to the readers of poetry. The poetical tastes and habits of our nature were, in fact, to be entirely changed by the influence of this mighty satire. No wonder, therefore, that curiosity respecting the work was sufficiently awakened to occasion for it a large demand on its first appearance.
Many of the conductors of the periodical press, who gave publicity to this exaggerated strain of praise, were, no doubt, sceptical as to its being altogether merited, and must have acted from motives either of interest or of courtesy. Yet there may have been some who believed in the possibility of the wonders which were predicted. Indeed, in this strange age, when miracles are scarcely to be accounted wonders—when ships are propelled without wind, and carriages without horses—when schoolboys and journeymen printers overturn governments and make and unmake kings with almost as much facility as the manager of a play-house casts the character of a drama; what extraordinary things may not with propriety be credited? Even philosophy may now, without reproach, believe in absurdity; and thoughtless paragraphists, without being laughed at, may be permitted to suppose that an adventurous rhymester may speak truth, when he asserts that he is about to revolutionize the principles of poetical taste and composition!
When mutation is the order of the day, why may not human nature itself be changed? When all physical obstructions to locomotion, and all impediments to the march of mind, are yielding to the ingenuity and activity of man, why may not his own natural feelings and dispositions also yield, and become changed? But hold—the author of this Siamese satire has discovered that they have already changed! Not merely have the opinions and pursuits of society taken a new direction, and the habits and views of the present, become different from those of the past generation—this would be readily admitted—but a much more important alteration in the constitution of man, he affirms, has taken place. It is not only the condition, but the nature of the species that he asserts to be changed. With the last generation, all the old impulses of the heart—all susceptibility of love or hatred, friendship or enmity, pity or revenge—all feelings of pride, avarice, ambition, or love of fame—all emotions of joy, grief, anger, remorse—all generosity, charity, desire of happiness, and self-preservation—all, all are passed away!