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THE RIGHT OF CULTIVATION.--Irving.
The right of discovery being fully established, we now come to the next, which is the right acquired by cultivation. The cultivation of the soil, we are told, is an obligation imposed by nature on mankind. The whole world is appointed for the nourishment of its inhabitants: but it would be incapable of doing it, was it uncultivated. Every nation is then obliged, by the law of nature, to cultivate the ground that has fallen to its share. Those people, like the ancient Germans and modern Tartars, who, having fertile countries, disdain to cultivate the earth, and choose to live by rapine, are wanting to themselves, and deserve to be exterminated, as savages and pernicious beasts.
Now it is notorious, that the savages knew nothing of agriculture, when first discovered by the Europeans, but lived a most vagabond, disorderly, unrighteous life,-rambling from place to place, and prodigally rioting upon the spontaneous luxuries of nature, without tasking her generosity to yield them anything more; whereas it has been most unquestionably shown, that Heaven intended the earth should be ploughed and sown, and manured, and laid out into cities, and towns, and farms, and country seats, and pleasure grounds, and public gardens, all which the Indians knew nothing about,—therefore, they did not improve the talents Providence had bestowed on them,—therefore, they were careless stewards,--therefore, they had no right to the soil,
therefore, they deserved to be exterminated. It is true, the savages might plead that they drew all the benefits from the land, which their simple wants required they found plenty of game to hunt, which, together with the roots and uncultivated fruits of the earth, furnished a sufficient variety for their frugal repasts;—and that, as Heaven merely designed the earth to form the abode, and satisfy the wants of man, so long as those purposes were answered, the will of Heaven was accomplished.-But this only proves how undeserving they were of the blessings around them;—they were so much the more savages, for not having more wants; for knowledge is in some degree an increase of desires, and it is this superiority both in the number and magnitude of his desires, that distinguishes the man from the beast. Therefore, the Indians, in not having more wants, were very unreasonable animals; and it was but just that they should make way for the Europeans, who had a thousand wants to their one; and, therefore, would turn the earth to more account, and by cultivating it, more truly fulfil the will of Heaven.
Besides—Grotius and Lauterbach, and Puffendorff, and Titus, and many wise men beside, who have considered the matter properly, have determined, that the property of a country cannot be acquired by hunting, cutting wood, or drawing water in it;-nothing but precise demarcation of limits, and the intention of cultivation, can establish the possession. Now, as the savages (probably from never having read the authors above quoted) had never complied with any of these necessary forms, it plainly followed that they had no right to the soil, but that it was completely at the disposal of the first comers, who had more knowledge, more wants, and more elegant, that is to say, artificial desires than themselves.
In entering upon a newly-discovered, uncultivated country, therefore, the new comers were but taking possession of what, according to the aforesaid doctrine, was their own property;—therefore, in opposing them, the savages were invading their just rights, infringing the immutable laws of Nature, and counteracting the will
of Heaven,—therefore, they were guilty of impiety, burglary, and trespass on the case,--therefore, they were hardened offenders against God and man,--therefore, they ought to be exterminated,
A CERTAIN artist, I've forgot his name,
To place a youngish pair upon his nose;
BERNARDO DEL CARPIO.-Mrs. Hemans.
[The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made many ineffectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had been imprisoned by King Alfonso of Asturias, almost from the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms in despair. The war which he maintained proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered round the king, and united in demanding Saldana's liberty. Alfonso accordingly offered Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, in exchange for his castle of Carpio. Bernardo, without hesitation, gave up his strong hold with all his captives, and being assured that his father was then on his way from prison, rode forth with the king to meet him. And when he saw his father approaching, he exclaimed,' says the ancient chronicle, "Oh! God, is the count of Saldana indeed coming?" "Look where he is," replied the cruel king, "and now go and greet hin, whom you have so long desired to see."-The remainder of the story will be found related in the ballad. The chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark, as to Bernardo's future history after this event.]
THE warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire,
And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire; I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!-oh! break my father's chain!'
'Rise, rise! e'en now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day;
Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will meet him on his way.'
Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed, And urged, as if with lance in rest, the charger's foamy speed.
And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band,
With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land;
-Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, in very truth,
The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see,'
His dark eye flashed,-his proud breast heaved,-his cheek's hue came and went,
He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there dismounting bent,
A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's hand he took— What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook?—
That hand was cold-a frozen thing-it dropped from his like lead
He looked up to the face above, the face was of the dead
A plume waved o'er the noble brow-the brow was fixed and white
He met at last his father's eyes-but in them was no sight!
Up from the ground he sprang and gazed-but who could paint that gaze?
They hushed their very hearts that saw its horror and
They might have chained him, as before that stony form he stood,
For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood.
'Father!' at length he murmured low-and wept like childhood then
Talk not of grief, till thou hast seen the tears of warlike
He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down.
Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,
'No more, there is no more,' he said, 'to lift the sword for now
My king is false, my hope betrayed, my father-oh! the worth,
The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth.'
'I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee yet
I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met
Thou wouldst have known my spirit then--for thee my fields were won,
And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!'
Then starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein,
Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier-train; And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp the rearing warhorse led,
And sternly set them face to face-the king before the dead
'Came I not forth upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? -Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me what is this?
The voice, the glance, the heart I sought-give answer, where are they?
-If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay.'
'Into these glassy eyes put light-be still! keep down thine ire-
Bid these white lips a blessing speak-this earth is not my
Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed