BRITISH PHILANTHROPY.

THE new code of philanthropy propounded by Great Britain to other nations, most especially the United States, is one of the greatest inventions of the present age, so remarkable for improvements in every thing except religion and morals. It consecrates all her wars of ambition and avarice to purposes of humanity. If she plunders and devastates one independent state of Hindostan after another, so that, according to her own historians, the population of that once rich and fertile region, erewhile the El Dorado of the world, has decreased to the amount of scores of millions, and is still decreasing, it is a great work of philanthropy-a beneficent effort to improve their condition.

If, in her apprehensions for the safety of these stupendous usurpations, or her anticipations of a growing rival to her maritime ascendency, she declares war against Russia, and employs every effort of bullying and diplomacy to involve Europe, Asia, and America in one bloody struggle that, too, is another great work of philanthropy. It is to "maintain the integrity" of the Empire of the Crescent in European Turkey, and that of the Cross in Asiatic Palestine. In one place it is a war in behalf of the prophet of Islamism; in the other a second crusade for wresting the Holy Sepulchre from the hands of the infidels.

If, for the purpose of enforcing a lucrative trade in a deadly poison, she makes war on defenseless, superannuated China, and succeeds not only in enforcing payment for her smuggled opium, but in securing a monopoly for its future supply—this, too, is only another great triumph of philanthropy, since all allow that commercial intercourse between nations is one of the great instruments of civilization, and that opium is a very valu able medicine, if used with proper discretion. If people choose to misuse it to excess, it is their own fault, and does not impeach this great effort of philanthropy in the slightest degree.

If in her zeal in behalf of her favorite protegés, the amiable natives of Africa, she carries on a war of extermination against, the Kaffirs-as was lately coolly announced in the British journals-that, too, is another great work of philanthropy, since it can not be denied that exterminating a nation of barbarians is one great means of extending civilization: If these stultified wretches refuse to embrace a religion exclusively adapted to the comprehension of an intelligent, civilized people; or, if they prefer the pastoral to the agricultural state, like the patriarchs of old; or, if they had rather tend their herds and flocks, or smoke, or sleep away the sultry hours, than learn the mysteries of trade, and the great civilized art of cheating-why there is no more to be said. Philanthropy requires their extermination. It is absolutely necessary to the progress of civilization. Some miserable, short-sighted dotard, who can scarcely see the end of his nose without the aid of spectacles, may here ask what is this civilization, at whose bloody shrine so many millions of human beings have been sacrificed? Has it really contributed to increase the sum of human happiness, which is the great universal object of all human exertion? Is the increase of man's wants a source of happiness, even when he is able to supply these without becoming their slave? Is the spectacle we see everywhere exhibited in all highly civilized countries of the deplorable contrast between a few men revelling in boundless wealth, and thousands, tens, aye, hundreds of thousands, millions, wanting the common comforts of life, and writhing in the iron grasp of squalid poverty-is this the evidence to prove the philanthropy of sacrificing whole nations on the altar of civilization? But let the old Fogie settle the question with himself, while we return to our subject.

All these wars of philanthropy-at least, those undertaken by its great exemplar, England-are for the general benefit of the entire human race, whom she has taken under her protection. Whether it be the Sultan of Turkey, the King of the Mosquitos, or the Serviles of Central America, the object is everywhere the same. All these devastations, all these sacrifices of human life and human rights, all these intrigues for disturbing the peace of nations, are converted by the magic wand of philanthropy into grand, comprehensive expedients of the great Creator of man for the general benefit of his creatures; and thus it would seem that He, one of whose attributes is mercy, is made an accomplice in the extermination of the very beings he created. "It is the will of God!" cried the pious Crusaders, when they went forth to devastate Asia; and "It is the will of God!" exclaims the crusader of civilization,

when he sweeps a nation from the face of the earth. Thus, the ambition and avarice of man are blasphemously laid to the charge of his Maker, who becomes the scape-goat of human depravity.

The pretext for the course pursued by Great Britain in her usurpations, not only in Hindostan, but everywhere-all come under the broad mantle of philanthropy. Those degenerate nations of the East, where science, arts, and literature flourished when Europe was sunk in the depth of ignorance and barbarism, are to be regenerated, not by their own exertions, but by becoming the slaves of strange masters, who govern them by the sword and the bayonet alone. Like patients, whose cases are desperate, the remedy is to kill or cure. Nothing will save them but bleeding, blistering, and sweating; and if these fail, resort is had to amputation of the festering limb. If the barbarous patient dies, so much the better, since he makes room for civilized men, whose example can not but be beneficial to his posterity, if any of them survive.

In this way has Great Britain, by dint of boasting on one hand, hypocrisy on the other, successfully imposed on the world, by screening her crime and ambition under the cloak of philanthropy. In not a single one of her acquisitions or usurpations in any portion of the world where she holds dependencies, and has held some of them for generations past, has there been the slightest advance in Christianity, civilization, or liberty. It is only necessary to read the Reports of Missionaries to Africa and Hindostan to verify this assertion, and show beyond contradiction that Christianity has made not the smallest progress; that morals have, if any thing, deteriorated; that abject slavery in some form or other still flourishes, not only unchecked, but participated in by British residents; that barbarism in its grossest, most revolting. features, to the extent of cannibalism, still reigns, even under the very nose of the British authorities at Sierra Leone and the Cape of Good Hope; and that, in Hindostan, the condition of the native races in every respect, as to morals, manners, habits, and the means of personal comfort, are all declining under the dominion of the worst of all despotisms, that of a commercial monopoly governed only by the sordid maxims of trade. But philanthropy, like charity, covers a multitude of sins, and furnishes a broad mantle to hide the transgressions of interested hypocrisy. Even robbery and murder become sanctified by taking shelter under her wing, just as in former ages the most atrocious criminals escaped the punishment of their crimes by taking refuge within the sanctuary of the church.

"THE COMMON

GENERAL

DEFENSE AND WELFARE."

THIS phrase in the preamble to the Constitution, where its primary objects are briefly enumerated, seems likely to become, like charity, a cloak for a multitude of sins. Under the latitude of construction now given to it by Congress, and which is every day becoming wider, most especially when applied to those exclusive pets of legislation, the railroads, which now represent the common defense and general welfare, there seems scarcely any limit to its exercise, and this government of limited powers is becoming unlimited. In its present interpretation, it involves the discretionary exercise of perhaps the most important of all the prerogatives of legislation, that of disposing at pleasure of the public property for any purpose that can by any sophistry of argument, logical subtilty, or stretch of construction, be brought within the limits of this illimitable phrase. As now construed, it is a perfect terra incognita; it has neither latitude, longitude, nor dimensions, and like the horizon; as fast as we approach it, recedes before us.

If this phrase, which is, in fact, only declaratory, and neither imperative nor obligatory, like the provisions of the instrument itself, can be thus stretched so as to comprehend the exercise of indefinite discretion, of what use was it to place so many restrictions on the powers to be exercised by Congress? Why all this apprehensive jealousy on the part of the framers of the Constitution? And why, above all, that sweeping amendment which declares that "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively and to the people"? If the construction now practically given to the Constitution is correct, this amendment becomes absurd and ridiculous, for they had already delegated to Congress unlimited discretionary

power, and there was nothing whatever "reserved" to the States or the people.

Is it possible that all these constitutional barriers were placed where they are, like school-boy limits, only to exercise our activity in overleaping, or our dexterity in evading them? Why was it necessary to specify so minutely the extent of the powers of Congress, and the objects to which they should be applicable, if, at the same time, it was intended to confer on that body a discretion without limit or control? Surely there can not be a more stupendous absurdity than to presume that a convention of sage, experienced, and virtuous men, after providing explicitly for the application of the public property and public revenues to certain specified purposes, should have inserted in the preamble of the instrument which imposed these restrictions, a sweeping clause that rendered them all nugatory.

It can not surely be presumed that the framers of the Constitution would adopt a general principle directly conflicting with its special provisions; or that when they restricted Congress to the exercise of certain powers in one part of the instrument, they should immediately afterwards treat it like Penelope's web, and unravel their work entirely.

The mode and means of providing for the common defense are specifically defined by the Constitution. Congress shall have power to declare war and grant letters of marque; to raise and supply armies; to provide and maintain a navy; to provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the militia; to make rules for the government and regulation of the land and naval forces. And to enable it to accomplish these objects, Congress is authorized to levy taxes and borrow money. To these powers, however, is appended a sweeping clause, the power to make all laws necessary and proper for carrying into execution the foregoing powers and all other powers vested by the Constitution in the government of the United States, or in any department or officer thereof."

Here it is that the shoe pinches, and that the organ of construction is most carefully developed, even more so than in the interpretation of "the common defense and general welfare." These two simple words, "necessary and proper," which are understood by every body in their application to the ordinary affairs of life, become, when incorporated with the Constitution, which was intended to be a rule of action for the ignorant as well as the wise, more obscure than an ancient oracle. The wisest heads and brightest intellects have been stultified in the