made; though their manners, language, and religion, remained the same. Their independence, however, was short-lived. One of their vaivodes, or first commanders, made an unprovoked attack upon a Turkish colony, which had established itself upon the opposite shore of the Danube. It resulted in the complete defeat of the Wallachians, who were obliged to pay tribute to their conquerors. During the fifteenth century many attempts were made to free themselves from the galling yoke of their oppressors, but it fell more heavily upon them.

Toward the end of the sixteenth century, a man of obscure birth was raised to the dignity of vaivode. His name was Michael, and he was surnamed the Brave; a title which history has confirmed. He bound himself by an oath to free his country from the Turkish oppression; by an alliance with the chiefs of Transylvania and Moldavia he was successful; and after five years of successive defeats, the conquered sultan was compelled to renounce his dominion; but the brave Michael was assassinated by an Austrian general, and with him the stately edifice of national independence which he had constructed crumbled to dust. Before the people had recovered from the consternation into which this calamity had thrown them, the Turks resumed their sway; and the two Principalities again becoming tributary provinces, sunk into a state of lethargy for more than a century, during which the unhappy population were oppressed by a system of government more fatal than the rapine and devastation of the barbarian invasions. The conquered provinces were divided into pashaliks; and either through contempt of the office, or a remembrance of their own unfortunate experiences, they chose as the instruments of their government the Fanariotes, or descendants of the Greeks who remained in Constantinople after it was taken by the Turks in 1453. The quarter of the city where they resided was called the Fanac; and its residents were afterward known as Fanaciates. Many of them devoted themselves to the study of languages, and by this accomplishment became indispensable as interpreters and private secretaries. They soon proved that knowledge is power, and acquired great influence. With it, however, came the sordid passions which too often accompany it; they were ambitious VOL. V.-31

and avaricious, and by their management the provisional government became an office of bargain and sale secured to the highest bidder. Any governor was displaced by a larger sum of money; consequently, the only aim of this officer was to secure his fortune and those of his satellites who were the necessary attendants of his suite, in the shortest possible time. With the constant fear of removal before them, they exhausted invention in their endeavors to repay the enormous debts frequently contracted for the purchase of the office, and also to amass sufficient treasure for the inevitable displacement which awaited them. The most unheardof extortions were practiced upon the people to pay the bribes of the subordinates, or buy off the strife of competitors. These, perhaps, were the most favorable aspects of this monstrous system; human life and family ties were often sacrificed to this avarice for riches and power. Many a father bought the eagerly-craved office with the head of his son'; and many a son paid for his brief enjoyment of power with the head of his father.

The immediate suffering produced by the shameless and cruel extortion of these miserable rulers was one of the least evils resulting to them. The sentiments of morality were utterly destroyed; they were taught, and soon learned the lesson well, that perfidy was another name for ability, cowardice for prudence, dishonesty for foresight; that success was the only test of right. It was easy to persuade them that integrity and uprightness were the conventional garbs of wickedness, adopted only that it might circulate with decency in the world. As sometimes happens, the evil had the antidote within itself; it was destroyed by its own excesses. When vice, grown bold by the impunity with which it ventured everywhere, stalked abroad without the protecting robes which had hitherto concealed its deformity, the people were horrified with its aspect. An army was forbidden, and the two Principalities, which had formerly maintained sixty thousand foot soldiers, were left utterly defenseless. Turkish brigands pillaged and murdered unnoticed; entire cities were evacuated at the approach of their organized bands, the inhabitants flying to the mountains or to Austria to escape death. The police, (if the word is not too absurd,) the very refuse of all countries, came forth

from the prisons and mines to be the satellites of the reigning powers; they were without uniform, order, or discipline; they were the accomplices of the thieves and brigands whom they sometimes pretended to pursue; but, as the inhabitants knew only too well, always without success.

During the century of the Fanariote dominion, more than forty of its hospodars were displaced or beheaded. But one died peacefully upon the throne which he had bought several times over. The sway of this dastardly rule was several times interrupted by Russian invasion; but the changes which took place in the fated provinces seemed always only a change of oppressors. A ray of hope illumined their dark fate in 1792, when a stipulation was made that the term of a governor or hospodar should be fixed for seven years. In 1821, after a bloody insurrection, the Porte declared that the Fanariotes were infidels, upon whom the sultan could rely no longer; seven native candidates were chosen, and from them his highness selected Gregoire Ghika for Wallachia, and Jean Stourza for Moldavia. It was the first breath of independence enjoyed by the Principalities for more than a century-the first princes of their own nation who had sat on the throne since the days of Michael the Brave. The hopes which sprang up in this new state of things were destined | to almost immediate extinction; for, in 1828, war was again declared between | Turkey and Russia; the two provinces were occupied by the armies of the czar; a famine was produced by the immense exactions made for its support; a frightful pestilence was brought into the country by the soldiers, producing dreadful mortality; and a winter of almost unparalleled severity added its rigors to the already suffering inhabitants.

At the close of this war a new era apparently dawned upon them. The ancient limits were restored; the governors were to be chosen for life from their own nation; the ancient standard again waved over native troops, who were organized for the defense of the country; the navigation and fisheries of the Danube were guarantied; and a constitution was drawn up, by the provisions of which the government is in the hands of the nobility, and its support is entirely from the people. Time may modify and improve them, especially if pending events issue favorably; and this

nation, the last-born of civilization, profiting by the experience of its elders, and its own bitter vicissitudes, may come forth purified by its sufferings. The thorough education of the youthful nobility promises well for the future; but at this very day the privileged classes are marked with that fatal carelessness for the future, which has resulted from the oriental regime to which it has so long been subjected. No fault can be found with the elegant and somewhat theatrical personal decorations of the upper classes; but a glance from the lord of the mansion to the crowd of dirty idlers who surround him—the numerous, but inelegant equipages upon which he prides himself-the vast, but dilapidated residences, reveals the real poverty which pierces through all the display of luxury. You are charmed with the elegant manners of the master of the house-with the talent and gracefulness of his wife-the taste and brilliancy of conversation-the ease and purity with which European languages are spoken by the family, and you are ready to assert that more elegance and refinement cannot exist in any other country. But behind the doors of the saloon are a crowd of filthy dependents, the halls are strewn with repulsive and sluggish Bohemians, who sleep upon the very staircases; and as you make your way through them, you are forcibly reminded that the civilization which has so much delighted yoù, like the precious metal of the country, has not been cleansed from the earthy incrustation that obscures its brilliancy.

These brief glances at the transitions to which the Principalities have been subjected, will alone afford solutions of their present state. Their past history gives a sufficient explanation of the disproportion of the population to the extent of the country, the barrenness existing in the midst of such natural fertility, the want in the midst of such outward abundance, the failure of capital still more than of men, and the foreign importations which are made notwithstanding its own wealthy

resources.

Having thus entered this most interesting region of Europe, I have at once introduced you to it by its history and some general observations-an introduction which, however brief, may serve you in not only my further letters, but in the most interesting newspaper history of the next year

or two.

ONE

ITS CHARACTER-ITS REMEDIES.

NE of our correspondents-a clergyman-wrote us some time ago, urging us, in very strong language, not to forget the "infidelity of the day" in our editorial essays on "The Christianity for the Times." We have mislaid the letter, and cannot recall the place of its date; but it was from the far south-west. We were surprised, as we recollect, at its statement, that skepticism, especially in the form of “Rationalism,” is invading generally that large section of the country-that it is prevalent as the only religion, or rather the irreligion, of most of the thousands of German Protestant immigrants, and, under the influence of Parkerism, Emersonism, Campbellism, &c., is infecting extensively the more intelligent native mind of that region. Our correspondent wrote as if not a little despondent at the prospect of its results to religion and good morals in the yet forming communities of the south-west. Had he read our earlier articles on "The Christianity required by the Times," he would have seen that we have amply discussed this very subject that, in fact, it was the occasion of those articles, and that their chief aim has been to show how Christianity could effectually confront and vanquish the growing evil.

The growing evil, we say; for not only by indigenous causes does it spread and prevail, but it comes upon us like an inundation from abroad with the hordes of European and degraded immigration, which, wave over-topping wave, pours in upon the land. From Ireland we have heretofore been invaded with Popery-bad enough and dangerous enough in its scarcely semibarbarous morals and sentiments; but now we are threatened more especially with the popular corruptions of continental Europe: the Custom House reports of the last two or three years show that the German immigration is becoming more formidable than the Irish.

It is not more demoralized than the Irish; still it brings with it more settled sentiments of hostility to our religious opinions and usages. It opposes our national observance of the Sabbath, and seeks to repeal our Sabbath laws. It avows loose ideas of the domestic relations. It scorns our great national tem

the "Maine Law" movement, even more than the Irish, who bring with them something of the prestige of the Irish temperance movement. Its more intelligent classes are familiar with the technical sophistries of German rationalism, and its ignorant masses know too well their practical, if not their theoretical applications. In many respects the most valuable portion of our foreign population, the Germans, are nevertheless the most dangerous in their religious tendencies. Our chief hope for them is connected with the efforts for their evangelical recovery, which are now made by some of their noblest countrymen among us. There are ten thousand of them at least organized under the banner of Methodism in this country; there are also many German Churches rising up within the pale of other denominations. Self-reform among any class is always more effectual than reform from extraneous causes; let us then hope for our Germans-in so many respects a noble and congenial peoplefrom these new tendencies which they are showing in this their new home.

Now that our pen is in the ink, we feel disposed, notwithstanding our frequent reference to the subject heretofore, to say something further and more emphatic, if possible, on the characteristics and remedies of the infidelity of the times. We must understand its characteristics-its genius-if we would apply to it the right remedies.

Down among "the people," infidelity is always the same-for "the people are frank, honest we were going to say, even in their corruptions. They have few motives to hypocrisy, and not usually the requisite skill for dissimulation. Hence infidelity, when once it prevails among them, is thoroughly practical: it does not evade or disguise its own consequences. The people act as they think. When, in the form of a mob, they controlled public affairs, as in the first French revolution, they carried out their new infidel ideas, terrifically to be sure, but the more honestly for that. And when they have not such power, you find them equally straightforward, as individuals, in pursuing opinions to their practical results. We know how to meet the people, then, when thus fallen. They plunge unceremoniously, and therefore honestly, (if we may use the expression,) into the perdition of error, and we have a direct

work to do for their recovery; we must unceremoniously plunge after them, and pluck them as brands from the burning; -not so much by logic as by moral influences and direct labors.

With higher minds, however, infidelity has its varied and somewhat contrasted epochs; and never did it present more remarkable features than at present.

The earliest aspect of skepticism, as we see it in Spinoza and Lord Herbert, was metaphysical doubt, acute, cool, but somewhat respectful. It had no power to reach the common mind. Its next aspect was that of intellectual hostility and deliberate contempt of at least the historical and dogmatic claims of Christianity. Hobbes, Bolingbroke, Gibbon, and Hume, represent this period of its history. It subsequently appears under a still more decided phase. It becomes practically hostile; it uses another class of weapons, satire, ribaldry, blasphemy-it would debauch the public mind, and thereby alienate it from the practical restraints of Christianity. Voltaire and the Encyclopædists are examples. Rousseau, if more respectful to the practical code of the gospel in his writings, was, in his life and spirit, as hostile to it as any of them. Like the great hierarch of German literature and German infidelity, Goethe, he knew the higher experimental theology of Christianity,* and seemed always troubled in conscience when he trenched, with profane speculations, on that sacred ground, or suggested anything against the practical requirements of the system: but his life was a continued outrage of Christian morals.

The skepticism of his Emilius is beautified by the most eloquent eulogies on Christ and his teachings, ever recorded; and the burning pages of his "Nouvelle Heloise" present the ablest dissertations yet given to the world on some points of Christian morals; as, for example, the two letters against dueling, and against the domestic infidelities, which may be said not only to have been fashionable but common, if not universal, in France at that

Goethe, in Wilhelm Meister, introduces, by a Moravian character, the most "evangelical" views of personal religion, (he was educated in childhood among Moravians;) and Rousseau represents the heroine of his great romance as experiencing in the chapel, at the time of her dreaded wedding, a change which the warmest-hearted Methodist would approve as a genuine "conversion."

day. But if he qualified his theoretical teachings of infidelity, he taught it in the intensest sentimentality, and practically libeled all morality.

Paine became the representative of this degenerate school in our own country. Jefferson was not much behind him. Franklin, with his philosophic temper and New-England training, lingered yet in the diminishing ranks of the preceding philosophical school.

The fact that this form of infidelity had the opportunity of a practical exemplification in the French revolution, was its defeat-it showed its legitimate tendencies, and the world was shocked, was stunned. A reaction was inevitable. Skeptics, whether honestly or otherwise such, have since seen that a new route must be taken,

that the old one cannot possibly be right, however logically legitimate, and our modern unbelief is, with some marked exceptions, as remarkable for its pretensions in favor of moral progress as the preceding school was for its audacious demoralization. The difference is a notable one, and it is all-important that we should recognize it; for precisely here are we to find the successful mode of treating the evil. It has its theory, to be sure,—its learning and speculative pretensions, led on, commandingly, in Germany by Rationalism, and headed by the extreme school of the Tubingen theologians; in France by the literati generally, headed by the extreme Positivists; in England by Newman, Carlyle, Miss Martineau, and the Westminster Reviewers; and in this country by Parker, Emerson, and their wide-spread disciples,

but its main force lies in what may be called its moral sentimentalism, rather than in its logic. It is the most extraordinary simulation of the spirit and practical ideas of Christianity that could be attempted. We would speak respectfully, and of the system rather than its individual representatives. We cannot withhold the avowal, that we believe many of them to be sincere and good men, so far as the latter word includes not the divine virtue of a divine religion. Many of them have shown a profound, an agonizing earnestness; and amid the horrors of doubt have called for help or hope from any source. Alas! that they have not more effectually looked unto Him from whom alone cometh our help. Who have claimed more of our sympathy than John

Sterling and Margaret Fuller? It will not do for us to deal out to such minds epithets of contempt or crimination. We should forfeit, in doing so, our own selfrespect and our claims to the charity of the faith which they so sorrowfully questioned. By that charity, more than by any other means, are we to reclaim such earnest, though erring spirits.

The sentimentalism of modern infidelity sympathizes eagerly with the cause of human liberty. It speaks out for the oppressed, both here and in Europe. It devises schemes of popular amelioration. It devotes itself to the problem of pauperism; and has produced socialism. It claims new protections for woman. It seeks mitigations of the criminal codes of nations, and the abolition of the gallows. It eulogizes Christ, while it undermines Christianity; it insists upon the spirit of the gospel in distinction, if not in contradistinction from its dogma; it exalts the practical charity and morality of Christianity, while it denounces its ecclesiasticism.

This is its character, and this is its danger too; for its concessions to Christianity, in some respects, form the vantageground from which it attacks it in other respects. Here is the very strategy of the evil. It has changed itself into an angel of light. It preaches to the world a perverted "evangel;" but it preaches it from within the portal, if not from within the altar of Christianity.

Such being the evil, how now are we to regard it-how to address ourselves to it? Not with despondent fears of the ultimate result-none whatever. The history of religious opinions, as well as our Christian faith, forbid any such anxiety. Had we lived in the beginning of the last century we should have found tenfold more reasons for despair; but what followed the infidelity of those times? An evangelical revolution, the most prolific in good consequences of any since the second century. Theoretical infidelity and popular demoralization were rife through all England. Butler wrote his "Analogy" to counteract the scepticism of the times, and declares, in the preface, that Christianity had " come to be taken for a fable."

Professor Newman has at last become an ex. ception; and he only anticipates the result which must sooner or later be reached by his disciples.

Watts mourned that "religion seemed to be dying out in the world." Doddridge, in his rural retirement, labored incessantly with his pen, for the restoration of a purer faith in the Churches; but joined also in the common expression of almost hopeless despondence. Some of the leading minds of the Anglican Establishment declared the prospects of religion to be nearly desperate. The light seemed to be dying out on the altar of British Christianity. A more striking indication of the depression, not of religion only but of morals, could hardly be given, than the fact that Sterne and Swift, men who competed as rivals of Rabelais, were clergymen and distinguished characters of the times. Bolingbroke and Shaftesbury (the latter "the first great advocate of modern secularism") were the authorities of opinion in polite life, and Hume and Gibbon soon followed with still more commanding sway in the intellectual world.

Meanwhile, this "extremity was God's opportunity." Butler's great argument dispelled not the clouds-it had no appreciable effect that we can ascertain. But amid the infidelity and corruptions of the Universities moved a few obscure, yet earnest minds, inquiring, "Who will show us any good?" A young man, whose eloquent voice was soon to ring like a clarion through England and America, lay whole nights prostrate on the ground, in agony, praying for the true light; another, whose name was to rank only second to Luther's, paced to and fro through the corridors and groves of Oxford, panting for "Christian perfection" over the pages of John Law, and repeating with tears the penitential meditations of à Kempis; while another, whose kindling melodies were to express the restored religious life of millions, and to be "repeated more from the lips of the dying than any other hymns in the language,"* bowed in his cloister, smiting his breast and crying, "God be merciful to me, a sinner." A few years elapse, and all England is astir with religious excitement. Whitefield, the two Wesleys, Rowland Hill, Beveridge, the great Welch evangelists, Wilberforce, Lady Huntingdon, Hannah Moore, and a constellation of other notable names, come forth amid the darkness which covered the moral

Robert Southey, on Charles Wesley.—Life of Wesley.