the national stock, by protecting it, the one from plunder, and the other from injury; for if the artificer of bolts and bars, who protects property in detail, be termed a productive labourer, much more, it is argued, should those be placed in the productive class, who protect property in the mass, and add to every portion of it, the quality of being secure *. In his explanation of this subject, Dr. Smith expressly states, that he does not mean to undervalue the utility of the labour which he denominates unproductive; and the preceding argument seems to proceed upon the fallacy of maintaining, that labour because it is useful must necessarily be productive. But while the utility both of justice and of defence is freely admitted, the labour which is subservient to production, ought not therefore to be confounded with the labour which actually produces; since by such a mode of reasoning, the plainest distinctions might be subverted. If the soldier, for example, be termed a productive labourer, because his labour is subservient to production, the productive labourer might, by the same rule, lay claim to military honours ; as it is certain that, without his assistance, no army could ever take the field to fight battles or to gain victories. The case of the menial servant is still more decisive in favour of Dr. Smith's distinction. It seems quite plain that the wealth of an individual, who maintains ten menial servants, will be diminished exactly by the expence of their maintenance: while by maintaining ten labourers who re-produce their maintenance with a profit, he will be richer by the whole amount of this profit. In answer to which, it is observed, that "there is no such difference as Dr. Smith supposes between the effects of maintaining a multitude of those several kinds of workmen. It is the extravagant quantity, not the peculiar quality of the labour thus paid for, that brings a ruin. A man is ruined if he keep more servants than he cau afford to employ, and does not let them out for hire; exactly as he is ruined by purchasing more food than he can consume, or by employing more workmen in any branch of manufactures than his business requires or his profit will pay It is only, therefore, when workmen or productive labourers are multiplied without necessity and maintained in idleness, or in other words, when they are not productive labourers, that they are compared by this writer to menial servants; for it is clear that when they re-produce their maintenance with a profit, they cannot be multiplied to the injury of their employer. Here then Dr. Smith's distinction between productive and unproductive labour is plainly recognized; since it appears that a master loses * See Edin. Review, vol. iv, p. 355. only only by maintaining workmen without employing them, or, in other words, by maintaining unproductive labourers. We have no hesitation in saying that Mr. Buchanan has the best of the argument, and that although it may not be easy to draw the line of distinction between productive and unproductive labourers, without taking in some on both sides of it which the general description or definition of such labourers would necessarily exclude, yet there can be no doubt that the distinction itself is founded in a just view of private prosperity and of national wealth. On the subject of " National Defence" our author has stepped entirely out of his department, as a writer on political science, and entered that of a military historian; on which account his article is in no respect a scheme of national protection, but a brief historical sketch of the art of war, together with certain instructions to fighting men, drawn as practical inferences for the review which he takes of their blood-stained annals. We have first the invasion of Greece by the Persians; then, the contests of the Greeks with each other; after which follow in order, the invasion of Persia by Alexander; the rise and decline of the Roman power; contests of the middle ages; invasion of Holland by Louis XIV.; wars of King William, of Marlborough, of Frederic the Great, American war; view of the modern system of tactics; campaign of 1795 in Germany, by the Archduke Charles, and in Italy by Bonaparte; Campaign of 1805, &c. As Mr. Buchanan evidently piques himself upon this article, we would willingly, in return for the amusement which his brisk detail has afforded us, say something in its favour; and had it appeared in the preface of an English Polybius, or as a commentary on Sir David Dundas's movements, it should certainly have been crowned with applause. But as we happen to agree with Dr. Smith, Mr. Craig, and other distinguished writers on national defence, that the cheapest means, and those which are least dangerous to the liberty of the subject, ought, as well as the most efficacious means, to be taken into consideration in every place which is devised for public security, we cannot help thinking, that he has passed by that into which it was most incumbent upon him to examine minutely. But we are tired of finding fault, for which reason, we shall abstain from any farther exercise of our inquisitorial authority. We regret, that literary justice, and a becoming regard for the great name of Adam Smith, have compelled us to be so decided in our disapprobation of Mr. Buchanan's labours, both as an editor and as an author. We think his notes are generally puerile, and sometimes flippant, while the essays which compose his volume, exhibit little of either reflection or information. VOL. III. FEBRuary, 1815. K We We have no intention to conceal, however, that our severity has been partly excited by the symptoms of self-sufficiency which pervade his production, but chiefly by the bold and unmeasured confidence which led him to undertake the editing of the Wealth of Nations. ART. III. The Lord of the Isles. A Poem. By Walter Of those who are condemned to worship at the shrine of fashion, and to court the gale of popular applause, there are none who have more reason to complain of its tyramous caprice, or to lament its rapid and unaccountable reverse, than the favourite poets of the age. Fiddlers and physicians, preachers and players, can often count many seasons more passed in the sunshine of public approbation than the laureats of the day; fewer efforts are required to fill their purses, and fewer sacrifices to preserve their fame. The large and repeated draughts which in the zenith of his popularity, are made upon the poet's genius, leave it spiritless and exhausted; and when after any interval of repose, he returns, like the giant refreshed, to the course, he finds another in possession of the field. The same harmony which once delighted the public ear, pleases it now no more; the anxiety which in former days anticipated every new exertion, has subsided into the listlessness of neglect; and the transports of admiration which attended its appearance are converted into the damnatory coldness of faint praise or the cavils of disappointed expectation. His only consolation will be that the idol to whom those honours, which were once his own, are now transferred, will in his turn sink into neglect, and in due time be added to the number of those, who like the fat weed rot themselves on Lethe's wharf. They, whose exertions have never received the meed of popular favour, may console themselves with the hope, that posterity will grant what the present age has refused, and that the beauties which prejudice has neglected or envy proscribed will be pronounced standard by the test of time. But the favourite of fashion, who has either sacrificed his better judgment to the taste of the day, or blinded by applause, has neglected those foundations which can alone secure an immortality of fame, must deny himself even this consolation, and must remain content with the retrospect of a past-existence. We know not how far the truth of these assertions may be exemplified in the poet now before us. There are none who have enjoyed enjoyed a more uninterrupted tide of success, there are none who have been so surfeited with public admiration; he has not only established himself the sole monarch of the poetic region for this last seven years, but has been enabled to buoy up the pretensions of a herd of servile imitators, who have attached themselves to his train, and at an humble distance have pursued the triumph, and partaken the gale. The time was when an unfortunate wight, who might happen to hint an objection against a single couplet of the northern poet, would have undergone a severer discipline from the hands of the ladies than Falstaff at Herns Oak. But our blue stockings have now exchanged the tar tan plaid for the pirate's roqueloir, and are all dying for the dear devil of misanthropy. How long the melancholy fit may last, we are not sufficiently versed in the records of Bethlehem Hospital to answer, but we suspect that the noble Lord in the velvet Cowl has fumed and fretted his hour upon the stage; nor should we be surprised, if for the next year or two universal benevolence and douce humanité were again to be all in the fashion. It is a difficult task at any time to recall the attention, which has been so powerfully rivetted upon a new object of admiration. W. Scott has made a strong effort to re-establish his empire over the public mind, and we can only say, that if he fails in his attempt, he will have the satisfaction at least of exposing in the clearest light the wavering and worthless honours of popular applause. That our readers, however, may be enabled to determine upon the justice of this opinion, we shall give them an outline of the poem, extracting such passages as appear most to deserve their attention and regard. The poem opens with the song of the minstrels, to awaken Edith, the maid of Loru, on her bridal morning. She had been conducted, according to the ancient custom of the highlands, from her father's house, to Astornish, the castle of her betrothed husband, the heir of the mighty Somerled, Ronald the LORD OF THE ISLES. This castle was situated upon the coast of Argyleshire, and was one of the principal strong holds which the Lords of the Western Islands retained upon the main land. The Lord of Lorn, the brother of Edith, was also a descendant of Somerled, by his second son Dougal, from whom he derived the sirname of M'Dougal, and his inheritance of Somerled's territories in the main land, while to Ronald descended the Lordship of the Isles. The time chosen by the poet, is the spring of the year, 1307, when Bruce, who had been driven out of Scotland by the English, and the Barons who adhered to the foreign interest, returned from the island of Rackrin on the coast of Ireland, again to assert his claims to the Scottish crown. "Wake maid of Lorn," is the burthen of the minstrels song; but their harmony awakeng in the breast of Edith no other feeling, than that of anguish for affection unreturned by him, who was so soon to be her bridegroom. She had too severely felt that he loved her not. In the midst of these reflections, a single ship is descried, contending against the winds and waves, and evidently avoiding the shore of Astornish. Lord Ronald's fleet in the mean while sweeps by, but the solitary bark still struggles with the adverse tide till it is resolved by the two warriors who guide its course, for the sake of their sister Isabel, who has encountered with them the dangerous passage, to seek for shelter within the Castle of Astornish. They land upon the steep stair leading up to the fortress, and are received into the castle. The second canto presents us with the bridal feast, and the alternate gloom and wildness of the troubled Ronald; which none understand but the lady herself. The bugle sounds, the strangers are introduced, and hospitably seated at the board of revelry. A song is introduced in praise of the "Broach of Lorn," and in execration of Bruce. This produces so strong a sensation on the part of the strangers, that the Lord of Lorn discovers in them Bruce himself and his brother; and calls out for vengeance on the head of the former for the blood of his kinsman, the regent Comyn, whom he had slain, as history informs us, at the high altar of the Grey-Friars church in Dumfries. The Lord of Lorn is checked by Ronald, who declares his guests protected within his castle by the laws of hospitality. In this scene of confusion, Isabel entreats at once De Argentine and Ronald for the safety of their captives: De Argentine claims them as prisoners for his royal master Edward, the better to provide for their safety; Torquin however, the chieftain of Dunvegan, combats even this proposition, and declares himself a friend to the claims of Bruce upon the Scottish crown. In the midst of the wild debate, awakened by this determination, the Abbot arrives, who had crossed from the neighbour island, to join the hands of Edith and Ronald. He is called upon to curse the murderer of Comyn by the Lord of Lorn, but upon the declaration of Bruce to assert his clanns to the sovereignty of his native land, and after having delivered it from a foreign yoke, to expiate the murder of Comyn by a crusade into Palestine. |