et of the first
magnitude in the European system. In one respect Mr. Lincoln was more
fortunate than Henry. However some may think him wanting in zeal, the
most fanatical can find no taint of apostasy in any measure of his, nor
can the most bitter charge him with being influenced by motives of
personal interest. The leading distinction between the policies of the
two is one of circumstances. Henry went over to the nation; Mr. Lincoln
has steadily drawn the nation over to him. One left a united France;
the other, we hope and believe, will leave a reunited America. We leave
our readers to trace the further points of difference and resemblance
for themselves, merely suggesting a general similarity which has often
occurred to us. One only point of melancholy interest we will allow
ourselves to touch upon. That Mr. Lincoln is not handsome nor elegant,
we learn from certain English tourists who would consider similar
revelations in regard to Queen Victoria as thoroughly American in their
want of _bienseance_. It is no concern of ours, nor does it affect his
fitness for the high place he so worthily occupies; but he is certainly
as fortunate as Henry in the matter of good looks, if we may trust
contemporary evidence. Mr. Lincoln has also been reproached with
Americanism by some not unfriendly British critics; but, with all
deference, we cannot say that we like him any the worse for it, or see
in it any reason why he should govern Americans the less wisely.

People of more sensitive organizations may be shocked, but we are glad
that in this our true war of independence, which is to free us forever
from the Old World, we have had at the head of our affairs a man whom
America made, as God made Adam, out of the very earth, unancestried,
unprivileged, unknown, to show us how much truth, how much magnanimity,
and how much state-craft await the call of opportunity in simple
manhood when it believes in the justice of God and the worth of man.
Conventionalities are all very well in their proper place, but they
shrivel at the touch of nature like stubble in the fire. The genius
that sways a nation by its arbitrary will seems less august to us than
that which multiplies and reinforces itself in the instincts and
convictions of an entire people. Autocracy may have something in it
more melodramatic than this, but falls far short of it in human value
and interest.

Experience would have bred in us a rooted distrust of improvised
statesman