diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/66933-h/66933-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66933-h/66933-h.htm | 3137 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 3137 deletions
diff --git a/old/66933-h/66933-h.htm b/old/66933-h/66933-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index c155c6c..0000000 --- a/old/66933-h/66933-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3137 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Yale Literary Magazine (Vol. I, No. 4) -, by TheStudents of Yale -—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.h1sub { text-align: center; - font-size: larger; } -.h2sub { text-align: center; } - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.double {border-top: double;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} -hr.r15 {width: 15%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 42.5%; margin-right: 42.5%;} -hr.printed {width: 25%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 70%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -.table1 { - margin: auto; - margin-top: 2em; - width: 99% - } - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} -.tdc {text-align: center;} - -td.title {padding-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em; - vertical-align: top; - } - -td.pageno { /* TOC page number */ - text-align: right; - vertical-align: bottom; -} - -.pagenum { /* comment the next line for visible page numbers */ - visibility: hidden; - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.bb {border-bottom: thin solid;} -.bt {border-top: thin solid;} - -.titlepag - {max-width: 30em; - border: solid thin; - text-align: center; - margin: 2em auto; - padding: 1em;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} - -.gesperrt -{ - letter-spacing: 0.2em; - margin-right: -0.2em; -} - -em.gesperrt -{ - font-style: normal; -} - -.caption p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; - font-size: smaller; -} - -/* Images */ - -img { - max-width: 100%; - height: auto; -} - -img.w100 {width: 100%;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -/* Poetry */ -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} -/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry in browsers */ -.poetry {display: inline-block;} -.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} -/* large inline blocks don't split well on paged devices */ -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -.illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp100 {width: 100%;} -.illowp78 {width: 78%;} -.x-ebookmaker .illowp78 {width: 100%;} - -/* Poetry indents */ -.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} -.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} -.poetry .indent22 {text-indent: 8em;} -.poetry .indent24 {text-indent: 9em;} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: -1em;} -.poetry .indent8 {text-indent: 1em;} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Yale Literary Magazine (Vol. I, No. 4, June 1836), by Students of Yale</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Yale Literary Magazine (Vol. I, No. 4, June 1836)</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Students of Yale</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 12, 2021 [eBook #66933]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: hekula03, sf2001, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE (VOL. I, NO. 4, JUNE 1836) ***</div> - - <div class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_cover" style="max-width: 20em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover" /> - </div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</span></p> - -<div class="titlepag" style="max-width: 30em;"> -<h1> -<small>THE</small><br /> -YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE. -</h1> - -<p class="h1sub"> -<small>CONDUCTED<br /> -<small>BY THE</small></small><br /> -<span class="gesperrt"><b>STUDENTS OF YALE COLLEGE</b>.</span> -</p> - -<div class="figcenter illowp78" id="i_cover-illustration" style="max-width: 18em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/i_cover-illustration.jpg" alt="" /> - <div class="caption"><p> - “Dum mens grata manet, nomen laudesque <span class="smcap">Yalenses</span> - Cantabunt <span class="smcap">Soboles</span>, unanimique <span class="smcap">Patres</span>.” - </p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> -<p class="center">NO. IV.</p> -<hr class="r15" /> -<p class="center">JUNE, 1836.</p> -<hr class="double" /> - -<p class="center"> -NEW HAVEN:<br /> -HERRICK & NOYES. -</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="center"> -MDCCCXXXVI. -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> - -<hr class="r15" /> - -<table summary="Table of Contents"> -<tr> - <td /><td class="pageno"><small>Page.</small></td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#TRUTH">Truth,</a></td><td class="pageno">129</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#A_FATHER_TO_HIS_CHILDA">A Father to his Child,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">132</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#SIR_THOMAS">Sir Thomas More’s Works,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">133</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#I_LOVE_THEE">I Love Thee,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">139</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#THE_COFFEE_CLUB">The Coffee Club, No. II.</a></td> - <td class="pageno">140</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#AMBITION_A_FRAGMENT">Ambition—A Fragment,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">150</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#THE_INFLUENCE_OF_MORAL_FEELING_ON_THE_PLEASURES_OF">The Influence of Moral Feeling on the Pleasures of the Imagination, No. II.</a></td> - <td class="pageno">151</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#THE_SEMINOLE">The Seminole,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">154</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#THE_OUTLAW_AND_HIS_DAUGHTER">The Outlaw and His Daughter,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">155</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#I_WOULD_NOT_FLATTER_THEE">I would not Flatter Thee,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">161</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#RUMINATIONS_OF_A_BOVINE_GENTLEMAN">Ruminations of a Bovine Gentleman,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">163</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#A_RHYMING_MOOD">A Rhyming Mood,</a></td> - <td class="pageno">165</td></tr> -<tr> - <td class="title"><a href="#GREEK_ANTHOLOGY_No_IV">Greek Anthology, No. IV.</a></td> - <td class="pageno">166</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<small>THE</small><br /> -YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE. -</h2> -</div> - -<table class="table1" summary="Volume Date Edition"> -<colgroup> -<col style="width: 33%;" /> -<col style="width: 33%;" /> -<col style="width: 33%;" /> -</colgroup> -<tbody> -<tr> -<td class="tdl bt bb"><small>VOL. I.</small></td> -<td class="tdc bt bb">JUNE, 1836.</td> -<td class="tdr bt bb"><small>NO. 4.</small></td> -</tr> -</tbody> -</table> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TRUTH">TRUTH.</h2> - -<p>What is truth? “Truth,” says a standard logician, “signifies -nothing but the joining or separating of signs, as the things signified -by them do agree or disagree with one another;” that is, in making -propositions. These are divided into mental and verbal. Truth -then consists in ideal or verbal sentences, or, in other words, in a certain -arrangement of ideas and words. This view of the subject may -answer for a mere definition; but it is not satisfactory. We are disposed -to make truth consist in <i>things</i>, and not alone in their representatives. -It is the reality of things; using the term thing as it is, -the most universal of any in the language, including every object of -sense or conception, objects past, present, and future, objects terrestrial -and celestial, objects of all space and all duration, objects possible -and impossible; in a word, every-thing. There are propositions -concerning things; we have ideas of things, and things themselves -exist independently of both. The verbal statement, and the mental -apprehension, may accord with the reality of the thing, and be true, -or figuratively speaking, the truth. But can it be strictly said that -the truth consists in them, and them only?</p> - -<p>But this train of remark avails little in resolving the momentously -practical question, What is truth? To give this a reply worthy of -itself, would lead us beyond our present design, and each reader -must be left to judge for himself.</p> - -<p>“Truth is consistent with itself.” This is a common saying, and -regarded as axiomatic in its nature. It is not intended for the identical -proposition, Truth is truth; but that whatever is truth in one -subject, can in no way be rendered nugatory or false, by what is -truth in any other subject; and that one truth in the same subject is -not weakened or diminished by any other truth in the same subject. -Truth, as before intimated, may be considered in a three-fold aspect; -in itself; in regard to the verbal propositions embracing it; in respect -to our own conceptions of it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>In itself, in its own nature, it may be consistent with itself. But -of the many truths with which our acquaintance is imperfect, we -cannot judge whether they agree, or disagree, among themselves. -In regard to some others, of which we are better assured, it is difficult -to say that there is no contradiction.</p> - -<p>In propositions there is certainly great discrepancy; owing partly -to the barrenness of language, and to the ambiguity of terms; also -to the different impressions which different authors of the statement -may possess, and which the same man may have at different times. -The propositions may be too brief, or too ample; in many ways -they are made to disagree one with another, and as they are the -representatives of truth, for all practical purposes truth itself is often -found inconsistent with itself.</p> - -<p>We find our own conceptions of truth exceedingly contradictory; -which is attributable to the limited nature of our faculties, and narrow -extent of our observations. It is only the <i>ends</i> of truths that we see. -Their remote extension, and multiplied relations, we cannot ascertain. -There <i>appears</i> to be much disagreement. In theology the -doctrines of decrees and free agency are both true, but who can reconcile -them? This apparent inconsistency of truth is the origin -of scepticism, and is the occasion of many unhappy dissensions -among men.</p> - -<p>“Great is truth, and it will prevail.” The harmlessness of this -declaration has permitted it to pass unmolested. It certainly is a -pleasing prediction, and in the prospect which it unfolds, has inspired -many a languid heart with fresh vigor in the cause of truth. -From the implicit reliance which most men place in its verity, and -from the wish of all for its fulfillment, is manifested the confidence -which each reposes in his own integrity, and also a secret admiration -of truth in the minds of all. But the sentiment is perhaps more -flattering to the nobleness of our nature, than accordant with our -constant experience. That some truths will prevail, is certain. -But in respect to others—for instance, the thousand and one litigated -points in history, how shall the truth ever be ascertained. If the -facts were noted at the time of their occurrence, prejudice operated -to distort them. If not till years had elapsed, it was the effect of -remoteness to obliterate, or obscure them. Years and centuries are -bearing us still farther from the period of their transpiring, and how -is it possible, that, without a revelation from heaven, the truth shall -ever be disclosed?</p> - -<p>In metaphysics are many points equally indeterminable. Here a -man’s own mind is the field of observation, in every part of which -the most rigid, extensive, and patient scrutiny, and the most careful -comparison have been made by the most profound thinkers, and with -the best lights; but up to this time there are many points unillustrated, -undecided. Will they ever be made more plain? Who does -not feel that there are doubtful points in himself that he will never -understand, at least this side of the grave?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p> - -<p>In the sciences, which suffer less from prejudice than most subjects -of investigation, the want of facts will prevent the discovery of -truth on many points; while, faster than old questions are settled, -new subjects of discussion are advanced.</p> - -<p>With respect to the active duties of life, temperament will continue -to influence our views of truth, as it always has done.</p> - -<p>Prejudice, which is the great barrier to the entrance of truth into -the mind, must, while man exists under his present mental and -moral constitution, retain the influence it now exerts.</p> - -<p>There are many truths of which the highest order of human intellect -can only catch a fleeting glimpse, and the amount of knowledge -is graduated downwards, corresponding with the ability to -grasp it. Many points lie equally balanced between truth and -falsehood.</p> - -<p>We do not then seem to be sufficiently warranted in the opinion -that truth, i. e. all truth, will prevail.</p> - -<p>“Men are more willing to embrace error than truth.” No one -will admit this imputation in his own case; but by an easy generalization, -each one applies it to all other men.</p> - -<p>It may be doubted whether a love of truth or of error, for <i>their -own sake</i>, is a primary principle of our moral nature. A love of -one’s own happiness, or interest, or reputation, in a word, of one’s -self, is primary. Truth and error are regarded with complaisance -or aversion, accordingly as they oppose or favor the interests of men. -If there were but one being in the universe, it would be of little moment -whether he passed his existence in truth or falsehood. In society, -he, whose basis is falsehood, is derided by his fellows, and -his interests are endangered. As truth, on the whole, is most conducive -to the interests of men, it is most generally sought after. -Few are willing to oppose a fashionable error. There are portions -of every man’s whole life, which he passes in error, without being -in the least concerned. Many minds are so preoccupied, that they -<i>cannot</i> examine the evidence requisite for the admission of a new -truth. More are so prejudiced that they will not. With many men -a fear of results is stronger than love of truth, and they are induced -by a prospect of consequences, to abandon the pursuit. An entire -devotion to truth itself, to truth for its own sake, is a rare sight, and -one of high moral sublimity.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_FATHER_TO_HIS_CHILDA"> - A FATHER TO HIS CHILD.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I cannot say, I cannot say, my beautiful and wild,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I’ve ever seen so fair a one as thou my pretty child—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A form so full of elegance, a cheek where roses blow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And a forehead where the glossy curls seem braided over snow—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A lip whence sounds of music gush, that might with ease unsphere</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Some spirit from its airy halls and witch that spirit here.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">When first thy mother gave thee me, my beautiful and wild,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And others sought to gaze upon and bless the pretty child,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And thy soft lip to mine was press’d, and thy soft hand I felt,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And felt all of a father’s heart within my bosom melt;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I know I heaved a sigh, for there was sadness in my joy—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou wert so very beautiful, my smiling little boy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Where’er thou go’st, there seems to go a gladness, and a life,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which all unfitted is for this dark world of sin and strife;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou dost remind me of the flowers that are when Spring comes on,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou dost remind me of the light when comes and goes the sun;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of brooks, and falling waters, when they with the pebbles toy—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of all that’s gay and beautiful, my smiling little boy.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I mingle with the busied world, and when I find it vain,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I turn me to my happy hearth and little boy again;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I love to have him shout to me, I love his airy call,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I love to hear his little step go patting through the hall;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I love to take him on my knee and fold him into rest,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As doth the parent bird the dove she shelters with her breast.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Thy kind complaints, thy boyish talk, thy merriment, my boy,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Crush all that’s base within my heart, and smooth the day’s annoy;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where’er I go, if ills assail, and passion plays her part,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And dark Ambition spreads her gauds before my eye and heart,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And I one moment list the voice that proffers me the crown—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I think me of thy looks my boy, and bid the tempter down.</div> - <p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet there will sometimes come to me a thought of sadness given,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">As the dark cloud streams athwart the flush that tints the sky of even,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When I look at thee, and think of thee, in all thine artlessness,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And think how flowery is the path which thy young foot doth press—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For I know that eye which sparkles now may suddenly be wet,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And the earth which looks so lovely too may be a desert yet.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Ah! yes, I tremble for my boy with fears he cannot know,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lest he take the path which I have ta’en, and find it leads to wo;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I tremble lest the Circean cup may yet be given him,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With roses decked and myrtles crown’d and sparkling to the brim;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For O! his foot hath not yet tried the path which mine hath trod,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nor hath his young heart framed a wish he might not give to God.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And yet I will not think it—no! it will not, cannot be,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That fate shall ever fling its shroud of blackness over thee;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou art too like thy mother, child,—she would not harm this breast—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And all thy days have been too like the holy and the bless’d;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou can’st not other be to me than this, my cradle joy—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou wilt not grieve thy father’s heart, my smiling little boy.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> A friend of mine thinks he has seen a poem somewhere not altogether unlike this. Whether -such a poem there is I know not, nor have I, after hunting over pamphlets and periodicals, -been able to find one. If the reader shall be more successful, he will please give the writer of -any similar production as much praise as he chooses, and subduct the same from me. An author -<i>ought</i> to know if he is guilty of plagiarism; and though I may err, it is my opinion, that among -the many who have written upon this subject, though I may not boast of as much beauty, I may -at least have been as far from stealing as the best of the rhyming tribe. These are indeed days -of barter—still I would live on my own capital.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<h2 id="SIR_THOMAS">SIR THOMAS MORE’S WORKS.</h2> - -<p class="h2sub"><i>Lib. Old Eng. Prose Writers—Vol. 9.—Boston, 1834.</i></p> - -<p>Self-sufficiency, under one form or another, is the predominant -vice of the present age. A disposition to neglect the gathered -wisdom of former times, and to deny all reverence to customs and -institutions from which our fathers deemed it inseparable, and to go -forward rejoicing in <i>our own</i> strength, is becoming more and more -apparent. And whether we regard this sentiment as the fool-hardiness -resulting from ignorance, and as ‘the pride which goeth before -a fall,’ or, which we are more inclined to do, as the exultation of -conscious might, and the prelude of more glorious achievements—still -it is a vice, and requires the most vigorous exertions to check its -further progress. These remarks are most obviously applicable to -political matters, but they are not without meaning in reference to -<i>literature</i>. Even in this department of knowledge, there has become -manifest a proneness to circumscribe curiosity and inquiry -within the narrow circle of cotemporary writers, to extol our popular -authors, as the only ones deserving our attention, and as incontestably -superior to all who have gone before them. It is difficult -to determine whether this feeling is more unjust to those great lights -of learning, who laid the <i>foundations</i> of our literature, by defrauding -them of their merited homage, or more unfortunate for ourselves, by -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -depriving us of their illumination. Nor is it less <i>absurd</i>, than it is -unjust and unfortunate. For if we are indeed at the culminating -point, whence beams of light and beauty shall fall on succeeding -ages, the closest investigation can but confirm the truth; but if we -are <i>not</i>, by timely consideration we may be saved from the error of -those ancient astronomers, who assumed this little earth to be the -center of the universe, and <i>therefore</i>, at each supposed advance, -plunged deeper in error and perplexity. And those, who, in utter -ignorance of our older writers, are ever asserting the preeminence of -Byron and Bulwer and Irving, should be careful, lest, with those -who have traveled further in the world of letters, they may incur -the charge of weakness, no less ridiculous than that of the vain Chinese, -who imagine <i>their</i> land, the only radiant point in a world of -darkness.</p> - -<p>Nor would the results of a candid and thorough examination of -the early English writers, be really prejudicial to the reputation of -cotemporary works; for though we might return from our researches -with a less extravagant complacency in the productions of living -authors, it would be more strongly established. We should meet -with opposite merits and opposite faults. If our current literature -is more frivolous, theirs is more prolix; if their thoughts are more -sound, and their style more simple, our reasoning is more pointed, -and our expression more sparkling—if we are more disgusted here -with spurious originality, we are oftener wearied there with staid -monotony.</p> - -<p>We have been led into these reflections, by the perusal of several -volumes of ‘the Library of Old English Prose Writers.’ Among -the many series, which have of late appeared in England and this -country, under the specious name of ‘Libraries,’ there is none so -truly deserving as this, of the approbation and support of the educated -and intellectual portion of the community—and to them, from -its peculiar character, it must be almost entirely confined. Other -publications, appealing to the interests or the love of novelty and -excitement of the ‘reading public,’ meet with a ready support. But -this series, whose design and tendency is to correct this corrupt taste, -and chasten this morbid partiality to the matter-of-fact, or the -romantic, cannot expect a promiscuous patronage. It is emphatically -the <i>literature of literary men</i>, and all such, if they have any -sympathy with ‘sober thought, in simple language dressed,’ nay, to -appeal to selfish motives only, if they have any regard for the improvement -of their taste, the strengthening of their own minds, or -the purifying of their own style, will not fail to search out and drink -deeply of these ‘healthful wells of English undefiled.’ We would -gladly ramble through the several works of which the ‘Library’ is -composed, but time does not permit, and we hasten to the consideration -of the last of their number, with the simple remark that the plan -of the undertaking is so praiseworthy, and the manner of its execution -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -thus far has evinced so correct a judgment, and refined a taste, -that we cannot but regret that any circumstances should for a moment -delay its progress.</p> - -<p>The fame of Sir Thomas More’s Utopia must be familiar to every -ear. Its authority as a classic is so high, quotations from it are so -numerous, and allusions to it among literary, political and metaphysical -writers, are so frequent and eulogistic, that no one who has -passed beyond the first lispings of polite learning, can be presumed -ignorant of its general character. But a much smaller number, probably, -are acquainted with it from actual examination and study. -Before the appearance of this edition it had long been out of print in -this country, or excluded from general circulation by being buried -in an expensive and cumbrous volume, among the ponderous controversial -writings of its author; and in rescuing it from its unfortunate -companionship, the editor has conferred no slight gratification -upon the lovers of serious thought and quaint style. A clear view -of the design and plan of the work, cannot better be obtained, than -by a brief analysis of its contents.</p> - -<p>The author, for the convenience of setting forth his ideal of a -perfect commonwealth, in a plainer and bolder manner than the -jealousy of the government and the church would allow, feigns the -existence of an island, Utopia, in a remote quarter of the globe, unknown -to the people of Europe, and recently discovered by the celebrated -navigator, Vespucci. Raphael Hylleloday, a philosopher, -who accompanied Vespucci in his voyages, through curiosity, to examine -the condition of the new-found nations, having become intimately -versed in the history and manners of the Utopians, conveys a -lengthened and minute account of the same to his friend More, at -that time employed in the ‘king’s embassat’ in Flanders.</p> - -<p>Upon this hypothesis, the philosophical romance is founded; and -under the form of historical narrative, the author unfolds his views of -the manners, customs, pursuits, government and religion, which -would obtain among a perfectly happy people. He condemns with -severity, and ridicules with sharpness, the policy, both temporal and -spiritual, which was pursued by the governments of Europe, and the -whole system of social relations, which prevailed among the people. -He exposes with equal fearlessness, the folly and wickedness of royal -tyranny, prelatical intolerance, and private avarice. He pictures in -earnest simplicity, the advantages of equality of rank, temperance in -living, freedom of opinion, and general education; and much more -than anticipates in theory, all the advances which have actually -been made, in more than three centuries. In order to feel the full -admiration, which the perusal of the ‘Utopia’ should legitimately -excite, the reader must constantly bear in mind, the period at which -the author wrote. Many positions, which to us appear obvious and -common place,—because we have been familiar with them, as undoubted -truisms, from our childhood—evinced in our author surpassing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> -vigor of thought, and boldness of purpose, joined with a sagacity -almost prophetic. The extent to which he pushed his liberality in -religion, in an age distinguished for its bloody bigotry, may be learned -from the following extract. (p. 159.)</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“For this is one of their most ancient laws, that no man ought to be punished -for his religion. At the first constitution of their government, Utopas having understood, -that before his coming among them, the old inhabitants had been engaged -in great quarrels concerning religion, by which they were so divided among -themselves, that he found it an easy thing to conquer them, since instead of uniting -their forces against him, every different party in religion fought by themselves; -after he had subdued them, he made a law that every man might be of what religion -he pleased, and might endeavor to draw others to it by the force of argument, -and by amicable and modest ways, but without bitterness against those of other -opinions; but that he ought to use no other force but that of persuasion, and was -neither to mix with it reproaches nor violence; and such as did otherwise were to -be condemned to banishment or slavery.”</p> -</div> - -<p>To affirm that all the maxims and institutions in this fictitious system -of politics are unexceptionable, and would be desirable if <i>realized</i>, -would be foolish eulogium—indeed, in some very important -features, (we would refer particularly to the chapters on ‘the Manner -of Living,’ on ‘Slavery,’ and on ‘Marriages,’) the progress of political -science and moral philosophy, has shown that there is much -that is erroneous and defective. The grand error is, and it is a very -common one among theorists, in allowing to corrupt human nature a -higher degree of moral perfection, than it has ever yet vindicated its -claims to, and, resting upon this unsubstantial basis, must fall to the -ground. The candid reader, however, cannot fail to admire the -acuteness and honesty of the reasoning, and to wonder at the nobleness -of the sentiments upon the great subjects of civil and religious -freedom, when he reflects that the author was a courtier under the -despotic Henry VIII, and was a tenacious Romanist, amid the fierce -struggles of the Reformation. He will also be highly pleased with -the simplicity of language in which the profoundest truths are conveyed, -and will often be provoked to a smile, as he detects, under -the modest guise of our author’s graceful style, many a thought, which -with pompous epithet, and startling antithesis, has been brought -forth as the offspring of the ‘wonderful advance of mind in the -XIXth century.’ And if he should be ready to point at some passages -as absurd, and at others as childishly simple, let him remember, -that according to competent critics, the prince of ancient philosophers, -Plato, is not free from similar crudities. The most valuable -portions of the work, are those which are employed in the discussion -of permanent moral and political principles, though the most curious -and amusing, are the descriptions of the island, and of the domestic -and civil habits of its citizens. There are, here and there, some -positions of even ludicrous extravagance, which the author, it would -seem, intended to serve him as a refuge from the charge of heresy, -by giving his book the aspect of an idle and humorous fiction.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> - -<p>The latter half of the volume is occupied with the ‘History of -King Richard III’—and though it does not possess the intrinsic value -of the Utopia, it acquires even a higher interest from the circumstance -of its being the <i>earliest specimen</i> of English prose, intelligible -to readers of the present day.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> It is also deserving of great attention, -as the original chronicle of that troublous and tragical reign, -written while several of the actors in its scenes are yet living. It is -in this light, as the ‘Father of English Prose,’ that the character of -Sir Thomas More appears most interesting. He was the first to -break loose from the prevailing custom, which confined all learning -and philosophy and history, to the constrained medium of a dead -language, and commenced those efforts in the living English, which -have resulted in giving us a vernacular prose literature, unequalled -by that of any other language in the world. He was fortunate too -in living just at that period, when the language had acquired sufficient -elegance and copiousness, to render it in a great measure permanent. -The tasteful reader will be tempted to wish that our native -Saxon had been suffered to retain its pristine vigor, unencumbered -with such ponderous accumulations, as it has since received, -though it had remained less magnificent in its periods, and less fertile -in synonymes.</p> - -<p>The principal points worthy of notice in this venerable composition, -are, the honest straight-forward course of the narrative, the discrimination -in the portraiture of character, and in tracing outward -actions to their secret causes, and the nature and individuality shown -in the speeches, which, in imitation of the manner of Livy and Sallust, -he puts in the mouths of his personages. We were much -struck with the <i>perfect</i> coincidence with this authentic chronicle, -maintained in Shakspeare’s drama of Richard III. It is exceedingly -thorough and minute, and affords gratifying evidence that the -efforts of the imagination may with success be made subservient to -impressing and illustrating historical truth. As an instance of this -resemblance, as well as for the purpose of exhibiting our author’s -<i>original</i> style, we quote as follows. (p. 302-304.)</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“And thus, as I have learned of them that much knew and little cause had to lie, -were these two noble princes, these innocent, tender children, born of most royal -blood, brought up in great wealth, likely long to live to reign and rule in the realm, -by traitorous tyranny taken, deprived of their estate, shortly shut up in prison, and -privily slain and murthered, their bodies cast, God wot where, by the cruel ambition -of their unnatural uncle and his dispiteous tormentors. Which things on every -part well pondered, God never gave this world a more notable example, neither -in what unsurety standeth this worldly weal, or what mischief worketh the -proud enterprise of a high heart, or finally what wretched end ensueth such dispiteous -cruelty. For first, to begin with the ministers, Miles Forrest at Saint Martin’s -piecemeal rotted away. Dighton indeed yet walketh on alive, in good possibility -to be hanged ere he die. But Sir James Tyrrel died at Tower hill, beheaded -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -for treason. King Richard himself, as ye shall hereafter hear, slain in the field, -hacked and hewed of his enemies’ hands, harried on horseback dead, his hair in despite -torn and togged like a cur dog. And the mischief that he took, within less -than three years of the mischief that he did. And yet all the mean time, spent in -much pain and trouble outward, much fear, anguish and sorrow within. For I -have heard by credible report of such as were secret with his chamberers, that after -this abominable deed done, he never had quiet in his mind, he never thought -himself sure. Where he went abroad, his eyen whirled about, his body privily -fenced, his hand ever on his dagger, his countenance and manner like one always -ready to strike again; he took ill rest a nights, lay long waking and musing, sore -wearied with care and watch, rather slumbered than slept, troubled with fearful -dreams, suddenly sometime start up, leap out of his bed and run about the chamber; -so was his restless heart continually tossed and tumbled with the tedious impression -and stormy remembrance of his abominable deed.”</p> -</div> - -<p>The character of Sir Thomas More is one of the noblest that the -whole circle of history can present, and his whole career was as glorious, -in the highest sense of that term, as the loftiest aspirations -could desire. His fame rests not on the adventitious distinctions of -rank or political authority, or on the short lived eminence, conferred -by popular idolatry; for, though he was placed high in office, though -he was courted by his sovereign, beloved by his equals, and worshiped -by his inferiors—the native power of his intellect, and loftiness -of his spirit, shed the proudest luster upon his name. We have -already had occasion to notice some points of his greatness, in the -review of his works. In his Utopia we found him a subtle reasoner, -and bold asserter of the rights of man; and in his history, we met -with an honest annalist, and skillful pioneer in the untraced paths of -English literature. In many other respects he was no less gifted by nature, -and favored by fortune. He was the first <i>lay</i> chancellor of -England, that high station, before his accession, having been entirely -monopolized by churchmen. He is the <i>first</i> person in English history -distinguished for senatorial eloquence, and the earliest champion -of parliamentary liberty. He was the first, as speaker of the House -of Commons, to teach that body the use of that power, which, as -keeper of the purse of the nation, it possessed, and which, in later -times, it has exerted with so overwhelming an influence on the destinies -of the nation. In a word, he was the <i>first</i> of British ministers, -who deserved, in all its breadth, the title of a <i>statesman</i>. His -personal character was no less lovely, than his public career was -commanding. The sweetness of his disposition, the mirthfulness of -his temper, his reluctance to engage in the stormy contentions of -political ambition, the depth of his learning, and the order of his -piety, are alike conspicuous—and the manner of his death has associated -his fame with that of the martyrs to tyranny ‘for conscience -sake.’</p> - -<p class="right">W.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> Utopia was written in Latin. The current translation was made by Bishop -Burnet.</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I_LOVE_THEE">I LOVE THEE.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">’Tis sweet, when first the infant’s voice</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lisps to the parent of his joys,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Words like no other;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And says,—as a bright, radiant smile</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Lights up his countenance the while—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">“I love thee, mother.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">’Tis sweet, to watch that mother’s eye</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beam, like a star in yonder sky,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Radiant, though mild;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To hear her speak the glad reply,—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her joyous bosom heaving high—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">“I love thee, child.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">’Tis pleasant, when at midnight hour</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beneath some fragrant myrtle bower</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With flow’rs inwove,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The happy swain, with trembling tone</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Reveals his heart to <i>her</i> alone—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">“’Tis <i>thee</i> I love:”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">And then, to mark the rising sigh,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The blushing cheek, the laughing eye,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">In <i>turn</i> appear;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The swelling breast, the <i>throbbing</i> there,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The playful struggle—<i>all</i> declare,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">“I love thee, dear.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0"> - -<hr class="tb" /></div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">’Tis sweet, when man doth contrite bow</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Before his God, his spirit low,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And seek His favor.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With deep submission as he kneels,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He speaks the joy his bosom feels,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">“I love thee, Savior.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">But sweeter far, when <i>God</i> hath said,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">“The offering which <i>I</i> have made,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Thine heart hath won.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Through <i>Him</i> will I now hear thy cries,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Through that ‘<i>atoning sacrifice</i>,’</div> - <div class="verse indent2">‘I love thee, <i>son</i>.’”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_COFFEE_CLUB">THE COFFEE CLUB.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="h2sub">No. II.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“I wish you saw me half starting out of my chair, with what confidence, as I -grasp the elbow of it, I look up, catching the idea, even sometimes before it half-way -reaches me.</p> - -<p>——I believe in my conscience I intercept many a thought, which Heaven intended -for another man.”—<i>Tristram Shandy.</i></p> -</div> - -<p><span class="smcap">Reader</span>;</p> - -<p>Lest, from the fact that we have hitherto drawn our mottos -from “The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy,” the suspicion -may be festering in your brain that poor Nescio Quod has confined -his reading among the older English writers to this single work, it -may not be amiss to adduce such evidence, as shall set at rest so -unjust and injurious a surmise.</p> - -<p>For instance—had he wished to be sarcastical upon himself, and -thus, by a common artifice, predispose his critics to clemency, he -might, in reference to the multitudinous array of <i>shadowy</i> jests—flitting -around the brightness of the reader’s fancy, like moths -around a candle, to their own destruction—have cited this keen retort -of Fuller—“It is good to make a jest, but not to make a trade -of jesting.”</p> - -<p>Or, in allusion to the somewhat pedantic display of information, -varied, but worthless, he might have adopted from the same author -a complaint at the frivolous attainments of the idle and riotous student—“Yet, -<i>perchance</i>, he may get some <i>alms</i> of learning, here a -snap, there a piece of knowledge, but nothing to purpose.”</p> - -<p>Or, in a mood of preeminent self-complacency, he might have imagined -that the reader’s feelings towards him, maugre his faults and -his prolixity, might be fitly expressed in the language of the Spectator -(after Martial.)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“In all thy humors, whether grave or mellow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thou’rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There is no living with thee, nor without thee.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Or, in defense of his desultory style—half-way between the frisking -pirouettes of Harlequin, and the staid pace of the moraliser, he -might have borrowed a circumlocutory sentence from the bungling -Locke—“I would have him try whether he can keep one unvaried, -single idea in his mind without any other, for any considerable -length of time.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> - -<p>Or, having in his mind the stolidity of those, who condescended -gravely to condemn so trifling a <i>jeu d’esprit</i>, he might have taken to -his aid a sarcasm from Smollett—“Some formidable critics declared -that the work was void of humor, character, and sentiment.”</p> - -<p>Or, revolving in his thoughts the mystery attending the appearance -of the first number, and the pining curiosity excited to unveil -its paternity, with flattered pride, he might have quoted a splendid -sentence from Count Fathom—“Over and above this important secret, -under which he was begotten, other particularities attended his -birth, and seemed to mark him out as uncommon among the sons of -men.”—These “<i>ancient</i> instances” will suffice, my reader, if you -are in a yielding mood, to convince you that, if Tristram is called -upon somewhat often, it is less a matter of necessity, than of choice. -I am doubting whether it would not be a most Machiavelian stroke -of diplomatic wisdom, to persuade you that I perceive all my failings. -Surely your admiration at my frankness would outweigh your -anger at the repetition of my sins. I am sometimes affected, and, -now and then, I perpetrate a <i>verbicide</i>. I like to make new words—I -feel for them the affection of a father. I am slightly tinctured -with the sin mentioned by Boileau. (L’Art Poetique. Chant Troisieme.)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“Souvent, sans y penser, un écrivain qui s’aime,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Forme tous ses héros semblables à soi-meme.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Which lines the <i>Il</i>-literati are to know mean, “A self-complacent -writer often inadvertently draws his heroes like himself.” Thus I, -forgetting the precise terms of the <i>conversators</i>, (there <i>ought</i> to be -such a word,) make them parley in a brogue very like my own. I -am, moreover, somewhat vain, though less so than Ovid, or Horace, -(Vide Metam. lib. 15. in fine. and Hor. 2.20 3.30.) or than that -Etrurian Spurinna, whom Valerius Maximus cites as an instance of -modesty, though he was rather an example of uncommon self-inflation; -since he thought himself so <i>killing</i>, that he disfigured his -face, lest he should unwittingly seduce his fair country-women!</p> - -<p>I would that I could affirm with Falstaff in the play, “I am not -only witty in myself, but I am likewise the cause that wit is in other -men.” But the protasis will, I fear, be doubted by the judicious, and -my own observation tells me that the apodosis is false. I am naturally -neither contemptuous nor malicious, but when I look around -me, and behold so many with but two ideas, “one for superfluity -and one for use,” and reflect that I may myself rank among that -soulless number, I become almost a misanthrope, and quite a scorner. -“Les diseurs des bons mots,” says Pascal, “sont mauvais -caractères.” “The perpetrators of witticisms are bad men.” Yet -the same author observes, that silence is the severest punishment, -and, since novelty is all that can gain one notoriety at the present -day, I know not why I should not attempt to be new, at least, if not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -witty. I sometimes think I would rather give utterance to a brilliant -error than a stupid truth, and, like Tully, espouse falsehood -with a Plato, rather than be right with the rabble. “Had the nose -of Cleopatra been shorter,” remarks an eminent writer, “the face of -the world had been altered.” (<i>Her</i> face would have been, at any -rate.) Had I, too, been born at an earlier era, before the fingers of -a million had compressed every square inch of this vast globe’s surface, -till it is as dry and hopeless as the peel of an eviscerated orange, -I, too, might have been at once original and wise. But all -truths have of late become <i>truisms</i>, and to reiterate them would be -like praising Shakspeare. Sufficient be it for me, (you will find -the thought somewhere in Irving,) if, like a skillful physician, who -gives you a pill enveloped in some palate-tickling sauce, I now and -then, under the guise of folly, pop down your throat a sound moral, -or a wholesome truth. My writings, if less grave in appearance, -will be more healthful in effect than Bellamy’s learned computation -of the earth’s inhabitants during the millennium, (whom he makes -so numerous that they would be compelled to lie in <i>strata</i>,) or the -labored inquiry of the ingenious Spaniard, whether it be more certain -that a <i>cause</i> will produce an <i>effect</i>, or that an <i>effect</i> must spring -from a <i>cause</i>. Pardon these patch-work prolegomena—remembering -that it is my fashion to place my thoughts in <i>Mosaic</i>—and pass -on to my compeers of the club.</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “Well, Pulito, time flies, or,” (looking learnedly,) “<i>tempus -fugit</i>, as the Latins would say. If Quod and you are coming to -the point, I’ll e’en light my cigar, and listen with elongated and <i>patent</i> -ears.” (Here, after a series of wicked bantering, Apple was -forced to explain that <i>patent</i> meant <i>open</i>—he then continued pettishly,) -“I really thought you could see through a joke sooner—but if -you are not about to discuss, I’ll read to Tristo a few chapters of -my Psychological Autobiography, in which I have shown by induction -that <i>punning</i> may become a second nature, and that in numerous -consecutive instances—”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “Enough, good Apple; I perceive the plan of your -work, and doubt not that it is profoundly amusing, and amusingly -profound. But why wish to read it to me, rather than to Nescio, -or Pulito?”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “Because you are melancholy, and something light and -trifling might—”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “No, Apple, no! When I am sad, which is but too often, -I find no relief from the ludicrous, or the gay. I should sooner -look for an antidote to melancholy in the deep thought and earnest -style of Coleridge, than in the levities of Swift, or the whimsicalities -of Sterne. And an evening walk in the solemn starlight would -quicker soothe me than a merry ramble among the green hills in the -brightness of the morning. When the soul wanders through its airy -chambers in solitary sadness, let it not flee for refuge to the comic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> -page, to laughter, or the song. Let it dwell upon scenes and objects, -more wretched than itself, till the sigh of sorrow burst into the -tear of pity. The descriptions of Crabbe, so gloomy, so powerful, -and so true, bear me away from sadness to solemnity, and the deep -conceptions of Foster lift me from solemnity to a high and tender -elevation.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “Fool as I am, these bright spring mornings always -make even me serious.”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “Fools as we <i>all</i> are, there are times when the cup of -pleasure is as nauseous to the soul, as is wine to the sated palate of -the morning reveler. Why is it, Apple, why is it that the first gay -breath of spring is so saddening in its influence? Nature seems -then to burst from her winter’s sleep, like a resurrection from the -grave. The jocund earth puts on her brightest robes, as if soon to -celebrate her nuptials with heaven. The pulse of existence beats -high with new-born vigor, and the warm, bright blood runs riot -through the renovated veins. Alike in the open fields, and the -crowded city, throughout the glorious works of God, and the petty -creations of man, there is a newness of life, which, it would seem, -<i>must</i> fill every heart with bounding ecstacy. And so it may be, for -aught I know, with the busy and the riotous. But with the idle and -the thoughtful, the approach of spring produces, I am persuaded, far -different effects.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “Physicians would tell us that the balmy breeze bears on -its wings a subtle, penetrating fluid, which dampens the spirits and -enfeebles the energies.”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “No. While I allow that these early gales of spring, -which breathe life and vigor into all the rest of animated nature, unbrace -<i>our</i> nerves, and through those media of sensation, lower the -tone, and lessen the elasticity of the feelings, yet, for the main cause -would I look deeper—even in the mind. There are certain periods, -as we all know, when we are <i>forced to reflect</i>. Such periods -are, every serious change in the world without—the recurrence of a -birth-day, or the revisiting of home; and sometimes the sight of a -long-neglected volume, through whose pages I have strayed in pleasant -intercourse with an absent, or a buried friend, has brought paleness -to my lip, and sadness to my heart. And such an occasion, -preeminently, are the early days of spring; for spring (as the Germans -say) is the cradle-time of the year.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “The calendar, though, says otherwise. But go on.”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “Then are we summoned to look forward to <i>another</i> -year, with hopes less wild and free than they were at the commencement -of the last; and we look backward, also, with a longer -and a sadder retrospect: and you know, Apple, that the memory of -a student is but a shadowy maze, where the forms, which, in <i>prospect</i>, -were gilded with glory, and girded with magnificence, to his -<i>backward</i> gaze, seem airy nothings, or shapes, palpable, indeed, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -unsightly—fiends, mocking at the vanity of his hopes, and the folly -of his grief. And thus the bland breath of the reviving year becomes, -through the mysterious principle of association, an instrument -of keenest anguish to the sensitive mind. This annual birth -of nature is a mile-stone, that notches our progress from the cradle -to the grave: the figures are surrounded by bloom and greenness, -but they are graven by the finger of Death.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “I think such brilliant days make us feel <i>too</i> well.”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “They do. They kindle sensations too delightful for -continuance—our systems are too coarse, too frail—it seems as if an -electric finger were laid invisibly upon each shrinking nerve—a balm -circumfuses and permeates the heart, strange, ecstatic, overpowering. -The change, too, is often so abrupt as to cause an unpleasant -revulsion—the process (so far as regards the action of the mind) is -not unlike that by which we pass from the stern winter of our existence -here, to the bright and unending summer of the future life.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “Well, Tristo, though I could not succeed in making -you merry, you have well nigh rendered me as sad as yourself. -And Quod and Pulito have stopped their wrangling to listen to your -melancholy.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Yes, Tristo, you are unwontedly depressed to-night, -and Dumpling has scarcely made a <i>pun</i> since we came together. -However, the coffee is ready, that will revive you both.”</p> - -<p>The first cup sufficed to set Apple on his <i>legs</i>, (speaking intellectually,) -which he evinced by commencing a <i>running</i> fire of puns -and jests, too rapid for transcription; while Tristo, more slowly, but -not less surely, owned the mild, exhilarating influence. In the -mean time conversation lagged, and finally ceased, while they gave -themselves up to the more <i>sensible</i> pleasures of the palate. After a -while, Pulito, who appeared to have been collecting all his energies -for the onset, seized a moment, when Apple was poring over his -Autobiography, Tristo with a pleased smile was dipping into Little’s -poems, and Quod, as <i>magister morum</i> for the evening, was resettling -the coffee pot on its uneasy bed, and broke forth in a most -oratorical tone with the following introduction to the debate.</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “On whatever principle you may compare the writings -of the older novelists with the works of Bulwer and his school, -whether as to their effect, in instructing the mind, or improving the -heart, quickening the moral sense, or conveying useful information, -or even for mere interest, or whiling away the time in rational -amusement, (which last is but the lowest commendation of a good -novel): in any of these points of comparison, I maintain that the -older writers have a decided and manifest superiority. I might appeal, -for the support of this position, to the concurrent testimony of -literary men, to the fact that they have outlived contemporary criticism, -and are still classics in this fastidious age, and furthermore”—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> - -<p><i>Apple</i>, (looking up from his manuscript.) “What book is that -you’re reading out of, Pulito?”</p> - -<p>“The book of my own intellect, as yet unpublished, Mr. Impertinence,” -said Pulito, somewhat disconcerted.</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “Indeed! As I was looking down, I thought from the -rapid and mellifluous flow of words, the elegance and profoundness -of the thought, that you were reading loud from some one of the -British Essayists. No insinuations, however,” and he chuckled at -the effect, while the others smiled at the harmlessness of his sarcasm.</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Don’t suppose, Pulito, that because I prefer the modern -to the ancient school among the English novelists, I therefore -deny all merit to the latter. It would be strange, indeed, if men, -who were admitted <i>unâ voce</i> to be the wits and geniuses of their -age, should not have displayed many, and great, and varied excellencies. -But won’t you allow that the incongruous mass, The -Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, has gained its greenest laurels -from its outrageous oddity? Its eccentricity is so astounding, so -far beyond anomaly itself, that criticism pauses aghast, as at ‘the -quills of the fretful porcupine,’ unknowing where to strike. You -might as soon trace ‘the path of a serpent on a rock,’ or reduce to -rule the movements of the wild ass of the desert. It is a mere -chaos—a “rudis indigestaque moles.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “But, my dear fellow, such the author intended to -have it.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Well, and what then? Suppose he had made it dull, -(as in fact much of it <i>is</i>, at least, to me,) would it be the more pleasing, -that the author had simply fulfilled his intentions? I like a -good conceit in my heart, and the more I like it, the more do I hate -to see it spoiled.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Do you assert that Sterne has spoiled his plan? If -you do, the world is against you.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “I beg your pardon. Those few are against me, who -copy their sentiments from one another, and who, I’ll be sworn, -never had the patience to read through what they so extravagantly -admire. There are many good judges, who have the taste to perceive -the unrivalled beauties of Sterne in particular passages, his -fine strokes of humor, his felicitous touches of character, and, therefore, -indiscriminately extol the whole.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Well, and I think they are about right.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “So they are, except in Tristram Shandy. But <i>there</i> -I maintain, that while uncle Toby, and Yorick, and in fact all the -actors, are among the most perfect pictures in the English language, -the scenes are yet, many of them, <i>unbearably</i> wearisome. I would -rather undertake to thread the labyrinth of Minos.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Now, in my view, this same rambling style constitutes -his great charm.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Not at all. This attraction consists in the exquisite -fidelity of his characters, and the wit that gleams along his zigzag -path. His roving, if properly restrained, would be pleasing. But, -in the very nature of things, we cannot heartily like an author whom -we cannot keep in sight. He seems to have thought that <i>any</i> thing -would <i>take</i>, provided only it were irrelevant. If, indeed, these <i>disjecta -membra</i> were all brilliant or weighty, it would repay the labor -of putting them together. But when you have done this, and find -much of it absolute nonsense, you must feel spent, disappointed, and -angry.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Say what you will, and there is some truth in your words, -Sterne will always remain inimitable.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “I deny it not, and I hope he may. One such specimen, -however beautiful, of utter lawlessness, is quite enough, and -the fame of Sterne has already drawn many a weak-winged aspirant -from sober truth into erratic nonsense. That style, which, in <i>him</i>, -if affected, was, at least, original, in an <i>imitator</i> would be stale and -intolerable. By the way, have you ever read his Sermons and -Letters?”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Yes, and they are beautiful, are they not?”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Surpassingly. But what say you to the older novelists, -Fielding, Richardson and Smollett?”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Why, I say that their language is as much stronger and -purer, as their thoughts are better, and their characters more natural, -than those of Bulwer, and his tawdry tribe.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Well, I must admire your modesty, to speak thus of a -man, whom the spontaneous and infallible voice of a million has applauded, -till praise itself grows weary.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “The infallible voice of the million! Phoebus! their -words <i>are</i> oracular! It has not been a fact, then, has it, since the -stars first sang together, that whatever the <i>lions</i> of the day have done, -or written, these infallible judges have followed with their praise? -They did not shout ‘<i>te deum</i>’ to Cowley, when that worshipper -of the ‘dim obscure’ was the star of a voluptuous court, as vicious in -taste as it was depraved in morals? Each spectacled ‘mother in -Israel’ was not enraptured by Hervey’s magniloquent meditations -among the tombs? The horrors of Walpole, and the mysteries of -Radcliffe, the sorrows of Porter, with the bravery of her superhuman -Wallace, and the streaming eyes of her immaculate Amanda, -have not <i>all</i> been worshipped in their day as lords of the ascendant—have -not <i>all</i> risen, and shone, and set, in the April sky of popular -applause? Why, Quod, I am astonished that you should for a -moment adduce the opinion of the rabble as authority.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Out, aristocrat! where else <i>would</i> you look for natural -and unbiassed feeling? I tell you, that when the voice of a people -bursts forth in simultaneous applause, a work <i>must</i> be good.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “And I tell you, that if at this moment our meretricious -press should bring forth the Letters of Junius, and the scribblings of -Jack Downing, the people, if left to themselves, would choose the -latter to reign over them, because the latter is most like themselves. -Besides, upon one of these fashionable novels you do not get the free -popular voice. Some giant critic, from prejudice, or false taste, -sends forth his <i>imprimatur</i>, and the groundlings catch and repeat the -cry,—as a mountain shakes the thunder from its cliffs, and the little -bills reverberate its voice.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “But the people have no interest to sway their opinion.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “Neither have they any judgment to guide it.”</p> - -<p><i>Apple.</i> “To what, then, shall we resort? For criticism has always -shifted with the shifting taste of the age, and it may be shown -that the learned, and the polished, have fluctuated in their sentiments -as much as the ignorant and the coarse. Did not the voices -of the educated prefer Cowley and Dryden to Milton, until Addison -took Milton on his wing, and bore him far into the heaven of fame? -The critics of every age have followed the prevailing style of the -writers of their time; and, indeed, they have constituted a large portion -of those writers. Every thirty years has a style peculiar to itself—soft -or strong, plain or mystical, brief or diffuse, moralizing or -descriptive, simple or turgid; and the critics have set up no barrier, -and constituted no law.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “What you have said, <i>was</i> true, but <i>is</i> not. There are -now so many perfect specimens from every literary mine, that dross -or counterfeit is instantly detected. Criticism has become stable, -or, if ever influenced by prejudice, or local feeling, you have only to -take the average—cast them together into the alembic, and truth will -come forth. And indeed the <i>general</i> and <i>long-continued</i> opinion of -the multitude on a literary work, is always correct, partly because -nature speaks within them, and partly because they have been told -what to think by their superiors.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Don’t suppose I prefer the flimsy modern copyists, to -the eloquent Old English prose writers—the thinkers of the seventeenth -century. But what says your Criticism to the novelists of -the present age, as compared with those of eighty years since?”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “I speak not of Scott; for I admit, as must all, that to -the rest of story tellers, he is the sun in heaven. I likewise except -Edgeworth, and Marryatt, and, perhaps, James and Cooper. But -the Bulwerian is the prevailing style; and of him enlightened criticism -says, that, with much brilliancy, and some philosophy, there is -a great deal that is vicious in style, and false in sentiment, shallow in -reasoning, and depraving in tendency. It says that his aphorisms -are merely antitheses, striking, but untrue. His characters are too -strong contrasts to be natural; they are foils to one another.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “And where will you find a more glaring instance of this, -than in Scott’s Quentin Durward, where he introduces tragedy and -comedy—the executioners to Lewis, that subtle king?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “I allow it, and always considered the picture overcharged: -it is broad farce, and not real life.”</p> - -<p><i>Nescio.</i> “Well, I will tell you what <i>I</i> think of Smollett. When -he is himself, he is coarse; and when he rises to the tender, he speaks -in language, which true lover and true poet never employed. His -sentimentality is to me disgusting, and his sketches, though laughable, -are many of them caricatures. He had a strong sense of the -ludicrous, but no taste for the refined. His sea-characters are admirable; -but when, in the History of England, were oaths and exclamations, -which I repeat not, so common in the mouths of <i>refined -ladies</i> even, as he would represent? When I close a volume of -Smollett, I rise with a sense of weariness—there is a something, -which I sought, and found not—his characters appear before me in -bold prominence, and they are consistent with themselves, but I -doubt me whether all of them are consistent with human nature.”</p> - -<p><i>Pulito.</i> “There is something in what you say. Smollett fails in -some points: but his mind was powerful, and his language is strong, -and idiomatically pure. But in regard to poetry, and to love-scenes, -the taste of the age was wrong: yet he simply accorded -with that taste, and you cannot blame him for drifting with a race -that thought Johnson a poet! As for Fielding, though too diffuse -in style of remark, he is still immeasurably above Bulwer and his -countless spawn. And so is Richardson, maugre his epistolary prolixity; -and Goldsmith, with his quiet beauty and truth to nature, -transcends them all. But Bulwer, instead of the apotheosis his admirers -would bestow, deserves to do penance in purgatory for his -literary sins. As obscure as Coleridge, without his deep philosophy, -as glittering as Voltaire, without his sparkling wit, as seductive -as Byron, without his amazing strength, his wisdom is founded in a -few heartless maxims, and his poetry is comprized in a Rhyming -Dictionary.”</p> - -<p><i>Tristo.</i> “No! Pulito, you are wrong there. I have heard your -discussion with interest, and allow me to draw the line, which, in -cooler moments, you would both approve. Bulwer is a scholar, and -a genius, and essentially a poet. That he is a scholar, and a ripe -one, no one that has read his Ambitious Student, and, above all, his -Last Days of Pompeii, can doubt for an instant. When I look at -the fact that he has founded a new school in romance; that he has -written eight or ten novels, all different, all original, all <i>creative</i> in -their kind; that we follow his characters from their entrance to their -exit, with feverish and untiring interest; that in his own path no one -approaches him, and that for eight years he has supported his reputation, -I see not how he can be denied many of the attributes of -genius. And that he is, <i>in heart</i>, a poet, despite his Siamese -Twins, is equally evident to me. He is certainly fertile in invention, -rich in expression, and powerful in pathos. I know not where -to find any thing more poetic, more moving, than the character of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -Lucy Brandon, and her twilight interview with Clifford at the lattice, -the beautifully simple portraiture of Mydia, and, above all, the -crossed love, and shattered hopes of the Ambitious Student. I say -that he <i>does</i> possess wit and humor, and poetry, and talent, and that -in large abundance. Yet his power is more in the <i>manner</i> than the -<i>matter</i>; for he is often superficial, and his pictures of the world, -though faithful and clear in parts, are false and confused as a whole. -Their coloring is too high. He strains for effect. His views in -politics, in ethics, and religion, are all shifting. If a brilliant thought -occurs, he pauses little upon its truth or consistency with his previous -sentiments. Because red and blue are <i>both</i> beautiful, he lays -them on together. You view his pictures as in a glass, and depart, -‘straitway forgetting what manner of man he is.’ He makes all his -heroes think and act splendidly for the moment; but their thoughts -and actions are incongruous as a whole—they war among themselves. -A man cannot at once be patient and resentful, thoughtful and careless, -or learned and an idler. Again—his style is as bad as it is -brilliant—it is affected—sometimes tawdry. His novels are bad, -<i>very</i> bad, in their tendency. He marries vice and virtue; he joins -nobleness to sin; he makes man the puppet of fate or circumstance; -around the desperate offender he weaves a spell of enchantment; we -follow his heroes with wonder and pity and love, through all their -paths of crime and glory, and we close the book with a sigh that ourselves -were not born with natures so high, and destinies so splendid, -even at the price of all their wretchedness, and all their guilt. Bulwer -may talk, and talk of virtue and religion, till his hair is gray—but -his principles are poison. And if he be dangerous, his imitators are -contemptible. Without a tithe of his power, they are more corrupt. -Their works are prolific as the rod of Aaron, and lean as the kine of -Pharaoh. In regard to talent, making allowance for the greater -freshness of his novels, and that sympathy which we feel for every -thing of our own day, and remembering that he had all <i>their</i> excellencies -to build upon, and imitate, I should place him far below both -Fielding and Smollett in mental power. Those older writers, -though freer in language, are far less corrupt and enervate in thought, -than these modern profligates. In <i>those</i>, there is a style simple, vigorous, -and clear, and reflection solid, rational, and just—in <i>these</i> -there is a continual reaching forth after singularity and power. <i>Those</i> -draw faithful figures, though larger, perhaps, than life—but <i>these</i> -present distortions—wicked daubs—gross flatteries, or else vile libels -upon human nature. <i>There</i> is thought—<i>here</i>, sentiment—<i>there</i>, -rough gold—<i>here</i>, spangled tinsel. <i>Those</i> are chalybeate streams, -which come tumbling from mountains of iron, with waves dark, but -salubrious: while <i>these</i> are rivulets from mercurial mines, that dance -swiftly along their shining bed, with waters bright, but destructive.”</p> - -<p class="right"> -<span class="smcap">Ego.</span> -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="AMBITION_A_FRAGMENT">AMBITION—A FRAGMENT.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">—“I charge thee, fling away Ambition;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Love thyself last.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right"><i>Henry VIII.</i></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">What! check the spirit in its earliest flight?</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The new-fledged eaglet dash to earth again?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Wrap the just-rising sun in blackest night?</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Hurl yon bright star from its empyrean?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Curs’d be the mind whence such a thought e’er sprung,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yea, doubly curs’d the vile and slavish tongue</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Which spake so mean a thought!</div> - <div class="verse indent24">No, let that spirit rise,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Until the heaven of heavens before it lies,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Stretched out in clear perspective; and its home,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ere it was fettered in this earthly form,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Be seen and recognized by thought innate;—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There let it brood, and “over all debate,”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Grasping earth, heaven, the Maker and the made,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Man and his fate, and fearlessly invade</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The darkness which begirts Him round—the cloud</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In which He hides His majesty.</div> - <div class="verse indent24">The shroud,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Corruption, Reproduction, the stern war</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of Life and Death—the whence and what they are—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">All it shall know—at least <i>attempt</i> to know,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Uninfluenced by the world it scorns below.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yes, let that eaglet rise on tireless wing;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Far, far beyond the clouds’ dominion spring,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And dwell where all is one eternal hush—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">No dash of billowy rack, no whirlwind’s rush;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But yon bright sun blazes an universe</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of pure, essential fire, whose gleams disperse</div> - <div class="verse indent0">All shade, and ‘permeate the unsensuous space’—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Its atmosphere—the spirit of the place.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Ambition, Oh Ambition! fire of hell,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Burning and burning, why in me dost dwell,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A frail, ungifted one, who soon must die,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">“Unwept, unhonored,” who with longing eye</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beholds thy heaven-high dome, but whose poor might</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sinks, struck and palsied, ere it scale that height?</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Go, light his eye who loves the storms of life,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Go, burn his heart whose pulse unvarying beats,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Go, circle him in whom there is no strife</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Of Soul and Sense,—of cold, and feverish heats.</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> - <div class="verse indent2">But no, I would not drive thee from my soul,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Black “effluence of bright essence, uncreate.”</div> - <div class="verse indent2">What trumps the conqueror’s fame from pole to pole?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">What weaves the poet’s name in the web of fate?—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Man! Time and Power—these on thee wait.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">W. F.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_INFLUENCE_OF_MORAL_FEELING_ON_THE_PLEASURES_OF">THE INFLUENCE OF MORAL FEELING ON THE PLEASURES OF -THE IMAGINATION.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="h2sub">No. II.</p> - -<p>The influence of moral feeling tends to heighten the pleasure -which we derive from the contemplation of great actions.</p> - -<p>Turn over the pages of history and philosophy—study the record -of human events, and the laws of the mind, and we gather as their -united testimony, the truth, that in all ages of the world, whatever -has carried with it the impress of intellect, has commanded the -homage of men. Even among rude and barbarous nations, he who -distinguishes himself by some act of superior sagacity or valor, gains -the ascendancy over his rivals, and is worshiped as Chief. The -meed of honor in this case, is the result of a blind, but still a controlling -admiration for the effect, unattended by a recognition of -the cause. In more civilized communities, it is an enlightened and -intelligent tribute to the offspring of mind.</p> - -<p>To the man of imagination there is a powerful charm in the spectacle -of a great mind throwing off the grave clothes of inactivity, -and arousing itself for some mighty effort. There is almost a fearful -grandeur in its movements, as it calls up one after another its -slumbering energies, and girds itself for the struggle. And when it -goes forth in its power to achieve the purposes which it has formed, -it treads with a sternness and majesty which fling around it an irresistible -spell. It is not simply the exhibition of vast strength which -it presents, like the exertion of mere brute force, or the plunge of a -falling avalanche, that awakens in the beholder these emotions of -interest and delight. There is, it is true, in all such exhibitions, -much to inspire sublimity of feeling. But the appeal which we -speak of now, owes its effect to other associations of thought. It is -the soul, the living, moving principle within, directing and controlling -the whole, bending the will and purposes of others into subservience -to its own ‘ruling passion,’ like the earth born giant of old, -rising with fresh strength from every grapple with opposition, and -pressing right onward to the goal of its wishes, with a progress that -resembles the sure march of destiny—it is this which gives to the -sublimity of intellect its distinguishing characteristics. With such a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> -mind, the man of imagination cherishes a fellow feeling, entering -into its aspirations with kindred ardor, watching with intense interest -its struggles against difficulties, sharing its gloom in the hour of -trial, and its exultation at success. This thrill of sympathy is with -him the vibration of the chord which binds him to the universe, and -to his fellow man. Shut him out from such a kindred with his race; -seal up the fountain of ever-flowing sensibility within his bosom, bid -him gaze upon the sublime achievements of intellect, with a stoic’s -indifference, and you have cut off from him a source of happiness -of the purest and most exalted character, and left him a blank on -creation’s page.</p> - -<p>In our contemplation of great actions, perhaps no exercise affords -the imagination more pleasure, than to observe the progress of some -mighty revolution. At first, all is apparently calm and peaceful on -the surface of society, and the beholder finds nothing in the cloudless -sky above, the whispering breeze, or the unruffled serenity beneath, -to forebode the fury of the coming tempest. He does not -dream that the waves of discord and strife are so soon to dash their -foam along the mirror-like tranquillity before him. Yet the principles -may be already at work, whose influence is to arouse these slumbering -elements to a fearful energy. Some youthful mind, destined to -be the master spirit of its age, may be, even at the moment, preparing -within the still retreat of its lonely musings, by patient and toilsome -research, the great problem whose solution is to shake the existing -system of things to its foundations. At length the fullness of -the time is come, and “the little cloud like a man’s hand,” rears its -shadowy outline far in the distant horizon. The voice of the tempest -is heard moaning in suppressed accents, as though wailing a -dirge over the wreck it must make. Darker and still darker above, -the sky spreads out its drapery of mantling clouds. The spirits of -the storm awake, and ride forth on the howling blast, amid the wild -roar of the elements, celebrating the festival of their freedom. The -tempest at length has spent its rage, the pall of blackness is withdrawn, -and the bow of promise gives goodly token of the returning -calm. This may seem perhaps a fanciful description of a revolution. -But to the cultivated imagination, the reality calls up all the intenseness -of interest and excitement which belong to scenes like these. -The storm of human passions, when stirred up and left to range uncontrolled -through a community, gathering in its ranks the ruthless -votaries of ambition, avarice and revenge, urged, as it sweeps onward, -by a thousand new impulses from selfish and opposing interests, -may well be likened to the strife of the angry elements. There is -in the majestic energies of human nature, when aroused and carried -forward with a momentum generated by the heart, an exhibition of -more terrific sublimity than all the varied convulsions in the physical -world can possibly present. But we have said enough on this -point, to show, that the source of pleasure to the imagination, which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> -we are at present considering, is one of no ordinary character, both -in respect to the nature and degree of the gratification which it induces. -And it is now high time that we return to our main object, -which is to notice the influence of moral feeling in enhancing our -susceptibility to this kind of intellectual enjoyment.</p> - -<p>We look back with admiration upon the exploits of an Alexander; -we are struck by the power of his genius, by the grandeur of his -designs, the perseverance and energy of his execution. But the -truth—the sober truth, with its disenchanting wand, breaks the -charm which these throw around his memory, and compel our minds, -divested of all enthusiasm, to sink their admiration of the hero in -their aversion to the unprincipled robber of nations. But on the -other hand, with how much of unmingled delight does the imagination -contemplate the high moral dignity so conspicuous in the character -of Washington. Both are splendid instances of the triumphs -of genius; but with what different sentiments are they regarded! -Over the memory of the latter, the purity of his motives and the -disinterestedness of his ambition, have thrown a hallowed and unclouded -atmosphere. Thus, it is only when great talents are ennobled -by their subservience to virtue, that they receive the meed of -unqualified admiration. As another illustration of this truth, notice -the reformation in Germany—one of the most eventful dramas ever -acted upon the theatre of the world. Perhaps there is no succession -of events recorded on the page of history, which inspires the -imagination with more thrilling interest—no prouder monument of -the achievements of a single mind.</p> - -<p>For a period of not less than a thousand years, the darkness of midnight -had brooded over the nations of the east, relieved occasionally -by some meteor star, whose solitary and transient gleam seemed -only to deepen by contrast the surrounding gloom that succeeded. -The curse of Papacy, with its ignorance, depravity, and superstition, -lay like the frosts of winter upon the intellect and the heart of -man; and the progress of true principles seemed to have been arrested -forever. At this period of mental and moral gloom, nearly -coeval with the dawn of reviving knowledge, arose the man who -was to usher in the commencement of a new and glorious era. He -had stood amid the worship of the temple at Rome, and been an -eye witness to the luxury and licentiousness that defiled the consecrated -courts. The name of the Holy City—the residence of the -Vicar of Christ, had been treasured up in his mind from boyhood, -with sacred associations. Alas, how changed from the image that -his fond anticipations had pictured out! That moment gave birth in -his soul to a mighty thought. He stood undazzled and unallured, -though Rome’s pomp, and gaiety and beauty were spread out like a -sea of enchantment before him. From that hour, Martin Luther -was a champion of the truth—of the simple, unperverted truth. -Year after year, with an ardor unchecked by difficulties, undaunted -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> -by the threats of power, he continued to pour the light of his own -illumination over the nations of Europe, until the temple of Papacy -shook to its foundations, and every Catholic king trembled on his -throne. In contemplating this wonderful revolution, it is difficult to -decide, whether our admiration should be most excited by the magnitude -of the event, or the apparent total inadequacy of the means. -A humble and unknown individual, with the Bible in his hand as his -only weapon of warfare, enters the field against a Pontifical hierarchy, -that had swayed for ages the sceptre of an absolute dominion—and -<span class="allsmcap">PREVAILS</span>. The sublimity and grandeur of the achievement -itself would be deservedly a theme for the highest flight of the poet’s -muse, and the most glowing strains of the historian. But it is only -when we consider the nature of this triumph, that its full power, as a -source of pleasure to the imagination, can be appreciated. It was -a triumph of knowledge over ignorance. The light of science, which -had so long glimmered but faintly, and at intervals, from the cell of -the cloister, now burst forth in full orbed glory—‘rejoicing like a giant -to run his race.’ It was a triumph of literature and refinement over -brutality and barbarism. From the frozen waters of the north, to -the pillars of Hercules, the intellect of Europe shook off the weight -of its darkness, and awoke to life and activity. It was a triumph of -the pure simplicity of the Christian faith over idolatry, hypocrisy -and superstition. The degraded slave of popish tyranny and imposition -cast away the shackles of his bondage, and arose to assert -the dignity of his nature. On every thing that had been enveloped -in the universal chaos, the almighty mandate was written, “Let -there be light.” Thus, in contemplating this great revolution, it is -in the power of its appeal to our moral sensibilities, that its true sublimity -is seen and felt.</p> - -<p class="right"> -C. -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SEMINOLE">THE SEMINOLE.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Where the oak and the pine in grandeur vie,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where the orange and lemon their fragrance blend,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Where its rushing stream the rivulet pours,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There stood a warrior Chief. His eagle eye</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Shot a searching look on all around. His form</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Was symmetry; and proudly eminent</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In all the majesty of pride and strength,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That Indian stood. One look at Heaven,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">One glance at earth he cast, and then he yelled</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A whoop so terrible, so fiercely wild,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">All nature seemed to start. As, when</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On Afric’s sands a wounded lion roars,</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> - <div class="verse indent0">The desert quakes, so now the sunbeams</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Trembled upon each quiv’ring leaf. But see!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He starts—he bounds into the forest depths,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And all is still again.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent22">Two moons</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Their circling revolutions had fulfilled.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Twas when the evening breezes softly breathed,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Wafting sweet odors from the balmy groves,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And from each songster of the wood there rose</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A vesper hymn, and over all the scene</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Twilight a soft and rosy tint had spread—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Upon a grassy knoll was seen to sit</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That warrior Indian. His head was still</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Proudly erect. But his glassy eye</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On vacancy was fixed, and from his side</div> - <div class="verse indent0">There flowed a crimson stream that spake of death.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Alas! how changed the noble warrior!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His snowy plume—the captured eagle’s gift—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Is pure no more, but sprinkled o’er with blood;—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Yet see! he rises slowly—but anon,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He reels—he falls—a deathless stillness comes</div> - <div class="verse indent0">O’er all the scene. In mortal agony his hand</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Still tighter grasps his knife, and ’twixt</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His lips compressed, in faint and broken voice,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He murmurs thus—“Great Spirit of my fathers!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In the pleasant hunting grounds receive me!”—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His spirit’s flown—the noble warrior’s dead;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">His life-blood ebbed upon his native soil.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Free had he lived—free did the Seminole die.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right">H. H. B.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_OUTLAW_AND_HIS_DAUGHTER">THE OUTLAW AND HIS DAUGHTER.</h2> -</div> - -<p>At the termination of one of those revolutions which have convulsed -the Mexican States from their earliest formation, Herraras, -who had been an active partizan, finding his own side in the minority, -sought in retirement a refuge from the turmoils of political life, -and protection for the innocence, with facilities for the education of -his motherless daughter. This he realized, until it began to be rumored, -and not without foundation, that he was secretly leagued -with the piratical smugglers. He who intended to reap the chief -advantage from a public prosecution, was young Velasque, a favorite -of the Administration, whose sole motive was a vehement passion -for the daughter of Herraras, which as yet the jealous fondness of -the father for his own child, and the aversion of the adolescent Almirena -herself, had with vexatious firmness resisted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> - -<p>‘Surrender your daughter to my solicitations, and my influence -with the Government shall secure your acquittal; otherwise, you -must die, and—<i>I will be avenged</i>’—sternly uttered the wily amorado.</p> - -<p>‘Leave me till morning, and you shall have my answer,’ replied -the perplexed and indignant father.</p> - -<p>That morning discovered him with his child many leagues from the -Mexican coast, in a vessel bound to the United States, whose sudden -departure he had procured by bribes, after having, under cover -of the night, with the aid of a faithful servant, taken on board of it, -a rich amount of his ill-gotten treasure.</p> - -<p>On the borders of one of those lakes whose silvery surfaces may -be frequently seen imbosomed among the wild highlands of New -England, near the margin of a forest that encircled its waters with a -drapery of dark green foliage, and luxuriant vines, and stretched far -away over the circumjacent mountains, the outlaw had chosen his -retreat. A few roods of ground were cleared around his lodge, which -was secured from view in the direction of the lake, by a narrow file -of trees and underwood, and on all other sides, by the unbroken forest. -Here the refugee lived, sequestered from the world, his only -companion his child; with a single attendant, an African, the menial -of the lodge, and only visiter of the village that lay over the mountains, -and was the nearest within many miles of circuit, where the -servant went for the supplies of the family. The outlaw suffered -no stranger to enter his precincts, partly because he feared lest -justice should find an avenue to his guilt, and partly because he -dreaded an interruption to the communion of affection between him -and his daughter. He loved his child as few fathers love their offspring. -He had always cherished her as the “apple of his eye.” -But since his recent misfortunes, all other feelings had become extinct, -or submerged in this one passion. He loved her because she -was the image of her mother, who had been the young idol of his -soul. He loved her because she was a part of himself, and his own -dark eye flashed beneath her brow. She was all the world had left -him which he could call his own. To make her father happy, and -witness his cloudy features clear away in smiles, was the dearest delight -of the affectionate daughter. He could not bear her a moment -from his presence, which she, at the least sound of danger as instinctively -sought, as the timid lamb bounds away to its dam. -Music was to both father and child an exhilaration of pleasure, and -relieved of its weariness many a lonely hour. He had instructed -her to play the guitar, whose strings responding to the skilful touch -of her fingers, trilled in his ear the sweet airs of his youth; while -her zephyr-like voice poured forth, in rich harmony with his deep bass, -those lays that awakened fostered memories in his bosom. She read -to him from his favorite Spanish authors, a few of which he had -brought to be companions of his exile. A daily and indulged employment -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> -for the Mexican was sailing upon the lake, and angling -for fish that were numerous in its waters. He had constructed for -his daughter a light canoe with which she accompanied her father. -While he fished, she sported with her little bark, which she learned -to scull with such art, that like the shell of the Nautilus, it seemed -of itself to glide through the waters. When the wind was high, so -lightly and fearless did she skim over the curling tops of the waves, -and so shrill and clear she sounded her notes on the air, that her father -called her his Bird of the Lake. When the summer’s sun was shining -hot, she would oar her boat along the shore, under the archway -of the trees; here she twanged her guitar, or decked her hair -with flowers from the banks, or filled her basket from the grape vines -that twined among the low hanging limbs.</p> - -<p>One day she sailed farther up the shore, and had unconsciously -steered her boat into a sheltered cove. She was seated platting a -chaplet of leaves; and as she adjusted it to her head, she looked -into the water, so darkly shaded by the surrounding trees that it -reflected her image clear as a mirror, and bright as her beautiful self. -Not like Narcissus was she in love with her own image; but her father -had told her that her hair and forehead were like her mother’s—that -mother whom she had never seen—that she wore wreaths in -her hair; and the fond orphan smiled at the resemblance, and seemed, -as she gazed, to be enamored of the beauty whose early blight -her father so bitterly mourned.</p> - -<p>But the real beauty of this illusion was not without its charms. -A young man, in the guise of a sportsman, attracted by the murmuring -echoes of the music this Nereid warbled, had silently approached -the waters, and screened behind a tuft of laurel shrubbery -was looking, in breathless wonder, and deeply fascinated, upon this -seemingly unearthly visitant of his mountain lake.</p> - -<p>That a gloomy browed foreigner with his child, had come to reside -near the lake was known in the village. Many suspicions -were afloat as to his character. Few had seen the renegade. Even -young Clermont, whose hunting excursions were fearlessly and widely -extended, had not ventured near the dwelling of the recluse; -nor had he dreamed what a flower was blooming in the dark woods -of his native hills.</p> - -<p>Almirena raised herself in her boat and attempted to pluck a rose -that grew wild from a projecting rock. A tropical sun had imbrowned -her skin; but polished the jet of her eyes to a higher brilliance; and -her raven tresses floated more luxuriantly over her unbared neck. -Attired in the costume of her country, her light vest open in front, -with its flowing collar, and gathered loosely about her waist, revealed -a form of classic mould; while her silken skirt, with its rich embroidery, -excited still more the surprise of Clermont, who had seen -in that retired district, only the simple dresses of rural life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> - -<p>Perceiving that she could not easily reach the flower, Clermont, -who had been fixed in his concealment by the enchantment of the -vision, advanced to her view and offered his assistance. She was -startled at the sudden apparition, and seized her oar. She did not -know his language, but his gentle tones and supplicating gestures, -tempted her to come nearer the bank and take the rose he offered, -and then like the timid bird that picks one kernel from your hand, -not staying for more flowers, which he would have gathered, she -flew away over the waters.</p> - -<p>Elfred Clermont, the son of the wealthy merchant of the village -to which we have before alluded, was advanced in his professional -studies, and at the time we are narrating, passing a vacation at home. -With romance and enthusiasm commixed in his nature, refined in his -feelings, he met with little congeniality of spirit among the rustic -yeomanry of his native town; while amid the rugged scenery of the -mountains, and deep gloom of the forests, he found his soul’s fondest -sympathy. Taking his gun, and sometimes a musical instrument, -he often pursued his solitary rambles; in the last of which he so unexpectedly -encountered the outlaw’s daughter.</p> - -<p>That night the sleep of Almirena was feverish. Her dreams -were of the fair browed youth and his kind attentions. She awoke -wishing he were her brother. Aware of her father’s inveterate -aversion to any intercourse with the inhabitants of the vicinity, she -said nothing to him of her adventure. But the next day, while he -fished below, the hare-hearted girl, now emboldened by a feeling -which to her was new, and which she did not probably analyze, again -slowly propelled her canoe near the cove. The sound of music -struck her ear. She dropped her oar, and taking her guitar, touched -its chords. Its notes blended symphoniously in the sylvan recess -with the sweet sounds of the young stranger’s flute; while their -hearts were awakened to thrill in more exquisite melody. The ravished -Clermont ran down to the water’s edge, and with a rich bouquet -of flowers, which he held up to her view, prevailed upon her to -approach the shore. He kissed the deep blushes from her cheek, as -he assisted her to debark; and the stranger lovers sat down together -upon the moss covered bank.</p> - -<p>They did not understand each other’s language. But Nature has -a dialect which she teaches all her children. The heart finds utterance -not in artificial characters, but in burning expression. Music -too speaks in glowing tones to the very ear of feeling.</p> - -<p>They often met; he of the blue eyed Saxon race, she of the -darker Roman origin—both impassioned; he from the gushing enthusiasm -of his being, she from the ardent temperament of her -southern skies. His love was pure as if she had been his sister. -Hers as confiding as if he were her brother. Elfred soon acquired -her native tongue, and instructed a ready learner in his own.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> - -<p>Herraras had marked the change in his daughter, and forbade her -interviews with the young American. She implored; but he was -inflexible. He loved his child, but with a love that could not be -severed from its object. ‘What music is that?’ as a familiar air -came quivering through the latticed window of his cottage, inquired -the outlaw, with an emotion that was never kindled except at the -voice of his child, or the sound of her guitar. ‘Has a minstrel of -our own country wandered hither?’</p> - -<p>‘Shall I call the player, father?’ eagerly asked the child.</p> - -<p>‘I would see him.’</p> - -<p>She ran for her lover.—Her artifice succeeded. Elfred was admitted -to the lodge. The music of his flute, his frequent conversations -with the Mexican in his own language, tended somewhat to -revive humanity in the seared breast of the outlaw. But the doting -father could not be induced to yield up his daughter to the solicitations -of Clermont, who was at length obliged, quite in despair, to -cease pressing his suit with the old man, though he still visited at -the lodge. Almirena’s filial piety was too closely interwoven with -her father’s happiness to allow her to thwart his wishes, yet at the -same time she twined about Elfred in all the artlessness and strength -of her love.</p> - -<p>The exiles were seated one afternoon in the front apartment of -the cottage, when the door was darkened by a strange form. The -features of Velasque broke upon them like a fiend’s, hellish with revenge, -blood-shot with lust. The outlaw stirred not, only hoarsely -uttered ‘devil!’</p> - -<p>‘I have come for my revenge,’ alternated the intruder, in a tone -of cool, malignant triumph.</p> - -<p>Almirena shrieked out as the tiger-like eyes of Velasque gleamed -upon her.</p> - -<p>The young Mexican immediately assumed a more familiar manner, -and declared to the imperturbed outlaw, that he had been convicted -of piracy in his own country, and that himself was accompanied -by a party of United States officers, who were furnished with a -warrant for his arrest from their Government. While they delayed -in the woods, he had advanced professedly to reconnoitre, but really -to parley.</p> - -<p>‘You may escape if’——</p> - -<p>‘If!’ thundered out the infuriated father. He checked his -words. For a moment the storm of feeling raged within his breast. -‘I die,’ at length he said. ‘But we will pray before we go. Yonder -is the image of our Mother.’ He led his daughter into a back -room. ‘Now pray for protection.’ He whispered in agony, ‘fly—fly -to your boat—you will be safe. I suffer for my guilt.’ The -terrified child, the affectionate daughter, would have stayed by her -father. But he sternly urged her forward. She sped her way -to the lake. Velasque, suspecting an artifice, advanced; and missing -his victim, dashed impetuously by Herraras, hurling the old -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -man to the floor as he impotently endeavored to oppose him, and -ran down the wood-skirted path to the waters. The resolute girl -had pushed her canoe from the shore, and standing erect was vigorously -plying her oar. Her pursuer seized her father’s boat; but the -wind was up, and the waves mocked his strong-nerved efforts. She -seemingly leaped from crest to crest. He called after her. The -wind returned upon him his voice; and her flowing locks streamed -in wilder witchery to his view. Nearing the shore, she sprang from -her boat, and bounded away like a young fawn through the forest, -leaving her vexed pursuer far behind.</p> - -<p>The outlaw, recovering from his violent fall, hurried for the water. -Velasque was far on the lake. The old man hastened along the -shore to meet his daughter on the upper extremity of the lake. -He found her in a branch-vaulted glen, concealed under an arbor -that Clermont had constructed for their stolen interviews; scarcely -did he begin to tranquillize his child, now fluttering with fear, and -exhausted by her efforts, when Velasque leaped down the side of -the glen. They stood face to face—the outlaw and the exasperated -lover. ‘Obstinate old man,’ said the latter, ‘thou shalt die, and thy -defenseless daughter shall be subdued to my wishes, if thou wilt -not now acknowledge her mine.’ The old man replied not. Almirena, -deadly pale, staggered forward to her father, and extending -up to him her clasped hands, groaned out, ‘Oh my father, let me -be honorably his.’ Nature failed her—she fell lifeless at his feet. -Velasque stooped forward to raise her. But the maddened old man, -with unnatural nerve, ran upon him, and precipitated him down a -chasm in the rocks. The officers, who had been on the alert in the -woods, now came up.</p> - -<p>They bore the unconscious form of Almirena to the lodge, and -consigned it to the care of her tender hearted slave. The wounded -Velasque was carried away on a litter. The outlaw was manacled. -He was supposed to be a bloody-handed, ferocious pirate. And as -the girl was thought to be an accomplice in her father’s guilt, the -officers had little pity for either. They did not permit the old man -to go to his house and take a last look of his child; but conveying -him by a nearer way through the valley of the lake, on the next -morning they reached the sea-port, and lodged the outlaw in prison, -where he was to be confined until Velasque should be sufficiently -recovered to take charge of him to Mexico. Herraras was not sorry -that his daughter had died. He knew that his own fate was sealed, -and that she should live, exposed to the violence of Velasque, would -have been worse than death on the rack to himself. He settled -down in a calm, sullen submission to his destiny.</p> - -<p>But Almirena lived. She had fainted; but awoke in a delirium. -Clermont did not come to the lodge till the following morning. She -wildly addressed him as he entered, ‘Farewell, Elfred, farewell. I -have given myself to Velasque, and he spares my father’s life. You -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -would see me before I go. Farewell. One kiss, one more;’ and -she threw her arms about his neck, as he leaned over her, and sobbed -like a child. For weeks did her lover watch in patient agony -by her side. At length she slowly recovered.</p> - -<p>Velasque did die. Foiled in his chief design, his spirits sunk, and -he had not sufficient energy to counteract the effects of his wounds, -which soon terminated his existence. Velasque being the only witness -against the outlaw, and no one appearing to prosecute the case -farther, he might have been discharged; but a new suit was instituted -by those who had accompanied Velasque, charging him with the -murder of the Mexican. He possessed no evidence to countervail -the accusation. A stranger in a strange land, a condemned pirate immured -in a prison, he had not heard that his daughter was yet alive. -The popular feeling was against him. Clermont, who, being busy -and remote, and also too fearful of the guilt of Herraras in respect -to piracy, had not interested himself to learn what was transpiring, -did not arrive at the court, till the evidence on the part of -the state had been received. He was admitted to manage the defense. -He called only one witness, the lovely daughter of the prisoner. -As the hard-visaged outlaw met his child, the living from -the dead, and held her in his embrace, his iron soul seemed to melt, -and flow out at his eyes; a sight that turned the sympathies of the -spectators in his favor. Almirena’s story was simple, and touching, -in manifestation of the villainy of Velasque. Clermont conducted -the case, to him, and all, now most intensely interesting, by an ingenious -and manly argument in point of the prisoner’s having acted -in defense of himself, and of the honor of his daughter. The outlaw -was acquitted.</p> - -<p>Herraras cheerfully yielded his daughter to his noble deliverer, her -devoted lover; stipulating only that he might love her yet, for the -sake of her mother. In tranquillity, and penitence for early misdeeds, -the outlaw passed his days. Clermont, under another name, -has arisen to distinction; but yearly does he revisit with his still -beautiful Mexican wife, the lake of their romantic loves.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I_WOULD_NOT_FLATTER_THEE">I WOULD NOT FLATTER THEE.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Lady, I would not flatter thee—oh no!</div> - <div class="verse indent4">For ’tis unkind to foster earth-born vanity,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And he doth err that wishes to bestow</div> - <div class="verse indent4">An extra share of it on weak humanity.</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Yet, on reflection, sure I do not know</div> - <div class="verse indent4">That I should be suspected of insanity,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Were I to call thee—as I truly might—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beautiful, aye, beautiful as a form of light.</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">Beautiful—and saying it, I tell no lie,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Though tried by Madam Opie’s strict ordeal—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Beautiful—if soft, soul-beaming eye,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And form as graceful as the beau-ideal</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The sculptor carved his Cnidian Venus by,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And features blooming, not with cochineal,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But with such hues as Fancy would fain cull</div> - <div class="verse indent0">From Angel’s cheeks—if such as these be beautiful.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">I would not flatter thee—and yet must say</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Thou hast a witching gracefulness of motion,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">A dream-like lightness; and thou hast a way</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of sweetly smiling, like the rippled ocean,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">When on it joyously the moonbeams play;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And thou hast gaiety softened by devotion,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Aye, and good nature, which, upon inspection,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I always found developed in extreme perfection.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">I would not flatter thee—much less, would know</div> - <div class="verse indent4">The pungent strength of critical acidity</div> - <div class="verse indent2">For talking <i>prettily</i> of ‘twilight glow,’</div> - <div class="verse indent4">And ‘moons,’ and ‘sighs’—all types of insipidity.</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And yet I say not that the earth can show</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Ought more enchanting than the deep placidity</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Stealing around us on a moonlight eve,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">When winds are hushed in sleep, and clouds the heavens leave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">And when, at that most heart-ensnaring time,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">With thee I gaze upon the huge old man</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Reigning in yon pale center-light of rhyme,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Or in the heavens the path of Venus scan,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Or fancy from the spheres the distant chime</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Of evening bells—I will not say that then</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Strange feelings come not o’er me, soft and solemn,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Producing—tears, perhaps, and poetry by the volume.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">I will not say that then I have not found</div> - <div class="verse indent4">In thee almost an Angel’s loveliness,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Or that thy voice has not as sweet a sound</div> - <div class="verse indent4">As music on the waters, or that less</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Than a bright spirit’s influence has bound</div> - <div class="verse indent4">My soul in that fond dream of blessedness,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Which, vastly strengthened by thy conversation,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Has seemed, to say the least, a sweet hallucination.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">I would not flatter thee—much less, indeed,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Would seem, in poetry, a <i>Della Cruscan</i>;</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I own not that, nor any kindred creed;</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Nor do I like the sentimental fustian,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Which modern fashionables so much read.—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Now he who honestly professes thus, can</div> - <div class="verse indent2">By law poetic, ne’er be an offender,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Though, now and then, he <i>seem</i> a little over-tender.</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent2">From friends long loved how hard it is to part!</div> - <div class="verse indent4">How hard, indeed, from one but <i>briefly</i> known—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">From <i>thee</i>, sweet bird of passage, as thou art—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Charming awhile, but oh, how quickly flown!</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Aye, thou’rt away:—and my unguarded heart—</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Whither, ah, whither has the truant gone?</div> - <div class="verse indent2">In vain I search;—didst <i>thou</i>, fair maiden, take it?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Then, cast it not away, for rudeness sure would break it!</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="RUMINATIONS_OF_A_BOVINE_GENTLEMAN">RUMINATIONS OF A BOVINE GENTLEMAN.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="h2sub">AUTHOR’S CHARACTER.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“——Secum meditari ingenium est <i>boûm</i>.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right"><i>Virgil.</i></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Cows, of all animals, have the greatest propensity for rumination. For the -most part, they are gentle, quiet, affectionate, unpretending, useful animals; all -they require is kindness, and kindness they will return. Yet they have their antipathies -and their whims, (red shawls are their abomination,) but, on the whole, -they are inoffensive ruminators—not obtrusive, (except when they take a fancy to -<i>gore</i>.) Their caresses are rough as their tongues; yet their roughest <i>licks</i> are -meant in kindness. They never bite—their teeth are ground down. They are -neither snappish nor carnivorous. They are remarkably fond of salt, and are -quick to detect its presence. Although timid and yielding in general, they will -fight any one, or any thing, in defense of their young.”</p> -</div> - -<p class="right"> -<i>Baron Munchausen.</i> -</p> - -<p>The last quoted author has described with remarkable correctness, -in his remarks upon the cow, the character of a being, of -whose existence he could not have dreamed—even of myself. Yes, -even such I conceive to be my character—the coat fits, and I will -put it on—“under such a shape I write.” Being in external appearance, -a hale, stout, fat old bachelor of fifty, fond of the arm-chair and -the comfortable dressing-gown, of easy fortune, retired habits, and -few friends, I am, in soul, thought and disposition, and to all intents -and purposes, <i>a gentle old cow</i>. Nor is there any thing humiliating -in the confession. I esteem the character—I admire it. Would to -heaven that in these <i>matter-of-fact, dollar-and-cent</i> days, there -were more men of my nature! I injure no man; but if any man -injures me, I have horns and can gore him, a tail and can lash him. -In consideration of the unsullied purity of my character in my manly -state, I have ventured to conceive that I am, in the bovine genus, -that most amiable non-descript, an old maid. Still, I am no Io—nor -Io turned old maid. I never was handsome enough to warm -the soul of Jove, nor mad enough to swim the Bosphorus. I am -not, never was, and never will be, Oestrus-driven. The many-eyed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -shepherd, Argus, if ordered to watch <i>me</i>, would have needed only -one of his hundred eyes—he might have seen me, even with “half -an eye,” quietly grazing, all the morning of my life, in the flowery -meads of Literature, Moral Philosophy and Metaphysics—ever and -anon, quenching my thirst with a draft from the pure stream of Helicon—and -now, in the afternoon of life, reclined upon the grass, under -the shade of a branching, verdant oak, placidly, philosophically, -philanthropically, and withal meekly chewing the stock which I formerly -stored.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="center">——“Lacte alimentum cognoscimus.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Were it not presumptuous, I would hope that my production -might prove the pure, unadulterated, untainted “milk of human -kindness.”</p> - -<h3>RUMINATION FIRST.</h3> - -<p>I was recalling to memory, the other day, all the friends and acquaintance -of my boyhood and youth, that I could recollect; and I -mustered a goodly list. My mind wandered from their <i>names</i> to -their hopes and plans; I recalled the schemes and enterprizes, which -I knew they had meditated. The train once started, visions of bygone -days and circumstances poured in upon me. Again, I sauntered, -arm in arm, with a friend, through the moon-lit streets, on a -summer’s evening—again, I wandered listlessly along the beach—again, -I stood upon the summits of the hills which surrounded the -abode of my youth—again, I heard the confiding strain of youthful -friendship—I saw the face lit with the joy of anticipated triumph—the -step, unnaturally firm, proud and elastic. Alas! where now -were those friends? Some were dead—some were in obscurity—many -were in mediocrity of life—few, how few, had <i>approached</i> the -goal of their youthful wishes. And what was the cause of all this? -Was the fault in the men, or their plans? Upon the <i>plans</i> I fixed -it; for I could not, and I would not, lay aught to the charge of the -loved ones of my youth. And where was the fault in the plans? -Was it not <i>here</i>—that the <i>plans</i> were founded on the <i>hopes</i>, while -the <i>hopes</i> should have been founded on the <i>plans</i>? <i>Hope</i> is the -<i>etherial</i>—<i>plan</i> the <i>material</i> part of an expectation. A plan, founded -on a hope, is like a house founded on the sand—it cannot endure. -As verdant forests and luxuriant vegetation adorn and beautify the -sides, and white fleecy clouds cap the summits, of a rock-based -mountain, softening the rugged cliffs, filling up the chasms, smoothing -the precipices, and concealing the roughness of the path which -winds up the ascent; so should <i>Hope</i>, with its varied hues, tinge -and adorn the ever-during frame-work reared by <i>Reason</i>. So <i>should</i> -it be—but, is it so? Do not men strive rather to throw a semblance -of reason over their hopes? Do they not build castles in the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -air, and then exert all their ingenuity to give an appearance of probability, -or at least of <i>possibility</i>, to their baseless fabrics?</p> - -<p>O Hope! thou art a blessing, and thou art a <i>curse</i>. Thou art an -intrusive, impudent, officious, treacherous <i>imp</i>—thou art a lying -varlet—a cheating knave—thou hast no conscience—thou wilt gull, -over and over again, prince and peasant, rich and poor, the unjust -judge and the oppressed widow. Men kick thee out of doors, and -again thou comest. Thou art a very Proteus—deny thee entrance -in <i>one</i> shape, and instantly thou takest another. Sometimes thou -servest the devil, and sometimes thou doest business on thine own -account. Again, I say, hang thee for an intermeddling imp!</p> - -<p>Men talk of the pleasures of hope! have they never felt the misery -of hope deferred—the pang of hope crushed? Have they ever -estimated the amount of misery chargeable to this self-same hope? -Who fathers Ambition, with all its woes, attendant and consequent? -Hope. How many dream away their lives in listless vacuity, <i>hoping</i> -all the while, that <i>something will turn up</i>! What injuries has -Hope not done to youth? Then, when men ought to be training -themselves for the stern realities of life—when they should prepare -their provisions for its stormy voyage, Hope whispers that the course -is clear—the ocean calm—the wind favorable. How many commence -enterprizes, which can end in nothing but disappointment, -and undertake duties, to the performance of which their abilities are -inadequate, spirited on the while by Hope, the traitor, who stimulates -his unconscious victims to mount round after round of the ladder, -until, with a whoop and a laugh, he tears the veil from their -eyes, and permits them to see and to <i>feel</i> that they are high, not on -the temple, but on the <i>pillory</i> of Fame! ‘Hope sweetens labor’—does -he? ‘Thank you, madam, I prefer it without sugar.’</p> - -<p>Hold! I revoke—I take back somewhat that I have said. Hope—thou -art an imp, but still a <i>playful</i> imp—full of mischief, but such -a lively, laughing, little, curly-headed rogue, with such a comical -look in the corner of thine eye, that for my life I cannot lose thee. -I am inclined to say to thee, as one said to his dog—‘Ah! Tray! -thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done.’</p> - -<p class="right"> -B. V. -</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_RHYMING_MOOD">A RHYMING MOOD.</h2> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">There’s much of rapture in those favored hours,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">When o’er the mind a magic influence steals,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That tunes to poetry and song its powers,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And melts in music all a warm heart feels.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">There is a blissfulness that lifts the soul</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Far from the paltry cares and toils of time,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">In venting feelings that defy control,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">In lofty-measured strains or tuneful rhyme.</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span></p> </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">The summer’s shower that wets the deep-seared earth,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And decks her burning surface new in green,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And saves the land from pestilence and dearth,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Comes not more joyous than the spirit dream,</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Steals o’er the poet’s troubled soul, and gives</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The rapture-speaking voice and tone!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He rises to another sphere—he lives</div> - <div class="verse indent2">For a short season in a world alone!</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Alone!—oh no! there Fancy groups her forms</div> - <div class="verse indent2">More lovely far than earth presents to view;</div> - <div class="verse indent0">More beauteous garniture that land adorns—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The skies assume a deeper, brighter blue.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">Manning.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GREEK_ANTHOLOGY_No_IV">GREEK ANTHOLOGY.—No. IV.</h2> -</div> - -<p>Pray, accept a cold dish for a desert—a crab apple, as it were, -and a glass of water, to wash down previous articles and assist digestion. -I have purposely excluded all brightnesses; for temperance -is the vogue, and after so diversified and incongruous a meal, -the cracking of a joke might be as pernicious to your mind as the -cracking of a bottle would be deleterious to your body. You may, -if you choose, apply to me the Latin cant phrase, “ab ovo usque -ad mala,” meaning by ‘<i>mala</i>,’ not ‘<i>apples</i>,’ but ‘<i>evils</i>;’ yet will I -meet the thrust with calmness—proudly reflecting that I myself suggested -the sarcastical <i>equivoque</i>.</p> - -<p>Agathias’ narrative of the little <i>ruse</i>, whereby he tore the veil -of feminine hypocrisy from the heart of his mistress. Let <i>some</i> of -my condisciples improve upon the hint.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Eager to know my place in Cynthia’s heart,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I probed her hidden soul with cunning art.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">“To a far land, my Cynthia, while I go,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Oh, let mine image to thy memory grow!”</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Groaning she sprang in anguish from her chair,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beat her fair face and tore her shining hair.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">With tears my stay the suppliant beauty prayed,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Till, slow, I yielded to the lovely maid.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye gods! how bless’d! since what my heart did crave,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That, as a favor, to my love I gave.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Minerva once saw Venus all in arms,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With beamy casque, and wavy plume array’d—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">“Thus dar’st thou meet the trial of our charms,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">My Cyprian rival?” said the awful maid.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Smiling she spoke, “How, when I take the shield,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">If <i>weaponless</i>, my beauty gained the field?” - <a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> The contest before Paris, on Mt. Ida.</p> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> - -<p>Many an old man, whose limbs are as heavy as if the gold he had -spent years to amass, were gliding, molten, through his veins, can -join bitterly in the following lament, and many a young man, who -forsakes the heights of Parnassus for the vale of Mammon, may -find, too late, that the chase for riches is, in an evil sense, its own -“exceeding great reward.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">When young, I was poor—now I’m old, I am wealthy—</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Thus my life has been all but a goose-chase of pleasure—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">I had not a copper, when buoyant and healthy,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">But, past its enjoyment, I’ve mountains of treasure.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>There has been in all ages a prejudice against step-mothers, and -the feeling, if unjust, is yet natural. When the hearts of children -are yet sore with sorrow for the loss of their <i>own</i> dear mother, it -creates dislike to have another, whom as a stranger, they cannot -view with love, <i>step</i> over their heads, and assume the reins of command. -If kind, yet the contrast is strange, if not disgusting—the -tones may be soft, but they are not those which sealed their infant -eyes, and soothed their infant woes—if overbearing, her tyranny is -intolerable.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Thinking her nature with her life was gone,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">No more to household tyranny a slave,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">A youth was crowning once the chiseled stone,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">That rose columnar o’er his step-dame’s grave.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But as he leaned against its marble base,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">The pillar crushed him, toppling from its place.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Ye step-sons, who would flee his wretched doom,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Beware approaching e’en a step-dame’s <i>tomb</i>.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Here is a thing or two, appertaining to love and women, and so -forth, just as such things have been described since Adam first gazed -in pleased astonishment upon Eve,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“That would be woo’d, and not unsought be won,”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent8">“The amorous bird of night</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star</div> - <div class="verse indent0">On his hill-top to light the bridal lamp.”</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">A maiden kissed me at the evening hour</div> - <div class="verse indent2">With dewy lip—how honied was the kiss!</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Her mouth breathed nectar, and its balmy power</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Hath made me drunk with love’s bewildering bliss.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">I would I were a rose—that thy sweet hand</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Might gently place me on thy snowy breast—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or sighing gale—for then my spirit bland</div> - <div class="verse indent2">On thy soft bosom would securely rest.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> -<p>Here follow a few melancholy breathings of that better part, which -shone bright and burning while it lasted, though its food was error, -and its end was death. Their aspirations after immortality were -few and faint—for the very existence of another world was merely -an assumption—a matter of speculation. An immortality of fame, to -the sober eye, was not merely worthless, if acquired, but its acquisition -was a thing of toil, and danger, and doubt. Robbed of the -high aims and hopes for which it was made, “the chainless spirit of -the eternal mind,” would stoop to no medium flight, but sunk in -hopeless despondence, and like guilty Adam,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent4">“On the cold earth it lay,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Oft cursing its Creator.”</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>The light of reason did but make known their darkness, and ignorant -of the unseen and the future, they clung with deep devotion -to the visible and the present.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Drink and be glad: for what’s to-morrow’s sun,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Or what the future? No one knows—not one.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Haste not, nor toil: but, as thou can’st be kind,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Give, eat, deem all things mortal in thy mind.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To live, or not to live—it’s an equal state,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For life’s a feather in the scales of fate.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Seize it—’tis thine—but if thou die—then what?—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Another has thine all—it matters not.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">How came I here? Whence am I, and for what?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">To go again. How know I, knowing nought?</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Nought before birth, I shall be such again,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">For less than nothing are the sons of men.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">But bring me wine—that fountain of relief—</div> - <div class="verse indent0">That sparkling soother of distressing grief.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Oh! swiftly flies the blooming hue,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">That doth the rose adorn,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">And then unto thy searching view,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The rose is but a thorn.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">Gray Time flies swiftly by, and steals the breath</div> - <div class="verse indent2">Of vocal men. Himself unseen the while,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">He shrouds the visible in the dust of death,</div> - <div class="verse indent2">And brings to light the lowly and the vile.</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Oh! thou of life the undetermined end,</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Thy steps do daily unto darkness tend.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse right"><span class="smcap">Hermeneutes.</span></div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="TO_CORRESPONDENTS">TO CORRESPONDENTS.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>“The Character of the Indian,” though inadmissible, is not without -merit. In manner it is nearly faultless; in matter, too commonplace -to be either instructive or entertaining.</p> - -<p>“F.” had better send his verses to “R.” in manuscript. She -would undoubtedly greet them with a hearty welcome.</p> - -<p>“P.’s” poetry on Poland, though apparently somewhat in years, -is filed for insertion. The prolegomena, on account of their too -great length, are declined.</p> - -<p>“Loose Thoughts on Smoking”—much too loose for publication. -We find no fault with the author’s habit, but think he had better -smoke in silence.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> - -<h2> -PROSPECTUS<br /> -<small>OF THE</small><br /> -YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE. -</h2> -</div> - -<p class="h2sub"> -TO BE CONDUCTED BY THE STUDENTS OF YALE COLLEGE. -</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>An <i>apology</i> for establishing a Literary Magazine, in an institution -like Yale College, can hardly be deemed requisite by an enlightened -public; yet a statement of the objects which are proposed -in this Periodical, may not be out of place.</p> - -<p>To foster a literary spirit, and to furnish a medium for its exercise; -to rescue from utter waste the many thoughts and musings of -a student’s leisure hours; and to afford some opportunity to train -ourselves for the strife and collision of mind which we must expect -in after life;—such, and similar motives have urged us to this undertaking.</p> - -<p>So long as we confine ourselves to these simple objects, and do -not forget the modesty becoming our years and station, we confidently -hope for the approbation and support of all who wish well -to this institution.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The work will be printed on fine paper and good type. Three -numbers to be issued every term, each containing about 40 pages, -8vo.</p> - -<p><i>Conditions</i>—$2,00 per annum, if paid in advance, or 75 cents -at the commencement of each term.</p> - -<p>Communications may be addressed through the Post Office, “To -the Editors of the Yale Literary Magazine.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>This No. contains 2½ sheets. Postage, under 100 miles, 3¾ -cents; over 100 miles, 6¼ cents.</p> - -<hr class="printed" /> -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>Printed by B. L. Hamlen.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes"> -Transcriber’s Notes -</h2> - -<p>A number of typographical errors were corrected silently.</p> - -<p>Cover image is in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YALE LITERARY MAGAZINE (VOL. I, NO. 4, JUNE 1836) ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> -<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most - other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions - whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms - of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online - at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. -</div> - -</div> |