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tal, renews his acquaintance with Spiridion, the friend of his youth, who in vain labours to reclaim him, and whom he at last drives away, disgusted with the vices and passions of Anastasius. We then find our Oriental profligate fighting as a Turkish captain in Egypt, against his old friends the Mamelukes; and afterwards employed in Wallachia, under his old friend Mavroyeni, against the Russians and Austrians. In this part of the work, we strongly recommend to our readers to look at the Mussulmans in a pastry-cook's shop during the Rhamadam, Vol. II. p. 164; the village of beggars, Vol. II. p. 266; the death of the Hungarian officer, Vol. II. p. 327; and the last days of Mavroy eni, Vol. II. p. 356;-not forgetting the walk over a field of battle, Vol. II. p. 252. The character of Mavroyeni is extremely well kept up through the whole of the book; and his decline and death are drawn in a very spirited and masterly manner. The Spiridion part of the novel we are not so much struck with; we entirely approve of Spiridion, and ought to take more interest in him; but we cannot disguise the melancholy truth that he is occasionally a little long and tiresome. The next characters assumed by Anastasius are, a Smyrna.debauchee, a robber of the desert, and a Wahabee. After serving some time with these sectaries, he returns to Smyrna,-finds his child missing, whom he had left there,-traces the little boy to Egypt,-recovers him,-then loses him by sickness;—and, wearied of life, retires to end his days in a cottage in Carinthia. For striking passages in this part of the novel, we refer our readers to the description of the burial-places near Constantinople, Vol. III. 11-13. The account of Djezzar Pacha's retirement to his harem during the revolt,-equal to any thing in Tacitus; and, above all, to the landing of Anastasius with his sick child, and the death of the infant. It is impossible not to see that this last picture is faithfully drawn from a sad and cruel reality. The account of the Wahabees is very interesting, Vol. III. 128; and nothing is more so than the story of Euphrosyne. Anastasius had gained the affections of Euphrosyne, and ruined her reputation; he then wishes to cast her off, and to remove her from his house.
"Ah no!" now cried Euphrosyne, convulsively clasping my knees: "be not so barbarous! Shut not your own door against her, against whom you have barred every once friendly door. Do not deny her whom you have dishonoured the only asylum she has left. If I cannot be your wife, let me be your slave, your drudge. No service, however mean, shall I recoil from when you command. At least before you I shall not have to blush. In your eyes I shall not be what I must seem in those of others: I shall not from you incur
the contempt, which I must expect from my former companions; and my diligence to execute the lowest offices you may require, will earn for me, not wholly as a bare alms at your hands, that support which, however scanty, I can elsewhere only receive as an unmerited indulgence. Since I did a few days please your eye I may still please it a few days longer :-perhaps a few days longer therefore I may still wish to live; and when that last blessing, your love, is gone by,when my cheek, faded with grief, has lost the last attraction that could arrest your favour, then speak then tell me so, that, burthening you no longer, I may retire-and die!"' III. 64, 65.
Her silent despair, and patient misery, when she finds that she has not only ruined herself with the world, but lost his affections also, has the beauty of the deepest tragedy.
Nothing but the most unremitting tenderness on my part could in some degree have revived her drooping spirits.-But when, after my excursion, and the act of justice on Sophia in which it ended. I re-appeared before the still trembling Euphrosyne, she saw too soon that that cordial of the heart must not be expected. One look the cast upon my countenance, as I sat down in silence, sufficed to inform her of my total change of sentiments:-and the responsive took by which it was met, tore for ever from her breast the last seeds of hope and confidence. Like the wounded snail she shrunk within herself, and thenceforth, cloked in unceasing sadness, never more expanded to the sunshine of joy. With her buoyancy of spirits she seemed even to lose all her quickness of intellect, nay all her readiness of speech: so that, not only fearing to embark with her in serious conversation, but even finding no response in her mind to lighter topics, I at last began to nauseate her seeming torpor and duiness, and to roam abroad even more frequently than before a partner of my fate remained at home, to count the tedious hours of my absence; while she-poor miserable creature-dreading the sneers of an unfeeling world, passed her time under my roof in dismal and heart-breaking solitude. Had the most patient endurance of the most intemperate sallies been able to soothe my disappointment and to soften my hardness, Euphrosyne's angelic sweetness must at last have conquered: but in my jaundiced eye her resignation only tended to strengthen the conviction of her shame and I saw in her forbearance nothing but the consequence of her debasement, and the consciousness of her guilt. "Did her heart," thought I, "bear witness to a purity on which my audacity dared first to cast a blemish, she could not remain thus tame, thus spiritless, under such an aggravation of my wrongs; and either she would be the first to quit my merciless roof, or at least she would not so fearfully avoid giving me even the most unfounded pretence for denying her its shelter. She must merit her sufferings, to bear them so meekly!"-Hence, even when moved to real pity by gentleness so enduring, I seldom relented in my apparent sternness, 72-74.
With this we end our extracts from Anastasius.
der it as a work in which great and extraordinary talent is evinced. It abounds in eloquent and sublime passages,-in sense,in knowledge of history,-and in knowledge of human character;-but not in wit. It is too long; and, if this novel perishes, and is forgotten, it will be solely on that account. If it is the picture of vice, so is Clarissa Harlowe, and so is Tom Jones. There are no sensual and glowing descriptions in Anastasius,nothing which corrupts the morals by inflaming the imagination of youth; and we are quite certain that every reader ends this novel with a greater disgust at vice, and a more thorough conviction of the necessity of subjugating passion, than he feels from reading either of the celebrated works we have just mentioned. The sum of our eulogium is, that Mr Hope, without being very successful in his story, or remarkably skilful in the delineation of character, has written a novel, which all clever people of a certain age should read, because it is full of marvellously fine things.
ART. VI. The Opinions of Messrs SAY, SISMONDI, and MALTHUS, on the Effects of Machinery and Accumulation, Stated and Examined. London, 1821.
ROM the publication of the Wealth of Nations' in 1776, down to the peace of 1815, it appears to have been generally agreed, that the great practical problem of the science of Political Economy resolved itself into a discussion of the means whereby the greatest possible produce might be rendered obtainable with the least possible expense; and that the true measure of the increase or diminution of national wealth was to be found in the extent to which the commodities produced in a given period, exceeded or fell short of those consumed in the same period. The principles from which these conclusions were deduced, appeared to be almost self-evident and incontrovertible. • Every man is rich or poor, according to the degree in which he can afford to enjoy the necessaries, conveniencies, and amusements of human life. And, as it is conceded on all hands, that these necessaries and conveniencies,-whatever effect the institutions of society may have had on their distribution,-must have been primarily obtained by labour, it seems impossible to doubt, that the wealth and riches of every country, or, which is the same thing, its supply of necessaries and conveniencies, must be aug
* Wealth of Nations, vol. i. p. 43.
mented whenever the quantity of labour required for their production is diminished. Suppose the labour necessary to produce hats were reduced to a tenth of what it is at this moment, it is plain that the same quantity of labour which is now required to obtain one hat, would then obtain ten hats; and as the great bulk of mankind have only labour to give in exchange for commodities, their condition would, in consequence, be considerably improved. Instead, however, of being confined to one, a similar reduction might take place in the cost of producing all commodities; and, if such were the case, it is extremely difficult to perceive how we should not be ten times richer-that is, have ten times more of the necessaries and luxuries of life at our disposal.
But, notwithstanding the apparent reasonableness of these conclusions, their correctness has lately been called in question by writers of considerable eminence. Dr Smith is accused of having mistaken the object of the science. That object, it is now said, is not to facilitate production, but to stimulate consumption. An increase of demand, and not of supply, is stated to be the real desideratum-we are said to produce too much, and to consume too little. And the regorgement which has been felt in almost all the channels of industry since the peace, added to the extreme difficulty of finding a market for various commodities whose cost of production has been much diminished, has been triumphantly appealed to as a conclusive proof of the soundness of the theory which teaches, that the saving of labour in the production of commodities may be carried too far-that the excess of wealth may be accompanied with all the evils of poverty-and that a great propensity to save and accumulate capital, or a sudden reduction of taxation, may frequently reduce the population to a state of absolute starvation!
But, whatever truth may be in these novel and extraordinary conclusions, they can derive no support from the distresses in which the productive classes in this country have been involved during the last five or six years. These may be satisfactorily accounted for, on the supposition that they have proceeded from entirely different causes; from our being suddenly deprived of that monopoly of the commerce of the world we enjoyed during the latter years of the war; and from the increase in the value of the currency, which has really added from 25 to 30 per cent. to the already enormous weight of the public burdens. We have, in former articles, endeavoured to show, that these have been the principal causes of the comparative embarrassments of the commercial and agricultural classes since the peace. And as it is impossible to deny that they must have exerted a very powerful influence, it is plain the existing distress does not afford any
solid presumption in favour of the opinions of Messrs Sismondi and Malthus, the principal supporters of the new doctrines. They must, therefore, be tried by a different test. And as there is no conclusive experience in their favour, we must endeavour, by the aid of a careful analysis, to ascertain their truth or falsehood.
Before proceeding to examine the objections which have been stated to the continued reduction in the price of commodities caused by the indefinite extension and improvement of machinery, we may observe, that the same objections would equally apply to the continued and indefinite improvement of the skill and industry of the labourer. If the construction of a machine that would manufacture two pairs of stockings for the same expense that had previously been required to manufacture one pair, be in any circumstances injurious to society, it would be equally injurious were the same thing accomplished by an increase of dexterity and skill on the part of the knitters;-if, for example, the females who were in the habit of knitting two or three pairs of stockings in the week, should in future be able to knit four or six pairs. There is obviously no difference in these cases. And if the demand for stockings was already sufficiently supplied, M. Sismondi could not, consistently with the principles he has advanced in his late work (Nouveaux Principes, tome 2de, p. 318.), hesitate about condemning this improvement as a very great evil-as a means of throwing half the people engaged in the stocking manufacture out of employment. The question respecting the improvement of machinery is, therefore, at bottom, the same with the question respecting the improvement of the science, ingenuity, skill, and industry of the labourer. The principles which regulate our decision in the one case, must also regulate it in the other. If it be advantageous that the skill of the labourer should be indefinitely extended-that he should be enabled to produce a vastly greater quantity of commodities with the same, or a less, quantity of labour, it must also be advantageous that he should avail himself of the assistance of such machines as may most effectually assist him in bringing about this result.
In order the better to appreciate the effects resulting from an increase in the manual skill and dexterity of the labourer, or from an improvement in the tools or machines used by him, let us suppose that the productive powers of industry are universally augmented, and that the workmen engaged in every different employment can, with the same exertion, produce ten times the quantity of commodities as at present: Is it not evident that this increased facility of production would increase the wealth and enjoyments of every individual in a tenfold proportion?