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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..147c7b5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68785 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68785) diff --git a/old/68785-0.txt b/old/68785-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dd2baa5..0000000 --- a/old/68785-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8048 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. -II., No. 5, April, 1836, by Various - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. 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. - -Title: The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 5, April, 1836 - -Author: Various - -Editor: Edgar Allan Poe - -Release Date: August 18, 2022 [eBook #68785] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Ron Swanson - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUTHERN LITERARY -MESSENGER, VOL. II., NO. 5, APRIL, 1836 *** - - -THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER: - -DEVOTED TO EVERY DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS. - - -Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents. - _Crebillon's Electre_. - -As _we_ will, and not as the winds will. - - -RICHMOND: -T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. -1835-6. - - -{293} - - -SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. - -VOL. II. RICHMOND, APRIL, 1836. NO. V. - -T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. - - -MSS. OF BENJ. FRANKLIN.[1] - -[Footnote 1: It is with great pleasure that we are enabled, through -the kindness of a friend in Philadelphia, to lay before our readers -an Essay, _never yet published_, from the pen of Benjamin Franklin. -It is copied from the original MS. of Franklin himself, and is not -to be found in any edition of his works. The Letters which succeed -the Essay are also copied from the original MS., but were first -published in the Doctor's _Weekly Pennsylvania Gazette_, which was -commenced in 1727. The Epistle from Anthony Afterwit appeared in No. -189--that from Celia Single in No. 191. Although these Letters are -to be found in the file of the Gazette at the Franklin Library in -Philadelphia, still they are not in either the 1809 or the 1835 -edition of the writer's works. We therefore make no apology for -publishing them in the Messenger.] - - -A LECTURE - -On the Providence of God in the Government of the World. - - -When I consider my own weakness and the discerning judgment of those -who are to be my audience, I cannot help blaming myself considerably -for this rash undertaking of mine, being a thing I am altogether -unpracticed in and very much unqualified for; but I am especially -discouraged when I reflect that you are all my intimate pot -companions, who have heard me say a thousand silly things in -conversation, and therefore have not that laudable partiality and -veneration for whatever I shall deliver that good people commonly -have for their spiritual guides; that you have no reverence for my -habit nor for the sanctity of my countenance; that you do not -believe me inspired or divinely assisted, and therefore will think -yourselves at liberty to assert or dissert, approve or disapprove of -any thing I advance, canvassing and sifting it as the private -opinion of one of your acquaintance. These are great disadvantages -and discouragements, but I am entered and must proceed, humbly -requesting your patience and attention. - -I propose at this time to discourse on the subject of our last -conversation, the Providence of God in the government of the world. -It might be judged an affront to your understandings should I go -about to prove this first principle, the existence of a Deity, and -that he is the Creator of the Universe, for that would suppose you -ignorant of what all mankind in all ages have agreed in. I shall -therefore proceed to observe that he must be a being of infinite -wisdom, as appears in his admirable order and disposition of things, -whether we consider the heavenly bodies, the stars and planets and -their wonderful regular motions, or this earth compounded of such an -excellent mixture of all the elements; or the admirable structure of -animate bodies of such infinite variety, and yet every one adapted -to its nature and the way of life it is to be placed in, whether on -earth, in the air, or in the water, and so exactly that the highest -and most exquisite human reason cannot find a fault and say this -would have been better so, or in such a manner, which whoever -considers attentively and thoroughly will be astonished and -swallowed up in admiration. - -That the Deity is a being of great goodness, appears in his giving -life to so many creatures each of which acknowledge it a benefit, by -their unwillingness to leave it; in his providing plentiful -sustenance for them all, and making those things that are most -useful, most common and easy to be had; such as water, necessary for -almost every creature to drink; air, without which few could -subsist; the inexpressible benefits of light and sunshine to almost -all animals in general; and to men the most useful vegetable such as -corn, the most useful of metals as iron &c. the most useful animals -as horses, oxen and sheep he has made easiest to raise or procure in -quantity or numbers; each of which particulars, if considered -seriously and carefully, would fill us with the highest love and -affection. - -That he is a being of infinite power appears in his being able to -form and compound such vast masses of matter, as this earth and the -sun and innumerable stars and planets, and give them such prodigious -motion, and yet so to govern them in their greatest velocity as that -they shall not fly out of their appointed bounds, nor dash one -against another for their mutual destruction. But 'tis easy to -conceive his power, when we are convinced of his infinite knowledge -and wisdom; for if weak and foolish creatures as we are by knowing -the nature of a few things can produce such wonderful effects; such -as for instance, by knowing the nature only of nitre and sea salt -mixed we can make a water which will dissolve the hardest iron, and -by adding one ingredient more can make another water which will -dissolve gold, and make the most solid bodies fluid, and by knowing -the nature of saltpetre, sulphur and charcoal, those mean -ingredients mixed, we can shake the air in the most terrible manner, -destroy ships, houses and men at a distance, and in an instant, -overthrow cities, and rend rocks into a thousand pieces, and level -the highest mountains; what power must he possess who not only knows -the nature of every thing in the universe, but can make things of -new natures with the greatest ease and at his pleasure? - -Agreeing then that the world was at first made by a being of -infinite wisdom, goodness and power, which being we call God, the -state of things existing at this time must be in one of these four -following manners--viz. - -1. Either he unchangeably decreed and appointed every thing that -comes to pass, and left nothing to the course of nature, nor allowed -any creature free agency. - -2. Without decreeing any thing he left all to general nature and the -events of free agency in his creatures which he never alters or -interrupts; or, - -3. He decreed some things unchangeably, and left others to general -nature and the events of free agency which also he never alters or -interrupts; or, - -4. He sometimes interferes by his particular providence and sets -aside the effects which would otherwise have been produced by any of -the above causes. - -I shall endeavor to show the first three suppositions to be -inconsistent, with the common light of reason, and {294} that the -fourth is most agreeable to it and therefore most probably true. - -In the first place. If you say he has in the beginning unchangeably -decreed all things and left nothing to nature or free agency, these -strange conclusions will necessarily follow, 1. That he is now no -more a God. It is true indeed before he made such unchangeable -decree, he was a being of power almighty; but now having determined -every thing he has divested himself of all further power, he has -done and has no more to do, he has tied up his hands and has now no -greater power than an idol of wood or stone; nor can there be any -more reason for praying to him or worshipping of him than of such an -idol, for the worshippers can never be better for such worship. -Then, 2. He has decreed some things contrary to the very notion of a -wise and good being; such as that some of his creatures or children -shall do all manner of injury to others, and bring every kind of -evil upon them without cause; that some of them shall even blaspheme -him their Creator, in the most horrible manner; and which is still -more highly absurd, that he has decreed, that the greatest part of -mankind shall in all ages put up their earnest prayers to him both -in private and publicly, in great assemblies, when all the while he -had so determined their fate that he could not possibly grant them -any benefits on that account, nor could such prayers be in any way -available. Why then should he ordain them to make such prayers? It -cannot be imagined that they are of any service to him. Surely it is -not more difficult to believe the world was made by a God of wood or -stone, than that the God who made the world should be such a God as -this. - -In the second place. If you say he has decreed nothing, but left all -things to general nature and the events of free agency which he -never alters or interrupts, then these conclusions will follow; he -must either utterly hide himself from the works of his own hands and -take no notice at all of their proceedings natural or moral, or he -must be, as undoubtedly he is, a spectator of every thing, for there -can be no reason or ground to suppose the first. I say there can be -no reason to imagine he would make so glorious a universe merely to -abandon it. In this case imagine the deity looking on and beholding -the ways of his creatures. Some heroes in virtue he sees are -incessantly endeavoring the good of others: they labor through vast -difficulties, they suffer incredible hardships and miseries to -accomplish this end, in hopes to please a good God, and attain his -favors which they earnestly pray for, what answer can he make then -within himself but this? _Take the reward chance may give you, I do -not intermeddle in these affairs._ He sees others continually doing -all manner of evil, and bringing by their actions misery and -destruction among mankind, what can he say here but this, _if chance -rewards you I shall not punish you, I am not to be concerned._ He -sees the just, the innocent, and the beneficent in the hands of the -wicked and violent oppressor, and when the good are at the brink of -destruction they pray to him, _Thou O God art mighty and powerful to -save, help us we beseech thee!_ He answers, _I cannot help you, it -is none of my business, nor do I at all regard these things._ How is -it possible to believe a wise and an infinitely good being can be -delighted in this circumstance, and be utterly unconcerned what -becomes of the beings and things he has created? for thus, we must -believe him idle and inactive, and that his glorious attributes of -power, wisdom, and goodness are no more to be made use of. - -In the third place. If you say he has decreed some things and left -others to the events of nature and free agency, which he never -alters or interrupts; still you _un-God_ him if I may be allowed the -expression--he has nothing to do; he can cause us neither good nor -harm; he is no more to be regarded than a lifeless image, than Dagon -or Baal, or Bell and the Dragon, and as in both the other -suppositions foregoing, that being which from its power is most able -to act, from its wisdom knows best how to act, and from its goodness -would always certainly act best, is in this opinion supposed to -become the most inactive of all beings, and remain everlastingly -idle: an absurdity which when considered or but barely seen, cannot -be swallowed without doing the greatest violence to common reason -and all the faculties of the understanding. - -We are then necessarily driven to the fourth supposition, that the -Deity sometimes interferes by his particular Providence, and sets -aside the events which would otherwise have been produced in the -course of nature or by the free agency of men, and this is perfectly -agreeable with what we can know of his attributes and perfections. -But as some may doubt whether it is possible there should be such a -thing as free agency in creatures, I shall just offer one short -argument on that account, and proceed to show how the duty of -religion necessarily follows the belief of a providence. You -acknowledge that God is infinitely powerful, wise and good, and also -a free agent, and you will not deny that he has communicated to us -part of his wisdom, power and goodness; that is, he has made us in -some degree, wise, potent and good. And is it then impossible for -him to communicate any part of his freedom, and make us also in some -degree free? Is not even his infinite power sufficient for this? I -should be glad to hear what reason any man can give for thinking in -that manner. It is sufficient for me to show it is not impossible, -and no man, I think, can show it is improbable. Much more might be -offered to demonstrate clearly, that men are in some degree free -agents and accountable for their actions; however, this I may -possibly reserve for another separate discourse hereafter, if I find -occasion. - -Lastly. If God does not sometimes interfere by his providence, it is -either because he cannot, or because he will not. Which of these -positions will you choose? There is a righteous nation grievously -oppressed by a cruel tyrant, they earnestly intreat God to deliver -them. If you say he cannot, you deny his infinite power, which [you] -at first acknowledged. If you say he will not, you must directly -deny his infinite goodness. You are of necessity obliged to allow -that it is highly reasonable to believe a providence, because it is -highly absurd to believe otherwise. - -Now, if it is unreasonable to suppose it out of the power of the -Deity to help and favor us particularly, or that we are out of his -hearing and notice, or that good actions do not procure more of his -favor than ill ones; then I conclude, that believing a providence, -we have the foundation of all true religion, for we should love and -revere that Deity for his goodness, and thank him for his benefits; -we should adore him for his wisdom, fear him for his power, and pray -to him for his favor and protection. And this religion will be a -powerful {295} regulator of our actions, give us peace and -tranquillity within our own minds, and render us benevolent, useful -and beneficial to others. - - * * * * * - -LETTER FROM ANTHONY AFTERWIT. - -_Mr. Gazetteer_,--I am an honest tradesman who never meant harm to -any body. My affairs went on smoothly while a bachelor; but of late -I have met with some difficulties of which I take the freedom to -give you an account. - -About the time I first addressed my present spouse, her father gave -out in speeches that if she married a man he liked, he would give -with her 200_l_. in cash on the day of marriage. He never said so -much to me, it is true, but he always received me very kindly at his -house, and openly countenanced my courtship. I formed several fine -schemes what to do with this same 200_l_. and in some measure -neglected my business on that account; but unluckily it came to pass -that when the old gentleman saw I was pretty well engaged and that -the match was too far gone to be easily broke off, he without any -reason given, grew very angry, forbid me the house, and told his -daughter that if she married me he would not give her a farthing. -However (as he thought) we were not to be disappointed in that -manner, but having stole a wedding I took her home to my house, -where we were not in quite so poor a condition as the couple -described in the Scotch song, who had - - Neither pot nor pan - But four bare legs together, - -for I had a house tolerably furnished for a poor man, before. No -thanks to Dad, who, I understand, was very much pleased with his -politic management; and I have since learned that there are other -old curmudgeons (so called) besides him, who have this trick to -marry their daughters, and yet keep what they might well spare, till -they can keep it no longer. But this by way of digression, a word to -the wise is enough. - -I soon saw that with ease and industry we might live tolerably easy -and in credit with our neighbors; but my wife had a strong -inclination to be a gentlewoman. In consequence of this, my old -fashioned looking glass was one day broke, as she said, _no one -could tell which way_. However, since we could not be without a -glass in the room, _My dear_, saith she, _we may as well buy a large -fashionable one that Mr. Such-a-one has to sell. It will cost but -little more than a common glass, and will look much handsomer and -more creditable._ Accordingly, the glass was bought and hung against -the wall, but in a week's time I was made sensible by little and -little, that _the table was by no means suitable to such a glass_; -and a more proper table being procured, some time after, my spouse, -who was an excellent contriver, informed me where we might have very -handsome chairs _in the way_; and thus by degrees I found all my old -furniture stowed up in the garret, and every thing below altered for -the better. - -Had we stopped here it might have done well enough. But my wife -being entertained with tea by the good women she visited, we could -do no less than the like when they visited us, and so we got a tea -table with all its appurtenances of china and silver. Then my spouse -unfortunately overworked herself in washing the house, so that we -could do no longer without a maid. Besides this, it happened -frequently that when I came home at one, the dinner was but just put -in the pot, and _my dear thought really it had been but eleven_. At -other times when I came at the same hour, _she wondered I would stay -so long, for dinner was ready about one and had waited for me these -two hours_. These irregularities occasioned by mistaking the time -convinced me that it was absolutely necessary _to buy a clock_, -which my spouse observed was _a great ornament to the room_. And -lastly, to my grief, she was troubled with some ailment or other, -and _nothing did her so much good as riding, and these hackney -horses were such wretched ugly creatures that_--I bought a very fine -pacing mare which cost 20_l_.; and hereabouts affairs have stood for -about a twelvemonth past. - -I could see all along that this did not at all suit with my -circumstances, but had not resolution enough to help it, till lately -receiving a very severe dun which mentioned the next court, I began -in earnest to project relief. Last Monday, my dear went over the -river to see a relation and stay a fortnight, because she could not -bear the heat of the town air. In the interim I have taken my turn -to make alterations, viz.--I have turned away the maid, bag and -baggage--(for what should we do with a maid, who beside our boy, -have none but ourselves?) I have sold the pacing mare and bought a -good milch cow with 3_l_. of the money. I have disposed of the table -and put a good spinning wheel in its place, which methinks looks -very pretty: nine empty canisters I have stuffed with flax, and with -some of the money of the tea furniture I have bought a set of -knitting needles, for to tell you the truth _I begin to want -stockings_. The fine clock I have transformed into an hour glass, by -which I have gained a good round sum, and one of the pieces of the -old looking glass squared and framed, supplies the place of the -great one, which I have conveyed into a closet where it may possibly -remain some years. In short the face of things is quite changed, and -methinks you would smile to see my hour glass hanging in the place -of the clock,--what a great ornament it is to the room! I have paid -my debts and find money in my pocket. I expect my dear home next -Friday, and as your paper is taken at the house where she is, I hope -the reading of this will prepare her mind for the above surprising -revolutions. If she can conform herself to this new manner of -living, we shall be the happiest couple perhaps in the province, and -by the blessing of God may soon be in thriving circumstances. I have -reserved the great glass because I know her heart is set upon it; I -will allow her when she comes in to be taken suddenly ill with _the -headache_, _the stomach ache_, _fainting fits_, or whatever other -disorder she may think more proper, and she may retire to bed as -soon as she pleases. But if I should not find her in perfect health -both of body and mind the next morning, away goes the aforesaid -great glass with several other trinkets I have no occasion for, to -the vendue that very day--which is the irrevocable resolution - - Of, Sir, her loving husband and - Your very humble servant, - ANTHONY AFTERWIT. - -P. S. I would be glad to know how you approve my conduct. - -_Answer_. I dont love to concern myself in affairs between man and -wife. - - * * * * * - -{296} LETTER FROM CELIA SINGLE. - -_Mr. Gazetteer_,--I must needs tell you that some of the things you -print do more harm than good, particularly I think so of the -tradesman's letter, which was in one of your late papers, which -disobliged many of our sex and has broken the peace of several -families, by causing difference between men and their wives. I shall -give you here one instance of which I was an eye and ear witness. - -Happening last Wednesday morning to be at Mrs. W.'s when her husband -returned from market, among other things he showed her some balls of -thread which he had bought. My dear, says he, I like mightily those -stockings which I yesterday saw neighbor Afterwit knitting for her -husband, of thread of her own spinning. I should be glad to have -some such stockings myself. I understand that your maid Mary is a -very good knitter, and seeing this thread in market I have bought it -that the girl may make a pair or two for me. Mrs. W. was just then -at the glass dressing her head, and turning about with the pins in -her mouth, Lord, child, says she, are you crazy? What time has Mary -to knit? Who must do the work, I wonder, if you set her to knitting? -Perhaps, my dear, says he, you have a mind to knit them yourself. I -remember, when I courted you, I once heard you say that you had -learned to knit of your mother. I knit stockings for you, says she, -not I, truly! There are poor women enough in town who can knit; if -you please you may employ them. Well, but my dear, says he, you know -a penny saved is a penny got, and there is neither sin nor shame in -knitting a pair of stockings; why should you have such a mighty -aversion to it? And what signifies talking of poor women, you know -we are not people of quality. We have no income to maintain us but -arises from my labor and industry. Methinks you should not be at all -displeased when you have an opportunity of getting something as well -as myself. I wonder, says she, you can propose such a thing to me. -Did not you always tell me you would maintain me like a gentlewoman? -If I had married the Captain I am sure he would have scorned to -mention knitting of stockings. Prythee, says he, a little nettled, -what do you tell me of your Captain? If you could have had him I -suppose you would, or perhaps you did not like him very well. If I -did promise to maintain you as a gentlewoman, methinks it is time -enough for that when you know how to behave yourself like one. How -long, do you think, I can maintain you at your present rate of -living? Pray, says she, somewhat fiercely, and dashing the puff into -the powder box, dont use me in this manner, for I'll assure you I -wont bear it. This is the fruit of your poison newspapers: there -shall no more come here I promise you. Bless us, says he, what an -unaccountable thing is this? Must a tradesman's daughter and the -wife of a tradesman necessarily be a lady? In short, I tell you if I -am forced to work for a living and you are too good to do the like, -there's the door, go and live upon your estate. And as I never had -or could expect any thing with you, I dont desire to be troubled -with you. - -What answer she made I cannot tell, for knowing that man and wife -are apt to quarrel more violently when before strangers, than when -by themselves, I got up and went out hastily. But I understand from -Mary who came to me of an errand in the evening, that they dined -together very peaceably and lovingly, the balls of thread which had -caused the disturbance being thrown into the kitchen fire, of which -I was very glad to hear. - -I have several times in your paper seen reflections upon us women -for idleness and extravagance, but I do not remember to have once -seen such animadversions upon the men. If we were disposed to be -censorious we could furnish you with instances enough; I might -mention Mr. Billiard who loses more than he earns at the green -table, and would have been in jail long since had it not been for -his industrious wife. Mr. Husselcap, who every market day at least, -and often all day long, leaves his business for the rattling of half -pence in a certain alley--or Mr. Finikin, who has seven different -suits of fine clothes and wears a change every day, while his wife -and children sit at home half naked--Mr. Crownhim always dreaming -over the chequer board, and who cares not how the world goes with -his family so he does but get the game--Mr. Totherpot the tavern -haunter, Mr. Bookish the everlasting reader, Mr. Tweedledum and -several others, who are mighty diligent at any thing besides their -proper business. I say, if I were disposed to be censorious, I might -mention all these and more, but I hate to be thought a scandalizer -of my neighbors, and therefore forbear; and for your part I would -advise you for the future to entertain your readers with something -else besides people's reflections upon one another, for remember -that there are holes enough to be picked in your coat as well as -others, and those that are affronted by the satires that you may -publish, will not consider so much who wrote as who printed, and -treat you accordingly. Take not this freedom amiss from - - Your friend and reader, - CELIA SINGLE. - - - - -TO THE EVENING STAR. - - - 'Star of descending night!' - How lovely is thy beam; - How softly pours thy silv'ry light, - O'er the bright glories of the west, - As now the sun sunk to his rest, - Sends back his parting stream - Of golden splendor, like a zone - Of beauty, o'er the horizon! - - 'Star of descending night!' - First of the sparkling train, - That gems the sky, I hail thy light; - And as I watch thy peaceful ray, - That sweetly spreads o'er fading day, - I think and think again, - That thou art some fair orb of light, - Where spirits bask in glory bright. - - 'Star of descending night!' - Oft hast thou met my gaze, - When evening's calm and mellow light, - Invited to the secret bower, - To spend with God the tranquil hour, - In grateful pray'r and praise,-- {297} - Then thy soft ray so passing sweet, - Has beamed around my hallowed seat. - - And I have loved thee, star! - When in night's diadem, - I saw thee lovelier, brighter, far - Than all the stellate worlds, and thought - Of that great star the wise men sought, - And came to Bethlehem, - To view the infant Saviour's face, - The last bright hope of Adam's race. - -T. J. S. - -_Frederick Co. Va._ - - - - -GENIUS. - - -Pope says in the preface to his works, "What we call a genius is -hard to be distinguished, by a man himself, from a strong -inclination." Such a distinction is certainly hard to make, and in -my opinion has no existence. Genius, as it appears to me, is merely -a decided preference for any study or pursuit, which enables its -possessor to give the close and unwearied attention necessary to -ensure success. When this constancy of purpose is wanting, the -brightest natural talents will give little aid in acquiring literary -or scientific eminence: and where it exists in any considerable -degree, it is rare to find one so ill endowed with common sense as -not to gain a respectable standing. - -Genius is of two sorts, which may be termed philosophical and -poetical. When the mind takes most pleasure in the exercise of -reason, the genius displayed is philosophical; when the fictions of -fancy give the greatest delight, the cast of mind is poetical. All -the operations of the human intellect may be referred to one of -these, or to a combination of both. Books of this last character are -much the most numerous; for we seldom find a work so severely -argumentative as to exclude all play of imagination even as -ornament, or so entirely poetical as never to allow the restraint of -sober reason. - -These two kinds of genius require different and peculiar faculties. -In philosophy, where the great end proposed is the discovery of -truth, the coloring of imagination should be carefully avoided as -useless and deceptive. It is necessary to divest the mind as far as -possible of all pre-conceived opinions, that so the proofs presented -may make just the impression which their character and importance -demand. No prejudice or association of former ideas must be allowed -to bias the judgment; but the question should be decided in strict -accordance with the deductions of the sternest reason. And yet this -perfect freedom from prejudice, however necessary to the proper use -of right reason, is perhaps the most difficult effort of the human -mind. "Nemo adhuc," says Lord Bacon, in a passage quoted by Stewart -in the introduction to his mental philosophy, "Nemo adhuc tanta -mentis constantia inventus est, ut decreverit et sibi imposuerit -theorias et notiones communes penitus abolere, et intellectum -abrasum et æquum ad particularia de integro applicare. Itaque illa -ratio humana quam habemus ex multa fide et multo etiam casu, necnon -ex puerilibus quas primo hausimus notionibus, farrago quædam est et -congeries. Quod si quis, ætate matura et sensibus integris et mente -repurgata, se ad experientiam et ad particularia de integro -applicet, de eo melius sperandum est." Such was the opinion of the -great father of modern philosophy. - -On the other hand these vulgar errors and superstitions, these -"theoriæ et notiones communes," supply the means of producing the -strongest effect of poetry. The dull scenes of real life can never -be suffered to chill the ardor of a romantic imagination. And as the -poet finds truth too plain and unadorned to satisfy his enthusiastic -fancy, he is compelled to seek subjects and scenery of more -faultless nature and brighter hues than this world affords. He -delights in combinations of the most striking images. The grand and -imposing, the dark and terrific, the furious and -desolating--whatever serves to fill the mind with awe and wonder, -are his favorite subjects of contemplation. The legends of -superstition contribute largely to the effect of poetical -composition. The enthusiast loves to fancy the agency of -supernatural beings, and endeavors to feel the influence of those -emotions which such a belief is suited to inspire. This seems to be -the spirit of Collins in the following lines of his ode to fear. - - "Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought, - Be mine to read the visions old - Which thy awakening bards have told; - And lest thou meet my blasted view, - Hold each strange tale devoutly true." - -In combinations of poetical images, no regard is had to their -consistency with truth and reason. It is the part of philosophy to -discover relations as they exist in nature; but to search out and -combine into one glowing and harmonious whole the brightest and -grandest images which art or nature supplies--this is the province -of poetry. The utmost calmness and most collected thought are -necessary to that patient and laborious reasoning by which progress -is made in the science of truth. The fury of impassioned feeling, on -the other hand, supports the loftier flights of poetry. Hence -philosophy and poetry rarely meet in the same individual. Yet the -smallness of the number of those who have gained renown both as -poets and philosophers, is to be ascribed less to any -incompatibility between the habits of mind peculiar to each, than to -the fact that the short space of human life will not allow to both -the attention necessary for their highest attainments. I speak now -of poetical and philosophical genius, not of poetry and philosophy. -Between the two last there _is_ an incompatibility, as may easily be -shown. Euclid's elements, for example, contain as pure specimens of -mere reasoning as can be conceived; but in them simplicity, -clearness and precision of terms are all the ornament they need or -will admit: nor can poetical language be used by any arrangement -without producing obscurity and disgust. And the wild conceptions of -unbridled fancy will as little brook the restraint of heartless -reason. In short, poetry and philosophy are so distinct and opposed -in character, that neither can ever be used to heighten the proper -effect of the other. - -A most extraordinary combination of poetical and philosophical -talent in one individual was displayed by Lucretius. I might -challenge the whole circle of science or literature to furnish -examples of clearer, closer and more irrefutable argument than his -work presents. And for purity, sublimity, delicacy, strength and -feeling, passages of his poetry might be selected scarcely {298} -inferior to any effort of ancient or modern times. Yet his work may -well be chosen to furnish proof that even the brightest genius -cannot combine austere logic and gorgeous poetry, so as that each -shall produce its due effect. For although where the reasoning is -not deep the embellishments of fancy may be borne and even relished, -yet where the argument requires close and laborious thought, the -reader is willing to sacrifice all the ornaments of poetry to the -simpler grace of perspicuity. But it is mostly in episodes and -illustrations that the fire of his poetic genius burns so brightly; -and here we see him throw off the fetters of truth to wander in the -haunted fields of fiction. And although his work displays intense -thought and burning poetry, we rarely find them united in the same -passage. - -Confirmed habits of philosophical reflection, it is not improbable, -will in time give a character of sobriety and apathy to the mind. -Quick susceptibility of impressions is one mark of a poetical -temperament; and of course if habits of calm reasoning destroy this -sensibility, philosophy and poetry cannot exist in perfection in the -same mind. But this apathetic coldness appears not to be the -immediate effect of philosophical habits, but rather to result from -disuse of the imagination while the attention is turned to graver -studies. Lucretius has shown what attainments may be made in pure -philosophy without lessening the strength and grace of fancy. He was -a man of the most acute and accurate observation, and of the most -rigid and cautious reasoning, yet possessed a quick perception of -the grand and beautiful, and had imbibed the warmest spirit of -poetic enthusiasm. - -Poetry delights in personifications. According to Dryden, - - "Each virtue a divinity is seen: - Prudence is Pallas, beauty Paphos' queen; - 'Tis not a cloud from which swift lightnings fly, - But Jupiter that thunders from the sky; - Nor a rough storm that gives the sailor pain, - But angry Neptune ploughing up the main; - Echo's no more an empty, airy sound, - But a fair nymph that weeps her lover drown'd: - Thus in the endless treasure of his mind, - The poet does a thousand figures find." - _Art of Poetry, Canto 3_. - -Philosophy on the contrary seeks to disrobe the subject of every -factitious charm, and present it to the mind in its naked -simplicity. It dispels the clouds of error, though gilded with the -bright colors of fancy; and boldly brings even objects of -superstitious veneration to the light of reason. - -These conflicting qualities are eminently shown in Lucretius; and it -is not without interest to mark how he contrives to blend in the -same work the solid simplicity of argument with the lighter graces -of imagination. As a poet he opens his work with an address to Venus -the mother and guardian of the Roman people, whose aid he invokes as -the companion of his song. He prays her to avert the frowns of -rugged war from the nation by the softening power of her charms. He -tells her that she alone governs the universe; that nothing springs -into the light of day without her; and ascribes to her, as the -source of all pleasure, whatever is joyous or lovely. - - "Nec sine te quidquam dias in luminis oras - Exoritur, neque fit lætum neque amabile quidquam." - -Yet in the next page the philosopher avows his intention of waging -eternal war with superstition; and gives exalted praise to Epicurus -because he suffered no feelings of religious awe to interfere with -his philosophical investigations. In this passage superstition (or -religion, to use his own term) is personified, and represented as -some hideous monster thrusting her head from out the skies, and -regarding mankind with an awful and terrible aspect. The whole image -presented is eminently grand and poetic. - - "Humana ante oculos fede quam vita jaceret - In terris oppressa gravi sub religione; - Quæ caput a cœli regionibus obtendebat, - Horribili super adspectu mortalibus instans; - Primum Graius homo mortaleis tollere contra - Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra: - Quem neque fama deum, nec fulmina, nec minitanti - Murmure compressit cœlum; sed eo magis acrem - Inritat animi virtutem effringere ut arta - Naturæ primus portarum claustra cupiret." - -Thus we see that although one great part of his purpose was to -divest the mind of popular superstitions, he found the language of -philosophy too barren, and the images which truth presented too cold -and lifeless to supply the materials of poetry. Hence his -personifications, and his digressions, which abound in the richest -ornaments of fancy. - -As a philosopher Lucretius was led to reject the legends of ancient -superstition, because such terrors kept the human mind in darkness -and error. - - "Nam velutei puerei trepidant, atque omnia cæcis - In tenebris metuunt; sic nos in luce timemus - Interdum nihilo quæ sunt metuenda magisquam - Quæ puerei in tenebris pavitant, finguntque futura. - Hunc igitur terrorem animi tenebrasque, necesse est, - Non radiei solis neque lucida tela diei - Discutiant; sed naturæ species, ratioque." - Lib. 2, lin. 54. - -But the spirit of poetry alone would have persuaded him to increase -the gloom and mists of superstition; for fancy's favorite range is -among regions darkened by the shades of ancient and venerable error. -The intrusion of cold reason is always unwelcome to a romantic -imagination. There is a passage of Campbell, (I cannot remember the -words,) in which he laments the dispersion by the clearer light of -reason of some fanciful notions in regard, I think, to the rainbow, -which had formerly been the delight of his youth. Collins too -regrets the restraint of imagination imposed by philosophy. He bids -farewell to metaphysics, and declares his purpose of leaving such -barren fields of speculation, and of retiring - - "to thoughtful cell - Where fancy breathes her potent spell." - -So much to mark the difference between poetical and philosophical -genius. The remainder of this essay shall be devoted to the -peculiarities which distinguish the genius of poetry in particular. - -It has been often remarked that men of brilliant fancy are never -satisfied with the productions of their own minds. The images of -grandeur or beauty continually present to their imaginations, it -would seem, are so far superior to all efforts they can make to -embody them in language, that their own works never yield them the -pleasure which they give others. The following quotation is from the -seventh chapter, sixth section, of Stewart's Elements of the -Philosophy of the Human {299} Mind. "When the notions of enjoyment -or of excellence which imagination has formed are greatly raised -above the ordinary standard, they interest the passions too deeply -to leave us at all times the cool exercise of reason, and produce -that state of the mind which is commonly known by the name of -enthusiasm; a temper which is one of the most fruitful sources of -error and disappointment; but which is a source, at the same time, -of heroic actions and of exalted characters. To the exaggerated -conceptions of eloquence which perpetually revolved in the mind of -Cicero; to that idea which haunted his thoughts of _aliquid immensum -infinitumque_, we are indebted for some of the most splendid -displays of human genius: and it is probable that something of the -same kind has been felt by every man who has risen much above the -level of humanity either in speculation or in action." To the want -of this high imaginary standard of excellence, Dr. Johnson ascribes -the dullness of Blackmore's poetry. "It does not appear," he says, -"that he saw beyond his own performances, or had ever elevated his -views to that ideal perfection which every genius born to excel is -condemned always to pursue and never overtake. In the first -suggestions of his imagination he acquiesced; he thought them good -and did not seek for better. His works may be read a long time -without the occurrence of a single line that stands prominent from -the rest." - -Examples of such ardent aspirations after the _grande et immensum_, -are frequent among our best poets. Let the following from Lord Byron -suffice. In this will plainly appear that _agony_ in giving birth to -the sublime conceptions of his imagination, which metaphysicians say -is a sure mark of lofty genius. After describing a terrific -thunderstorm in language suited to the majesty of his subject, he -proceeds: - - "Could I embody and unbosom now - That which is most within me,--could I wreak - My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw - Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak, - All that I would have sought, and all I seek, - Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe--into _one_ word, - And that one word were lightning, I would speak; - But as it is, I live and die unheard, - With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword." - -The same burning enthusiasm prevails throughout the odes of Collins, -whose works breathe as much the soul of poetry as is shown by any -bard of Greece or Rome. - -This trait of genius often betrays young writers into a style of -affected grandiloquence, which their feebleness of thought makes -doubly ridiculous. Yet this pompous style of writing is often a -genuine mark of superior powers. Quintilian thinks extravagance a -more favorable sign in a very young writer, than a more sedate -simplicity; for his maturer judgment may be safely left to prune -such luxuriance, but where the soil is barren by nature, no art of -cultivation will produce a vigorous growth. Scarcely any writer was -ever guilty of more extravagance than Lucan; but his poem was -written in the earliest spring of manhood, and shows such strength -of genius as would probably have made him equal to Homer, had his -rising powers been suffered to reach their utmost elevation, and -receive the corrections of his finished taste. - -But here it may not be amiss to mention that a style of such -affected pomp is tolerable only in young writers. When the fancy is -fresh and vigorous, and the judgment unformed, redundance in words -and ornament may be pardoned; but it is a sure evidence of feeble -genius to continue the same style in riper age. Hortensius, Cicero's -rival, was in his youth admired for his florid oratory; but in after -life was justly despised for the same childish taste. The most -elegant writers always select the simplest words. Learning should -appear in the subject, but never in the language. Even the powers of -Johnson were too weak to preserve his ponderous learned style from -ridicule. It may be assumed as a universal rule, that when two words -equally express the same meaning, the shortest and simplest is -always the best. - -When the enthusiasm of poetry is joined with a correct and chastened -judgment, the utmost fastidiousness in composition is often -produced. To this may be ascribed the small number and extent of -writings left by some of our best authors. "I am tormented with a -desire to write better than I can," said Robert Hall in a letter to -a friend: and yet his works are said by Dugald Stewart (himself an -admirable writer in point of style) to combine the beauties of -Addison, Johnson and Burke, without their defects, and to contain -the purest specimens of the English language. And of Pascal too, it -is told that he spent much time in revising and correcting what to -others appeared from the first almost too perfect for amendment. -Gray, who had genius to become a pre-eminent poet, was never content -with the polish which repeated revisions were able to give his -works. The conclusion of Boileau's second Satire is so appropriate -to my purpose, that I will give it in full. - - "Un sot, en écrivant, fait tout avec plaisir: - Il n'a point en ses vers l'embarras de choisir; - Et toujours amoureux de ce qu'il vient d'écrire, - Ravi d'étonnement, en soi-meme il s'admire. - Mais un esprit sublime en vain veut s'élever - A ce degré parfait qu'il tache de trouver; - Et, toujours mécontent de ce qu'il vient de faire, - Il plait a tout le monde, et ne saurait se plaire." - -And in a note on this passage, "Voila, s'écria Molière, en -interrompant son ami a cet endroit, voila la plus belle vérité que -vous ayez jamais dite. Je ne suis pas du nombre de ces esprits -sublimes dont vous parlez; mais tel que je suis, je n'ai rien fait -en ma vie dont je sois veritablement content." Horace too speaks -much the same language in several places. - -Of Shakspeare, the greatest poetical genius probably which the world -ever produced, our ignorance of his life permits us to speak only -from his works. But the fact that he scarcely ever condescended to -revise his plays, and took no care to preserve them from oblivion, -is ample proof how little his mind was satisfied with its own -sublime productions. Shakspeare is an illustrious example of -transcendent genius joined with unfinished taste. He had to depend -entirely on his own resources, for the best models he had access to -were not more faultless than his own writings, while they fell -infinitely below him in every positive excellence. His works, in -parts, show sublimity, delicacy, and grace of poetry, unequalled -perhaps by the productions of any writer before or since. Yet his -warmest admirers are often scandalized by the strange conceited -witticisms and other evidences of bad taste so abundant in his -writings. Still, the Bard of Avon's works will ever rank among the -noblest efforts of dramatic poetry. - -Poetical genius is always united with a love of {300} sympathy. This -is the reason why men of warm imaginations so seldom fully relish a -poem when read alone. Robert Hall, in one remarkable passage, says, -that the most ardent admirer of poetry or oratory would not consent -to witness their grandest display on the sole condition that he -should never reveal his emotions. - -It is also generally, and perhaps always, joined with a thirst of -fame. This feeling impels the poet to make arduous exertions. It is -the passion which, as metaphysicians say, is implanted in the human -breast as an incentive to deeds beneficial to society. Whether it be -in its nature culpable or not, is perhaps a difficult question. -Quintilian says that if it be not itself a virtue, it is certainly -often the cause of virtuous actions; and this assertion few will -venture to question. And at all events, this passion has ever been a -characteristic of the greatest men. Few have risen to eminence -without its aid. It existed largely in Byron. In verses written -shortly after the publication of his English Bards and Scotch -Reviewers, he says: - - "The fire in the cavern of Ætna concealed, - Still mantles unseen in its secret recess; - At length in a volume terrific revealed, - No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress. - - Oh, thus the desire in my bosom for fame - Bids me live but to hope for posterity's praise: - Could I soar with the Phœnix on pinions of flame, - With him I could wish to expire in the blaze." - -How happy for the world had his genius led him to seek applause in -works designed for the good of mankind--in recommending religion and -virtue by the melody of his verse and the influence of his life, -instead of adorning vice with the beauties of poetry! - -When the thirst of glory is disappointed, the aspirant is apt to -become a gloomy misanthropist, who envies others the reputation -which he cannot attain. Much of the sullen melancholy shown by men -of genius may doubtless be ascribed to the perverted operation of -this principle. The portion of fame which falls to their share is -not sufficient to satisfy their wishes. - -But after all, the most brilliant genius will avail nothing without -study. No illiterate man ever gained renown as a writer. Some have -become great without the aid of foreign learning; but all have read -and thought. No man is born a poet in the ordinary sense of the -word. Whatever his own conceptions may be, he cannot reveal them -without the use of words; and this knowledge can be acquired only by -diligent study. In all time it has been true that they who have read -and thought most, have made the greatest writers, whatever line of -science or literature they pursued. Or perhaps there ought to be -exceptions made in cases where the mind has been misdirected, as -among the schoolmen, who spent their lives in perplexing themselves -and others with subtle questions which it was of no use to solve. -But however fruitless such labors as wasted their energies may be, -this at least is certain, that without study no man will become -great, whatever be his natural talents. Even such towering geniuses -as Homer, Aristotle, Cicero, Virgil, Shakspeare, Bacon, Newton, and -Byron were not exempt from this necessity. - -To conclude: Locke has sufficiently proved that all our ideas are -originally derived from the senses. These first impressions form the -basis of all human knowledge. General conclusions drawn from -comparison of such sensations are abstract thought. Reasoning and -reflection on these abstract ideas thus obtained, constitute -speculations of still greater refinement. Comparing and combining -ideas in the mind, for the purpose of discovering relations as they -exist in nature, is argument. Such comparisons and combinations made -for the purpose of pleasing, are works of fancy, or poetry. He then -who most carefully preserves his impressions, most attentively -considers and revolves his ideas, and most closely and accurately -compares them for the purpose of discovering such combinations as -nature has made, or of combining anew the separate images into such -grand and beautiful fabrics as may suit the taste of fancy, is -likely to make the best philosopher or poet, as his attention is -mainly turned to one or the other. Some difference in natural -faculties no doubt exists, but this is probably small.[1] - -[Footnote 1: Of course no Editor is responsible for the opinions of -his contributors--but in the present instance we feel called upon in -self-defence to disclaim any belief in the doctrines advanced--and, -moreover, to enter a solemn protest against them. The Essay on -Genius is well written and we therefore admitted it. While many of -its assumptions are indisputable--some we think are not to be -sustained--and the inferences, generally, lag far behind the spirit -of the age. Our correspondent is evidently no phrenologist.--_Ed._] - - - - -A LOAN TO THE MESSENGER. - -No. II. - - -Here is a scrap from another of my poetical friends, which has never -seen the light, and which I will lend to the readers of the -Messenger for the month. I give it as it came to me, apology and -all, and doubt not it will be well received by those to whom I now -dedicate it. - -J. F. O. - - -_My Dear O_,--Instead of writing something new for your collection, -I copy a few lines from a bagatelle, written a few days ago to a -woman who is worthy of better verses: and, as they will never be -published, of course, they may answer your purpose. - - Very truly yours, - WILLIS. - -_Boston, August, 1831_. - - -TO ------. - - - Lady! the fate that made me poor, - Forgot to take away my heart,-- - And 'tis not easy to immure - The burning soul, and live apart: - To meet the wildering touch of beauty, - And hear her voice,--and think of _duty_: - To check a thought of burning passion, - When trembling on the lip like flame,-- - And talk indifferently of fashion,-- - A language choked till it is tame! - Oh God! I know not why I'm gifted - With feeling, if I may not love! - I know not why my cup is lifted - So far my thirsting lips above! - My look on thine unchidden lingers, - My hand retains thy dewy fingers, - Thy smile, thy glance, thy glorious tone - For hours and hours are mine alone: {301} - Yet must my fervor back, and wait - Till solitude can set it free,-- - Yet must I not forget that fate - Has locked my heart, and lost the key; - These very rhymes I'm weaving now - Condemn me for a broken vow! - -N. P. W. - -N. B. My friend soon recovered from this sad stroke, and he has -since recovered the "key," and locked within the fate-closed casket -a pearl, I learn, of great price. So much for a sophomore's -Anacreontics! - -If this "loan" prove acceptable, I have a choice one in store for -May. - -O. - - - - -SOME ANCIENT GREEK AUTHORS. - -CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED. - - -Whether Homer or Hesiod lived first has never been determined. -Herodotus supposes them both to have lived at the same time, viz. -B.C. 884. The Arun. marbles make them contemporaries, but place -their era B.C. 907. Besides the Iliad and Odyssey, Homer wrote, -according to some, a poem upon Amphiaraus' expedition against -Thebes; Also, the Phoceis, the Cercopes, the small Iliad, the -Epiciclides, the Batrachomyomachia, and some Hymns to the Gods. - -_Hesiod_ wrote a poem on Agriculture, called The Works and Days, -also Theogony, which is valuable for its account of the Gods of -antiquity. His Shield of Hercules, and some others, are now lost. - -_Archilocus_ wrote elegies, satires, odes and epigrams, and was the -inventor of Iambics; these are by some ascribed to Epodes. Some -fragments of his poetry remain. He is supposed to have lived B.C. -742. - -_Alcæus_ is the inventor of Alcaic verses. Of all his works, nothing -remains but a few fragments, found in Athenæus. B.C. 600. - -He was contemporary with the famous Sappho. She was the inventress -of the Sapphic verse, and had composed nine books in lyric verses, -besides epigrams, elegies, &c. Of all these, two pieces alone -remain, and a few fragments quoted by Didymus. - -_Theognis_ of Megara wrote several poems, of which only a few -sentences are now extant, quoted by Plato and some others. B.C. 548. - -_Simonides_ wrote elegies, epigrams and dramatical pieces; also Epic -poems--one on Cambyses, King of Persia, &c. One of his most famous -compositions, The Lamentations, a beautiful fragment, is still -extant. - -_Thespis_, supposed to be the inventor of Tragedy, lived about this -time. - -_Anacreon_. His odes are thought to be still extant, but very few of -them can be truly ascribed to Anacreon. - -_Æschylus_ is the first who introduced two actors on the stage, and -clothed them with suitable dresses. He likewise removed murder from -the eyes of the spectator. He wrote 90 tragedies, of which 7 are -extant, viz. Prometheus Vinctus, Septem Duces contra Thebas, Persæ, -Agamemnon, Chöephoræ, Eumenides and Supplices. - -_Pindar_ was his contemporary. Most of Pindar's works have perished. -He had written some hymns to the Gods,--poems in honor of -Apollo,--dithyrambics to Bacchus, and odes on several victories -obtained at the Olympic, Isthmian, Pythian and Nemean games. Of all -these the odes alone remain. - -_Sophocles_ first increased the number of actors to three, and added -the decorations of painted scenery. He composed 120 tragedies--7 -only of which are extant, viz. Ajax, Electra, Œdipus, Antigone, The -Trachniæ, Philoctetes and Œdipus at Colonos. B.C. 454. - -_Plato_, the comic poet, called the prince of the middle comedy, and -of whose pieces some fragments remain, flourished about this time. - -Also, _Aristarchus_, the tragic poet of Tegea, who composed 70 -tragedies, one of which was translated into Latin verse by Ennius. - -_Herodotus_ of Halicarnassus, wrote a history of the Wars of the -Greeks against the Persians from the age of Cyrus to the battle of -Mycale, including an account of the most celebrated nations in the -world. Besides this, he had written a history of Assyria and Arabia -which is not extant. There is a life of Homer generally attributed -to him, but doubtfully. B.C. 445. - -_Euripides_, who lived at this time, wrote 75 or, as some say, 92 -tragedies, of which only 19 are extant. He was the rival of -Sophocles. - -About the commencement of the Peloponnesian war, flourished many -celebrated authors, among whom was _Aristophanes_. He wrote 54 -comedies, of which only 11 are extant. - -Also, _Cratinus_ and _Eupolis_, who with Aristophanes, are mentioned -by Horace--they were celebrated for their comic writings. B.C. 431. - -Also, the mathematician and astrologer, _Meton_, who, in a book -called Enneadecaterides, endeavored to adjust the course of the sun -and moon, and maintained that the solar and lunar years could -regularly begin from the same point in the heavens. This is called -the Metonic cycle. - -_Thucydides_ flourished at this time. He wrote a history of the -important events which happened during his command. This history is -continued only to the 21st year of the war. It has been divided into -eight books--the last of which is supposed to have been written by -his daughters. It is imperfect. - -Also _Hippocrates_;--few of his writings remain. - -_Lysias_, the orator, wrote, according to Plutarch, no less than 425 -orations--of these 34 are extant. B.C. 404. - -Contemporary with him was _Agatho_, an Athenian tragic and comic -poet--there is now nothing extant of his works, except quotations in -Aristotle and others. - -_Xenophon_, whose works are well known, lived about the year 398 -before Christ. - -_Ctesias_, who wrote a history of the Assyrians and Persians, which -Justin and Diodorus have prefered to that of Herodotus, lived also -at this time. Some fragments of his compositions have been -preserved. - -The works of _Plato_ are numerous--they are all written, except -twelve letters, in the form of a dialogue. 388. - -Of the 64 orations of Isæus, 10 are extant. Demosthenes imitated -him. 377. - -About 32 of the orations of _Isocrates_, who lived at the same time, -remain. - -All the compositions of the historian _Theopompus_ are lost, except -a few fragments quoted by ancient writers. 354. - -{302} _Ephorus_ lived in his time--he wrote a history commencing -with the return of the Heraclidæ and ending with the 20th year of -Philip of Macedon. It was in 30 books and is frequently quoted by -Strabo and others. - -Almost all the writings of _Aristotle_ are extant. Diogenes Laertes -has given a catalogue of them. His Art of Poetry has been imitated -by Horace. - -_Æschines_, his contemporary, wrote 5 orations and 9 epistles. The -orations alone are extant. 340. - -_Demosthenes_ was his contemporary and rival. - -_Theophrastus_ composed many books and treatises--Diogenes -enumerates 200. Of these 20 are extant--among which are a history of -stones--treatises on plants, on the winds, signs of fair weather, -&c.--also, his Characters, a moral treatise. 320. - -_Menander_ was his pupil; lie was called prince of the new comedy. -Only a few fragments remain of 108 comedies which he wrote. - -_Philemon_ was contemporary with these two. The fragments of some of -his comedies are printed with those of Menander. - -_Megasthenes_ lived about this time. He wrote about the Indians and -other oriental nations. His history is often quoted by the ancients. -There is a work now extant which passes for his composition, but -which is spurious. - -_Epicurus_ also lived now. He wrote 300 volumes according to -Diogenes. - -_Chrysippus_ indeed, rivalled him in the number, but not in the -merit of his productions. They were contemporaries. 280. - -_Bion_, the pastoral poet, whose Idyllia are so celebrated, lived -about this time. It is probable that _Moschus_, also a pastoral -poet, was his contemporary--from the affection with which he -mentions him. - -_Theocritus_ distinguished himself by his poetical compositions, of -which 30 Idyllia and some epigrams remain--also, a ludicrous poem -called Syrinx. Virgil imitated him. B.C. 280. - -_Aratus_ flourished now; he wrote a poem on Astronomy, also some -hymns and epigrams. - -_Lycophron_ also lived at this time. The titles of 20 of his -tragedies are preserved. There is extant a strange work of this -poet, call Cassandra, or Alexandra,--it contains about 1500 verses, -from whose obscurity the author has been named Tenebrosus. - -In the Anthology is preserved a most beautiful hymn to Jupiter, -written by _Cleanthes_,--of whose writings none except this is -preserved. - -_Manetho_ lived about this period,--an Egyptian who wrote, in the -Greek language, a history of Egypt. The writers of the Universal -History suspect some mistake in the passage of Eusebius which -contains an account of this history. - -This was also the age of _Apollonius_ of Perga, the Geometrician. He -composed a treatise on conic sections in eight books--seven of which -remain. It is one of the most valuable remains of antiquity. - -_Nicander's_ writings were held in much estimation. Two of his -poems, entitled Theriaca, and Alexipharniaca, are still extant. He -is said to have written 5 books of Metamorphoses, which Ovid has -imitated. He wrote also history. 150. - -About this time flourished _Polybius_. He wrote an universal History -in Greek, divided into 40 books; which began with the Punic wars, -and finished with the conquest of Macedonia by Paulus. This is lost, -except the first 5 books, and fragments of the 12 following. Livy -has copied whole books from him, almost word for word--and thinks -proper to call him in return "haudquaquam spernendus auctor." - -P. - - - - -TO AN ARTIST, - -Who requested the writer's opinion of a Pencil Sketch of a very -Lovely Woman. - - - The sketch is somewhat happy of the maid; - But where's the dark ethereal eye-- - The lip of innocence--the sigh, - That breathes like spring o'er roses just betrayed? - And where the smile, the bright bewitching smile - That lights her youthful cheek with pleasure, - Where health and beauty hoard their treasure, - And all is loveliness unmixed with guile? - The spirit of the bloomy months is she, - Surrounded by the laughing hours: - Her very foot-prints glow with flowers! - And dared'st thou then successful hope to be? - Presumptuous man! thy boasted art how vain! - Too dull thy daring pencil's light - To shadow forth the vision bright, - Which flowed from Jove's own hand without a stain. - What mortal skill can paint her wond'rous eye - Or catch the smile of woman's face, - When all the virtues seem to grace - Its beams with something of divinity? - None but Apollo should the task essay; - To him alone the pow'r is given - To blend the radiant hues of heaven, - And in the look the very soul portray; - Then hold, proud Artist! 'tis the God's command; - Eugenia's face requires thy master's hand! - -M. - - - - -MARCH COURT. - - -Court day!--what an important day in Virginia!--what a day of bustle -and business!--what a requisition is made upon every mode of -conveyance to the little metropolis of the county! How many debts -are then to be paid!--how many to be _put off_!--Alas! how -preponderate the latter! If a man says "_I will pay you at Court_," -I give up the debt as hopeless, without the intervention of the -_la_. But if court day be thus important, how much more so is March -court! That is the day when our candidates are expected home from -Richmond to give an account of their stewardship; at least it used -to be so, before the number of our legislators was lessened with a -view of facilitating the transaction of business, and with a promise -of _shortening_ the sessions. But somehow or other, the public chest -has such a multitude of charms, it seems now to be more impossible -than ever to get away from it. - - "'Tis that capitol rising in grandeur on high, - Where bank notes, by thousands, bewitchingly lie," - -as the song says, which makes our sessions "_of so long a life_," -and there is no practicable mode of preventing the _evisceration_ of -the aforesaid chest, but deferring the meeting of the Assembly to -the month of February, {303} and thereby compelling the performance -of the Commonwealth's business within the two months which would -intervene till the planting of corn. However, this is foreign to my -present purpose, which is to describe a scene at which I have often -gazed with infinite amusement. Would I had the power of Hogarth, -that I might perpetuate the actings and doings of a March court; but -having no turn that way, I must barely attempt to group the -materials, and leave the painting to some regular artist to perfect. -Picture to yourself, my gentle reader, our little town of -_Dumplinsburg_, consisting of a _store_, a _tavern_, and a -_blacksmith shop_, the common ingredients of a county town, with a -court house and a jail in the foreground, as denoting the superior -respect to which they are entitled. Imagine a number of roads -diverging from the town like the radii of a circle, and upon these -roads horsemen and footmen of every imaginable kind, moving, helter -skelter, to a single point of attraction. Justices and -jurymen--counsellors and clients--planters and -pettifoggers--constables and cakewomen--farmers and -felons--horse-drovers and horse-jockies, and _so on_, all rushing -onward like the logs and rubbish upon the current of some mighty -river swollen by rains, hurrying pell mell to the vast ocean which -is to swallow them all up--a simile not altogether unapt, when we -consider that the greater part of these people have law business, -and the law is universally allowed to be a vortex worse than the -Maelstrom. Direct the "fringed curtains of thine eyes" a little -further to the main street--a street well entitled to the epithet -main in all its significations, being in truth the principal and -only street, and being moreover the political arena or cockpit, in -which is settled pugilistically, all the tough and knotty points -which cannot be adjusted by argument. See, on either side, rows of -nags of all sorts and sizes, from the skeleton just unhitched from -the plough, to the saucy, fat, impudent pony, with roached mane and -bobtail, and the sleek and long tailed pampered horse, whose coat -proclaims his breeding, all tied to the _staggering_ fence which -constitutes the boundary of the street. Behold the motley assemblage -within these limits hurrying to and fro with rapid strides, as if -life were at stake. Who is he who slips about among the "_greasy -rogues_," with outstretched palm, and shaking as many hands as the -Marquis La Fayette? It is the candidate for election, and he -distributes with liberal hand that _barren chronicle_ of legislative -deeds, denominated the list of laws, upon which are fed a people -starving for information. This is a mere register of the titles of -acts passed at the last session, but it is caught at with avidity by -the sovereigns, who are highly offended if they do not come in for a -share of the Delegate's bounty. The purchase and distribution of -these papers is a sort of _carmen necessarium_, or indispensable -lesson, and it frequently happens that a member of the Assembly who -has been absent from his post the whole winter, except upon the yeas -and nays, acquires credit for his industry and attention to business -in proportion to the magnitude of the bundle he distributes of this -uninstructive record. - -See now he mounts some elevated stand and harangues the gaping -crowd, while a jackass led by his groom is braying at the top of his -lungs just behind him. The jack takes in his breath, like Fay's -Snorer, "_with the tone of an octave flute, and lets it out with the -profound depth of a trombone_." Wherever a candidate is seen, there -is sure to be a jackass--surely, his long eared companion does not -mean to satirize the candidate! However that may be, you perceive -the orator is obliged to desist, overwhelmed perhaps by this -thundering applause. Now the crowd opens to the right and left to -make way for some superb animal at full trot, some Highflyer or -Daredevil, who is thus exhibited _ad captandum vulgus_, which seems -the common purpose of the candidate, the jack, and his more noble -competitor. But look--here approaches an object more terrible than -all, if we may judge from the dispersion of the crowd who _ensconce_ -themselves behind every convenient corner and peep from their -lurking holes, while the object of their dread moves onward with -saddle bags on arm, a pen behind his ear, and an inkhorn at his -button hole. Lest some of my readers should be ignorant of this -august personage, I must do as they do in England, where they take a -shaggy dog, and dipping him in red paint, they dash him against the -signboard and write underneath, this is the Red Lion. This is the -sheriff and he is summoning his jury--"Mr. Buckskin, you, sir, -dodging behind the blacksmith's shop, I summon you on the jury;" ah, -luckless wight! he is caught and obliged to succumb. In vain he begs -to be let off,--"you must apply to the magistrates," is the surly -reply. And if, reader, you could listen to what passes afterwards in -the court house, you might hear something like the following -colloquy--Judge. "What is your excuse, sir?" Juror. "I am a lawyer, -sir." Judge. "Do you follow the law now, sir?" Juror. "No, sir, the -law follows me." Judge. "Swear him, Mr. Clerk." Ah, there is a -battle!!! see how the crowd rushes to the spot--"who fights?"--"part -'em"--"stand off"--"fair play"--"let no man touch"--"hurrah, -Dick"--"at him, Tom." An Englishman thinking himself in England, -bawls out, "sheriff, read the riot act"--a Justice comes up and -commands the peace; _inter arma silent leges_; he is unceremoniously -knocked down, and Justice is blind as ought to be the case. Two of -the rioters now attempt to ride in at the tavern door, and for -awhile all Pandemonium seems broke loose. To complete this picture, -I must, like Asmodeus, unroof the court house, and show you a trial -which I had the good fortune to witness. It was during the last war, -when the vessels of Admiral Gordon were making their way up the -Potomac to Alexandria, that a negro woman was arraigned for killing -one of her own sex and color; she had been committed for murder, but -the evidence went clearly to establish the deed to be manslaughter, -inasmuch as it was done in sudden heat, and without malice -aforethought. The Attorney for the commonwealth waived the -prosecution for murder, but quoted _British authorities_ to show -that she might be convicted of manslaughter, though committed for -murder. The counsel for the accused arose, and in the most solemn -manner, asked the court if it was a thing ever heard of, that an -individual accused of one crime and acquitted, should be arraigned -immediately for another, under the same prosecution? At -intervals--boom--boom--boom went the _British cannon_--_British -authorities!_ exclaimed the counsel; _British authorities_, -gentlemen!! Is there any one upon that bench so dead to the feelings -of patriotism as at such a moment to listen to _British -authorities_, when the British cannon is shaking the very walls of -your court house to their {304} foundation? This appeal was too -cogent to be resisted. Up jumped one of the Justices and protested -that it was not to be borne; let the prisoner go; away with your -British authorities! The counsel for the accused, rubbed his hands -and winked at the attorney; the attorney stood aghast; his -astonishment was too great for utterance, and the negro was half way -home before he recovered from his amazement. - -NUGATOR. - - - - -THE DEATH OF ROBESPIERRE. - - -SCENE I. - -ROBESPIERRE'S HOUSE. - -_Robespierre and St. Just meeting._ - -_St. Just._--Danton is gone! - -_Robespierre._--Then can I hope for all things, - Since he is dead whose shadow darken'd me; - Did the crowd cheer or hiss him? - -_St. Just._--Neither, sir: - Save a few voices, all look'd on in silence. - -_Robes._--Ha! did they so?--but when the engine rattled, - And the axe fell, didst thou perceive him shudder? - -_St. Just._--He turn'd his face to the descending steel, - And calmly smil'd. A low and ominous murmur - Spread through the vast assemblage--then, in peace, - They all dispers'd. - -_Robes._--I did not wish for this. - -_St. Just._--No man, since Louis Capet---- - -_Robes._--Say no more - My worthy friend--the friend of France and freedom-- - Hasten to guard our interest in yon junto - Of fools and traitors, who, like timid sheep, - Nor fight nor fly, but huddle close together, - Till the wolves come to gorge themselves among them-- - And in the evening, you and all my friends - Will meet me here, deliberate, and decide - To advance, or to recede. Be still, we cannot; - And hear me, dear St. Just--A man like you, - Firm and unflinching through so many trials, - Who sooner would behold this land manured - With carcases and moistened with their blood, - Than yielding food for feudal slaves to eat, - True to your party and to me your _brother_-- - For so I would be term'd--has the best claim - That man can have to name his own reward - When France is all our own. Bethink you then - What post of honor or of profit suits you, - And tell me early, that I may provide, - To meet your views, a part in this great drama. - -_St. Just._--Citizen Robespierre--my hearty thanks; - Financial Minister, by any name - Or trumpery title that may suit these times, - Is what I aim at--gratify me there - And I am yours through more blood than would serve - To float the L'Orient.[1] - -[Footnote 1: A French line of battle ship. Burnt at the battle of -Aboukir.] - -_Robes._--'Tis well, St. Just, - But wherefore citizen me? I have not used - The term to you--we are not strangers here. - -_St. Just._--Pardon me, sir, (or _Sire_, even as you please) - The cant of Jacobins infects my tongue, - I had no meaning farther. One word more - Before we part--now Danton is cut off, - We may be sure that all his partisans - And personal friends are our most deadly foes, - And it were politic and kind in us - To spare their brains unnumbered schemes of vengeance - And seize at once the power to silence them. - To give them time were ruin; some there are - Whose love of gold is such that were it wet - With Danton's blood they would not less receive it. - These may be brib'd to league with us. Farewell. - -_Robes._ (_solus_.) Blood on its base--upon its every step-- - Yea, on its very summit--still I climb: - But thickest darkness veils my destiny, - And standing as I do on a frail crag - Whence I must make one desperate spring to power, - To safety, honor, and unbounded wealth, - Or be as Danton is, why do I pause? - Why do I gaze back on my past career, - Upon those piles of headless, reeking dead? - Those whitening sculls? those streams of guiltless blood - Still smoking to the skies?--why think I hear - The shrieks, the groans, the smothered execrations - That swell the breeze, or seem as if I shrank - Beneath the o'ergrown, yet still accumulating, - Curse of humanity that clings around me? - Is not my hate of them as fixed, intense, - And all unquenchable as theirs of me? - But they must tremble in their rage while I - Destroy and scorn them. - (_reads a letter_.) - - - "Exert your dexterity to escape a scene on which you are to appear - once more ere you leave it forever. Your dictatorial chair, if - attained, will be only a step to the scaffold, through a rabble - who will spit on you as on Egalité. You have treasure enough. I - expect you with anxiety. We will enjoy a hearty laugh at the - expense of a people as credulous as greedy of novelty." - - - He but little knows, - Who wrote this coward warning, what I am. - I love not life so well, nor hate mankind - So slightly as to fly this country now: - No, I will ride and rule the storm I have rais'd, - Or perish in its fury. - (_Madame de Cabarus enters_.) - Ha! a woman! - How entered you? - -_Lady._--Your civic guard were sleeping; - I pass'd unquestioned, and my fearful strait - Compels appeal to thee, great Robespierre! - Deny me not, and Heaven will grant thy prayer - In that dread hour when every mortal needs it. - Repulse me not, and heaven thus at the last - Will not repulse thee from eternal life. - I am the daughter of the unhappy Laurens, - Who hath but one day more to live on earth. - Oh, for the sake of all thou holdest dear, - (_kneeling before him_.) - Spare to his only child the misery - Of seeing perish thus her much lov'd sire. - His head is white with age--let it not fall - Beneath yon dreadful axe. Through sixty years - A peaceful and reproachless life he led. - Thy word can save him. Speak, oh speak that word, - For our Redeemer's sake redeem his life, - And child and father both shall bless thee ever. - -_Robes._ (_aside_.) I know her now--the chosen of Tallien - How beautiful in tears! A noble dame {305} - And worthy to be mine. 'Twould sting his heart - To lose his mistress ere I take his head; - If I would bribe her passions or her fears, - As well I trust I can, I must be speedy. - Those drunken guards--should any see her here, - Then what a tale to spread on Robespierre, - The chaste, the incorruptible, forsooth---- - (_coldly approaching her_.) - Lady, I may not save your father's life-- - Duty forbids--he holds back evidence - Which would convict Tallien; nay, do not kneel, - I cannot interfere. - -_Daughter._--Oh, say not so. - He is too peaceful for intrigues or plotters-- - Too old, too helpless for their trust or aid. - Oh, for the filial love thou bearest thy sire, - Thy reverence for his years---- - -_Robes._--If he were living - And spoke in thy behalf, it were in vain. - -_Daughter._--For the dear mother's sake who gave thee birth - And suffer'd agony that thou might'st live---- - -_Robes._--Not if her voice could hail me from the tomb, - And plead in thy own words to save his life. - -_Daughter._--If thou hast hope or mercy---- - -_Robes._--I have neither. - Rise and depart while you are safe--yet stay, - One path to his redemption still is open-- - It leads to yonder chamber--Ha! I see - Thou understandest me. - -_Daughter._--I trust I do not. - I hope that Heaven beholds not--Earth contains not - A being capable of such an offer. - -_Robes._--And dare you scorn me, knowing who I am? - Bethink you where you stand--your sire--and lover-- - And hear my offer. Life and wealth for them, - Jewels and splendor and supremacy - Shall wait on thee--no dame shall breathe in France - But bends the knee before thee. - -_Daughter._--Let him die. - Better he perish now than live to curse - His daughter for dishonor. Fare you well. - There is a time for all things, and the hour - May come when thou wilt think of this again. - -_Robes._ (_laughing_.) Ha! ha! Wouldst thou depart to spread this - tale? - Never, save to such ears as will not trust thee! - Choose on the spot between thy father's death, - Thy lover's and _thine own_, or my proposal. - -_Daughter._--My choice is made, let me rejoin my sire. - -_Robes._--I'll furnish thee a passport--guards awake! - (_seizing her arm_.) - Without there! murder! treason! guards come hither! - (_Jacobins rush in and seize her_.) - A watchful crew ye are, to leave me thus - To perish like Marât by the assassins; - See that you guard her well, and keep this weapon - Which, but I wrench'd it from her, would have slain me. - -_Daughter._--And thus my father dies and one as dear. - 'Tis joy to suffer with them, though I perish. - I feel assured thou canst not triumph long-- - And I adjure thee by the Heaven thou hast scorn'd, - Whose lingering fires are not yet launch'd against thee, - And by the Earth thou cumberest, which hath not - Yet opened to entomb thee living, come, - Meet me, and mine, and thy ten thousand victims, - Before God's judgment seat, ere two days pass. - (_the guards take her out_.) - -_Robes._--She must have thought in sooth I was a Christian. - - -SCENE II. - -TALLIEN'S HOUSE. - -_Tallien with a letter in his hand._ - - In prison!--In his power!--to die to-morrow! - My body trembles and my senses reel. - This is a just and fearful retribution-- - Would it were on my head alone! Oh Heaven, - Spare but this angel woman and her father, - And let me die--or might my life be pardon'd, - The criminal excess to which these times - Have hurried my rash hand and wilful heart, - I will atone to outrag'd human nature, - To her and to my country. Wretched France! - Once the fair home of music and of mirth, - So torn, so harrassed by these factions now, - That even the wise and good of other lands - Cannot believe a patriot breathes in this! - And she complains that I am grown a craven! - My acts of late may justify the thought, - But let to-morrow show how much I fear him. - (_A Servant enters_.) - -_Servant._--The Minister of Police---- - -_Tallien._--Attend him hither-- - Fouché--perhaps to sound me; let him try-- - I yet may baffle him, and one more fatal---- - (_Fouché enters_.) - -_Fouché._--So you are in the scales with Robespierre, - And which do you expect will kick the beam? - -_Tallien._--Why should you think that I will stake my power, - Friends, interest, and life, in useless efforts - To thwart the destined ruler of the land? - -_Fouché._--Yourself have told me so. I did but mean - That he had risk'd his power and party strength - Against your life. You mean to strike at his. - Your faltering voice and startled looks betray - The secret of your heart, though sooth to say, - I knew it all before. - -_Tallien._--You see too far, - And are for once wise over much, Monsieur; - I never sought to oppose your great colleague, - But would conciliate him if I might. - -_Fouché._ (_sternly_.) And do you hope to throw dust in my eyes? - What means this note from Madame de Cabarus - Now in your bosom--sent to you this morning-- - And this your answer? (_producing a billet_.) Have I fathom'd you? - The mystic writing on the palace wall - Scar'd not Belshazzar more than this does you. - (_Tallien goes to the door_.) - Nay, never call your men or make those signals, - I have foreseen the worst that you can do. - -_Tallien._--Chief of Police, while you are in this house - Your life is in my hands--when you are gone, - Mine is in yours. Now tell me why you came? - -_Fouché._--To show you that I know of your designs. - -_Tallien._--And is that all? - -_Fouché._--Not quite. To offer service-- {306} - A politician should not start as you do - At every word. - -_Tallien._--Ah--can I--dare I trust you? - -_Fouché._--I do not ask created man to trust - Honor or oath of him whose name is Fouché. - I know mankind, and study my own interest-- - Interest, Tallien--that mainstring of all motion-- - Chain of all strength--pole star of all attraction - For human hearts to turn to. Let me see - My interest in supporting you, and I - Can aid and guard you through the coming peril. - -_Tallien._--Name your terms. - -_Fouché._--My present post and what - Beside is mentioned in this schedule. - (_giving a paper_.) - -_Tallien_.--Your _price_ is high, but I am pledged to pay it. - (_giving his hand_.) - -_Fouché._--Thou knowest I never was over scrupulous, - But he whom I was link'd with, Robespierre, - Can stand no longer. Earth is weary of him. - The small majority in the Convention - He calculates upon to be his plea - For wreaking summary vengeance on the heads - Of all who, like yourself, are not prepared - To grant him supreme power or dip their hands - In blood for any, every, or no profit. - A ravenous beast were better in the chair. - Henriot and the civic force here, stand - Prompt to obey him. Were we only sure - To raise the citizens, these dogs were nothing-- - But, sink or swim, to-morrow is the day - Must ruin him or us. Do you impeach him, - And paint his crimes exactly as they are; - Have a decree of arrest, and I and mine - Will see he quits not the Convention Hall - But in the custody of friends of ours. - 'Tis true I bargain'd to assist the fiend - The better to deceive him. Mark, Tallien, - A presage of his fall--not only I - Abandon him, but I can bring Barrère - And all his tribe to give their votes against him. - Give me _carte blanche_ to pay them for their voices. - -_Tallien._--But think you I can move them to arrest him? - -_Fouché._--That is a _chance_ unknown even to myself, - There are so many waiters on the wind, - Straws to be blown wherever it may list - That surety of success we cannot have, - But certain ruin if we pass to-morrow. - -_Tallien._--Is't true she aim'd a weapon at his life? - -_Fouché._--A lie of his invention. I have seen - The weapon he pretended to have snatch'd - From her fair hands, and know it for his own. - Though I seem foul compar'd to better men, - I claim to appear an angel match'd with him. - - -SCENE III. - -ROBESPIERRE'S HOUSE. - -_Robespierre, Fouché, Henriot and others._ - -_Henriot._--All things are ready now, six thousand men - And twenty cannon wait your word to-morrow. - -_Robes._--Henriot, I have a word to say to thee: - Thou hast _one_ vice that suits not with a leader, - If that thou hopest to thrive in our attempt, - Taste not of wine till victory is ours. - -_Henriot._--I thank your caution. - -_Fouché_.--I have seen Tallien - And offered peace between you; he knew not - That Laurens' daughter had assail'd your life, - Or he had mentioned it. Nor did he dream - Of what will peal upon his ears to-morrow. - -_Robes._--Then, friends, farewell until to-morrow dawns. - -_Fouché._--And ere its night sets in we hail thee Ruler, - Dictator of the land. - -_Robes._--If such your will-- - Without you I am nothing--fare you well. - (_they leave him_.) - (_looking up to the stars_.)--Unchang'd, unfading, never-dying - lights-- - Gods, or coeval with them! If there be - In your bright aspects aught of influence - Which men have made a science here on earth, - Shed it benignly on my fortunes now! - Spirit of Terror! Rouse thee at my bidding-- - Shake thy red wings o'er Liberty's Golgotha-- - Palsy men's energies and stun their souls, - That no more foes may cross my path to-morrow - Than I and mine can drown in their own blood; - Or, let them rise by thousands, so my slaves - Fight but as heartily for gold and wine - As they have done ere now. When I shall lead them, - Then 'mid the artillery's roar and bayonet's flash - I write my title to be Lord of France - In flame and carnage, o'er this den of thieves. - Beneath th' exterior, frozen, stern demeanor, - How my veins throb to bursting, while I think - On the rich feast of victory and revenge - The coming day may yield me! Yes, this land - Of bigot slaves who tremble at a devil, - Or frantic atheists who with lifted hands - Will gravely VOTE their Maker from his throne, - This horde of dupes and miscreants shall feel - And own in tears, blood, crime and retribution, - The iron rule of him they trampled on-- - The outrag'd, ruin'd, and despised attorney. - Though few the anxious hours that lie between - My brightest, proudest hopes, or sure destruction, - All yet is vague, uncertain, and obscure - As what may chance in ages yet to come. - How if the dungeon or the scaffold--Ha! - That shall not be--my hand shall overrule it-- - Ingenious arbiter of life and death! - (_looking to the charge of a small pistol_.) - Be thou my bosom friend in time of need! - No--if my star is doom'd to set forever, - The cheeks of men shall pale as they behold - The lurid sky it sinks in. Should I fall - Leading my Helots on to slay each other, - Then death, all hail!--for only thou canst quench - The secret fire that rages in my breast; - If there be an hereafter, which I know not, - He who hath borne _my_ life may dare its worst, - And if mortality's last pangs end all, - Welcome eternal sleep!--annihilation! - - -SCENE IV. - -THE HALL OF THE NATIONAL CONVENTION. - -_Couthon concluding a speech from the Tribune. Tallien, Fouché, -Carnôt, and others, standing near him. Robespierre, St. Just, and -others, in their seats._ - -_Tallien_ (_to Fouché_.)--Are you ready? {307} - -_Fouché._--Doubt not my aid--denounce him where he stands-- - And lose no time--this hour decides our fate. - -_Couthon_ (_to the Convention_.)--Our country is in danger--I invoke - Your aid, compatriots, to shield her now! - Fain as I am to avoid confiding power - Without control, in even patriot hands, - We cannot choose--and much as I abhor - To see blood flow, let punishment descend - On traitors' heads, for this alone can save us. - -_Tallien_ (_approaching him_.) Thou aged fangless tiger! not yet - glutted? - Torrents of blood are shed for thee and thine-- - Must thou have more? Descend--before I trample - Thee to the earth. Thou art not fit to live. - (_he drags Couthon down by the hair of - his head and mounts the Tribune_.) - (_addressing the Convention_.) Yes, citizens, our country is - imperiled, - And by a band of dark conspirators, - Soul-hardened miscreants, in whose grasp the ties - That bind mankind together are rent asunder - By spies--by fraud--by hope of power and spoils-- - By baser fears, and by increasing terror - Of their dread engine, whose incessant strokes - And never failing stream astound mankind. - These men have pav'd the way, that open force - May crush the hopes of France, and bend our necks - Unto a despotism strange as bloody. - And who, my countrymen, hath been their leader? - Ye know him well--and every Frenchman breathing - Hath need to rue the hour which gave _him_ birth-- - A wretch accursed in heaven--abhorred on earth, - Hath dared aspire to sway most absolute - In this Republic--and the dread tribunals - Which for the land's protection were established - When pressed by foreign arms and homebred treason, - He hath converted to the deadly end - Of slaughtering all who crossed his onward path. - His black intrigues have occupied their seats - With robbers and assassins--whose foul riot, - Polluted lives, and unquenched thirst of gold, - Have beggar'd France and murdered half her sons. - Witness those long--long lists of dire proscription - Prepar'd at night for every coming day, - Even in the very chamber of the tyrant! - Witness the wanton, groundless confiscations, - Which ruin helpless men, to feed his minions! - Witness the cry of woe too great to bear, - That hath gone up to heaven from this fair land! - Yes--hear it, every man who loves his country-- - France, for a ruler now, is ask'd to choose - The vampire who would drain her dearest blood: - A sordid slave, whose hideous form contains - A mind in moral darkness and fierce passions - Like nothing, save the cavern gloom of hell, - Which knows no light but its consuming fires! - I need not point to him. Your looks of terror, - Disgust and hatred turn at once upon him. - Though there be others of his name, this Hall-- - This City--France--the World itself contains - Only one--Robespierre. - (_the Assembly in great confusion_.) - -_Robes._ (_to St. Just_.) This blow is sudden. - -_St. Just._--Up to the Tribune--speed--your life--our power - All hang upon a moment. Art thou dumb? - -_Tallien_ (_continuing_.) The evil spirit who serv'd abandons him, - And I denounce him as the mortal foe - Of every man in France who would be free-- - Impeach him as a traitor to the State - In league with Henriot, Couthon and St. Just. - To overawe by force and crush the Assembly! - I appeal for proof to those who plotted with him, - But now repentant have abjur'd his cause. - I move that he be instantly arrested - With Henriot and all accomplices. - -_Robes._ (_to St. Just_.) See how they rise like fiends and point - the hand - Of bitterest hatred at your head and mine, - Our veriest bloodhounds turn and strive to rend us. - (_he rushes towards the Tribune, amid - loud cries of "Down with the tyrant!"_) - -_Robes._--Hear me, ye members of the Mountain--hear me, - Cordeliers, who have prais'd and cheer'd me on-- - Ye Girondists, give even your foes a hearing-- - Ye members of the Plain, who moderate - The fury of contending factions--hear me - For all I have done or have designed to do, - I justify myself--and I appeal - To God--and---- - (_he pauses choked with rage_.) - -_Tallien._--Danton's blood is strangling him. - Consummate hypocrite!--darest thou use - Thy Maker's name to sanctify thy crimes, - Thou lover of Religion! Saintly being! - The executioner! thou prayerless atheist! - To thy high priest. The scaffold is thy temple-- - The block thy altar--murder is thy God. - And could it come to this? Oh, France! Oh, France! - Was it for this that Louis Capet died? - For this was it we swore eternal hatred - To kings and nobles--pour'd our armies forth-- - Crush'd banded despots and confirmed our rights? - And have we bled, endur'd and toil'd, that now - Our triumph should be to disgrace ourselves - And bend in worship to a man whose deeds - Have written demon on his very brow? - What! style Dictator--clothe with regal honors - And more than regal power this Robespierre, - So steep'd in guilt--so bath'd in human blood! - It may not be--France is at last awake - From this long dreary dream of shame and sorrow, - And may her sons in renovated strength - Shake off the lethargy that drew it on! - Spirits of Earth's _true_ heroes!--if ye see us - From the calm sunshine of your blest abodes, - Look with approval on me in this hour! - (_turning to the statue of Brutus_.) - Thee, I invoke!--Shade of the virtuous Brutus! - Like thee, I swear, should man refuse me justice - I draw this poignard for the tyrant's heart - Or for my own. Tallien disdains to live - The slave of Robespierre. I do not ask - Nor can expect him to receive the meed - Which should be his. Death cannot punish him - Whose life hath well deserv'd a thousand deaths, - But let us purge this plague-spot from among us, {308} - And tell wide Europe by our vote this night - That Terror's reign hath ceas'd--that axe and sceptre - Are both alike disown'd, destroyed forever. - Let us impeach him, Frenchmen, with the spirit - That springs from conscious rectitude of purpose. - Patriots arise! and with uplifted hands - Attest your deep abhorrence of this man, - And your consent that he be now arrested! - (_members rising in disorder_.) Away, away with him--arrest him - guards! - To the Conciergerie--away with him! - -(_President rising._) The National Convention have decreed - The arrest of Maximilien Robespierre. - -_Robes._ (_to St. Just_.) The day is theirs--with wrath and with - despair - My utterance is chok'd. Oh, were my breath - A pestilential gale to sting their lives! - (_to the President_.) Order me to be slain where now I stand, - Or grant me liberty of speech. - -(_President_.) Thy name is Robespierre--it is enough, - And speaks for thee far more than thou wilt tell us. - -_Robes._ (_to St. Just_.) Come thou with me--I see an opening yet - To victory, or a funeral pile--whose light - Shall dazzle France and terrify the world. - (_Robespierre, St. Just and others taken out by the guards_.[2]) - -[Footnote 2: It may be well to recall to the reader's recollection, -that Robespierre subsequently escaped from his guards to the Hotel -de Ville. But such partisans as rallied around him speedily -deserted, when a proclamation of outlawry from the Convention was -issued against him, and enforced by pointing cannon against the -building. After an ineffectual attempt at suicide he was conveyed in -a cart to the guillotine, July 28th, 1794. - -The language put into his mouth in the following pages, is of course -inconsistent with historical probability, as he had wounded himself -with a pistol ball in the lower part of his face.] - - -SCENE V. - -ROBESPIERRE AND ST. JUST IN A CART CONDUCTED BY GUARDS TOWARDS THE -PLACE DE GRÊVE. - -_St. Just._--So here ends our part in a tragic farce, - Hiss'd off the stage, my friend--ha, ha! - (_laughing_.) - I am content--I mean I am resigned-- - As well die now as later. Does your wound - Pain you severely that you look so gravely? - Cheer thee, my comrade, we shall quickly learn - The last dread secret of our frail existence, - Few moments more will cut our barks adrift - Upon an ocean, boundless and unknown, - Even to ourselves who have despatched so many - To explore for us its dark and fathomless depths. - Give me some wine. (_they give him wine_.) Here's to a merry - voyage! - What in the fiend's name art thou musing on! - -_Robes._--My thoughts were with the past--the days of youth, - And peace, and innocence, and woman's love, - And ardent hope--the blossoms of a life - So baleful in its fruits. This day, the last - Of my career, is the anniversary - Of one, from which my after life may date - Its withering influence. Wouldst thou not think - That I, whom thou hast known for a few years, - Must ever have been, even from my earliest youth, - A hard and cruel man? - -_St. Just._--Much like myself. - I think you were no saint even when a child. - -_Robes._--Such is the common blunder of the world - To think me, like the demon they believe in, - From the beginning, "murderer and liar;" - So let it be--I would not change their thoughts. - But I, St. Just, strange as it seems to you, - Even I, whose name, even in this age of crime, - Must stand aloft alone a blood-red beacon - And warning to posterity, was once - Young, warm, enthusiastic, generous, - Candid, affectionate, a son and brother, - But proud and sensitive. I lov'd a maid-- - Yes, if entire and all-absorbed devotion - Of life and soul and being to her, were love-- - If to be willing to lay down my life, - My hopes of fame and honorable notice, - And all the world holds dear, for her dear sake, - May be call'd love, then I most truly lov'd her. - I was a thriving lawyer, and could raise - My voice without reward to shield the oppress'd, - I lov'd my kind and bore a stainless name. - (_a funeral crosses the street_.) - -_St. Just_ (_to the officer_.) Whose obsequies are these, - That look as if the dead one had _not_ perished - By trying our Republican proscription, - The guillotine? - -_Officer._--'Tis Madame de la Harpe. - Your worthy friend there sent his satellites - To bring her to the bar of your tribunal, - The high-soul'd lady sooner than be made - A gaze for all the outcasts in the city, - As you are now, hurl'd herself from a window. - -_Robes._--How strange a meeting this! Ah! foolish woman, - Had she but dar'd to live another day, - She might have died at ninety in her bed, - And I, who sought to escape her threatened doom, - Baffled of self-destruction, could not die. - (_they pass on_.) - (_to St. Just_.) How small a thing may sometimes change the stream - Of a man's life even to its source, to poison! - A trifle scarcely worthy of a name, - The sarcasms of a brute, while I was pleading - An orphan's cause, convulsed the court with mirth, - Marr'd all my rhetoric, and snatch'd the palm - Of truth and justice from my eager grasp-- - My wrath boil'd forth--with loud and fierce reproach - I brav'd the judge, and thunder'd imprecations - On all around. This passion ruin'd me. - And she too laugh'd among that idiot throng-- - Oh, tell not me of jealousy or hate - Or hunger for revenge--no sting so fierce, - So all tormenting to a proud man's soul - As public ridicule from lips belov'd. - Have they not rued it? Let yon engine tell: - (_pointing to the scaffold in the distance_.) - What I have been since then mankind have seen, - But could they see the scorpion that hath fed - Where once a heart beat in this breast of mine, - They would not marvel at my past career. - I quit the world with only one regret, {309} - I would have shown them how the scrivener, - Who with his tongue and pen hath rack'd this land, - Could plague it with a sword. Had yonder cowards - Who vainly hope to save themselves, but stood - As prompt to follow me as I to lead them, - Our faction would have rallied. Might the cries - Of death and rapine through this blazing city - Have been my funeral knell I had gladly died. - Then had they seen my spirit whelm'd and crush'd, - Yet gazing upward like the o'erthrown arch fiend - To a _loftier_ seat than that from which he fell. - But now---- - -_St. Just._--Regrets are useless! such as we - May not join hands or say farewell, like others; - But since we die together, let us face - This reptile crowd, like men who've been their lords, - And show them, though they slay, they cannot daunt - Those who were born to sway their destinies. - (_men and women surrounding the cart_.) - -_1st Woman._--Descend to hell, I triumph in thy death! - Die, thou accurs'd of every wife and mother! - May every orphan's wail ring in thy ears, - And every widow's cry, and matron's groan! - -_2d Woman._--Thine execution maddens me with joy: - Monster, depart--perish, even in thy crimes, - And may our curses sink thee into depths - Whence even omnipotent mercy will not raise thee! - (_they shout and hiss him_.) - -_Robes._--Silence awhile these shouts, unfetter'd slaves, - Hear his last words, whose name but yesterday - Struck terror to your souls! Dare ye so soon - Think that your lives are safe, and I still breathing? - Deem ye the blow that speeds my dissolution - And gives my body to the elements, - Will be the signal to call freedom hither? - Will peace and virtue dwell among ye _then_? - Never! ye bondmen of your own vile passions; - For crested serpents are as meet to range - At large and poison-fang'd among mankind, - As ye who claim a birthright to be free. - Thank your own thirst of plunder and of blood, - That I, and such as I, could reign in France. - A tyrant ye _must_ have. I have been _one_, - And _such_ a one, that ages hence shall gaze, - Awe-struck on my pre-eminence in blood, - And men shall, marvelling, ask of your descendants - If that my name and deeds be not a fable. - I die--and, Frenchmen, triumph while you may! - The man breathes now and walks abroad among ye, - Who shall be my successor. I can see - Beyond the tomb--and when ye dare to rise - And beard the tyrant faction, now victorious, - His rule commences. He shall spill more blood - In one short day to crush your hopes of freedom, - Than I in half my reign--but God himself - Ne'er had the homage ye shall render _him_. - Champions of freedom, ye shall _worship_ him, - And in the name of liberty be plunder'd - Of all for which your sons have fought and died; - And in the name of glory he shall lead ye - On to perdition, and when ye have plac'd - Your necks beneath his feet, shall spend like dust - Your treasures and pour forth your bravest blood - To be the scourge of nations and of kings. - And he shall plant your eagles in the west, - And spread your triumphs even to northern snow, - Tormenting man and trampling every law, - Divine and human, till the very name - Of Frenchmen move to nought but hate and scorn. - Then heaven with storms, and earth with all her armies - Shall rise against ye, and the o'erwhelming tide - Of your vast conquests ebb in shame and ruin. - Then--false to honor, native land, and chief!-- - Ye who could swarm like locusts on the earth - For glory or for plunder, shall desert, - Or Judas-like betray, the cause of freedom, - And tamely crouch to your now banish'd king, - When foreign swords instale him in his throne: - And laugh and sing while Prussians and Cossacks - Parade the streets of this vice-branded city, - And see without a blush the Austrian flag - And England's banner float o'er Notre Dame. - - Bye-word among the nations! Fickle France! - Distant and doubtful is your day of freedom, - If ever it shall dawn, which it ne'er will, - Until ye learn, what my hate would not teach ye. - On, to the scaffold! May my blood infect - With its fierce mania every human heart-- - Mourn'd as I am by none! May ye soon prove - Another ruler o'er this land like me. - - - - -WOMAN. - - -To woman is assigned the second grade in the order of created -beings. Man occupies the first, and to him she looks for earthly -support, protection, and a "present help" in time of need. The -stations which they occupy--the pursuits which they should engage -in--the legitimate aim to which their thoughts and wishes should -tend, are widely different, yet inseparably connected. To show the -error so prevalent in respect to these subjects, the improper mode -of education so generally adopted, and if possible, to assign to -woman her proper sphere, privileges and pursuits, is the object of -the present sketch. We have stated that woman is second _only_ in -the scale of created beings, and proceed to examine, first, the -important station which she occupies--secondly, the means usually -adopted for preparing her for this station--thirdly, the results -produced by those means--fourthly, the proper means--and lastly, -endeavor to illustrate the ideas advanced by the testimony of -history, and the observations drawn from real life. - -1st. The important stations which she occupies. A daughter, a -sister--the friend and companion of both sexes and all ages--the -wife, the mistress, the mother--stations high, honorable, important. - -In the second place, we will examine the means usually adopted for -preparing her for these elevated and important duties. View her -first the helpless infant--her heart uncorrupted by external -influences, and her mind, like the unsullied mirror, to be made the -reflector of those images and lessons, to which it is to be -subjected and exposed. Soon, however, the innocence of the infant -gives way to the frowardness and turbulence of the child. Generally, -no restraints of a salutary nature have been exercised over her -mind. The hacknied axiom, that "she is too young to understand," has -prevented any examination into her powers of perception or -reflection, and she has been left to follow {310} the desires of her -own heart. The petulance of a nurse, impatience or thoughtlessness -of a mother, may have frequently thwarted her little plans, or -denied her some indulgence. Her feelings were most frequently soured -by these restraints, ill humor or obstinacy was the usual -result--both either suffered to pass by unnoticed, or treated in a -manner calculated to engender feelings and passions, which in future -life are destined to exercise a powerful and painful influence over -her own happiness and that of others. Soon the child exchanges the -nursery for the school room. If her circumstances in life are -prosperous and _refined_, humorous studies and indiscriminately -selected accomplishments are forced upon her mind, or crowded upon -her hands; the former, impaired by early neglect, and enervated by -improper indulgences, is wholly incompetent to the task assigned it. -A superficial knowledge of many things is the usual result, while -her vanity, long fed by the praises of menials and imprudent -commendations of friends, visitors, &c. steps in and whispers to her -credulous ear, that she _is_, or _will_ be, all that woman _can_ or -_ought_ to be. During these school-day exercises, her mind has -frequently been edified by relations of future scenes of pleasure in -ball-rooms, theatres, assemblies, &c.--that she may shine in them -being the object of her present course of study; while tales of -rivalry, conquest, hatred and revenge, are frequently related in her -presence, or placed in her hands; things which, if not really -praiseworthy in themselves, are related and heard with an _eclat_, -that induces the belief that they are the inevitable attendants on -fashionable pleasures and high life. If a stimulant is applied to -urge her on to diligence, it is to excel some companion, or some -other like inducement, which must inevitably foster feelings of envy -or emulation, calculated to poison the fountain from which is to -flow the future stream of life. Such is a fashionable or popular -education. The next stage on which we behold her, is the broad -theatre of gay life. The duties of the daughter and sister she was -never taught, and is now acting under her third station--that of the -companion and friend of both sexes and most ages. If possessed of -personal attractions, she moves about--the little magnet of her -circle. Meeting with no events to arouse evil passions, she contents -herself with exercising a petty tyranny over the hearts of the -admiring swains, who follow, bow to, and flatter her. After a few -brief months or years of pleasure, she determines to marry; and at -length selects from her _train_ the wealthiest, handsomest, or most -admired of her suitors. Her heart has no part in this transaction. -Ignorant of the nature of love--ignorant of the principles necessary -to ensure happiness in the married state, she remains ignorant of -the exalting, ennobling influence, which it exercises over minds -capable of appreciating or enjoying its blessings. She is now the -wife--the mistress--the mother. Thus are rapidly crowded on her -duties, for which she was never prepared by education, and which she -is consequently incompetent to perform. Perhaps, for a season, the -current of her life runs smooth. Her husband--either blindly devoted -to her, or bent on the gratification of his own pleasures--allows -her unrestrained to mingle in the same pleasures and gay scenes in -which he found her. She is still seemingly amiable, and perhaps -considered quite a notable woman by the most of her companions. - -But a change comes! the sun of prosperity withdraws his rays. She is -now forced to abandon that, which has hitherto formed all her -happiness. Need I describe the result. Her heart, unaccustomed to -disappointments or restraints, unfortified by holy principles, -unsustained by mental resources, and perhaps too little influenced -by conjugal devotion or maternal tenderness, either frets away the -smile of peace and rose of health; or, sunk in self-consuming -mortification, envy or some unholy passion, abandons itself to the -darkness of despair, the rust of inactivity, or the canker of -discontent. Her husband, if his pride and principles have survived -his ruined prospects, may struggle for a time to keep up the dignity -of a man; but his heart is chilled, his exertions are -paralyzed--domestic happiness he cannot find, and too frequently he -is driven abroad in search of those comforts and that peace, which -can be found at home alone. - -This is no ideal picture--it is only one of the thousands which may -be found in real life. If we leave our own land and direct our -attention to those countries where women hold the reins of state, we -will only see the principles of early education more powerfully -displayed. Among savage nations (and what but want of early culture -makes a savage?) see the horrid Zingha, queen of Matamba and Angola. -Nursed in scenes of carnage and blood, what could she be but a -monster, the existence of whom would fain be believed to have sprung -but in the heated imagination of a dream? In a more civilized -country, behold Christina of Sweden. She was reared by her father to -be any thing but a useful woman. She knew no restraint when young, -and when she ascended the throne, knew no law but her own will--and -what was the result? Despised at home, and finding that even on a -throne she must in self-defence yield some of her feelings to -demands of others, rather than do so she abdicated it, and leaving -her native land, roamed among other nations, a reproach to her sex -and a general object of disgust. Look at Mary, Queen of England. Her -first lessons were malice and revenge, and faithfully did she -practise them when exalted to power. And we may name the beautiful -Anne Boleyn. Ambition was the goal to which all her early energies -were directed, and to ambition she sacrificed honor, humanity, and -eventually her life. In more modern times, the lovely lady Mary W. -Montague may be noticed. Endowed with talents, accomplishments, -beauty, rank, fortune, she seemed formed to move a bright and -favored star in the world's horizon. But no early discipline had -prepared her to be happy. United to a man who idolized her, and whom -she loved--what but the want of self-control and submission to the -will of others, caused her separation from a husband every way -worthy of her? But why enumerate other cases? These are but a few, -taken from among thousands of both modern and ancient times. - -In the fourth place, we proceed to point out the remedy for these -evils, by briefly shewing some of the proper plans to be adopted in -education. We again assert, that in the nursery are first sown the -seeds of future character. Where is the prudent and observing -parent, that will not acknowledge, that at a very early age the -infant is capable of forming good or bad habits, and of -discriminating between the approbation or {311} displeasure shown -towards it. None, we presume, will gainsay this point. As soon then -as this intelligence on the part of a child is discovered, so soon -does a parent's duties begin, and if faithfully discharged, the task -of rearing up a useful and ornamental member of society, will be -found comparatively easy. - -If taught then to yield its desires to parental wishes and -commands--taught that the path of duty is the path of -pleasure--convinced by every day's experience that the object of all -restraints is her good, and proving continually that her happiness -is her parent's great delight, she soon becomes, both by habit and -nature, submissive,--and consequently is at peace with herself and -all around her. If a sister, early does she learn, that affection -and tenderness to those so closely united to her, is a duty, the -performance of which, brings a sweet reward. Gradually are her -duties enlarging, and gradually is she prepared by judicious -government and good habits, to fulfil them. - -When the nursery is exchanged for the school room, easy is the task -to lead that child on from knowledge to knowledge. The mind is not -crowded with many and incongruous studies--but gradually is it -enlarged, and its wants supplied by a well regulated course. If in a -situation to permit the acquirement of ornamental branches, she is -taught to regard them as the light dressings of the mind, intended -not to interfere with what is useful and solid, but as a recreation -and source of future pleasure to herself and friends. When the -mental powers are sufficiently expanded, to digest what is presented -to them, books of general knowledge and taste are allowed, while the -manners have been formed by good society, and the ideas arranged by -conversation, &c. If intended to mingle in a gay circle for a -season, her character is so formed as to be able to resist, in a -great degree, the snares to which such scenes usually expose the -young and thoughtless. Taught to regard these things as trifles -compared to the other pursuits of life, she enjoys without abusing -them, and willingly returns to the sweet domestic fireside, and the -pleasures and amusements within her own bosom. - -The feelings which will exist between that daughter and her parents, -deserve to be considered. The filial care and tenderness which was -exercised over her mind, will not be forgotten or unrepaid. In all -times of doubt or difficulty, to a parent's bosom and counsel will -she fly, as her surest refuge. If about to settle in life, prudence -and the heart directs her choice. To her parents she confides the -feelings and hopes that agitate her bosom. On their judgment she -relies, and knowing their sentiments are governed by the desire to -see her happy, she is prepared to weigh all their reasons, and to -act with prudence. She was early taught to reflect, and is now -capable of acting, with dignity. Her heart is capable of _love_--she -has been taught the nature of the flame, and the only solid grounds -on which it could be reared. She is capable of discriminating -between a man of _ton_ and a man of worth. Most generally, such a -woman will marry well. The man of lightness, dissipation and folly, -rarely seeks her hand. He may and does admire her, but he feels his -own inferiority, and rarely wishes to form such an alliance. - -The man of sense, of virtue, and of solidity, would seek such a -companion to share his pleasure and sooth his pain. Mutual -sympathies would engender mutual esteem, and on that foundation it -is easy, very easy to rear the altar of love. A union formed with -such feelings would most generally prove a happy one. If prosperous, -such a woman is qualified to use without abusing her blessings. The -lessons learnt at her first _home_ would be practised in her second, -and she would be likely to discharge with credit the duties of a -wife, a mother, and a mistress. If misfortunes came, she would be -prepared to brave the storm. Her affections, never set on earthly -pleasures and splendid scenes, would relinquish them without grief. -Her mind, stored with useful and ornamental information, would -furnish a treasury from whence her family and herself could draw -with profit and delight. In the humblest vale of poverty, such a -woman would be a blessing to her whole circle of associates, and in -most cases preserve the affection of her husband and raise a family, -respectable and useful. This too is no ideal picture. Such women -have been found in all ages, and such women may be raised up in -almost every circle of society. If denied the extended advantage -meant by a liberal or elegant education, the principles here laid -down may be carried to the peasant's cottage, as well as to the -splended domes of the rich and great. Among the biographies of women -in all civilized nations, many beautiful examples might be adduced. - -Among the wives and mothers of our own land a rich collection might -be found. One thing is here worthy of record. In tracing the history -of nearly all the great men, with whose history we are acquainted, -whether remarkable for valor, piety, or any other noble attribute, -to a mother's influence is their eminence to be attributed, in a -greater or less degree. But it is needless to enumerate instances on -this occasion, as our sketch is already extended beyond the intended -limits. Should it give rise to inquiry and serious investigation on -this important subject, or furnish a hint worthy the attention of -the serious and anxious parent, the utmost ambition of the author -will be realized. - -PAULINA. - - - - -LINES TO ----. - - - While yet the ling'ring blush of day - Hangs sweetly on the brow of even, - And birds and flowers their homage pay - In song and incense breathed to heaven, - Accept this tribute of a friend, - Whose heart of hearts for thee is glowing; - Who prays thy path of life may wend - Through light, and flowers forever blowing. - - I've seen the midnight Cereus bloom; - Th' admiring throng around it gathered, - And ere they dreampt its rapid doom, - It breathed, it bloomed, collapsed and withered! - Thus youth and beauty fill the eye, - Dear lady! oft in bloomy weather, - And time scarce rolls the season by, - When with the leaf they fade together. - - Though nature 'wails the dying leaf, - And sorrows o'er her silent bowers, - She soon forgets her gloom and grief - When dew-eyed spring revives her flowers; {312} - But when affection weeps for one, - Whose daily life new charms imparted, - Alas! what power beneath the sun - Can cheer the lone--the broken-hearted! - - Friendship and love must ever mourn - The faded wreath of promised pleasure, - And though the flow'ers of hope lie torn - Fond mem'ry hoards the heart's lost treasure. - Oh! cherish then, that vestal flow'r! - Simplicity, dear maiden, cherish! - 'Twill shed a fragrance o'er the hour - When all thy mortal charms shall perish! - -M. - - - - -READINGS WITH MY PENCIL. - -No. III. - - Legere sine calamo est dormire.--_Quintilian_. - - -21. "There is a pride, in being left behind, to find resources -within, which others seek without."--_Washington Irving_. - -I have pondered a good deal on this passage, and find a beautiful -moral in what, when I first read it, I was fain to fancy but a -misanthropic, or, at the least, an unsocial sentiment. I now feel -and acknowledge its truth. "There _is_ a pride in being left behind, -to find resources within, which others seek without." What concern -have I in the greater brightness that another's name is shedding? -Let them shine on whose honor is greater. Their orbit cannot -interfere with mine. There may be something very grand and sublime -in the wide sweep of Herschel and Saturn: but planets, whose path is -smaller, are more cheered by the rays of light and warmth from the -sun, which is the centre of their revolutions. - -22. "Oh the hopeless misery of March in America. Poetry, taste, -fancy, feeling,--all are chilled by that ever-snowing sky, that ever -snow clad earth. Man were happy could he be a mole for the nonce, -and so sleep out this death-in-life, an American six months' -winter."--_Subaltern in America_. - -What a querulous noodle! He is one of those who can "travel from Dan -to Beersheba, and cry, All is barren!" It is March, and "March in -America," while I write. The air is bracing and full of reviving -springlike influences. I disagree with the would-be mole from whom I -quote. I love to watch every month's sweep of the sun,--while he is -performing his low wintry arc, as if almost ashamed to revolve -around the cheerless earth, and while he daily performs a wider and -wider circle, until at length he comes to stand nearly over my head -at noon. I enjoy the result the more intensely for watching its -progress. I love to watch him gradually calling out the green on the -black hills around me, whose only beauty now are the narrow stripes -of fading snow, forming white borders that intersect each other, -thus dividing the mould into something not altogether void of the -picturesque. So, on yonder field, where the sun now shines quite -cheeringly, there is a remnant of beauty. The dead grass, with its -yellow and reddish tinge, is divided by small crystal ponds and -canals, glistening in the bright ray, and seeming like the gratitude -of the poor,--able to return but little, yet determined to return -that little gladly. - -23. "There is no motion so graceful as that of a beautiful girl in -the mazy meanderings of the dance. Nature cannot furnish a more -perfect illustration of the poetry of motion than this."--_Ibid._ - -Yes she can. I will give the traveller two far more perfect -illustrations. The _on deggiando_ movement of a light breeze, as it -passes, wave upon wave, over high grass: and the gradual and rapid -passing away of a shadow, when the sun leaves a cloud, from a hill -side of rich foliage. - -24. "I have been thinking, more and more, of the probability of -departed friends' watching over those whom they have left -behind."--_Henry Kirk White_. - -I have often done so; and whether the idea be a delusive one or not, -there is no delusion in believing that the Deity sees them and us at -the same instant. They turn, and we turn, at the same moment, to -him, and thus through him we enjoy a communion. If two hearts were -once preserved in reciprocal love by contemplating, when parted from -each other, the same star, how close will be the bond with those who -have gone before us, when, at such a distance, we are worshipping -the same God! - -25. "_When one is angry, and edits a paper_, I should think the -temptation too strong for literary, _which is not always human -nature_."--_Lord Byron_. - -There is a couple of young Irishmen who "edit a paper" not far from -the place of this present writing, who might furnish a striking -corroboration of this opinion of the noble poet. Think of a couple -of boobies, pretending to be oracles in literature, wreaking their -petty vengeance upon the productions of one against whom they have a -personal pique! Such and so contemptible are some of the "critics!" -God save the mark! of this generation! - -J. F. O. - - - - -LINES TO ----. - - - Lady!--afar yet loved the more-- - My spirit ever hovers near, - And haunts in dreams the distant shore - That prints at eve thy footstep dear. - - And say--when musing by the tide, - Beneath the quiet twilight sky, - Wilt thou forget all earth beside - And mark my memory with a sigh? - - The wind that wantons in thy hair-- - The wave that murmurs at thy feet, - Shall whisper to thy dreaming ear - An answer--loving--true and meet. - - Oh! fancy not if from thy bower - I tarry now a weary while, - My heart e'er owns another's power - Or sighs to win a stranger's smile. - - Those gentle eyes, which in my dream, - With unforgotten love still shine-- - Shall never glance a sadder beam - Nor dim with tears for change of mine. - - I gaze not on a cloud, nor flower - That is not eloquent of thee-- - The very calm of twilight's hour - Seems voiceless with thy memory. - - Like waves that dimple o'er the stream - And ripple to the shores around, - Each wandering wish--each hope--each dream - Steals unto thee--their utmost bound. {313} - - Oh! think of me when day light dies - Among the far Hesperian bowers-- - But most of all 'neath silent skies, - When weep the stars o'er earth's dim flowers. - - When the mysterious holiness - Which spell-like lulls the silent air, - Steals to the heart with power to bless, - And hallows every feeling there. - - - - -A TALE OF JERUSALEM. - -BY EDGAR A. POE. - - Intensos rigidam in frontem ascendere canos - Passus erat------ _Lucan_--_de Catone_. - - ------a bristly _bore_------ _Translation_. - - -"Let us hurry to the walls"--said Abel-Shittim to Buzi-Ben-Levi, and -Simeon the Pharisee, on the tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the -year of the world three thousand nine hundred and forty-one--"let us -hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of Benjamin, which is in -the city of David, and overlooking the camp of the -uncircumcised--for it is the last hour of the fourth watch, being -sunrise; and the idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey, -should be awaiting us with the lambs for the sacrifices." - -Simeon, Abel-Shittim, and Buzi-Ben-Levi were the Gizbarim, or -Sub-Collectors of the offering in the holy city of Jerusalem. - -"Verily"--replied the Pharisee--"let us hasten: for this generosity -in the heathen is unwonted; and fickle-mindedness has ever been an -attribute of the worshippers of Baal." - -"That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is as true as the -Pentateuch"--said Buzi-Ben-Levi--"but that is only towards the -people of Adonai. When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved -wanting to their own interest? Methinks it is no great stretch of -generosity to allow us lambs for the altar of the Lord, receiving in -lieu thereof thirty silver shekels per head!" - -"Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi"--replied Abel-Shittim--"that -the Roman Pompey, who is now impiously beseiging the City of the -Most High, has no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus -purchased for the altar to the sustenance of the body, rather than -of the spirit." - -"Now by the five corners of my beard"--shouted the Pharisee, who -belonged to the sect called The Dashers (that little knot of saints -whose manner of _dashing_ and lacerating the feet against the -pavement was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees--a -stumbling block to less gifted perambulators)--"by the five corners -of that beard which as a priest I am forbidden to shave!--have we -lived to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous upstart of -Rome shall accuse us of appropriating to the appetites of the flesh -the most holy and consecrated elements? Have we lived to see the day -when"---- - -"Let us not question the motives of the Philistine"--interrupted -Abel-Shittim--"for to-day we profit for the first time by his -avarice or by his generosity. But rather let us hurry to the -ramparts, lest offerings should be wanting for that altar whose fire -the rains of Heaven cannot extinguish--and whose pillars of smoke no -tempest can turn aside." - - * * * * * - -That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarim now hastened, and -which bore the name of its architect King David, was esteemed the -most strongly fortified district of Jerusalem--being situated upon -the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here a broad, deep, -circumvallatory trench--hewn from the solid rock--was defended by a -wall of great strength erected upon its inner edge. This wall was -adorned, at regular interspaces, by square towers of white -marble--the lowest sixty--the highest one hundred and twenty cubits -in height. But in the vicinity of the gate of Benjamin the wall -arose by no means immediately from the margin of the fosse. On the -contrary, between the level of the ditch and the basement of the -rampart, sprang up a perpendicular cliff of two hundred and fifty -cubits--forming part of the precipitous Mount Moriah. So that when -Simeon and his associates arrived on the summit of the tower called -Adoni-Bezek--the loftiest of all the turrets around about Jerusalem, -and the usual place of conference with the beseiging army--they -looked down upon the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling, -by many feet, that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and, by several, that -of the Temple of Belus. - - * * * * * - -"Verily"--sighed the Pharisee, as he peered dizzily over the -precipice--"the uncircumcised are as the sands by the sea shore--as -the locusts in the wilderness! The valley of The King hath become -the valley of Adommin." - -"And yet"--added Ben-Levi--"thou canst not point me out a -Philistine--no, not one--from Aleph to Tau--from the wilderness to -the battlements--who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!" - -"Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!"--here shouted a -Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough voice, which appeared to issue from -the regions of Pluto--"lower away the basket with that accursed coin -which it has broken the jaw of a noble Roman to pronounce! Is it -thus you evince your gratitude to our master Pompeius, who, in his -condescension, has thought fit to listen to your idolatrous -importunities? The God Phœbus, who is a true God, has been charioted -for an hour--and were you not to have been on the ramparts by -sunrise? Ædepol! do you think that we, the conquerors of the world, -have nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls of every -kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth? Lower away! I -say--and see that your trumpery be bright in color, and just in -weight!" - -"El Elohim!"--ejaculated the Pharisee, as the discordant tones of -the centurion rattled up the crags of the precipice, and fainted -away against the Temple--"El Elohim!--_who_ is the God -Phœbus?--_whom_ doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi! who -art read in the laws of the Gentiles, and hast sojourned among them -who dabble with the Teraphim!--is it Nergal of whom the idolater -speaketh?--or Ashimah?--or Nibhaz?--or Tartak?--or Adramalech?--or -Anamalech?--or Succoth-Benoth?--or Dagon?--or Belial?--or -Baal-Perith?--or Baal-Peor?--or Baal-Zebub?" - -"Verily, it is neither--but beware how thou lettest the rope slip -too rapidly through thy fingers--for should the wicker-work chance -to hang on the projection of {314} yonder crag, there will be a -woful outpouring of the holy things of the Sanctuary." - - * * * * * - -By the assistance of some rudely-constructed machinery, the -heavily-laden basket was now lowered carefully down among the -multitude--and, from the giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen -crowding confusedly around it--but, owing to the vast height and the -prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their operations could be -obtained. - -A half-hour had already elapsed. - -"We shall be too late"--sighed the Pharisee, as, at the expiration -of this period, he looked over into the abyss--"we shall be too -late--we shall be turned out of office by the Katholim." - -"No more"--responded Abel-Shittim--"no more shall we feast upon the -fat of the land--no longer shall our beards be odorous with -frankincense--our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple." - -"Raca!"--swore Ben-Levi--"Raca!--do they mean to defraud us of the -purchase-money?--or, Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of -the tabernacle?" - -"They have given the signal at last"--roared the Pharisee--"they -have given the signal at last!--pull away! Abel-Shittim!--and thou, -Buzi-Ben-Levi! pull away!--for verily the Philistines have either -still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts -to place therein a beast of good weight!" And the Gizbarim pulled -away, while their burthen swung heavily upwards through the still -increasing mist. - - * * * * * - -"Booshoh he!"--as, at the conclusion of an hour, some object at the -extremity of the rope became indistinctly visible--"Booshoh -he!"--was the exclamation which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi. - -"Booshoh he!--for shame!--it is a ram from the thickets of Engedi, -and as rugged as the valley of Jehosaphat!" - -"It is a firstling of the flock," said Abel-Shittim--"I know him by -the bleating of his lips, and the innocent folding of his limbs. His -eyes are more beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral--and his -flesh is like the honey of Hebron." - -"It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan"--said the -Pharisee--"the Heathen have dealt wonderfully with us--let us raise -up our voices in a psalm--let us give thanks on the shawm and on the -psaltery--on the harp and on the huggab--on the cythern and on the -sackbut." - -It was not until the basket had arrived within a few feet of the -Gizbarim that a low grunt betrayed to their perception a _hog_ of no -common size. - -"Now El Emanu!"--slowly, and with upturned eyes ejaculated the trio, -as, letting go their hold, the emancipated porker tumbled headlong -among the Philistines--"El Emanu!--God be with us!--it is the -unutterable flesh!" - -"Let me no longer," said the Pharisee wrapping his cloak around him -and departing within the city--"let me no longer be called Simeon, -which signifieth 'he who listens'--but rather Boanerges, 'the Son of -Thunder.'" - - - - -Lucian calls unmeaning verbosity, _anemonæ verborum_. The anemone, -with great brilliancy, has no fragrance. - - - - -LEAVES FROM MY SCRAP BOOK. - - -I. - - "I think Homer, as a poet, inferior to Scott." - _T. C. Grimckè--Pamphlet_. - -The gentleman whose words I have just used, maintained on all -occasions the superiority of modern over ancient literature. He -prefers the better portions of Milman's "Samor, Lord of the Bright -City," to the better portions of the Odyssey; and contends that -"Scott's description of the battle of Flodden Hill, the midnight -visit of William of Deloraine to Melrose Abbey, &c., are unequalled -by anything in the Iliad or Æneid." - -Now such comparisons are plainly unreasonable. "To read Homer's -poems, is to look upon a brightly colored nosegay whose odor is -departed," or, if not departed, at least lost to our dull and -ignorant sense. The subtle odor of idiom and provincial -peculiarity--the stronger odor of association are entirely lost to -us. I may better illustrate my idea. Every one will recollect the -following couplet in the description of William of Deloraine: - - "A stark moss-trooping Scot was he, - As e'er couched border lance by knee." - -Reversing the order of things, suppose these lines read by a Greek -of twenty-seven centuries ago; suppose him even well acquainted with -the English tongue--could he appreciate their beauty? Let the Greek -attempt to _translate_ the lines into his own language. He begins -with _stark_. The nice excellence of this word he knows nothing of. -He finds that its meaning is somewhere between _stout_ and _swift_, -and gives the Greek word "οχυς." The first downward step has been -taken. He next pounces upon the term, _moss-troopers_. He translates -this "Ληστης ιπποτʼ ανδρειος." _Couched_, is an idiom which he -cannot translate; he gives us by way of equivalent, "εβαλλε." -_Border lance_, is beyond his version. He contents himself with a -simple "δορυ,"--for how is the word _Border_ to be translated? It is -a word depending on collateral matters for its meaning. These -matters--involving the storied reyd and feud--must be known before -the word can be understood; and twenty centuries would blot out all -remembrance of the Percy and Douglas feuds. The word _Border_ is -therefore, wholly lost in the version. - -The Greek version would read when completed-- - - Ληστης, καλεδονος οχυς ην ιπποτʼ ανδρειος - ʼΟυ, το δορυ μηδεις αθεμιστον, αμεινον εβαλλε, - -which may be re-translated into - - This Scot was a swift horse-riding robber, - And no one balanced spear by knee better, - ---verses as little resembling the original as "an eyas does a true -hawk." - -Translated into Latin, the original lines would read - - Scotticus fuit eques, strenuus raptoque pollutus - Quo nullus hastam a genu tam apte librabat, - -as great a failure as the Greek. - -If Scott would suffer so much in the eyes of the Greek and Latin -reader, it is only fair to presume that Homer and Virgil suffer as -much in our eyes. - -We perceive the merits of our modern poet; we are blind to the -merits of the ancient. We are consequently incapable of judging -between them. Mr. Grimckè's comparison is unreasonable. - - -{315} II. - -"Humility is certainly beautiful, but vanity is not always -uncomely."--_Anon._ - -It is singular how little we appreciate the humility of some men. -Launce says, "I am an ass," and we, coinciding with him in the -sentiment, scarcely think of giving him credit for his humility. We -perhaps take the trouble to approve of his want of vanity--but this -is only a negative sort of approbation. Humility seems such a man's -province--as natural to him as the grass to a snail. To be -appreciated, humility must manifest itself in high natures. We are -captivated by the spectacle of highness contenting itself with -lowliness. The grass is natural to the snail, but the home of the -lark is the sky--and when he descends to the meadow, we, mindful of -his fleetness of pinion, marvel at his descent and love him for his -simple humility. The "great Lyttleton" was a man of the most perfect -modesty. A fine specimen of this may be found in the last paragraph -of his work upon the English laws, "And know, my son, that I would -not have thee believe, that all which I have said in these bookes is -law, for I will not presume to take this upon me. But of those -things which are not law, inquire and learn of my wise masters -learned in the law." Sir John Mandeville, who wrote in the -fourteenth century, was also remarkable for his modesty as a writer. -I will quote a fine sample of it. "I, John Maundeville, knyghte -aboveseyd (alle thoughe I be unworthi) have passed manye londes, and -many yles and contrees, and cerched manye fulle straunge places, and -have ben in manye a fulle gode honourable companye, and at manye a -faire dede of armes--alle be it that I dide none myself, for myn -unable insuffisance--etc." - -VANITY in a weak man is disgusting; all pretension is disgusting. -But "vanity is not always uncomely." The vanity of a strong man is -sometimes beautiful. I remember an instance or two of this beautiful -vanity. Some lines of Spenser--a part, I believe, of the preface to -his Dreams of Petrarch, occur to me. - - "This thing he writ who framed a calendar; - Who eke inscribed on monument of brass - Words brillianter than lighte of moon or star - And destinyed to lyve till alle things pass." - -Southey too has given us a magnificent specimen of vanity in the -opening to "Madoc," - - "Come listen to a tale of times of old: - _Come, for ye know me; I am he who framed - Of Thalaba the wild and wondrous song._" - -The younger D'Israeli has placed in the mouth of Vivian Grey some -expressions which, regarded as outbreaks of lofty confidence, and -youthful reliance upon self, are strikingly beautiful. I refer more -particularly to the page or paragraph ending with the words--"_and -have I not skill to play upon that noblest of all instruments--the -human voice?_" - - -III. - -"Love, despair, ambition, and peace, spring up like trees from the -soil of our natures."--_E. Irving_. - -This idea, by a "singular coincidence," has been carried out in the -Chinese novel, 'Yu-Kiao-Li, or the Adventures of Red Jasper and -Dream of a Peartree,'--_traduit par M. Abel Remusat_. I translate -from the French translation. - -"In a fresh soil under a pleasant sky--clouded, but spanned by a -rainbow--grew a green tree. Its branches were beautifully fashioned, -and wore leaves which seemed to be chiselled from emerald. The -moonlight fell upon the tree, and so intense was the reflection that -every portion of the surrounding scenery took upon itself a gaudy -and happy coloring. This tree was _Love_--it grew from the soil of a -young nature. Alas! its life cannot be the life of the amaranth. - -"The second tree was in a soil torn up and bruised--the plants of -which were freezing under a cold wind. Its branches were matted and -black. No light penetrated them. The sky above was of ebony. The -rainbow was not there. This tree was _Despair_. Alas! for the beauty -of Love! Is it not pushed from its stool by Despair? - -"The third tree was in a soil firm to the eye, but undermined by the -molewarp. Its scathed branches were entombed in the sky. Its peak, -jealous of the eagle, out-towered him. About its stem, and through -its haughty boughs a strange light played. It was neither the light -of the sun nor yet the light of the moon. It was a false glare--a -glare greatest about the region of decay. This tree was _Ambition_. -Alas! for the pride and the haughty yearning of mortal men! - -"In the healthy soil of a valley, on which the eye of a bright day -seemed ever open, grew the fourth tree. Its branches neither towered -haughtily nor stooped slavishly. Health was in every bough; and lo! -the rainbow which had fallen from the sky of Despair had surely been -imprisoned among its leaves. The wind fanned these leaves healthily -and their transparent cups teinted by the sunlight--as red wines -teint the fine vases of porcelain--were beautiful to behold. This -tree was _Peace_. The moonlight of Love may grow dim; the sky of -Despair is of ebony; the light of Ambition dies in the ashes of its -fuel; but the sunlight of Peace is the light of an eye ever open. -The head may be white and bowed down, but the threads of the -angel-woven rainbow are wrapped about the heart of peaceful and holy -Eld." - - -IV. - -"The chiefest constituent of human beauty is the hair; after which -in degree is to be ranked the eye; and lastly come the color and the -texture of the skin. The varieties of these, cause it to happen that -not unfrequently men differ in opinion as to what is comely and what -is uncomely; this man maintaining black to be the better color for -the hair as for the eye; that man maintaining a lighter color to be -the better for both."--_Burton_. - -Poets are generally persons of taste, and if we could find one of -them certainly unbiassed by early recollections and the thousand -trifles which warp taste, we might consider his judgment in regard -to "the rival colors of the hair," as going far to exalt the color -of his choice above its rivals. But the first of the modern -philosophers loved squinting eyes because in his youth he had been -in love with a little girl who squinted; and no taste is free from -the influence of early recollections. Spenser's cousin, the lady who -discarded him, "had hair of a flaxen hue." He ever after preferred -this "hue," to all others. Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald was "of a -stately person and gifted with pale glossy hair, with a sunny tinge -about it." Lord Surrey sang of these "mixed ringlets" until the day -of his death. I do not know that Ben. Jonson ever had a sweetheart, -but he surely had a taste as good as if it had never been biassed by -love for one. He speaks very well of-- - - "Crisped hair - Cast in a thousand snares and rings - For love's fingers and his wings: - Chesnut color or more slack - _Gold upon a ground of black_." - -Leigh Hunt says that Lucrecia Borgia had hair "perfectly golden." -Neither auburn nor red, but "perfectly {316} golden." He has written -some pretty verses upon a lock of this golden hair. He speaks of -each thread as, - - ----"meandering in pellucid gold." - -I forget the lines. This was the color beloved by a thousand poets; -and one was found who forgot in contemplating the rare masses that, -stained with it, lay upon the brow of Lucrecia Borgia, the "dark and -unbridled passions" which led her to the bed of one brother and to -the murder of another--and which have doomed her to "an immortality -of evil repute." - -Anacreon preferred auburn hair. - - "Deepening inwardly, a dun; - Sparkling golden next the sun," - -conveys nearly the same idea with that expressed in Jonson's "Gold -upon a ground of black." - -I have two or three more verses upon hair, which I recollect to have -seen in an old English poem. They are descriptive of "Hero the _nun -of Venus_--the lady beloved of Leander." These are the lines--three -in number, - - "Come listen to the tale of Hero young, - _Whom pale Apollo courted for her hair, - And offered as a dower his burning throne_." - -We often meet with double tastes. Tasso loved two Leonoras. Leonora -D'Este had a fair skin. The other was a brunette. - - "Bruna sei tu ma bella - Qual virgini viola." - -It is difficult to decide between the rival colors of the eye. This -difficulty is set forth in a little poem called the "Dilemma," which -I find in an old number of the New England Magazine. - - "I had a vision in my dreams, - I saw a row of twenty beams; - From every beam a rope was hung, - In every rope a lover swung. - I asked the hue of every eye - That bade each luckless lover die; - Ten livid lips said heavenly blue - And ten accused the darker hue." - -Before ending this "scrap" I will quote some sentences written by a -friend of my own long ago--a very eccentric man, and indeed a -melancholy one. He had been crossed in love, and could rarely speak -or write without recurring to the origin of his unhappiness. He had -a great many faults, but he is dead now, and has been so for many -years; I am not anxious to say any more about them. The paragraph -which I copy from his manuscript, is a portion of a flighty book, -the aim or meaning of which I could never discover. It owes its -fanciful extravagance, I rather think, to the influence of opium -upon the author's nerves. After pointing out the numerous -particulars in which "nature imitates our women," he proceeds to -observe after the following fashion, - - -"In the hair, nature is most an imitator. The cascade caressing the -precipice with the threads of its silver locks, which the teeth of -the granite comb have frizled, and which the winds play at gambol -with, is only a copy. So with the vine on the rock--the great vine -whose metallic tendrils I have looked on and wondered at when the -sunshine spanned them with a cloven halo. So with the drooping -moss--the _Barba Espagna_, with its drapery of gold held by threads -of spun alabaster, hanging in _hard_ festoons from the tree beside -the Lagoon and sighing when its hues die with the sunlight. And so -with the boughs of our weeping trees. O, but are not these last most -beautiful? Place your ear to the soft grass-blades on the brink of a -valley brook, and listen to the monotone of the willow's stirred -ringlets, and watch them as the wind lifts them from the eddy -beneath to float, bejewelled by adhering globules. And then look -upon them as with the abating wind they sink lower and lower, -leaving their cool rain upon your cheek. See them trail in the -pebbly waters and conjure up in each detached leaf an Elfin barque -laden with its rare boatmen and tiny beauties. Hear the tinkle of -the little bells and the shrieks of the wrecked mariners, as they -cling to the hair of the willow (as Zal clung to the locks of his -mistress) and splash the brook into foam. And now they leap to the -backs of their skipper steeds, and ply the spur of the thistle seed, -and gallop off for the green shore, wringing their hands and -bewailing the ill fate of their holiday trim. Such marvellous -fancies, if you are fanciful, will prick your brain until the drowsy -sough of the tree-hair and the renewed trickle of the raining spray -lend your eyes sleep and call forth the dream spirit, as the fly -from its cocoon, and give it the wings of wilder vagary to flutter -away withal--whither? _Mine_ would return to my wanderings by Goluon -with her whose tomb in the valley of sweet waters often pillows my -head." - - -Alas for my poor friend Bob! He died of a broken heart--that is to -say _mediately_. He died _im_-mediately of hard drinking. Napoleon -remembered the Seine on his death-bed and asked to be buried upon -its sunniest bank; Bob remembered Goluon when his great temples had -the death-damp upon them. His vision had failed him; his nose had -become peaked; his body, like a jaded and worn hack, had fallen -under the spirit, which like a stout horseman had long kept it to -its paces; but the little abiding place of memory had not been -destroyed, and poor Bob muttered at times of a dead lady with fair -hair--of a valley of sweet waters--of a grave with two willows above -it--of pleasant Goluon--and died with an unuttered prayer upon his -lips, and with a strong desire at his heart. The prayer was, that I, -his friend, would bury him between the two willows--on the evening -bank of Goluon--side by side with Betty Manning his old sweetheart. -Poor Bob! May God take kind care of his soul! - - -V. - - "I much lament that nevermore to me - Can come fleet pulse, bright heart, and frolic mood; - I much lament that nevermore may be - My tame step light, my wan cheek berry-hued." - -In the lines just quoted, the poet (old Philip Allen, a Welshman) -strikes the proper key. When we have ceased to derive pleasure from -that which once afforded it to us, we should regard the change as -_in ourselves_. The grass of the hill is as green as it ever was, -but the step once "light" has become "tame." The bird sings as -sweetly as ever, but the "bright heart" into which the "honey drops -of his constant song" once fell, has been dimmed and darkened by -human passions. The berry-clusters are still in the fringe of the -thicket, but the palate has no longer any relish for them. _We have -changed._ Yet we are apt to believe the change any where rather than -in ourselves. Indeed we are for the most part like Launcelot in the -play. - - -_Gobbo_.--"Lord worshipped might he be! What a beard hast thou got! -Thou hast more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my thill horse, has on -his tail." - -_Launcelot_.--"It would seem then that Dobbin's tail grows backward. -I am sure that he had more hair on his tail than I had on my face -when I last saw him." - - -It was the chin of Launcelot that had undergone the change, and not -the tail of his father Gobbo's thill horse Dobbin. - - -{317} - - -_Editorial_. - - -THE LOYALTY OF VIRGINIA. - -In our last number, while reviewing the Ecclesiastical History of -Dr. Hawks, we had occasion to speak of those portions of Mr. George -Bancroft's _United Slates_, which have reference to the loyalty of -Virginia immediately before and during the Protectorate of Cromwell. -Since the publication of our remarks, a personal interview with Mr. -Bancroft, and an examination, especially, of one or two passages in -his History, have been sufficient to convince us that injustice (of -course unintentional) has been done that gentleman, not only by -ourselves, but by Dr. Hawks and others. - -In our own review alluded to above, we concluded, in the following -words, a list of arguments adduced, _or supposed to be adduced_, in -proof of Virginia's disloyalty. - -"6. Virginia was infected with republicanism. She wished to set up -for herself. Thus intent, she demands of Berkeley a distinct -acknowledgment of her Assembly's supremacy. His reply was 'I am but -the servant of the Assembly.' Berkeley, therefore, was republican, -and his tumultuous election proves nothing but the republicanism of -Virginia." To which our reply was thus. - -"6. The reasoning here is reasoning in a circle. Virginia is first -declared republican. From this assumed fact, deductions are made -which prove Berkeley so--and Berkeley's republicanism, thus proved, -is made to establish that of Virginia. But Berkeley's answer (from -which Mr. Bancroft has extracted the words, 'I am but the servant of -the Assembly,') runs thus. 'You desire me to do that concerning your -titles and claims to land in this northern part of America, which I -am in no capacity to do: for I am but the servant of the Assembly: -neither do they arrogate to themselves any power farther than the -miserable distractions in England force them to. For when God shall -be pleased to take away and dissipate the unnatural divisions of -their native country, they will immediately return to their -professed obedience.'--_Smith's New York_. It will be seen that Mr. -Bancroft has been disingenuous in quoting only a _portion_ of this -sentence. _The whole_ proves incontestibly that neither Berkeley nor -the Assembly _arrogated to themselves any power beyond what they -were forced to assume by circumstances_--in a word it proves their -loyalty." - -We are now, however, fully persuaded that Mr. Bancroft had not only -no intention of representing Virginia as disloyal--but that his -work, closely examined, will not admit of such interpretation. As an -offset to our argument just quoted, we copy the following (the -passage to which our remarks had reference) from page 245 of Mr. -B.'s only published volume. - -"On the death of Matthews, the Virginians were without a chief -magistrate, just at the time when the resignation of Richard had -left England without a government. The burgesses, who were -immediately convened, resolving to become the arbiters of the fate -of the colony, enacted 'that the supreme power of the government of -this country shall be resident in the assembly, and all writs shall -issue in its name, until there shall arrive from England a -commission which the assembly itself shall adjudge to be lawful.' -This being done, Sir William Berkeley was elected governor, and -acknowledging the validity of the acts of the burgesses, whom it was -expressly agreed he could in no event dissolve, he accepted the -office to which he had been chosen, and recognized, without a -scruple, the authority to which he owed his elevation. 'I am,' said -he, 'but a servant of the assembly.' _Virginia did not lay claim to -absolute independence; but anxiously awaited the settlement of -affairs in England._" - -It will here be seen, that the words italicized beginning "Virginia -did not lay claim," &c. are very nearly, if not altogether -equivalent to what we assume as proved by _the whole_ of Berkeley's -reply, viz. _that neither Berkeley nor the Assembly arrogated to -themselves any power beyond what they were forced to assume by -circumstances_. Our charge, therefore, of disingenuousness on the -part of Mr. Bancroft in quoting only a portion of the answer, is -evidently unsustained, and we can have no hesitation in recalling -it. - -At page 226 of the History of the United States, we note the -following passage. - -"At Christmas, 1648, there were trading in Virginia, ten ships from -London, two from Bristol, twelve Hollanders, and seven from New -England. The number of the colonists was already twenty thousand; -and they, who had sustained no griefs, were not tempted to engage in -the feuds by which the mother country was divided. They were -attached to the cause of Charles, not because they loved monarchy, -but because they cherished the liberties of which he had left them -in undisturbed possession; and after his execution, though there -were not wanting _some_ who favored republicanism, _the government -recognized his son without dispute. The loyalty of the Virginians -did not escape the attention of the royal exile._ From his retreat -in Breda he transmitted to Berkeley a new commission, and _Charles -the Second, a fugitive from England, was still the sovereign of -Virginia_." - -This passage alone will render it evident that Mr. Bancroft's -readers have been wrong in supposing him to maintain the disloyalty -of the State. It cannot be denied, however, (and if we understand -Mr. B. he does not himself deny it,) that there is, about some -portions of his volume, an ambiguity, or perhaps a laxity of -expression, which it would be as well to avoid hereafter. The note -of Dr. Hawks we consider exceptionable, inasmuch as it is not -sufficiently explanatory. The passages in Mr. B.'s History which we -have noted above, and other passages equally decisive, were pointed -out to Dr. Hawks. He should have therefore not only stated that Mr. -B. disclaimed the intention of representing Virginia as republican, -but also that his work, if accurately examined, would not admit of -such interpretation. The question of Virginia's loyalty may now be -considered as fully determined. - - -CHIEF JUSTICE MARSHALL. - -It is with great pleasure, at the opportunity thus afforded us of -correcting an error, that we give place to the following letter. - - -_Philadelphia, March 25, 1836_. - -SIR,--A mistake, evidently unintentional, having appeared in the -February number of your journal for {318} this year, we feel -convinced you will, upon proper representation, take pleasure in -correcting it, as an impression so erroneous might have a -prejudicial tendency. Under the notice of the Eulogies on the Life -and Character of the late Chief Justice Marshall, it is there stated -that "for several years past Judge Marshall had suffered under a -most excruciating malady. A surgical operation by Dr. Physick of -Philadelphia at length procured him relief; but a hurt received in -travelling last Spring seems to have caused a return of the former -complaint with circumstances of aggravated pain and danger. Having -revisited Philadelphia in the hope of again finding a cure, his -disease there overpowered him, and he died on the 6th of July, 1835, -in the 80th year of his age." - -Now, sir, the above quotation is incorrect in the following respect: -Judge Marshall never had a return of the complaint for which he was -operated upon by Dr. Physick. After the demise of Chief Justice -Marshall, it became our melancholy duty to make a _post mortem_ -examination, which we did in the most careful manner, and -ascertained that his bladder did not contain one particle of -calculous matter; its mucous coat was in a perfectly natural state, -and exhibited not the slightest traces of irritation. - -The cause of his death was a very diseased condition of the liver, -which was enormously enlarged, and contained several tuberculous -abscesses of great size; its pressure upon the stomach had the -effect of dislodging this organ from its natural situation, and -compressing it in such a manner, that for some time previous to his -death it would not retain the smallest quantity of nutriment. By -publishing this statement, you will oblige - - Yours, very respectfully, - N. CHAPMAN, M.D. - J. RANDOLPH, M.D. - - _To T. W. White, Esq._ - - -MAELZEL'S CHESS-PLAYER. - -Perhaps no exhibition of the kind has ever elicited so general -attention as the Chess-Player of Maelzel. Wherever seen it has been -an object of intense curiosity, to all persons who think. Yet the -question of its _modus operandi_ is still undetermined. Nothing has -been written on this topic which can be considered as decisive--and -accordingly we find every where men of mechanical genius, of great -general acuteness, and discriminative understanding, who make no -scruple in pronouncing the Automaton a _pure machine_, unconnected -with human agency in its movements, and consequently, beyond all -comparison, the most astonishing of the inventions of mankind. And -such it would undoubtedly be, were they right in their supposition. -Assuming this hypothesis, it would be grossly absurd to compare with -the Chess-Player, any similar thing of either modern or ancient -days. Yet there have been many and wonderful automata. In Brewster's -Letters on Natural Magic, we have an account of the most remarkable. -Among these may be mentioned, as having beyond doubt existed, -firstly, the coach invented by M. Camus for the amusement of Louis -XIV when a child. A table, about four feet square, was introduced, -into the room appropriated for the exhibition. Upon this table was -placed a carriage, six inches in length, made of wood, and drawn by -two horses of the same material. One window being down, a lady was -seen on the back seat. A coachman held the reins on the box, and a -footman and page were in their places behind. M. Camus now touched a -spring; whereupon the coachman smacked his whip, and the horses -proceeded in a natural manner, along the edge of the table, drawing -after them the carriage. Having gone as far as possible in this -direction, a sudden turn was made to the left, and the vehicle was -driven at right angles to its former course, and still closely along -the edge of the table. In this way the coach proceeded until it -arrived opposite the chair of the young prince. It then stopped, the -page descended and opened the door, the lady alighted, and presented -a petition to her sovereign. She then re-entered. The page put up -the steps, closed the door, and resumed his station. The coachman -whipped his horses, and the carriage was driven back to its original -position. - -The magician of M. Maillardet is also worthy of notice. We copy the -following account of it from the _Letters_ before mentioned of Dr. -B., who derived his information principally from the Edinburgh -Encyclopædia. - -"One of the most popular pieces of mechanism which we have seen, is -the Magician constructed by M. Maillardet, for the purpose of -answering certain given questions. A figure, dressed like a -magician, appears seated at the bottom of a wall, holding a wand in -one hand, and a book in the other. A number of questions, ready -prepared, are inscribed on oval medallions, and the spectator takes -any of these he chooses, and to which he wishes an answer, and -having placed it in a drawer ready to receive it, the drawer shuts -with a spring till the answer is returned. The magician then arises -from his seat, bows his head, describes circles with his wand, and -consulting the book as if in deep thought, he lifts it towards his -face. Having thus appeared to ponder over the proposed question, he -raises his wand, and striking with it the wall above his head, two -folding doors fly open, and display an appropriate answer to the -question. The doors again close, the magician resumes his original -position, and the drawer opens to return the medallion. There are -twenty of these medallions, all containing different questions, to -which the magician returns the most suitable and striking answers. -The medallions are thin plates of brass, of an elliptical form, -exactly resembling each other. Some of the medallions have a -question inscribed on each side, both of which the magician answered -in succession. If the drawer is shut without a medallion being put -into it, the magician rises, consults his book, shakes his head, and -resumes his seat. The folding doors remain shut, and the drawer is -returned empty. If two medallions are put into the drawer together, -an answer is returned only to the lower one. When the machinery is -wound up, the movements continue about an hour, during which time -about fifty questions may be answered. The inventor stated that the -means by which the different medallions acted upon the machinery, so -as to produce the proper answers to the questions which they -contained, were extremely simple." - -The duck of Vaucanson was still more remarkable. It was of the size -of life, and so perfect an imitation of the living animal that all -the spectators were deceived. It executed, says Brewster, all the -natural movements {319} and gestures, it eat and drank with avidity, -performed all the quick motions of the head and throat which are -peculiar to the duck, and like it muddled the water which it drank -with its bill. It produced also the sound of quacking in the most -natural manner. In the anatomical structure the artist exhibited the -highest skill. Every bone in the real duck had its representative in -the automaton, and its wings were anatomically exact. Every cavity, -apophysis, and curvature was imitated, and each bone executed its -proper movements. When corn was thrown down before it, the duck -stretched out its neck to pick it up, swallowed, and digested it.[1] - -[Footnote 1: Under the head _Androides_ in the Edinburgh -Encyclopædia may be found a full account of the principle automata -of ancient and modern times.] - -But if these machines were ingenious, what shall we think of the -calculating machine of Mr. Babbage? What shall we think of an engine -of wood and metal which can not only compute astronomical and -navigation tables to any given extent, but render the exactitude of -its operations mathematically certain through its power of -correcting its possible errors? What shall we think of a machine -which can not only accomplish all this, but actually print off its -elaborate results, when obtained, without the slightest intervention -of the intellect of man? It will, perhaps, be said, in reply, that a -machine such as we have described is altogether above comparison -with the Chess-Player of Maelzel. By no means--it is altogether -beneath it--that is to say provided we assume (what should never for -a moment be assumed) that the Chess-Player is a _pure machine_, and -performs its operations without any immediate human agency. -Arithmetical or algebraical calculations are, from their very -nature, fixed and determinate. Certain _data_ being given, certain -results necessarily and inevitably follow. These results have -dependence upon nothing, and are influenced by nothing but the -_data_ originally given. And the question to be solved proceeds, or -should proceed, to its final determination, by a succession of -unerring steps liable to no change, and subject to no modification. -This being the case, we can without difficulty conceive the -_possibility_ of so arranging a piece of mechanism, that upon -starting it in accordance with the _data_ of the question to be -solved, it should continue its movements regularly, progressively, -and undeviatingly towards the required solution, since these -movements, however complex, are never imagined to be otherwise than -finite and determinate. But the case is widely different with the -Chess-Player. With him there is no determinate progression. No one -move in chess necessarily follows upon any one other. From no -particular disposition of the men at one period of a game can we -predicate their disposition at a different period. Let us place the -_first move_ in a game of chess, in juxta-position with the _data_ -of an algebraical question, and their great difference will be -immediately perceived. From the latter--from the _data_--the second -step of the question, dependent thereupon, inevitably follows. It is -modelled by the _data_. It must be _thus_ and not otherwise. But -from the first move in the game of chess no especial second move -follows of necessity. In the algebraical question, as it proceeds -towards solution, the _certainty_ of its operations remains -altogether unimpaired. The second step having been a consequence of -the _data_, the third step is equally a consequence of the second, -the fourth of the third, the fifth of the fourth, and so on, _and -not possibly otherwise_, to the end. But in proportion to the -progress made in a game of chess, is the _uncertainty_ of each -ensuing move. A few moves having been made, _no_ step is certain. -Different spectators of the game would advise different moves. All -is then dependant upon the variable judgment of the players. Now -even granting (what should not be granted) that the movements of the -Automaton Chess-Player were in themselves determinate, they would be -necessarily interrupted and disarranged by the indeterminate will of -his antagonist. There is then no analogy whatever between the -operations of the Chess-Player, and those of the calculating machine -of Mr. Babbage, and if we choose to call the former a _pure machine_ -we must be prepared to admit that it is, beyond all comparison, the -most wonderful of the inventions of mankind. Its original projector, -however, Baron Kempelen, had no scruple in declaring it to be a -"very ordinary piece of mechanism--a _bagatelle_ whose effects -appeared so marvellous only from the boldness of the conception, and -the fortunate choice of the methods adopted for promoting the -illusion." But it is needless to dwell upon this point. It is quite -certain that the operations of the Automaton are regulated by -_mind_, and by nothing else. Indeed this matter is susceptible of a -mathematical demonstration, _a priori_. The only question then is of -the _manner_ in which human agency is brought to bear. Before -entering upon this subject it would be as well to give a brief -history and description of the Chess-Player for the benefit of such -of our readers as may never have had an opportunity of witnessing -Mr. Maelzel's exhibition. - -[Illustration] - -The Automaton Chess-Player was invented in 1769, by Baron Kempelen, -a nobleman of Presburg in Hungary, who afterwards disposed of it, -together with the secret of its operations, to its present -possessor. Soon after its completion it was exhibited in Presburg, -Paris, Vienna, and other continental cities. In 1783 and 1784, it -was taken to London by Mr. Maelzel. Of late years it has visited the -principal towns in the United States. Wherever seen, the most -intense curiosity was excited by its appearance, and numerous have -been the attempts, by men of all classes, to fathom the mystery of -its evolutions. The cut above gives a tolerable representation of -the figure as seen by the citizens of Richmond a few weeks ago. The -right arm, however, should lie more at length upon the box, a -chess-board should appear upon it, and the cushion should not be -seen while the pipe is held. Some immaterial alterations have been -made in the costume of the player since it came into the possession -of Maelzel--the plume, for example, was not originally worn. - -{320} At the hour appointed for exhibition, a curtain is withdrawn, -or folding doors are thrown open, and the machine rolled to within -about twelve feet of the nearest of the spectators, between whom and -it (the machine) a rope is stretched. A figure is seen habited as a -Turk, and seated, with its legs crossed, at a large box apparently -of maple wood, which serves it as a table. The exhibiter will, if -requested, roll the machine to any portion of the room, suffer it to -remain altogether on any designated spot, or even shift its location -repeatedly during the progress of a game. The bottom of the box is -elevated considerably above the floor by means of the castors or -brazen rollers on which it moves, a clear view of the surface -immediately beneath the Automaton being thus afforded to the -spectators. The chair on which the figure sits is affixed -permanently to the box. On the top of this latter is a chess-board, -also permanently affixed. The right arm of the Chess-Player is -extended at full length before him, at right angles with his body, -and lying, in an apparently careless position, by the side of the -board. The back of the hand is upwards. The board itself is eighteen -inches square. The left arm of the figure is bent at the elbow, and -in the left hand is a pipe. A green drapery conceals the back of the -Turk, and falls partially over the front of both shoulders. To judge -from the external appearance of the box, it is divided into five -compartments--three cupboards of equal dimensions, and two drawers -occupying that portion of the chest lying beneath the cupboards. The -foregoing observations apply to the appearance of the Automaton upon -its first introduction into the presence of the spectators. - -Maelzel now informs the company that he will disclose to their view -the mechanism of the machine. Taking from his pocket a bunch of keys -he unlocks with one of them, door marked 1 in the cut above, and -throws the cupboard fully open to the inspection of all present. Its -whole interior is apparently filled with wheels, pinions, levers, -and other machinery, crowded very closely together, so that the eye -can penetrate but a little distance into the mass. Leaving this door -open to its full extent, he goes now round to the back of the box, -and raising the drapery of the figure, opens another door situated -precisely in the rear of the one first opened. Holding a lighted -candle at this door, and shifting the position of the whole machine -repeatedly at the same time, a bright light is thrown entirely -through the cupboard, which is now clearly seen to be full, -completely full, of machinery. The spectators being satisfied of -this fact, Maelzel closes the back door, locks it, takes the key -from the lock, lets fall the drapery of the figure, and comes round -to the front. The door marked 1, it will be remembered, is still -open. The exhibiter now proceeds to open the drawer which lies -beneath the cupboards at the bottom of the box--for although there -are apparently two drawers, there is really only one--the two -handles and two key holes being intended merely for ornament. Having -opened this drawer to its full extent, a small cushion, and a set of -chessmen, fixed in a frame work made to support them -perpendicularly, are discovered. Leaving this drawer, as well as -cupboard No. 1 open, Maelzel now unlocks door No. 2, and door No. 3, -which are discovered to be folding doors, opening into one and the -same compartment. To the right of this compartment, however, (that -is to say the spectators' right) a small division, six inches wide, -and filled with machinery, is partitioned off. The main compartment -itself (in speaking of that portion of the box visible upon opening -doors 2 and 3, we shall always call it the main compartment) is -lined with dark cloth and contains no machinery whatever beyond two -pieces of steel, quadrant-shaped, and situated one in each of the -rear top corners of the compartment. A small protuberance about -eight inches square, and also covered with dark cloth, lies on the -floor of the compartment near the rear corner on the spectators' -left hand. Leaving doors No. 2 and No. 3 open as well as the drawer, -and door No. 1, the exhibiter now goes round to the back of the main -compartment, and, unlocking another door there, displays clearly all -the interior of the main compartment, by introducing a candle behind -it and within it. The whole box being thus apparently disclosed to -the scrutiny of the company, Maelzel, still leaving the doors and -drawer open, rolls the Automaton entirely round, and exposes the -back of the Turk by lifting up the drapery. A door about ten inches -square is thrown open in the loins of the figure, and a smaller one -also in the left thigh. The interior of the figure, as seen through -these apertures, appears to be crowded with machinery. In general, -every spectator is now thoroughly satisfied of having beheld and -completely scrutinized, at one and the same time, every individual -portion of the Automaton, and the idea of any person being concealed -in the interior, during so complete an exhibition of that interior, -if ever entertained, is immediately dismissed as preposterous in the -extreme. - -M. Maelzel, having rolled the machine back into its original -position, now informs the company that the Automaton will play a -game of chess with any one disposed to encounter him. This challenge -being accepted, a small table is prepared for the antagonist, and -placed close by the rope, but on the spectators' side of it, and so -situated as not to prevent the company from obtaining a full view of -the Automaton. From a drawer in this table is taken a set of -chess-men, and Maelzel arranges them generally, but not always, with -his own hands, on the chess board, which consists merely of the -usual number of squares painted upon the table. The antagonist -having taken his seat, the exhibiter approaches the drawer of the -box, and takes therefrom the cushion, which, after removing the pipe -from the hand of the Automaton, he places under its left arm as a -support. Then taking also from the drawer the Automaton's set of -chess-men, he arranges them upon the chess-board before the figure. -He now proceeds to close the doors and to lock them--leaving the -bunch of keys in door No. 1. He also closes the drawer, and, -finally, winds up the machine, by applying a key to an aperture in -the left end (the spectators' left) of the box. The game now -commences--the Automaton taking the first move. The duration of the -contest is usually limited to half an hour, but if it be not -finished at the expiration of this period, and the antagonist still -contend that he can beat the Automaton, M. Maelzel has seldom any -objection to continue it. Not to weary the company, is the -ostensible, and no doubt the real object of the limitation. It will -of course be understood that when a move is made at his own table, -by the antagonist, the corresponding move is made at the box of the -{321} Automaton, by Maelzel himself, who then acts as the -representative of the antagonist. On the other hand, when the Turk -moves, the corresponding move is made at the table of the -antagonist, also by M. Maelzel, who then acts as the representative -of the Automaton. In this manner it is necessary that the exhibitor -should often pass from one table to the other. He also frequently -goes in rear of the figure to remove the chessmen which it has -taken, and which it deposits, when taken, on the box to the left (to -its own left) of the board. When the Automaton hesitates in relation -to its move, the exhibitor is occasionally seen to place himself -very near its right side, and to lay his hand, now and then, in a -careless manner, upon the box. He has also a peculiar shuffle with -his feet, calculated to induce suspicion of collusion with the -machine in minds which are more cunning than sagacious. These -peculiarities are, no doubt, mere mannerisms of M. Maelzel, or, if -he is aware of them at all, he puts them in practice with a view of -exciting in the spectators a false idea of pure mechanism in the -Automaton. - -The Turk plays with his left hand. All the movements of the arm are -at right angles. In this manner, the hand (which is gloved and bent -in a natural way,) being brought directly above the piece to be -moved, descends finally upon it, the fingers receiving it, in most -cases, without difficulty. Occasionally, however, when the piece is -not precisely in its proper situation, the Automaton fails in his -attempt at seizing it. When this occurs, no second effort is made, -but the arm continues its movement in the direction originally -intended, precisely as if the piece were in the fingers. Having thus -designated the spot whither the move should have been made, the arm -returns to its cushion, and Maelzel performs the evolution which the -Automaton pointed out. At every movement of the figure machinery is -heard in motion. During the progress of the game, the figure now and -then rolls its eyes, as if surveying the board, moves its head, and -pronounces the word _echec_ (check) when necessary.[2] If a false -move be made by his antagonist, he raps briskly on the box with the -fingers of his right hand, shakes his head roughly, and replacing -the piece falsely moved, in its former situation, assumes the next -move himself. Upon beating the game, he waves his head with an air -of triumph, looks round complacently upon the spectators, and -drawing his left arm farther back than usual, suffers his fingers -alone to rest upon the cushion. In general, the Turk is -victorious--once or twice he has been beaten. The game being ended, -Maelzel will again, if desired, exhibit the mechanism of the box, in -the same manner as before. The machine is then rolled back, and a -curtain hides it from the view of the company. - -[Footnote 2: The making the Turk pronounce the word _echec_, is an -improvement by M. Maelzel. When in possession of Baron Kempelen, the -figure indicated a _check_ by rapping on the box with his right -hand.] - -There have been many attempts at solving the mystery of the -Automaton. The most general opinion in relation to it, an opinion -too not unfrequently adopted by men who should have known better, -was, as we have before said, that no immediate human agency was -employed--in other words, that the machine was purely a machine and -nothing else. Many, however maintained that the exhibiter himself -regulated the movements of the figure by mechanical means operating -through the feet of the box. Others again, spoke confidently of a -magnet. Of the first of these opinions we shall say nothing at -present more than we have already said. In relation to the second it -is only necessary to repeat what we have before stated, that the -machine is rolled about on castors, and will, at the request of a -spectator, be moved to and fro to any portion of the room, even -during the progress of a game. The supposition of the magnet is also -untenable--for if a magnet were the agent, any other magnet in the -pocket of a spectator would disarrange the entire mechanism. The -exhibiter, however, will suffer the most powerful loadstone to -remain even upon the box during the whole of the exhibition. - -The first attempt at a written explanation of the secret, at least -the first attempt of which we ourselves have any knowledge, was made -in a large pamphlet printed at Paris in 1785. The author's -hypothesis amounted to this--that a dwarf actuated the machine. This -dwarf he supposed to conceal himself during the opening of the box -by thrusting his legs into two hollow cylinders, which were -represented to be (but which are not) among the machinery in the -cupboard No. 1, while his body was out of the box entirely, and -covered by the drapery of the Turk. When the doors were shut, the -dwarf was enabled to bring his body within the box--the noise -produced by some portion of the machinery allowing him to do so -unheard, and also to close the door by which he entered. The -interior of the Automaton being then exhibited, and no person -discovered, the spectators, says the author of this pamphlet, are -satisfied that no one is within any portion of the machine. This -whole hypothesis was too obviously absurd to require comment, or -refutation, and accordingly we find that it attracted very little -attention. - -In 1789 a book was published at Dresden by M. I. F. Freyhere in -which another endeavor was made to unravel the mystery. Mr. -Freyhere's book was a pretty large one, and copiously illustrated by -colored engravings. His supposition was that "a well-taught boy very -thin and tall of his age (sufficiently so that he could be concealed -in a drawer almost immediately under the chess-board") played the -game of chess and effected all the evolutions of the Automaton. This -idea, although even more silly than that of the Parisian author, met -with a better reception, and was in some measure believed to be the -true solution of the wonder, until the inventor put an end to the -discussion by suffering a close examination of the top of the box. - -These bizarre attempts at explanation were followed by others -equally bizarre. Of late years however, an anonymous writer, by a -course of reasoning exceedingly unphilosophical, has contrived to -blunder upon a plausible solution--although we cannot consider it -altogether the true one. His Essay was first published in a -Baltimore weekly paper, was illustrated by cuts, and was entitled -"An attempt to analyze the Automaton Chess-Player of M. Maelzel." -This Essay we suppose to have been the original of the _pamphlet_ to -which Sir David Brewster alludes in his letters on Natural Magic, -and which he has no hesitation in declaring a thorough and -satisfactory explanation. The _results_ of the analysis are -undoubtedly, in the main, just; but we can only account for -Brewster's pronouncing the Essay a {322} thorough and satisfactory -explanation, by supposing him to have bestowed upon it a very -cursory and inattentive perusal. In the compendium of the Essay, -made use of in the Letters on Natural Magic, it is quite impossible -to arrive at any distinct conclusion in regard to the adequacy or -inadequacy of the analysis, on account of the gross misarrangement -and deficiency of the letters of reference employed. The same fault -is to be found in the "Attempt &c." as we originally saw it. The -solution consists in a series of minute explanations, (accompanied -by wood-cuts, the whole occupying many pages) in which the object is -to show the _possibility_ of _so shifting the partitions_ of the -box, as to allow a human being, concealed in the interior, to move -portions of his body from one part of the box to another, during the -exhibition of the mechanism--thus eluding the scrutiny of the -spectators. There can be no doubt, as we have before observed, and -as we will presently endeavor to show, that the principle, or rather -the result, of this solution is the true one. Some person _is_ -concealed in the box during the whole time of exhibiting the -interior. We object, however, to the whole verbose description of -the _manner_ in which the partitions are shifted, to accommodate the -movements of the person concealed. We object to it as a mere theory -assumed in the first place, and to which circumstances are -afterwards made to adapt themselves. It was not, and could not have -been, arrived at by any inductive reasoning. In whatever way the -shifting is managed, it is of course concealed at every step from -observation. To show that certain movements might possibly be -effected in a certain way, is very far from showing that they are -actually so effected. There may be an infinity of other methods by -which the same results may be obtained. The probability of the one -assumed proving the correct one is then as unity to infinity. But, -in reality, this particular point, the shifting of the partitions, -is of no consequence whatever. It was altogether unnecessary to -devote seven or eight pages for the purpose of proving what no one -in his senses would deny--viz: that the wonderful mechanical genius -of Baron Kempelen could invent the necessary means for shutting a -door or slipping aside a pannel, with a human agent too at his -service in actual contact with the pannel or the door, and the whole -operations carried on, as the author of the Essay himself shows, and -as we shall attempt to show more fully hereafter, entirely out of -reach of the observation of the spectators. - -In attempting ourselves an explanation of the Automaton, we will, in -the first place, endeavor to show how its operations are effected, -and afterwards describe, as briefly as possible, the nature of the -_observations_ from which we have deduced our result. - -It will be necessary for a proper understanding of the subject, that -we repeat here in a few words, the routine adopted by the exhibiter -in disclosing the interior of the box--a routine from which he -_never_ deviates in any material particular. In the first place he -opens the door No. 1. Leaving this open, he goes round to the rear -of the box, and opens a door precisely at the back of door No. 1. To -this back door he holds a lighted candle. He then _closes the back -door_, locks it, and, coming round to the front, opens the drawer to -its full extent. This done, he opens the doors No. 2 and No. 3, (the -folding doors) and displays the interior of the main compartment. -Leaving open the main compartment, the drawer, and the front door of -cupboard No. 1, he now goes to the rear again, and throws open the -back door of the main compartment. In shutting up the box no -particular order is observed, except that the folding doors are -always closed before the drawer. - -Now, let us suppose that when the machine is first rolled into the -presence of the spectators, a man is already within it. His body is -situated behind the dense machinery in cupboard No. 1, (the rear -portion of which machinery is so contrived as to slip _en masse_, -from the main compartment to the cupboard No. 1, as occasion may -require,) and his legs lie at full length in the main compartment. -When Maelzel opens the door No. 1, the man within is not in any -danger of discovery, for the keenest eye cannot penetrate more than -about two inches into the darkness within. But the case is otherwise -when the back door of the cupboard No. 1, is opened. A bright light -then pervades the cupboard, and the body of the man would be -discovered if it were there. But it is not. The putting the key in -the lock of the back door was a signal on hearing which the person -concealed brought his body forward to an angle as acute as -possible--throwing it altogether, or nearly so, into the main -compartment. This, however, is a painful position, and cannot be -long maintained. Accordingly we find that Maelzel _closes the back -door_. This being done, there is no reason why the body of the man -may not resume its former situation--for the cupboard is again so -dark as to defy scrutiny. The drawer is now opened, and the legs of -the person within drop down behind it in the space it formerly -occupied.[3] There is, consequently, now no longer any part of the -man in the main compartment--his body being behind the machinery in -cupboard No. 1, and his legs in the space occupied by the drawer. -The exhibiter, therefore, finds himself at liberty to display the -main compartment. This he does--opening both its back and front -doors--and no person is discovered. The spectators are now satisfied -that the whole of the box is exposed to view--and exposed too, all -portions of it at one and the same time. But of course this is not -the case. They neither see the space behind the drawer, nor the -interior of cupboard No. 1--the front door of which latter the -exhibiter virtually shuts in shutting its back door. Maelzel, having -now rolled the machine around, lifted up the drapery of the Turk, -opened the doors in his back and thigh, and shown his trunk to be -full of machinery, brings the whole back into its original position, -and closes the doors. The man within is now at liberty to move -about. He gets up into the body of the Turk just so high as to bring -his eyes above the level of the chess-board. It is very probable -that he seats himself upon the little square block or protuberance -which is seen in a corner of the main compartment when the doors are -open. In this position he sees the chess-board through the bosom of -the Turk which is of gauze. Bringing his right arm across his {323} -breast he actuates the little machinery necessary to guide the left -arm and the fingers of the figure. This machinery is situated just -beneath the left shoulder of the Turk, and is consequently easily -reached by the right hand of the man concealed, if we suppose his -right arm brought across the breast. The motions of the head and -eyes, and of the right arm of the figure, as well as the sound -_echec_ are produced by other mechanism in the interior, and -actuated at will by the man within. The whole of this -mechanism--that is to say all the mechanism essential to the -machine--is most probably contained within the little cupboard (of -about six inches in breadth) partitioned off at the right (the -spectators' right) of the main compartment. - -[Footnote 3: Sir David Brewster supposes that there is always a -large space behind this drawer even when shut--in other words that -the drawer is a "false drawer" and does not extend to the back of -the box. But the idea is altogether untenable. So commonplace a -trick would be immediately discovered--especially as the drawer is -always opened to its full extent, and an opportunity thus afforded -of comparing its depth with that of the box.] - -In this analysis of the operations of the Automaton, we have -purposely avoided any allusion to the manner in which the partitions -are shifted, and it will now be readily comprehended that this point -is a matter of no importance, since, by mechanism within the ability -of any common carpenter, it might be effected in an infinity of -different ways, and since we have shown that, however performed, it -is performed out of the view of the spectators. Our result is -founded upon the following _observations_ taken during frequent -visits to the exhibition of Maelzel.[4] - -[Footnote 4: Some of these _observations_ are intended merely to -prove that the machine must be regulated _by mind_, and it may be -thought a work of supererogation to advance farther arguments in -support of what has been already fully decided. But our object is to -convince, in especial, certain of our friends upon whom a train of -suggestive reasoning will have more influence than the most positive -_a priori_ demonstration.] - -1. The moves of the Turk are not made at regular intervals of time, -but accommodate themselves to the moves of the antagonist--although -this point (of regularity) so important in all kinds of mechanical -contrivance, might have been readily brought about by limiting the -time allowed for the moves of the antagonist. For example, if this -limit were three minutes, the moves of the Automaton might be made -at any given intervals longer than three minutes. The fact then of -irregularity, when regularity might have been so easily attained, -goes to prove that regularity is unimportant to the action of the -Automaton--in other words, that the Automaton is not _a pure -machine_. - -2. When the Automaton is about to move a piece, a distinct motion is -observable just beneath the left shoulder, and which motion agitates -in a slight degree, the drapery covering the front of the left -shoulder. This motion invariably precedes, by about two seconds, the -movement of the arm itself--and the arm never, in any instance, -moves without this preparatory motion in the shoulder. Now let the -antagonist move a piece, and let the corresponding move be made by -Maelzel, as usual, upon the board of the Automaton. Then let the -antagonist narrowly watch the Automaton, until he detect the -preparatory motion in the shoulder. Immediately upon detecting this -motion, and before the arm itself begins to move, let him withdraw -his piece, as if perceiving an error in his manœuvre. It will then -be seen that the movement of the arm, which, in all other cases, -immediately succeeds the motion in the shoulder, is withheld--is not -made--although Maelzel has not yet performed, on the board of the -Automaton, any move corresponding to the withdrawal of the -antagonist. In this case, that the Automaton was about to move is -evident--and that he did not move, was an effect plainly produced by -the withdrawal of the antagonist, and without any intervention of -Maelzel. - -This fact fully proves, 1--that the intervention of Maelzel, in -performing the moves of the antagonist on the board of the -Automaton, is not essential to the movements of the Automaton, -2--that its movements are regulated by _mind_--by some person who -sees the board of the antagonist, 3--that its movements are not -regulated by the mind of Maelzel, whose back was turned towards the -antagonist at the withdrawal of his move. - -3. The Automaton does not invariably win the game. Were the machine -a pure machine this would not be the case--it would always win. The -_principle_ being discovered by which a machine can be made to -_play_ a game of chess, an extension of the same principle would -enable it to _win_ a game--a farther extension would enable it to -_win all_ games--that is, to beat any possible game of an -antagonist. A little consideration will convince any one that the -difficulty of making a machine beat all games, is not in the least -degree greater, as regards the principle of the operations -necessary, than that of making it beat a single game. If then we -regard the Chess-Player as a machine, we must suppose, (what is -highly improbable,) that its inventor preferred leaving it -incomplete to perfecting it--a supposition rendered still more -absurd, when we reflect that the leaving it incomplete would afford -an argument against the possibility of its being a pure machine--the -very argument we now adduce. - -4. When the situation of the game is difficult or complex, we never -perceive the Turk either shake his head or roll his eyes. It is only -when his next move is obvious, or when the game is so circumstanced -that to a man in the Automaton's place there would be no necessity -for reflection. Now these peculiar movements of the head and eyes -are movements customary with persons engaged in meditation, and the -ingenious Baron Kempelen would have adapted these movements (were -the machine a pure machine) to occasions proper for their -display--that is, to occasions of complexity. But the reverse is -seen to be the case, and this reverse applies precisely to our -supposition of a man in the interior. When engaged in meditation -about the game he has no time to think of setting in motion the -mechanism of the Automaton by which are moved the head and the eyes. -When the game, however, is obvious, he has time to look about him, -and, accordingly, we see the head shake and the eyes roll. - -5. When the machine is rolled round to allow the spectators an -examination of the back of the Turk, and when his drapery is lifted -up and the doors in the trunk and thigh thrown open, the interior of -the trunk is seen to be crowded with machinery. In scrutinizing this -machinery while the Automaton was in motion, that is to say while -the whole machine was moving on the castors, it appeared to us that -certain portions of the mechanism changed their shape and position -in a degree too great to be accounted for by the simple laws of -perspective; and subsequent examinations convinced us that these -undue alterations were attributable to mirrors in the interior of -the trunk. The introduction of mirrors among the machinery could not -have been {324} intended to influence, in any degree, the machinery -itself. Their operation, whatever that operation should prove to be, -must necessarily have reference to the eye of the spectator. We at -once concluded that these mirrors were so placed to multiply to the -vision some few pieces of machinery within the trunk so as to give -it the appearance of being crowded with mechanism. Now the direct -inference from this is that the machine is not a pure machine. For -if it were, the inventor, so far from wishing its mechanism to -appear complex, and using deception for the purpose of giving it -this appearance, would have been especially desirous of convincing -those who witnessed his exhibition, of the _simplicity_ of the means -by which results so wonderful were brought about. - -6. The external appearance, and, especially, the deportment of the -Turk, are, when we consider them as imitations of _life_, but very -indifferent imitations. The countenance evinces no ingenuity, and is -surpassed, in its resemblance to the human face, by the very -commonest of wax-works. The eyes roll unnaturally in the head, -without any corresponding motions of the lids or brows. The arm, -particularly, performs its operations in an exceedingly stiff, -awkward, jerking, and rectangular manner. Now, all this is the -result either of inability in Maelzel to do better, or of -intentional neglect--accidental neglect being out of the question, -when we consider that the whole time of the ingenious proprietor is -occupied in the improvement of his machines. Most assuredly we must -not refer the unlife-like appearances to inability--for all the rest -of Maelzel's automata are evidence of his full ability to copy the -motions and peculiarities of life with the most wonderful -exactitude. The rope-dancers, for example, are inimitable. When the -clown laughs, his lips, his eyes, his eye-brows, and -eye-lids--indeed, all the features of his countenance--are imbued -with their appropriate expressions. In both him and his companion, -every gesture is so entirely easy, and free from the semblance of -artificiality, that, were it not for the diminutiveness of their -size, and the fact of their being passed from one spectator to -another previous to their exhibition on the rope, it would be -difficult to convince any assemblage of persons that these wooden -automata were not living creatures. We cannot, therefore, doubt Mr. -Maelzel's ability, and we must necessarily suppose that he -intentionally suffered his Chess-Player to remain the same -artificial and unnatural figure which Baron Kempelen (no doubt also -through design) originally made it. What this design was it is not -difficult to conceive. Were the Automaton life-like in its motions, -the spectator would be more apt to attribute its operations to their -true cause, (that is, to human agency within) than he is now, when -the awkward and rectangular manœuvres convey the idea of pure and -unaided mechanism. - -7. When, a short time previous to the commencement of the game, the -Automaton is wound up by the exhibiter as usual, an ear in any -degree accustomed to the sounds produced in winding up a system of -machinery, will not fail to discover, instantaneously, that the axis -turned by the key in the box of the Chess-Player, cannot possibly be -connected with either a weight, a spring, or any system of machinery -whatever. The inference here is the same as in our last observation. -The winding up is inessential to the operations of the Automaton, -and is performed with the design of exciting in the spectators the -false idea of mechanism. - -8. When the question is demanded explicitly of Maelzel--"Is the -Automaton a pure machine or not?" his reply is invariably the -same--"I will say nothing about it." Now the notoriety of the -Automaton, and the great curiosity it has every where excited, are -owing more especially to the prevalent opinion that it _is_ a pure -machine, than to any other circumstance. Of course, then, it is the -interest of the proprietor to represent it as a pure machine. And -what more obvious, and more effectual method could there be of -impressing the spectators with this desired idea, than a positive -and explicit declaration to that effect? On the other hand, what -more obvious and effectual method could there be of exciting a -disbelief in the Automaton's being a pure machine, than by -withholding such explicit declaration? For, people will naturally -reason thus,--It is Maelzel's interest to represent this thing a -pure machine--he refuses to do so, directly, in words, although he -does not scruple, and is evidently anxious to do so, indirectly by -actions--were it actually what he wishes to represent it by actions, -he would gladly avail himself of the more direct testimony of -words--the inference is, that a consciousness of its _not_ being a -pure machine, is the reason of his silence--his actions cannot -implicate him in a falsehood--his words may. - -9. When, in exhibiting the interior of the box, Maelzel has thrown -open the door No. 1, and also the door immediately behind it, he -holds a lighted candle at the back door (as mentioned above) and -moves the entire machine to and fro with a view of convincing the -company that the cupboard No. 1 is entirely filled with machinery. -When the machine is thus moved about, it will be apparent to any -careful observer, that whereas that portion of the machinery near -the front door No. 1, is perfectly steady and unwavering, the -portion farther within fluctuates, in a very slight degree, with the -movements of the machine. This circumstance first aroused in us the -suspicion that the more remote portion of the machinery was so -arranged as to be easily slipped, _en masse_, from its position when -occasion should require it. This occasion we have already stated to -occur when the man concealed within brings his body into an erect -position upon the closing of the back door. - -10. Sir David Brewster states the figure of the Turk to be of the -size of life--but in fact it is far above the ordinary size. Nothing -is more easy than to err in our notions of magnitude. The body of -the Automaton is generally insulated, and, having no means of -immediately comparing it with any human form, we suffer ourselves to -consider it as of ordinary dimensions. This mistake may, however, be -corrected by observing the Chess-Player when, as is sometimes the -case, the exhibiter approaches it. Mr. Maelzel, to be sure, is not -very tall, but upon drawing near the machine, his head will be found -at least eighteen inches below the head of the Turk, although the -latter, it will be remembered, is in a sitting position. - -11. The box behind which the Automaton is placed, is precisely three -feet six inches long, two feet four inches deep, and two feet six -inches high. These dimensions are fully sufficient for the -accommodation of a man very much above the common size--and the main -{325} compartment alone is capable of holding any ordinary man in -the position we have mentioned as assumed by the person concealed. -As these are facts, which any one who doubts them may prove by -actual calculation, we deem it unnecessary to dwell upon them. We -will only suggest that, although the top of the box is apparently a -board of about three inches in thickness, the spectator may satisfy -himself by stooping and looking up at it when the main compartment -is open, that it is in reality very thin. The height of the drawer -also will be misconceived by those who examine it in a cursory -manner. There is a space of about three inches between the top of -the drawer as seen from the exterior, and the bottom of the -cupboard--a space which must be included in the height of the -drawer. These contrivances to make the room within the box appear -less than it actually is, are referrible to a design on the part of -the inventor, to impress the company again with a false idea, viz. -that no human being can be accommodated within the box. - -12. The interior of the main compartment is lined throughout with -_cloth_. This cloth we suppose to have a twofold object. A portion -of it may form, when tightly stretched, the only partitions which -there is any necessity for removing during the changes of the man's -position, viz: the partition between the rear of the main -compartment and the rear of the cupboard No. 1, and the partition -between the main compartment, and the space behind the drawer when -open. If we imagine this to be the case, the difficulty of shifting -the partitions vanishes at once, if indeed any such difficulty could -be supposed under any circumstances to exist. The second object of -the cloth is to deaden and render indistinct all sounds occasioned -by the movements of the person within. - -13. The antagonist (as we have before observed) is not suffered to -play at the board of the Automaton, but is seated at some distance -from the machine. The reason which, most probably, would be assigned -for this circumstance, if the question were demanded, is, that were -the antagonist otherwise situated, his person would intervene -between the machine and the spectators, and preclude the latter from -a distinct view. But this difficulty might be easily obviated, -either by elevating the seats of the company, or by turning the end -of the box towards them during the game. The true cause of the -restriction is, perhaps, very different. Were the antagonist seated -in contact with the box, the secret would be liable to discovery, by -his detecting, with the aid of a quick ear, the breathings of the -man concealed. - -14. Although M. Maelzel, in disclosing the interior of the machine, -sometimes slightly deviates from the _routine_ which we have pointed -out, yet _never_ in any instance does he _so_ deviate from it as to -interfere with our solution. For example, he has been known to open, -first of all, the drawer--but he never opens the main compartment -without first closing the back door of cupboard No. 1--he never -opens the main compartment without first pulling out the drawer--he -never shuts the drawer without first shutting the main -compartment--he never opens the back door of cupboard No. 1 while -the main compartment is open--and the game of chess is never -commenced until the whole machine is closed. Now, if it were -observed that _never, in any single instance_, did M. Maelzel differ -from the routine we have pointed out as necessary to our solution, -it would be one of the strongest possible arguments in corroboration -of it--but the argument becomes infinitely strengthened if we duly -consider the circumstance that he _does occasionally_ deviate from -the routine, but never does _so_ deviate as to falsify the solution. - -15. There are six candles on the board of the Automaton during -exhibition. The question naturally arises--"Why are so many -employed, when a single candle, or, at farthest, two, would have -been amply sufficient to afford the spectators a clear view of the -board, in a room otherwise so well lit up as the exhibition room -always is--when, moreover, if we suppose the machine a _pure -machine_, there can be no necessity for so much light, or indeed any -light at all, to enable _it_ to perform its operations--and when, -especially, only a single candle is placed upon the table of the -antagonist?" The first and most obvious inference is, that so strong -a light is requisite to enable the man within to see through the -transparent material (probably fine gauze) of which the breast of -the Turk is composed. But when we consider the _arrangement_ of the -candles, another reason immediately presents itself. There are six -lights (as we have said before) in all. Three of these are on each -side of the figure. Those most remote from the spectators are the -longest--those in the middle are about two inches shorter--and those -nearest the company about two inches shorter still--and the candles -on one side differ in height from the candles respectively opposite -on the other, by a ratio different from two inches--that is to say, -the longest candle on one side is about three inches shorter than -the longest candle on the other, and so on. Thus it will be seen -that no two of the candles are of the same height, and thus also the -difficulty of ascertaining the _material_ of the breast of the -figure (against which the light is especially directed) is greatly -augmented by the dazzling effect of the complicated crossings of the -rays--crossings which are brought about by placing the centres of -radiation all upon different levels. - -16. While the Chess-Player was in possession of Baron Kempelen, it -was more than once observed, first, that an Italian in the suite of -the Baron was never visible during the playing of a game at chess by -the Turk, and, secondly, that the Italian being taken seriously ill, -the exhibition was suspended until his recovery. This Italian -professed a _total_ ignorance of the game of chess, although all -others of the suite played well. Similar observations have been made -since the Automaton has been purchased by Maelzel. There is a man, -_Schlumberger_, who attends him wherever he goes, but who has no -ostensible occupation other than that of assisting in the packing -and unpacking of the automata. This man is about the medium size, -and has a remarkable stoop in the shoulders. Whether he professes to -play chess or not, we are not informed. It is quite certain, -however, that he is never to be seen during the exhibition of the -Chess-Player, although frequently visible just before and just after -the exhibition. Moreover, some years ago Maelzel visited Richmond -with his automata, and exhibited them, we believe, in the house now -occupied by M. Bossieux as a Dancing Academy. _Schlumberger_ was -suddenly taken ill, and during his illness there was no exhibition -of the {326} Chess-Player. These facts are well known to many of our -citizens. The reason assigned for the suspension of the -Chess-Player's performances, was _not_ the illness of -_Schlumberger_. The inferences from all this we leave, without -farther comment, to the reader. - -17. The Turk plays with his _left_ arm. A circumstance so remarkable -cannot be accidental. Brewster takes no notice of it whatever, -beyond a mere statement, we believe, that such is the fact. The -early writers of treatises on the Automaton, seem not to have -observed the matter at all, and have no reference to it. The author -of the pamphlet alluded to by Brewster, mentions it, but -acknowledges his inability to account for it. Yet it is obviously -from such prominent discrepancies or incongruities as this that -deductions are to be made (if made at all) which shall lead us to -the truth. - -The circumstance of the Automaton's playing with his left hand -cannot have connexion with the operations of the machine, considered -merely as such. Any mechanical arrangement which would cause the -figure to move, in any given manner, the left arm--could, if -reversed, cause it to move, in the same manner, the right. But these -principles cannot be extended to the human organization, wherein -there is a marked and radical difference in the construction, and, -at all events, in the powers, of the right and left arms. Reflecting -upon this latter fact, we naturally refer the incongruity noticeable -in the Chess-Player to this peculiarity in the human organization. -If so, we must imagine some _reversion_--for the Chess-Player plays -precisely as a man _would not_. These ideas, once entertained, are -sufficient of themselves, to suggest the notion of a man in the -interior. A few more imperceptible steps lead us, finally, to the -result. The Automaton plays with his left arm, because under no -other circumstances could the man within play with his right--a -_desideratum_ of course. Let us, for example, imagine the Automaton -to play with his right arm. To reach the machinery which moves the -arm, and which we have before explained to lie just beneath the -shoulder, it would be necessary for the man within either to use his -right arm in an exceedingly painful and awkward position, (viz. -brought up close to his body and tightly compressed between his body -and the side of the Automaton,) or else to use his left arm brought -across his breast. In neither case could he act with the requisite -ease or precision. On the contrary, the Automaton playing, as it -actually does, with the left arm, all difficulties vanish. The right -arm of the man within is brought across his breast, and his right -fingers act, without any constraint, upon the machinery in the -shoulder of the figure. - -We do not believe that any reasonable objections can be urged -against this solution of the Automaton Chess-Player. - - - - -CRITICAL NOTICES. - - -DRAKE--HALLECK. - -_The Culprit Fay, and other Poems, by Joseph Rodman Drake. New York: -George Dearborn._ - -_Alnwick Castle, with other Poems, by Fitz Greene Halleck. New York: -George Dearborn._ - -Before entering upon the detailed notice which we propose of the -volumes before us, we wish to speak a few words in regard to the -present state of American criticism. - -It must be visible to all who meddle with literary matters, that of -late years a thorough revolution has been effected in the censorship -of our press. That this revolution is infinitely for the worse we -believe. There was a time, it is true, when we cringed to foreign -opinion--let us even say when we paid a most servile deference to -British critical dicta. That an American book could, by any -possibility, be worthy perusal, was an idea by no means extensively -prevalent in the land; and if we were induced to read at all the -productions of our native writers, it was only after repeated -assurances from England that such productions were not altogether -contemptible. But there was, at all events, a shadow of excuse, and -a slight basis of reason for a subserviency so grotesque. Even now, -perhaps, it would not be far wrong to assert that such basis of -reason may still exist. Let us grant that in many of the abstract -sciences--that even in Theology, in Medicine, in Law, in Oratory, in -the Mechanical Arts, we have no competitors whatever, still nothing -but the most egregious national vanity would assign us a place, in -the matter of Polite Literature, upon a level with the elder and -riper climes of Europe, the earliest steps of whose children are -among the groves of magnificently endowed Academies, and whose -innumerable men of leisure, and of consequent learning, drink daily -from those august fountains of inspiration which burst around them -every where from out the tombs of their immortal dead, and from out -their hoary and trophied monuments of chivalry and song. In paying -then, as a nation, a respectful and not undue deference to a -supremacy rarely questioned but by prejudice or ignorance, we -should, of course, be doing nothing more than acting in a rational -manner. The _excess_ of our subserviency was blameable--but, as we -have before said, this very excess might have found a shadow of -excuse in the strict justice, if properly regulated, of the -principle from which it issued. Not so, however, with our present -follies. We are becoming boisterous and arrogant in the pride of a -too speedily assumed literary freedom. We throw off, with the most -presumptuous and unmeaning hauteur, _all_ deference whatever to -foreign opinion--we forget, in the puerile inflation of vanity, that -_the world_ is the true theatre of the biblical histrio--we get up a -hue and cry about the necessity of encouraging native writers of -merit--we blindly fancy that we can accomplish this by -indiscriminate puffing of good, bad, and indifferent, without taking -the trouble to consider that what we choose to denominate -encouragement is thus, by its general application, rendered -precisely the reverse. In a word, so far from being ashamed of the -many disgraceful literary failures to which our own inordinate -vanities and misapplied patriotism have lately given birth, and so -far from deeply lamenting that these daily puerilities are of home -manufacture, we adhere pertinaciously to our original blindly -conceived idea, and thus often find ourselves involved in the gross -paradox of liking a stupid book the better, because, sure enough, -its stupidity is American.[1] - -[Footnote 1: This charge of indiscriminate puffing will, of course, -only apply to the _general_ character of our criticism--there are -some noble exceptions. We wish also especially to discriminate -between those _notices_ of new works which are intended merely to -call public attention to them, and deliberate criticism on the works -themselves.] - -Deeply lamenting this unjustifiable state of public {327} feeling, -it has been our constant endeavor, since assuming the Editorial -duties of this Journal, to stem, with what little abilities we -possess, a current so disastrously undermining the health and -prosperity of our literature. We have seen our efforts applauded by -men whose applauses we value. From all quarters we have received -abundant private as well as public testimonials in favor of our -_Critical Notices_, and, until very lately, have heard from no -respectable source one word impugning their integrity or candor. In -looking over, however, a number of the New York Commercial -Advertiser, we meet with the following paragraph. - - -The last number of the Southern Literary Messenger is very readable -and respectable. The contributions to the Messenger are much better -than the original matter. The critical department of this work--much -as it would seem to boast itself of impartiality and -discernment,--is in our opinion decidedly _quacky_. There is in it a -great assumption of acumen, which is completely unsustained. Many a -work has been slashingly condemned therein, of which the critic -himself could not write a page, were he to die for it. This -affectation of eccentric sternness in criticism, without the power -to back one's suit withal, so far from deserving praise, as some -suppose, merits the strongest reprehension.--[_Philadelphia -Gazette_. - -We are entirely of opinion with the Philadelphia Gazette in relation -to the Southern Literary Messenger, and take this occasion to -express our total dissent from the numerous and lavish encomiums we -have seen bestowed upon its critical notices. Some few of them have -been judicious, fair and candid; bestowing praise and censure with -judgment and impartiality; but by far the greater number of those we -have read, have been flippant, unjust, untenable and uncritical. The -duty of the critic is to act as judge, not as enemy, of the writer -whom he reviews; a distinction of which the Zoilus of the Messenger -seems not to be aware. It is possible to review a book severely, -without bestowing opprobrious epithets upon the writer; to condemn -with courtesy, if not with kindness. The critic of the Messenger has -been eulogized for his scorching and scarifying abilities, and he -thinks it incumbent upon him to keep up his reputation in that line, -by sneers, sarcasm, and downright abuse; by straining his vision -with microscopic intensity in search of faults, and shutting his -eyes, with all his might, to beauties. Moreover, we have detected -him, more than once, in blunders quite as gross as those on which it -was his pleasure to descant.[2] - -[Footnote 2: In addition to these things we observe, in the New York -Mirror, what follows: "Those who have read the Notices of American -books in a certain Southern Monthly, which is striving to gain -notoriety by the loudness of its abuse, may find amusement in the -sketch on another page, entitled 'The Successful Novel.' The -Southern Literary Messenger knows -->_by experience_<-- what it is -to write a successless novel." We have, in this case, only to deny, -flatly, the assertion of the Mirror. The Editor of the Messenger -never in his life wrote or published, or attempted to publish, a -novel either successful or _successless_.] - - -In the paragraph from the Philadelphia Gazette, (which is edited by -Mr. Willis Gaylord Clark, one of the Editors of the Knickerbocker) -we find nothing at which we have any desire to take exception. Mr. -C. has a right to think us _quacky_ if he pleases, and we do not -remember having assumed for a moment that we could write a single -line of the works we have reviewed. But there is something -equivocal, to say the least, in the remarks of Col. Stone. He -acknowledges that "_some_ of our notices have been judicious, fair, -and candid, bestowing praise and censure with judgment and -impartiality." This being the case, how can he reconcile his _total_ -dissent from the public verdict in our favor, with the dictates of -justice? We are accused too of bestowing "opprobrious epithets" upon -writers whom we review, and in the paragraph so accusing us we are -called nothing less than "flippant, unjust, and uncritical." - -But there is another point of which we disapprove. While in our -reviews we have at all times been particularly careful _not_ to deal -in generalities, and have never, if we remember aright, advanced in -any single instance an unsupported assertion, our accuser has -forgotten to give us any better evidence of our flippancy, -injustice, personality, and gross blundering, than the solitary -_dictum_ of Col. Stone. We call upon the Colonel for assistance in -this dilemma. We wish to be shown our blunders that we may correct -them--to be made aware of our flippancy, that we may avoid it -hereafter--and above all to have our personalities pointed out that -we may proceed forthwith with a repentant spirit, to make the -_amende honorable_. In default of this aid from the Editor of the -Commercial we shall take it for granted that we are neither -blunderers, flippant, personal, nor unjust. - - * * * * * - -Who will deny that in regard to individual poems no definitive -opinions can exist, so long as to Poetry in the abstract we attach -no definitive idea? Yet it is a common thing to hear our critics, -day after day, pronounce, with a positive air, laudatory or -condemnatory sentences, _en masse_, upon metrical works of whose -merits and demerits they have, in the first place, virtually -confessed an utter ignorance, in confessing ignorance of all -determinate principles by which to regulate a decision. Poetry has -never been defined to the satisfaction of all parties. Perhaps, in -the present condition of language it never will be. Words cannot hem -it in. Its intangible and purely spiritual nature refuses to be -bound down within the widest horizon of mere sounds. But it is not, -therefore, misunderstood--at least, not by all men is it -misunderstood. Very far from it. If, indeed, there be any one circle -of thought distinctly and palpably marked out from amid the jarring -and tumultuous chaos of human intelligence, it is that evergreen and -radiant Paradise which the true poet knows, and knows alone, as the -limited realm of his authority--as the circumscribed Eden of his -dreams. But a definition is a thing of words--a conception of ideas. -And thus while we readily believe that Poesy, the term, it will be -troublesome, if not impossible to define--still, with its image -vividly existing in the world, we apprehend no difficulty in so -describing Poesy, the Sentiment, as to imbue even the most obtuse -intellect with a comprehension of it sufficiently distinct for all -the purposes of practical analysis. - -To look upwards from any existence, material or immaterial, to its -_design_, is, perhaps, the most direct, and the most unerring method -of attaining a just notion of the nature of the existence itself. -Nor is the principle at fault when we turn our eyes from Nature even -to Nature's God. We find certain faculties implanted within us, and -arrive at a more plausible conception of the character and -attributes of those faculties, by considering, with what finite -judgment we possess, the _intention_ of the Deity in so implanting -them within us, than by any actual investigation of their powers, or -any speculative deductions from their visible and material effects. -Thus, for example, we discover in all men a disposition to look with -reverence upon {328} superiority, whether real or supposititious. In -some, this disposition is to be recognized with difficulty, and, in -very peculiar cases, we are occasionally even led to doubt its -existence altogether, until circumstances beyond the common routine -bring it accidentally into development. In others again it forms a -prominent and distinctive feature of character, and is rendered -palpably evident in its excesses. But in all human beings it is, in -a greater or less degree, finally perceptible. It has been, -therefore, justly considered a primitive sentiment. Phrenologists -call it Veneration. It is, indeed, the instinct given to man by God -as security for his own worship. And although, preserving its -nature, it becomes perverted from its principal purpose, and -although, swerving from that purpose, it serves to modify the -relations of human society--the relations of father and child, of -master and slave, of the ruler and the ruled--its primitive essence -is nevertheless the same, and by a reference to primal causes, may -at any moment be determined. - -Very nearly akin to this feeling, and liable to the same analysis, -is the Faculty of Ideality--which is the sentiment of Poesy. This -sentiment is the sense of the beautiful, of the sublime, and of the -mystical.[3] Thence spring immediately admiration of the fair -flowers, the fairer forests, the bright valleys and rivers and -mountains of the Earth--and love of the gleaming stars and other -burning glories of Heaven--and, mingled up inextricably with this -love and this admiration of Heaven and of Earth, the unconquerable -desire--_to know_. Poesy is the sentiment of Intellectual Happiness -here, and the Hope of a higher Intellectual Happiness hereafter.[4] -Imagination is its Soul.[5] With the _passions_ of mankind--although -it may modify them greatly--although it may exalt, or inflame, or -purify, or control them--it would require little ingenuity to prove -that it has no inevitable, and indeed no necessary co-existence. We -have hitherto spoken of Poetry in the abstract: we come now to speak -of it in its every-day acceptation--that is to say, of the practical -result arising from the sentiment we have considered. - -[Footnote 3: We separate the sublime and the mystical--for, despite -of high authorities, we are firmly convinced that the latter _may_ -exist, in the most vivid degree, without giving rise to the sense of -the former.] - -[Footnote 4: The consciousness of this truth was possessed by no -mortal more fully than by Shelley, although he has only once -especially alluded to it. In his _Hymn to Intellectual Beauty_ we -find these lines. - - While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped - Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, - And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing - Hopes of high talk with the departed dead: - I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed: - I was not heard: I saw them not. - When musing deeply on the lot - Of life at that sweet time when birds are wooing - All vital things that wake to bring - News of buds and blossoming - Sudden thy shadow fell on me-- - I shrieked and clasp'd my hands in ecstacy! - I vow'd that I would dedicate my powers - To thee and thine: have I not kept the vow? - With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now - I call the phantoms of a thousand hours - Each from his voiceless grave: they have in vision'd bowers - Of studious zeal or love's delight - Outwatch'd with me the envious night: - They know that never joy illum'd my brow, - Unlink'd with hope that thou wouldst free, - This world from its dark slavery, - That thou, O awful _Loveliness_, - Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express.] - -[Footnote 5: Imagination is, possibly, in man, a lesser degree of -the creative power in God. What the Deity imagines, _is_, but _was -not_ before. What man imagines, _is_, but _was_ also. The mind of -man cannot imagine what _is not_. This latter point may be -demonstrated.--_See Les Premiers Traits de L'Erudition Universelle, -par M. Le Baron de Bielfield, 1767_.] - -And now it appears evident, that since Poetry, in this new sense, -_is_ the practical result, expressed in language, of this Poetic -Sentiment in certain individuals, the only proper method of testing -the merits of a poem is by measuring its capabilities of exciting -the Poetic Sentiment in others. And to this end we have many -aids--in observation, in experience, in ethical analysis, and in the -dictates of common sense. Hence the _Poeta nascitur_, which is -indisputably true if we consider the Poetic Sentiment, becomes the -merest of absurdities when we regard it in reference to the -practical result. We do not hesitate to say that a man highly -endowed with the powers of Causality--that is to say, a man of -metaphysical acumen--will, even with a very deficient share of -Ideality, compose a finer poem (if we test it, as we should, by its -measure of exciting the Poetic Sentiment) than one who, without such -metaphysical acumen, shall be gifted, in the most extraordinary -degree, with the faculty of Ideality. For a poem is not the Poetic -faculty, but _the means_ of exciting it in mankind. Now these means -the metaphysician may discover by analysis of their effects in other -cases than his own, without even conceiving the nature of these -effects--thus arriving at a result which the unaided Ideality of his -competitor would be utterly unable, except by accident, to attain. -It is more than possible that the man who, of all writers, living or -dead, has been most successful in writing the purest of all -poems--that is to say, poems which excite most purely, most -exclusively, and most powerfully the imaginative faculties in -men--owed his extraordinary and almost magical pre-eminence rather -to metaphysical than poetical powers. We allude to the author of -Christabel, of the Rime of the Auncient Mariner, and of Love--to -Coleridge--whose head, if we mistake not its character, gave no -great phrenological tokens of Ideality, while the organs of -Causality and Comparison were most singularly developed. - -Perhaps at this particular moment there are no American poems held -in so high estimation by our countrymen, as the poems of Drake, and -of Halleck. The exertions of Mr. George Dearborn have no doubt a far -greater share in creating this feeling than the lovers of literature -for its own sake and spiritual uses would be willing to admit. We -have indeed seldom seen more beautiful volumes than the volumes now -before us. But an adventitious interest of a loftier nature--the -interest of the living in the memory of the beloved dead--attaches -itself to the few literary remains of Drake. The poems which are now -given to us with his name are nineteen in number; and whether all, -or whether even the best of his writings, it is our present purpose -to speak of these alone, since upon this edition his poetical -reputation to all time will most probably depend. - -It is only lately that we have read _The Culprit Fay_. This is a -poem of six hundred and forty irregular lines, generally iambic, and -divided into thirty six stanzas, of {329} unequal length. The scene -of the narrative, as we ascertain from the single line, - - The moon looks down on old _Cronest_, - -is principally in the vicinity of West Point on the Hudson. The plot -is as follows. An Ouphe, one of the race of Fairies, has "broken his -vestal vow," - - He has loved an earthly maid - And left for her his woodland shade; - He has lain upon her lip of dew, - And sunned him in her eye of blue, - Fann'd her cheek with his wing of air, - Play'd with the ringlets of her hair, - And, nestling on her snowy breast, - Forgot the lily-king's behest-- - -in short, he has broken Fairy-law in becoming enamored of a mortal. -The result of this misdemeanor we could not express so well as the -poet, and will therefore make use of the language put into the mouth -of the Fairy-King who reprimands the criminal. - - Fairy! Fairy! list and mark, - Thou hast broke thine elfin chain, - Thy flame-wood lamp is quench'd and dark - And thy wings are dyed with a deadly stain. - -The Ouphe being in this predicament, it has become necessary that -his case and crime should be investigated by a jury of his fellows, -and to this end the "shadowy tribes of air" are summoned by the -"sentry elve" who has been awakened by the "wood-tick"--are summoned -we say to the "elfin-court" at midnight to hear the doom of the -_Culprit Fay_. - -"Had a stain been found on the earthly fair" whose blandishments so -bewildered the litle Ouphe, his punishment had been severe indeed. -In such case he would have been (as we learn from the Fairy judge's -exposition of the criminal code,) - - Tied to the hornet's shardy wings; - Tossed on the pricks of nettles' stings; - Or seven long ages doomed to dwell - With the lazy worm in the walnut shell; - Or every night to writhe and bleed - Beneath the tread of the centipede; - Or bound in a cobweb dungeon dim, - His jailer a spider huge and grim, - Amid the carrion bodies to lie - Of the worm and the bug and the murdered fly-- - -Fortunately, however, for the Culprit, his mistress is proved to be -of "sinless mind" and under such redeeming circumstances the -sentence is, mildly, as follows-- - - Thou shalt seek the beach of sand - Where the water bounds the elfin land, - Thou shalt watch the oozy brine - Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine, - Then dart the glistening arch below, - And catch a drop from his silver bow. - - * * * * * - - If the spray-bead gem be won - The stain of thy wing is washed away, - But another errand must be done - Ere thy crime be lost for aye; - Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, - Thou must re-illume its spark. - Mount thy steed and spur him high - To the heaven's blue canopy; - And when thou seest a shooting star - Follow it fast and follow it far-- - The last faint spark of its burning train - Shall light the elfin lamp again. - -Upon this sin, and upon this sentence, depends the web of the -narrative, which is now occupied with the elfin difficulties -overcome by the Ouphe in washing away the stain of his wing, and -re-illuming his flame-wood lamp. His soiled pinion having lost its -power, he is under the necessity of wending his way on foot from the -Elfin court upon Cronest to the river beach at its base. His path is -encumbered at every step with "bog and briar," with "brook and -mire," with "beds of tangled fern," with "groves of nightshade," and -with the minor evils of ant and snake. Happily, however, a spotted -toad coming in sight, our adventurer jumps upon her back, and -"bridling her mouth with a silkweed twist" bounds merrily along - - Till the mountain's magic verge is past - And the beach of sand is reached at last. - -Alighting now from his "courser-toad" the Ouphe folds his wings -around his bosom, springs on a rock, breathes a prayer, throws his -arms above his head, - - Then tosses a tiny curve in air - And plunges in the waters blue. - -Here, however, a host of difficulties await him by far too -multitudinous to enumerate. We will content ourselves with simply -stating the names of his most respectable assailants. These are the -"spirits of the waves" dressed in "snail-plate armor" and aided by -the "mailed shrimp," the "prickly prong," the "blood-red leech," the -"stony star-fish," the "jellied quarl," the "soldier crab," and the -"lancing squab." But the hopes of our hero are high, and his limbs -are strong, so - - He spreads his arms like the swallow's wing - And throws his feet with a frog-like fling. - -All, however is to no purpose. - - On his thigh the leech has fixed his hold, - The quarl's long arms are round him roll'd, - The prickly prong has pierced his skin, - And the squab has thrown his javelin, - The gritty star has rubb'd him raw, - And the crab has struck with his giant claw; - He bawls with rage, and he shrieks with pain - He strikes around but his blows are vain-- - -So then, - - He turns him round and flies amain - With hurry and dash to the beach again. - -Arrived safely on land our Fairy friend now gathers the dew from the -"sorrel-leaf and henbane-bud" and bathing therewith his wounds, -finally ties them up with cobweb. Thus recruited, he - - ----treads the fatal shore - As fresh and vigorous as before. - -At length espying a "purple-muscle shell" upon the beach, he -determines to use it as a boat, and thus evade the animosity of the -water-spirits whose powers extend not above the wave. Making a -"sculler's notch" in the stern, and providing himself with an oar of -the bootle-blade, the Ouphe a second time ventures upon the deep. -His perils are now diminished, but still great. The imps of the -river heave the billows up before the prow of the boat, dash the -surges against her side, and strike against her keel. The quarl -uprears "his island-back" in her path, and the scallop, floating in -the rear of the vessel, spatters it all over with water. Our -adventurer however, bails it out with the colen bell (which he has -luckily provided for the purpose of catching the drop from the -silver bow of the sturgeon,) and keeping his little bark warily -trimmed, holds on his course undiscomfited. - -{330} The object of his first adventure is at length discovered in a -"brown-backed sturgeon," who - - Like the heaven-shot javelin - Springs above the waters blue, - And, instant as the star-fall light - Plunges him in the deep again, - But leaves an arch of silver bright, - The rainbow of the moony main. - -From this rainbow our Ouphe succeeds in catching, by means of his -colen-bell cup, a "droplet of the sparkling dew." One half of his -task is accordingly done-- - - His wings are pure, for the gem is won. - -On his return to land, the ripples divide before him, while the -water-spirits, so rancorous before, are obsequiously attentive to -his comfort. Having tarried a moment on the beach to breathe a -prayer, he "spreads his wings of gilded blue" and takes his way to -the elfin court--there resting until the cricket, at two in the -morning, rouses him up for the second portion of his penance. - -His equipments are now an "acorn helmet," a "thistle-down plume," a -corslet of the "wild-bee's" skin, a cloak of the "wings of -butterflies," a shield of the "shell of the lady-bug," for lance -"the sting of a wasp," for sword a "blade of grass," for horse "a -fire-fly," and for spurs a couple of "cockle seed." Thus accoutred, - - Away like a glance of thought he flies - To skim the heavens and follow far - The fiery trail of the rocket-star. - -In the Heavens he has new dangers to encounter. The "shapes of air" -have begun their work--a "drizzly mist" is cast around him--"storm, -darkness, sleet and shade" assail him--"shadowy hands" twitch at his -bridle-rein--"flame-shot tongues" play around him--"fiendish eyes" -glare upon him--and - - Yells of rage and shrieks of fear - Come screaming on his startled ear. - -Still our adventurer is nothing daunted. - - He thrusts before, and he strikes behind, - Till he pierces the cloudy bodies through - And gashes the shadowy limbs of wind, - -and the Elfin makes no stop, until he reaches the "bank of the milky -way." He there checks his courser, and watches "for the glimpse of -the planet shoot." While thus engaged, however, an unexpected -adventure befalls him. He is approached by a company of the "sylphs -of Heaven attired in sunset's crimson pall." They dance around him, -and "skip before him on the plain." One receiving his "wasp-sting -lance," and another taking his bridle-rein, - - With warblings wild they lead him on, - To where, through clouds of amber seen, - Studded with stars resplendent shone - The palace of the sylphid queen. - -A glowing description of the queen's beauty follows; and as the form -of an earthly Fay had never been seen before in the bowers of light, -she is represented as falling desperately in love at first sight -with our adventurous Ouphe. He returns the compliment in some -measure, of course; but, although "his heart bent fitfully," the -"earthly form imprinted there" was a security against a too vivid -impression. He declines, consequently, the invitation of the queen -to remain with her and amuse himself by "lying within the fleecy -drift," "hanging upon the rainbow's rim," having his "brow adorned -with all the jewels of the sky," "sitting within the Pleiad ring," -"resting upon Orion's belt," "riding upon the lightning's gleam," -"dancing upon the orbed moon," and "swimming within the milky way." - - Lady, he cries, I have sworn to-night - On the word of a fairy knight - To do my sentence task aright. - -The queen, therefore, contents herself with bidding the Fay an -affectionate farewell--having first directed him carefully to that -particular portion of the sky where a star is about to fall. He -reaches this point in safety, and in despite of the "fiends of the -cloud" who "bellow very loud," succeeds finally in catching a -"glimmering spark" with which he returns triumphantly to Fairy-land. -The poem closes with an Io Pæan chaunted by the elves in honor of -these glorious adventures. - -It is more than probable that from among ten readers of the _Culprit -Fay_, nine would immediately pronounce it a poem betokening the most -extraordinary powers of imagination, and of these nine, perhaps five -or six, poets themselves, and fully impressed with the truth of what -we have already assumed, that Ideality is indeed the soul of the -Poetic Sentiment, would feel embarrassed between a -half-consciousness that they _ought_ to admire the production, and a -wonder that they _do not_. This embarrassment would then arise from -an indistinct conception of the results in which Ideality is -rendered manifest. Of these results some few are seen in the -_Culprit Fay_, but the greater part of it is utterly destitute of -any evidence of imagination whatever. The general character of the -poem will, we think, be sufficiently understood by any one who may -have taken the trouble to read our foregoing compendium of the -narrative. It will be there seen that what is so frequently termed -the imaginative power of this story, lies especially--we should have -rather said is thought to lie--in the passages we have quoted, or in -others of a precisely similar nature. These passages embody, -principally, mere specifications of qualities, of habiliments, of -punishments, of occupations, of circumstances &c., which the poet -has believed in unison with the size, firstly, and secondly with the -nature of his Fairies. To all which may be added specifications of -other animal existences (such as the toad, the beetle, the -lance-fly, the fire-fly and the like) supposed also to be in -accordance. An example will best illustrate our meaning upon this -point--we take it from page 20. - - He put his acorn helmet on; - It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down: - The corslet plate that guarded his breast - Was once the wild bee's golden vest; - His cloak of a thousand mingled dyes, - Was formed of the wings of butterflies; - His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, - Studs of gold on a ground of green;[6] - And the quivering lance which he brandished bright - Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. - -[Footnote 6: Chesnut color, or more slack, - Gold upon a ground of black. - _Ben Jonson_.] - -We shall now be understood. Were any of the admirers of the _Culprit -Fay_ asked their opinion of these lines, they would most probably -speak in high terms of the _imagination_ they display. Yet let the -most stolid and {331} the most confessedly unpoetical of these -admirers only try the experiment, and he will find, possibly to his -extreme surprise, that he himself will have no difficulty whatever -in substituting for the equipments of the Fairy, as assigned by the -poet, other equipments equally comfortable, no doubt, and equally in -unison with the preconceived size, character, and other qualities of -the equipped. Why we could accoutre him as well ourselves--let us -see. - - His blue-bell helmet, we have heard, - Was plumed with the down of the humming-bird, - The corslet on his bosom bold - Was once the locust's coat of gold, - His cloak, of a thousand mingled hues, - Was the velvet violet, wet with dews, - His target was the crescent shell - Of the small sea Sidrophel, - And a glittering beam from a maiden's eye - Was the lance which he proudly wav'd on high. - -The truth is, that the only requisite for writing verses of this -nature, _ad libitum_, is a tolerable acquaintance with the qualities -of the objects to be detailed, and a very moderate endowment of the -faculty of Comparison--which is the chief constituent of _Fancy_ or -the powers of combination. A thousand such lines may be composed -without exercising in the least degree the Poetic Sentiment, which -is Ideality, Imagination, or the creative ability. And, as we have -before said, the greater portion of the _Culprit Fay_ is occupied -with these, or similar things, and upon such, depends very nearly, -if not altogether, its reputation. We select another example from -page 25. - - But oh! how fair the shape that lay - Beneath a rainbow bending bright, - She seem'd to the entranced Fay - The loveliest of the forms of light; - Her mantle was the purple rolled - At twilight in the west afar; - 'Twas tied with threads of dawning gold, - And button'd with a sparkling star. - Her face was like the lily roon - That veils the vestal planet's hue; - Her eyes, two beamlets from the moon - Set floating in the welkin blue. - Her hair is like the sunny beam, - And the diamond gems which round it gleam - Are the pure drops of dewy even, - That ne'er have left their native heaven. - -Here again the faculty of Comparison is alone exercised, and no mind -possessing the faculty in any ordinary degree would find a -difficulty in substituting for the materials employed by the poet -other materials equally as good. But viewed as mere efforts of the -Fancy and without reference to Ideality, the lines just quoted are -much worse than those which were taken from page 20. A congruity was -observable in the accoutrements of the Ouphe, and we had no trouble -in forming a distinct conception of his appearance when so -accoutred. But the most vivid powers of Comparison can attach no -definitive idea to even "the loveliest form of light," when habited -in a mantle of "rolled purple tied with threads of dawn and buttoned -with a star," and sitting at the same time under a rainbow with -"beamlet" eyes and a visage of "lily roon." - -But if these things evince no Ideality in their author, do they not -excite it in others?--if so, we must conclude, that without being -himself imbued with the Poetic Sentiment, he has still succeeded in -writing a fine poem--a supposition as we have before endeavored to -show, not altogether paradoxical. Most assuredly we think not. In -the case of a great majority of readers the only sentiment aroused -by compositions of this order is a species of vague wonder at the -writer's _ingenuity_, and it is this indeterminate sense of wonder -which passes but too frequently current for the proper influence of -the Poetic power. For our own parts we plead guilty to a predominant -sense of the ludicrous while occupied in the perusal of the poem -before us--a sense whose promptings we sincerely and honestly -endeavored to quell, perhaps not altogether successfully, while -penning our compend of the narrative. That a feeling of this nature -is utterly at war with the Poetic Sentiment, will not be disputed by -those who comprehend the character of the sentiment itself. This -character is finely shadowed out in that popular although vague idea -so prevalent throughout all time, that a species of melancholy is -inseparably connected with the higher manifestations of the -beautiful. But with the numerous and seriously-adduced incongruities -of the Culprit Fay, we find it generally impossible to connect other -ideas than those of the ridiculous. We are bidden, in the first -place, and in a tone of sentiment and language adapted to the -loftiest breathings of the Muse, to imagine a race of Fairies in the -vicinity of West Point. We are told, with a grave air, of their -camp, of their king, and especially of their sentry, who is a -wood-tick. We are informed that an Ouphe of about an inch in height -has committed a deadly sin in falling in love with a mortal maiden, -who may, very possibly, be six feet in her stockings. The -consequence to the Ouphe is--what? Why, that he has "dyed his -wings," "broken his elfin chain," and "quenched his flame-wood -lamp." And he is therefore sentenced to what? To catch a spark from -the tail of a falling star, and a drop of water from the belly of a -sturgeon. What are his equipments for the first adventure? An acorn -helmet, a thistle-down plume, a butterfly cloak, a lady-bug shield, -cockle-seed spurs, and a fire-fly horse. How does he ride to the -second? On the back of a bull-frog. What are his opponents in the -one? "Drizzly mists," "sulphur and smoke," "shadowy hands" and -"flame-shot tongues." What in the other? "Mailed shrimps," "prickly -prongs," "blood-red leeches," "jellied quarls," "stony star fishes," -"lancing squabs" and "soldier crabs." Is that all? No--Although only -an inch high he is in imminent danger of seduction from a "sylphid -queen," dressed in a mantle of "rolled purple," "tied with threads -of dawning gold," "buttoned with a sparkling star," and sitting -under a rainbow with "beamlet eyes" and a countenance of "lily -roon." In our account of all this matter we have had reference to -the book--and to the book alone. It will be difficult to prove us -guilty in any degree of distortion or exaggeration. Yet such are the -puerilities we daily find ourselves called upon to admire, as among -the loftiest efforts of the human mind, and which not to assign a -rank with the proud trophies of the matured and vigorous genius of -England, is to prove ourselves at once a fool, a maligner, and no -patriot.[7] - -[Footnote 7: A review of Drake's poems, emanating from one of our -proudest Universities, does not scruple to make use of the following -language in relation to the _Culprit Fay_. "_It is, to say the -least, an elegant production, the purest specimen of Ideality {332} -we have ever met with, sustaining in each incident a most bewitching -interest. Its very title is enough_," &c. &c. We quote these -expressions as a fair specimen of the general unphilosophical and -adulatory tenor of our criticism.] - -As an instance of what may be termed the sublimely ridiculous we -quote the following lines from page 17. - - With sweeping tail and quivering fin, - Through the wave the sturgeon flew, - And like the heaven-shot javelin, - He sprung above the waters blue. - - Instant as the star-fall light, - He plunged into the deep again, - But left an arch of silver bright - The rainbow of the moony main. - - _It was a strange and lovely sight - To see the puny goblin there; - He seemed an angel form of light - With azure wing and sunny hair, - Throned on a cloud of purple fair - Circled with blue and edged with white - And sitting at the fall of even - Beneath the bow of summer heaven._ - -The verses here italicized, if considered without their context, -have a certain air of dignity, elegance, and chastity of thought. If -however we apply the context, we are immediately overwhelmed with -the grotesque. It is impossible to read without laughing, such -expressions as "It was a strange and lovely sight"--"He seemed an -angel form of light"--"And sitting at the fall of even, beneath the -bow of summer heaven" to a Fairy--a goblin--an Ouphe--half an inch -high, dressed in an acorn helmet and butterfly-cloak, and sitting on -the water in a muscle-shell, with a "brown-backed sturgeon" turning -somersets over his head. - -In a world where evil is a mere consequence of good, and good a mere -consequence of evil--in short where all of which we have any -conception is good or bad only by comparison--we have never yet been -fully able to appreciate the validity of that decision which would -debar the critic from enforcing upon his readers the merits or -demerits of a work by placing it in juxta-position with another. It -seems to us that an adage based in the purest ignorance has had more -to do with this popular feeling than any just reason founded upon -common sense. Thinking thus, we shall have no scruple in -illustrating our opinion in regard to what _is not_ Ideality or the -Poetic Power, by an example of what _is_.[8] We have already given -the description of the Sylphid Queen in the _Culprit Fay_. In the -_Queen Mab_ of Shelley a Fairy is thus introduced-- - - Those who had looked upon the sight, - Passing all human glory, - Saw not the yellow moon, - Saw not the mortal scene, - Heard not the night wind's rush, - Heard not an earthly sound, - Saw but the fairy pageant, - Heard but the heavenly strains - That filled the lonely dwelling-- - -and thus described-- - - The Fairy's frame was slight; yon fibrous cloud - That catches but the palest tinge of even, - And which the straining eye can hardly seize - When melting into eastern twilight's shadow, - Were scarce so thin, so slight; but the fair star - That gems the glittering coronet of morn, - _Sheds not a light so mild, so powerful, - As that which, bursting from the Fairy's form, - Spread a purpureal halo round the scene, - Yet with an undulating motion, - Swayed to her outline gracefully_. - -[Footnote 8: As examples of entire poems of the purest ideality, we -would cite the _Prometheus Vinctus_ of Æschylus, the _Inferno_ of -Dante, Cervantes' _Destruction of Numantia_, the _Comus_ of Milton, -Pope's _Rape of the Lock_, Burns' _Tam O'Shanter_, the _Auncient -Mariner_, the _Christabel_, and the _Kubla Khan_ of Coleridge; and -most especially the _Sensitive Plant_ of Shelley, and the -_Nightingale_ of Keats. We have seen American poems evincing the -faculty in the highest degree.] - -In these exquisite lines the Faculty of mere Comparison is but -little exercised--that of Ideality in a wonderful degree. It is -probable that in a similar case the poet we are now reviewing would -have formed the face of the Fairy of the "fibrous cloud," her arms -of the "pale tinge of even," her eyes of the "fair stars," and her -body of the "twilight shadow." Having so done, his admirers would -have congratulated him upon his _imagination_, not taking the -trouble to think that they themselves could at any moment _imagine_ -a Fairy of materials equally as good, and conveying an equally -distinct idea. Their mistake would be precisely analogous to that of -many a schoolboy who admires the imagination displayed in _Jack the -Giant-Killer_, and is finally rejoiced at discovering his own -imagination to surpass that of the author, since the monsters -destroyed by Jack are only about forty feet in height, and he -himself has no trouble in imagining some of one hundred and forty. -It will be seen that the Fairy of Shelley is not a mere compound of -incongruous natural objects, inartificially put together, and -unaccompanied by any _moral_ sentiment--but a being, in the -illustration of whose nature some physical elements are used -collaterally as adjuncts, while the main conception springs -immediately _or thus apparently springs_, from the brain of the -poet, enveloped in the moral sentiments of grace, of color, of -motion--of the beautiful, of the mystical, of the august--in short -of _the ideal_.[9] - -[Footnote 9: Among things, which not only in our opinion, but in the -opinion of far wiser and better men, are to be ranked with the mere -prettinesses of the Muse, are the positive similes so abundant in -the writings of antiquity, and so much insisted upon by the critics -of the reign of Queen Anne.] - -It is by no means our intention to deny that in the _Culprit Fay_ -are passages of a different order from those to which we have -objected--passages evincing a degree of imagination not to be -discovered in the plot, conception, or general execution of the -poem. The opening stanza will afford us a tolerable example. - - 'Tis the middle watch of a summer's night-- - _The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright_ - Naught is seen in the vault on high - But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky, - And the flood which rolls its milky hue - A river of light on the welkin blue. - The moon looks down on old Cronest, - She mellows the shades of his shaggy breast, - And seems his huge grey form to throw - In a silver cone on the wave below; - His sides are broken by spots of shade, - By the walnut bough and the cedar made, - And through their clustering branches dark - _Glimmers and dies_ the fire-fly's spark-- - Like starry twinkles that momently break - Through the rifts of the gathering tempest rack. - -There is Ideality in these lines--but except in the case of the -words italicized--it is Ideality _not of a high order_. We have it -is true, a collection of natural {333} objects, each individually of -great beauty, and, if actually seen as in nature, capable of -exciting in any mind, through the means of the Poetic Sentiment more -or less inherent in all, a certain sense of the beautiful. But to -view such natural objects as they exist, and to behold them through -the medium of words, are different things. Let us pursue the idea -that such a collection as we have here will produce, of necessity, -the Poetic Sentiment, and we may as well make up our minds to -believe that a catalogue of such expressions as moon, sky, trees, -rivers, mountains &c., shall be capable of exciting it,--it is -merely an extension of the principle. But in the line "the earth is -dark, _but_ the heavens are bright" besides the simple mention of -the "dark earth" and the "bright heaven," we have, directly, the -moral sentiment of the brightness of the sky compensating for the -darkness of the earth--and thus, indirectly, of the happiness of a -future state compensating for the miseries of a present. All this is -effected by the simple introduction of the word _but_ between the -"dark heaven" and the "bright earth"--this introduction, however, -was prompted by the Poetic Sentiment, and by the Poetic Sentiment -alone. The case is analogous in the expression "glimmers and dies," -where the imagination is exalted by the moral sentiment of beauty -heightened in dissolution. - -In one or two shorter passages of the _Culprit Fay_ the poet will -recognize the purely ideal, and be able at a glance to distinguish -it from that baser alloy upon which we have descanted. We give them -without farther comment. - - The winds _are whist_, and the owl is still - The bat in the shelvy rock _is hid_ - And naught is heard on the _lonely_ hill - But the cricket's chirp and the answer _shrill_ - Of the gauze-winged katy-did; - And the plaint of the _wailing_ whippoorwill - Who mourns _unseen_, and ceaseless sings - Ever a note of wail and wo-- - - Up to the vaulted firmament - His path the fire-fly courser bent, - And at every gallop on the wind - _He flung a glittering spark behind_. - - He blessed the force of the charmed line, - And he banned the water-goblins' spite, - For he saw around _in the sweet moonshine, - Their little wee faces above the brine, - Giggling and laughing with all their might_ - At the piteous hap of the Fairy wight. - -The poem "_To a Friend_" consists of fourteen Spenserian stanzas. -They are fine spirited verses, and probably were not supposed by -their author to be more. Stanza the fourth, although beginning -nobly, concludes with that very common exemplification of the -bathos, the illustrating natural objects of beauty or grandeur by -reference to the tinsel of artificiality. - - Oh! for a seat on Appalachia's brow, - That I might scan the glorious prospects round, - Wild waving woods, and rolling floods below, - Smooth level glades and fields with grain embrowned, - High heaving hills, with tufted forests crowned, - Rearing their tall tops to the heaven's blue dome, - And emerald isles, _like banners green unwound, - Floating along the lake, while round them roam - Bright helms of billowy blue, and plumes of dancing foam_. - -In the _Extracts from Leon_, are passages not often surpassed in -vigor of passionate thought and expression--and which induce us to -believe not only that their author would have succeeded better in -prose romance than in poetry, but that his attention would have -naturally fallen into the former direction, had the Destroyer only -spared him a little longer. - -This poem contains also lines of far greater poetic power than any -to be found in the _Culprit Fay_. For example-- - - The stars have lit in heaven their lamps of gold, - The _viewless_ dew falls lightly on the world; - The gentle air _that softly sweeps the leaves_ - A strain of faint unearthly music weaves: - As when the harp of heaven _remotely_ plays, - Or cygnets _wail_--or song of _sorrowing_ fays - That _float amid the moonshine glimmerings pale_, - On wings of woven air in some enchanted vale.[10] - -[Footnote 10: The expression "woven air," much insisted upon by the -friends of Drake, seems to be accredited to him as original. It is -to be found in many English writers--and can be traced back to -Apuleius who calls fine drapery _ventum textilem_.] - -_Niagara_ is objectionable in many respects, and in none more so -than in its frequent inversions of language, and the artificial -character of its versification. The invocation, - - Roar, raging torrent! and thou, mighty river, - Pour thy white foam on the valley below! - Frown ye dark mountains, &c. - -is ludicrous--and nothing more. In general, all such invocations -have an air of the burlesque. In the present instance we may fancy -the majestic Niagara replying, "Most assuredly I will roar, whether, -worm! thou tellest me or not." - -_The American Flag_ commences with a collection of those bald -conceits, which we have already shown to have no dependence whatever -upon the Poetic Power--springing altogether from Comparison. - - When Freedom from her mountain height - Unfurled her standard to the air, - She tore the azure robe of night - And set the stars of glory there. - She mingled with its gorgeous dyes - The milky baldric of the skies, - And striped its pure celestial white - With streakings of the morning light; - Then from his mansion in the sun - She called her eagle bearer down - And gave into his mighty hand - The symbol of her chosen land. - -Let us reduce all this to plain English, and we have--what? Why, a -flag, consisting of the "azure robe of night," "set with stars of -glory," interspersed with "streaks of morning light," relieved with -a few pieces of "the milky way," and the whole carried by an "eagle -bearer," that is to say, an eagle ensign, who bears aloft this -"symbol of our chosen land" in his "mighty hand," by which we are to -understand his claw. In the second stanza, the "thunder-drum of -Heaven" is bathetic and grotesque in the highest degree--a -commingling of the most sublime music of Heaven with the most -utterly contemptible and common-place of Earth. The two concluding -verses are in a better spirit, and might almost be supposed to be -from a different hand. The images contained in the lines, - - When Death careering on the gale - Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, - And frighted waves rush wildly back, - Before the broadside's reeling rack, - -are of the highest order of Ideality. The deficiencies {334} of the -whole poem may be best estimated by reading it in connection with -"Scots wha hae," with the "Mariners of England," or with -"Hohenlinden." It is indebted for its high and most undeserved -reputation to our patriotism--not to our judgment. - -The remaining poems in Mr. Dearborn's edition of Drake, are three -Songs; Lines in an Album; Lines to a Lady; Lines on leaving New -Rochelle; Hope; A Fragment; To ----; Lines; To Eva; To a Lady; To -Sarah; and Bronx. These are all poems of little compass, and with -the exception of Bronx and a portion of the Fragment, they have no -character distinctive from the mass of our current poetical -literature. Bronx, however, is in our opinion, not only the best of -the writings of Drake, but altogether a lofty and beautiful poem, -upon which his admirers would do better to found a hope of the -writer's ultimate reputation than upon the _niaiseries_ of the -_Culprit Fay_. In the _Fragment_ is to be found the finest -individual passage in the volume before us, and we quote it as a -proper finale to our Review. - - Yes! thou art lovelier now than ever; - How sweet 'twould be _when all the air - In moonlight swims_, along thy river - To couch upon the grass, and hear - Niagara's everlasting voice - Far in the deep blue west away; - That dreamy and poetic noise - We mark not in the glare of day, - Oh! how unlike its torrent-cry, - When o'er the brink the tide is driven, - _As if the vast and sheeted sky - In thunder fell from Heaven_. - - * * * * * - -Halleck's poetical powers appear to us essentially inferior, upon -the whole, to those of his friend Drake. He has written nothing at -all comparable to _Bronx_. By the hackneyed phrase, _sportive -elegance_, we might possibly designate at once the general character -of his writings and the very loftiest praise to which he is justly -entitled. - -_Alnwick Castle_ is an irregular poem of one hundred and -twenty-eight lines--was written, as we are informed, in October -1822--and is descriptive of a seat of the Duke of Northumberland, in -Northumberlandshire, England. The effect of the first stanza is -materially impaired by a defect in its grammatical arrangement. The -fine lines, - - Home of the Percy's high-born race, - Home of their beautiful and brave, - Alike their birth and burial place, - Their cradle and their grave! - -are of the nature of an invocation, and thus require a continuation -of the address to the "Home, &c." We are consequently disappointed -when the stanza proceeds with-- - - Still sternly o'er the castle gate - _Their_ house's Lion stands in state - As in _his_ proud departed hours; - And warriors frown in stone on high, - And feudal banners "flout the sky" - Above _his_ princely towers. - -The objects of allusion here vary, in an awkward manner, from the -castle to the Lion, and from the Lion to the towers. By writing the -verses thus the difficulty would be remedied. - - Still sternly o'er the castle gate - _Thy_ house's Lion stands in state, - As in his proud departed hours; - And warriors frown in stone on high, - And feudal banners "flout the sky" - Above _thy_ princely towers. - -The second stanza, without evincing in any measure the loftier -powers of a poet, has that quiet air of grace, both in thought and -expression, which seems to be the prevailing feature of the Muse of -Halleck. - - A gentle hill its side inclines, - Lovely in England's fadeless green, - To meet the quiet stream which winds - Through this romantic scene - As silently and sweetly still, - As when, at evening, on that hill, - While summer's wind blew soft and low, - Seated by gallant Hotspur's side - His Katherine was a happy bride - A thousand years ago. - -There are one or two brief passages in the poem evincing a degree of -rich imagination not elsewhere perceptible throughout the book. For -example-- - - Gaze on the Abbey's ruined pile: - Does not the succoring Ivy keeping, - Her watch around it seem to smile - As o'er a lov'd one sleeping? - -and, - - One solitary turret gray - Still tells in melancholy glory - The legend of the Cheviot day. - -The commencement of the fourth stanza is of the highest order of -Poetry, and partakes, in a happy manner, of that quaintness of -expression so effective an adjunct to Ideality, when employed by the -Shelleys, the Coleridges and the Tennysons, but so frequently -debased, and rendered ridiculous, by the herd of brainless -imitators. - - Wild roses by the Abbey towers - Are gay in their young bud and bloom: - _They were born of a race of funeral flowers_, - That garlanded in long-gone hours, - A Templar's knightly tomb. - -The tone employed in the concluding portions of Alnwick Castle, is, -we sincerely think, reprehensible, and unworthy of Halleck. No true -poet can unite in any manner the low burlesque with the ideal, and -not be conscious of incongruity and of a profanation. Such verses as - - Men in the coal and cattle line - From Teviot's bard and hero land, - From royal Berwick's beach of sand, - From Wooller, Morpeth, Hexham, and - Newcastle upon Tyne, - -may lay claim to oddity--but no more. These things are the defects -and not the beauties of _Don Juan_. They are totally out of keeping -with the graceful and delicate manner of the initial portions of -_Alnwick Castle_, and serve no better purpose than to deprive the -entire poem of all unity of effect. If a poet must be farcical, let -him be just that, and nothing else. To be drolly sentimental is bad -enough, as we have just seen in certain passages of the _Culprit -Fay_, but to be sentimentally droll is a thing intolerable to men, -and Gods, and columns. - -_Marco Bozzaris_ appears to have much lyrical without any high order -of _ideal_ beauty. _Force_ is its prevailing character--a force, -however, consisting more in a well ordered and sonorous arrangement -of the metre, and a {335} judicious disposal of what may be called -the circumstances of the poem, than in the true _materiel_ of lyric -vigor. We are introduced, first, to the Turk who dreams, at -midnight, in his guarded tent, - - of the hour - When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, - Should tremble at his power-- - -He is represented as revelling in the visions of ambition. - - In dreams through camp and court he bore - The trophies of a conqueror; - In dreams his song of triumph heard; - Then wore his monarch's signet ring: - Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king; - As wild his thoughts and gay of wing - As Eden's garden bird. - -In direct contrast to this we have Bozzaris watchful in the forest, -and ranging his band of Suliotes on the ground, and amid the -memories, of Platœa. An hour elapses, and the Turk awakes from his -visions of false glory--to die. But Bozzaris dies--to awake. He dies -in the flush of victory to awake, in death, to an ultimate certainty -of Freedom. Then follows an invocation to Death. His terrors under -ordinary circumstances are contrasted with the glories of the -dissolution of Bozzaris, in which the approach of the Destroyer is - - welcome as the cry - That told the Indian isles were nigh - To the world-seeking Genoese, - When the land-wind from woods of palm, - And orange groves and fields of balm, - Blew o'er the Haytian seas. - -The poem closes with the poetical apotheosis of Marco Bozzaris as - - One of the few, the immortal names - That are not born to die. - -It will be seen that these arrangements of the subject are skilfully -contrived--perhaps they are a little too evident, and we are enabled -too readily by the perusal of one passage, to anticipate the -succeeding. The rhythm is highly artificial. The stanzas are well -adapted for vigorous expression--the fifth will afford a just -specimen of the versification of the whole poem. - - Come to the bridal Chamber, Death! - Come to the mother's, when she feels - For the first time her first born's breath; - Come when the blessed seals - That close the pestilence are broke, - And crowded cities wail its stroke; - Come in consumption's ghastly form, - The earthquake shock, the ocean storm; - Come when the heart beats high and warm, - With banquet song, and dance, and wine; - And thou art terrible--the tear, - The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier; - And all we know, or dream, or fear - Of agony, are thine. - -Granting, however, to _Marco Bozzaris_, the minor excellences we -have pointed out, we should be doing our conscience great wrong in -calling it, upon the whole, any thing more than a very ordinary -matter. It is surpassed, even as a lyric, by a multitude of foreign -and by many American compositions of a similar character. To -Ideality it has few pretensions, and the finest portion of the poem -is probably to be found in the verses we have quoted elsewhere-- - - Thy grasp is welcome as the hand - Of brother in a foreign land; - Thy summons welcome as the cry - That told the Indian isles were nigh - To the world-seeking Genoese, - When the land-wind from woods of palm - And orange groves, and fields of balm - Blew o'er the Haytian seas. - -The verses entitled _Burns_ consist of thirty eight quatrains--the -three first lines of each quatrain being of four feet, the fourth of -three. This poem has many of the traits of _Alnwick Castle_, and -bears also a strong resemblance to some of the writings of -Wordsworth. Its chief merit, and indeed the chief merit, so we -think, of all the poems of Halleck is the merit of _expression_. In -the brief extracts from _Burns_ which follow, our readers will -recognize the peculiar character of which we speak. - - Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks: - Thou mind'st me of _that autumn noon - When first we met upon "the banks - And braes o' bonny Doon"_-- - - * * * * * - - Like thine, beneath the thorn-tree's bough, - My sunny hour was glad and brief-- - We've crossed the winter sea, _and thou - Art withered--flower and leaf_. - - * * * * * - - _There have been loftier themes than his, - And longer scrolls and louder lyres - And lays lit up with Poesy's - Purer and holier fires._ - - * * * * * - - _And when he breathes his master-lay - Of Alloway's witch-haunted wall_ - All passions in our frames of clay - Come thronging at his call. - - * * * * * - - Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines, - Shrines to no code or creed confined-- - _The Delphian vales, the Palestines, - The Meccas of the mind_. - - * * * * * - - _They linger by the Doon's low trees, - And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr_, - And round thy Sepulchres, Dumfries! - The Poet's tomb is there. - -_Wyoming_ is composed of nine Spenserian stanzas. With some unusual -excellences, it has some of the worst faults of Halleck. The lines -which follow are of great beauty. - - I then but dreamed: thou art before me now, - In life--a vision of the brain no more, - I've stood upon the wooded mountain's brow, - That beetles high thy lovely valley o'er; - And now, _where winds thy river's greenest shore, - Within a bower of sycamores am laid; - And winds as soft and sweet as ever bore - The fragrance of wild flowers through sun and shade - Are singing in the trees, whose low boughs press my head_. - -The poem, however, is disfigured with the mere burlesque of some -portions of Alnwick Castle--with such things as - - he would look _particularly droll_ - In his Iberian boot and Spanish plume; - -and - - a girl of sweet sixteen - Love-darting eyes and tresses like the morn - _Without a shoe or stocking--hoeing corn_, - -mingled up in a pitiable manner with images of real beauty. - -_The Field of the Grounded Arms_ contains twenty-four quatrains, -without rhyme, and, we think, of a {336} disagreeable versification. -In this poem are to be observed some of the finest passages of -Halleck. For example-- - - Strangers! your eyes are on that valley fixed - Intently, as we gaze on vacancy, - _When the mind's wings o'erspread - The spirit world of dreams_. - -And again-- - - _O'er sleepless seas of grass whose waves are flowers_. - -_Red-Jacket_ has much power of expression with little evidence of -poetical ability. Its humor is very fine, and does not interfere, in -any great degree, with the general tone of the poem. - -_A Sketch_ should have been omitted from the edition as altogether -unworthy of its author. - -The remaining pieces in the volume are _Twilight_; _Psalm_ cxxxvii; -_To ****_; _Love_; _Domestic Happiness_; _Magdalen_; _From the -Italian_; _Woman_; _Connecticut_; _Music_; _On the Death of Lieut. -William Howard Allen_; _A Poet's Daughter_; and _On the Death of -Joseph Rodman Drake_. Of the majority of these we deem it -unnecessary to say more than that they partake, in a more or less -degree, of the general character observable in the poems of Halleck. -The _Poet's Daughter_ appears to us a particularly happy specimen of -that general character, and we doubt whether it be not the favorite -of its author. We are glad to see the vulgarity of - - I'm busy in the cotton trade - And sugar line, - -omitted in the present edition. The eleventh stanza is certainly not -English as it stands--and besides it is altogether unintelligible. -What is the meaning of this? - - But her who asks, though first among - The good, the beautiful, the young, - The birthright of a spell more strong - Than these have brought her. - -_The Lines on the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake_, we prefer to any of -the writings of Halleck. It has that rare merit in compositions of -this kind--the union of tender sentiment and simplicity. This poem -consists merely of six quatrains, and we quote them in full. - - Green be the turf above thee, - Friend of my better days! - None knew thee but to love thee, - Nor named thee but to praise. - - Tears fell when thou wert dying, - From eyes unused to weep, - And long, where thou art lying, - Will tears the cold turf steep. - - When hearts whose truth was proven, - Like thine are laid in earth, - There should a wreath be woven - To tell the world their worth. - - And I, who woke each morrow - To clasp thy hand in mine, - Who shared thy joy and sorrow, - Whose weal and woe were thine-- - - It should be mine to braid it - Around thy faded brow, - But I've in vain essayed it, - And feel I cannot now. - - While memory bids me weep thee, - Nor thoughts nor words are free, - The grief is fixed too deeply, - That mourns a man like thee. - -If we are to judge from the subject of these verses, they are a work -of some care and reflection. Yet they abound in faults. In the line, - - Tears fell when thou wert dying; - -_wert_ is not English. - - Will tears the cold turf steep, - -is an exceedingly rough verse. The metonymy involved in - - There should a wreath be woven - To _tell_ the world their worth, - -is unjust. The quatrain beginning, - - And I who woke each morrow, - -is ungrammatical in its construction when viewed in connection with -the quatrain which immediately follows. "Weep thee" and "deeply" are -inaccurate rhymes--and the whole of the first quatrain, - - Green be the turf, &c. - -although beautiful, bears too close a resemblance to the still more -beautiful lines of William Wordsworth, - - She dwelt among the untrodden ways - Beside the springs of Dove, - A maid whom there were none to praise - And very few to love. - -As a versifier Halleck is by no means equal to his friend, all of -whose poems evince an ear finely attuned to the delicacies of -melody. We seldom meet with more inharmonious lines than those, -generally, of the author of _Alnwick Castle_. At every step such -verses occur as, - - And _the_ monk's hymn and minstrel's song-- - True _as_ the steel of _their_ tried blades-- - For _him_ the joy of _her_ young years-- - Where _the_ Bard-peasant first drew breath-- - And withered _my_ life's leaf like thine-- - -in which the proper course of the rhythm would demand an accent upon -syllables too unimportant to sustain it. Not unfrequently, too, we -meet with lines such as this, - - Like torn branch from death's leafless tree, - -in which the multiplicity of consonants renders the pronunciation of -the words at all, a matter of no inconsiderable difficulty. - -But we must bring our notice to a close. It will be seen that while -we are willing to admire in many respects the poems before us, we -feel obliged to dissent materially from that public opinion (perhaps -not fairly ascertained) which would assign them a very brilliant -rank in the empire of Poesy. That we have among us poets of the -loftiest order we believe--but we do _not_ believe that these poets -are Drake and Halleck. - - -SLAVERY. - -_Slavery in the United States. By J. K. Paulding. New York: Harper -and Brothers._ - -_The South Vindicated from the Treason and Fanaticism of the -Northern Abolitionists. Philadelphia: Published by H. Manly._ - -It is impossible to look attentively and understandingly on those -phenomena that indicate public sentiment in regard to the subject of -these works, without deep and anxious interest. "_Nulla vestigia -retrorsum_," is a saying fearfully applicable to what is called the -"march of mind." It is unquestionable truth. The absolute and -palpable impossibility of ever unlearning what we know, and of -returning, even by forgetfulness, to {337} the state of mind in -which the knowledge of it first found us, has always afforded -flattering encouragement to the hopes of him who dreams about the -perfectibility of human nature. Sometimes one scheme, and sometimes -another is devised for accomplishing this great end; and these means -are so various, and often so opposite, that the different -experiments which the world has countenanced would seem to -contradict the maxim we have quoted. At one time human nature is to -be elevated to the height of perfection, by emancipating the mind -from all the restraints imposed by Religion. At another, the same -end is to be accomplished by the universal spread of a faith, under -the benign influence of which every son of Adam is to become holy, -"even as God is holy." One or the other of these schemes has been a -cardinal point in every system of perfectibility which has been -devised since the earliest records of man's history began. At the -same time the progress of knowledge (subject indeed to occasional -interruptions) has given to each successive experiment a seeming -advantage over that which preceded it. - -But it is lamentable to observe, that let research discover, let -science teach, let art practice what it may, man, in all his -mutations, never fails to get back to some point at which he has -been before. The human mind seems to perform, by some invariable -laws, a sort of cycle, like those of the heavenly bodies. We may be -unable, (and, for ourselves, we profess to be so) to trace the -_causes_ of these changes; but we are not sure that an accurate -observation of the history of various nations at different times, -may not detect the _laws_ that govern them. However eccentric the -orbit, the comet's place in the heavens enables the enlightened -astronomer to anticipate its future course, to tell when it will -pass its perihelion, in what direction it will shoot away into the -unfathomable abyss of infinite space, and at what period it will -return. But what especially concerns us, is to mark its progress -through our planetary system, to determine whether in coming or -returning it may infringe upon us, and prove the messenger of that -dispensation which, in the end of all things, is to wrap our earth -in flames. - -Not less eccentric, and far more deeply interesting to us, is the -orbit of the human mind. If, as some have supposed, the comet in its -upward flight is drawn away by the attraction of some other sun, -around which also it bends its course, thus linking another system -with our own, the analogy will be more perfect. For while man is -ever seen rushing with uncontrollable violence toward one or the -other of his opposite extremes, fanaticism and irreligion--at each -of these we find placed an attractive force identical in its nature -and in many of its effects. At each extreme, we find him influenced -by the same prevailing interest--devoting himself to the -accomplishment of the same great object. Happiness is his purpose. -The sources of that, he may be told, are within himself--but his eye -will fix on the external means, and these he will labor to obtain. -Foremost among these, and the equivalent which is to purchase all -the rest, is property. At this all men aim, and their eagerness -seems always proportioned to the excitement, which, from whatever -cause, may for the time prevail. Under such excitement, the many who -want, band themselves together against the few that possess; and the -lawless appetite of the multitude for the property of others calls -itself the spirit of liberty. - -In the calm, and, as we would call it, the healthful condition of -the public mind, when every man worships God after his own manner, -and Religion and its duties are left to his conscience and his -Maker, we find each quietly enjoying his own property, and -permitting to others the quiet enjoyment of theirs. Under that state -of things, those modes and forms of liberty which regulate and -secure this enjoyment, are preferred. Peace reigns, the arts -flourish, science extends her discoveries, and man, and the sources -of his enjoyments, are multiplied. But in this condition things -never rest. We have already disclaimed any knowledge of the causes -which forbid this--we only know that such exist. We know that men -are always passing, with fearful rapidity, between the extremes of -fanaticism and irreligion, and that at either extreme, property and -all the governmental machinery provided to guard it, become -insecure. "Down with the Church! Down with the Altar!" is at one -time the cry. "Turn the fat bigots out of their styes, sell the -property of the Church and give the money to the poor!" "Behold our -turn cometh," says the Millenarian. "The kingdoms of this world are -about to become the kingdoms of God and of his Christ. Sell what you -have and give to the poor, and let all things be in common!" - -It is now about two hundred years since this latter spirit showed -itself in England with a violence and extravagance which -accomplished the overthrow of all the institutions of that kingdom. -With that we have nothing to do; but we should suppose that the -striking resemblance between the aspect of a certain party in that -country then and now, could hardly escape the English statesman. -Fifty years ago, in France, this eccentric comet, "public -sentiment," was in its opposite node. Making allowance for the -difference in the characters of the two people, the effects were -identical, the apparent causes were the opposites of each other. In -the history of the French Revolution, we find a sort of symptomatic -phenomenon, the memory of which was soon lost in the fearful -exacerbation of the disease. But it should be remembered now, that -in that war against property, the first object of attack was -property in slaves; that in that war on behalf of the alleged right -of man to be discharged from all control of law, the first triumph -achieved was in the emancipation of slaves. - -The recent events in the West Indies, and the parallel movement -here, give an awful importance to these thoughts in our minds. They -superinduce a something like despair of success in any attempt that -may be made to resist the attack on all our rights, of which that on -Domestic Slavery (the basis of all our institutions) is but the -precursor. It is a sort of boding that may belong to the family of -superstitions. All vague and undefined fears, from causes the nature -of which we know not, the operations of which we cannot stay, are of -that character. Such apprehensions are alarming in proportion to our -estimate of the value of the interest endangered; and are excited by -every thing which enhances that estimate. Such apprehensions have -been awakened in our minds by the books before us. To Mr. Paulding, -as a Northern man, we tender our grateful thanks for the faithful -picture he has drawn of slavery as it appeared to him in his visit -to the South, and as {338} exhibited in the information he has -carefully derived from those most capable of giving it. His work is -executed in the very happiest manner of an author in whom America -has the greatest reason to rejoice, and will not fail to enhance his -reputation immeasurably as a writer of pure and vigorous English, as -a clear thinker, as a patriot, and as a man. The other publication, -which we take to be from a Southern pen, is more calculated to -excite our indignation against the calumnies which have been put -forth against us, and the wrongs meditated by those who come to us -in the names of our common Redeemer and common country--seeking our -destruction under the mask of Christian Charity and Brotherly Love. -This too is executed with much ability, and may be read with -pleasure as well as profit. While we take great pleasure in -recommending these works to our readers, we beg leave to add a few -words of our own. We are the more desirous to do this, because there -is a view of the subject most deeply interesting to us, which we do -not think has ever been presented, by any writer, in as high relief -as it deserves. We speak of the moral influences flowing from the -relation of master and slave, and the moral feelings engendered and -cultivated by it. A correspondent of Mr. Paulding's justly speaks of -this relation as one partaking of the patriarchal character, and -much resembling that of clanship. This is certainly so. But to say -this, is to give a very inadequate idea of it, unless we take into -consideration the peculiar character (I may say the peculiar nature) -of the negro. Let us reason upon it as we may, there is certainly a -power, in causes inscrutable to us, which works essential changes in -the different races of animals. In their physical constitution this -is obvious to the senses. The color of the negro no man can deny, -and therefore, it was but the other day, that they who will believe -nothing they cannot account for, made this manifest fact an -authority for denying the truth of holy writ. Then comes the -opposite extreme--they are, like ourselves, the sons of Adam, and -must therefore, have like passions and wants and feelings and -tempers in all respects. This, we deny, and appeal to the knowledge -of all who know. But their authority will be disputed, and their -testimony falsified, unless we can devise something to show how a -difference might and should have been brought about. Our theory is a -short one. It was the will of God it should be so. But the -means--how was this effected? We will give the answer to any one who -will develop the causes which might and should have blackened the -negro's skin and crisped his hair into wool. Until that is done, we -shall take leave to speak, as of things _in esse_, of a degree of -loyal devotion on the part of the slave to which the white man's -heart is a stranger, and of the master's reciprocal feeling of -parental attachment to his humble dependant, equally -incomprehensible to him who drives a bargain with the cook who -prepares his food, the servant who waits at his table, and the nurse -who doses over his sick bed. That these sentiments in the breast of -the negro and his master, are stronger than they would be under like -circumstances between individuals of the white race, we believe. -That they belong to the class of feelings "by which the heart is -made better," we know. How come they? They have their rise in the -relation between the infant and the nurse. They are cultivated -between him and his foster brother. They are cherished by the -parents of both. They are fostered by the habit of affording -protection and favors to the younger offspring of the same nurse. -They grow by the habitual use of the word "my," used as the language -of affectionate appropriation, long before any idea of value mixes -with it. It is a term of endearment. That is an easy transition by -which he who is taught to call the little negro "his," in this sense -and _because he loves him_, shall love him _because he is his_. The -idea is not new, that our habits and affections are reciprocally -cause and effect of each other. - -But the great teacher in this school of feeling is sickness. In this -school we have witnessed scenes at which even the hard heart of a -thorough bred philanthropist would melt. But here, we shall be told, -it is not humanity, but interest that prompts. Be it so. Our -business is not with the cause but the effect. But is it interest, -which, with assiduous care, prolongs the life of the aged and -decrepid negro, who has been, for years, a burthen? Is it interest -which labors to rear the crippled or deformed urchin, who can never -be any thing but a burthen--which carefully feeds the feeble lamp of -life that, without any appearance of neglect, might be permitted to -expire? Is not the feeling more akin to that parental στοργη, which, -in defiance of reason, is most careful of the life which is, all the -time, felt to be a curse to the possessor. Are such cases rare? They -are as rare as the occasions; but let the occasion occur, and you -will see the case. How else is the longevity of the negro -proverbial? A negro who does no work for thirty years! (and we know -such examples) is it interest which has lengthened out his -existence? - -Let the philanthropist think as he may--by the negro himself, his -master's care of him in sickness is not imputed to interested -feelings. We know an instance of a negress who was invited by a -benevolent lady in Philadelphia to leave her mistress. The lady -promised to secrete her for a while, and then to pay her good wages. -The poor creature felt the temptation and was about to yield. "You -are mighty good, madam," said she "and I am a thousand times obliged -to you. And if I am sick, or any thing, I am sure you will take care -of me, and nurse me, like my good mistress used to do, and bring me -something warm and good to comfort me, and tie up my head and fix my -pillow." She spoke in the simplicity of her heart, and the tempter -had not the heart to deceive her. "No," said she "all _that_ will -come out of your wages--for you will have money enough to hire a -nurse." The tears had already swelled into the warm hearted -creature's eyes, at her own recital of her mistress's kindness. They -now gushed forth in a flood, and running to her lady who was a -lodger in the house, she threw herself on her knees, confessed her -fault, was pardoned, and was happy. - -But it is not by the bedside of the sick negro that the feeling we -speak of is chiefly engendered. They who would view it in its causes -and effects must see him by the sick bed of his master--must see -_her_ by the sick bed of her _mistress_. We have seen these things. -We have seen the dying infant in the lap of its nurse, and have -stood with the same nurse by the bed side of her own dying child. -Did mighty nature assert her empire, and wring from the mother's -heart more and bitterer tears than she had shed over her foster -babe? None that {339} the eye of man could distinguish. And he who -sees the heart--did he see dissimulation giving energy to the -choking sobs that _seemed_ to be rendered more vehement by her -attempts to repress them? _Philanthropy_ may think so if it pleases. - -A good lady was on her death bed. Her illness was long and -protracted, but hopeless from the first. A servant, (by no means a -favorite with her, being high tempered and ungovernable) was -advanced in pregnancy, and in bad health. Yet she could not be kept -out of the house. She was permitted to stay about her mistress -during the day, but sent to bed at an early hour every night. Her -reluctance to obey was obvious, and her master found that she evaded -his order, whenever she could escape his eye. He once found her in -the house late at night, and kindly reproving her, sent her home. An -hour after, suddenly going out of the sick room, he stumbled over -her in the dark. She was crouched down at the door, listening for -the groans of the sufferer. She was again ordered home, and turned -to go. Suddenly she stopped, and bursting into tears, said, "Master -it aint no use for me to go to bed, Sir. It don't do me no good, I -cannot sleep, Sir." - -Such instances prove that in reasoning concerning the moral effect -of slavery, he who regards man as a unit, the same under all -circumstances, leaves out of view an important consideration. The -fact that he is not so, is manifest to every body--but the -application of the fact to this controversy is not made. The author -of "The South Vindicated" quotes at page 228, a passage from -Lamartine, on this very point, though he only uses it to show the -absurdity of any attempt at amalgamation. The passage is so apt to -our purpose that we beg leave to insert it. - - -The more I have travelled, the more I am convinced _that the races -of men form the great secret of history and manners_. Man is not so -capable of education as philosophers imagine. The influence of -governments and laws has less power, radically, than is supposed, -over the manners and instincts of any people, while the primitive -constitution and the blood of the race have always their influence, -and manifest themselves, thousands of years afterwards, in the -physical formations and moral habits of a particular family or -tribe. Human nature flows in rivers and streams into the vast ocean -of humanity; but its waters mingle but slowly, sometimes never; and -it emerges again, like the Rhone from the Lake of Geneva, with its -own taste and color. Here is indeed an abyss of thought and -meditation, and at the same time a grand secret for legislators. As -long as they keep the spirit of the race in view they succeed; but -they fail when they strive against this natural predisposition: -nature is stronger than they are. This sentiment is not that of the -philosophers of the present time, but it is evident to the -traveller; and there is more philosophy to be found in a caravan -journey of a hundred leagues, than in ten years' reading and -meditation. - - -There is much truth here, though certainly not what passes for truth -with those who study human nature wholly in the closet, and in -reforming the world address themselves exclusively to the faults of -_others_, and the evils of which they know the least, and which -least concern themselves. - -We hope the day has gone by when we are to be judged by the -testimony of false, interested, and malignant accusers alone. We -repeat that we are thankful to Mr. Paulding for having stepped -forward in our defence. Our assailants arc numerous, and it is -indispensable that we should meet the assault with vigor and -activity. Nothing is wanting but manly discussion to convince our -own people at least, that in continuing to command the services of -their slaves, they violate no law divine or human, and that in the -faithful discharge of their reciprocal obligations lies their true -duty. Let these be performed, and we believe (with our esteemed -correspondent Professor Dew) that society in the South will derive -much more of good than of evil from this much abused and -partially-considered institution. - - -BRUNNENS OF NASSAU. - -_Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau. By an Old Man. New York: -Harper and Brothers._ - -This "old man" is the present Governor of Canada, and a very amusing -"old man" is he. A review of his work, which appeared a year ago in -the North American, first incited us to read it, a pleasure which -necessity has compelled us to forego until the present time--there -not having been an American edition put to press until now, and the -splendid hot-pressed, calf-bound, gilt-edged edition from -Albemarle-street being too costly for very general circulation here. - -The "bubbles" are blown into being by a gentleman who represents -himself as having been sentenced, in the cold evening of his life, -to drink the mineral waters of Nassau; and who, upon arriving at the -springs, found that, in order to effect the cure designed by his -physicians, the mind was to be relaxed as the body was being -strengthened. The result of this regimen was the production of "The -Bubbles," or hasty sketches of whatever chanced for the moment to -please either the eyes or the mind of the patient. He anticipates -the critic's verdict as to his book--that it is empty, light, vain, -hollow and superficial: "but then," says he, "it is the nature of -'bubbles' to be so." - -He describes his voyage from the Custom House Stairs in the Thames, -by steamboat to Rotterdam, and thence his journey to the Nassau -springs of _Langen-Schwalbach_, _Schlangen-bad_, _Nieder-selters_, -and _Wiesbaden_. Here he spends a season, bathing and drinking the -waters of those celebrated springs, and describing such incidents as -occurred to relieve the monotony of his somewhat idle life, in a -most agreeable and _taking_ way. To call this work facetious, as -that term is commonly used, were not perhaps to give so accurate an -idea of its style as might be conveyed by the adjective whimsical. -Without subjecting the "old man" to the imputation of _copyism_, one -may describe the manner as being an agreeable mixture of _Charles -Lamb's_ and _Washington Irving's_. The same covert conceit, the same -hidden humor, the same piquant allusion, which, while you read, -place the author bodily before you, a quiet old gentleman fond of -his ease, but fonder of his joke--not a broad, forced, loud, -vacant-minded joke, but a quiet, pungent, sly, laughter-moving -conceit, which, at first stirring the finest membranes of your -_pericardium_, at length sets you out into a broad roar of laughter, -honest fellow as you are, and which you must be, indeed, a very -savage, if you can avoid. - -Our bubble-blower observes everything within the sphere of his -vision, and even makes a most amusing chapter out of "The -schwein-general," or pig-drover of Schlangen-bad, which we wish we -had space for entire. As it is, we give some reflections upon "the -pig," {340} as being perfectly characteristic of the author's -peculiar style. - - -There exists perhaps in creation no animal which has less justice -and more injustice done to him by man than the pig. Gifted with -every faculty of supplying himself, and of providing even against -the approaching storm, which no creature is better capable of -foretelling than a pig, we begin by putting an iron ring through the -cartilage of his nose, and having thus barbarously deprived him of -the power of searching for, and analyzing his food, we generally -condemn him for the rest of his life to solitary confinement in a -sty. - -While his faculties are still his own, only observe how, with a bark -or snort, he starts if you approach him, and mark what shrewd -intelligence there is in his bright, twinkling little eye; but with -pigs, as with mankind, idleness is the root of all evil. The poor -animal, finding that he has absolutely nothing to do--having no -enjoyment--nothing to look forward to but the pail which feeds him, -naturally most eagerly, or as we accuse him, most greedily, greets -its arrival. Having no natural business or diversion--nothing to -occupy his brain--the whole powers of his system are directed to the -digestion of a superabundance of food. To encourage this, nature -assists him with sleep, which lulling his better faculties, leads -his stomach to become the ruling power of his system--a tyrant that -can bear no one's presence but his own. The poor pig, thus treated, -gorges himself--sleeps--eats again--sleeps--wakens in a -fright--screams--struggles against the blue apron--screams fainter -and fainter--turns up the whites of his little eyes--and--dies! - -It is probably from abhorring this picture, that I know of nothing -which is more distressing to me than to witness an indolent man -eating his own home-fed pork. - -There is something so horribly similar between the life of the human -being and that of his victim--their notions on all subjects are so -unnaturally contracted--there is such a melancholy resemblance -between the strutting residence in the village, and the stalking -confinement in the sty--between the sound of the dinner-bell and the -rattling of the pail--between snoring in an armchair and grunting in -clean straw--that, when I contrast the "pig's countenance" in the -dish with that of his lord and master, who, with outstretched -elbows, sits leaning over it, I own I always feel it is so hard the -one should have killed the other.--In short there is a sort of "Tu -quoque, BRUTE!" moral in the picture, which to my mind is most -painfully distressing. - - -The author thus speaks in relation to the mineral water of -Wiesbaden. - - -In describing the taste of the mineral water of Wiesbaden, were I to -say, that while drinking it, one hears in one's ears the cackling of -hens, and that one sees feathers flying before one's eyes, I should -certainly grossly exaggerate; but when I declare that it exactly -resembles very hot chicken-broth, I only say what Dr. Granville -said, and what in fact everybody says, and must say, respecting it; -and certainly I do wonder why the common people should be at the -inconvenience of making bad soup, when they can get much better from -nature's great stock pot--the Koch-brunnen of Wiesbaden. At all -periods of the year, summer or winter, the temperature of this broth -remains the same, and when one reflects that it has been bubbling -out of the ground, and boiling over in the same state, certainly -from the time of the Romans, and probably from the time of the -flood, it is really astonishing to think what a most wonderful -apparatus there must exist below, what an inexhaustible stock of -provisions to ensure such an everlasting supply of broth, always -formed of exactly the same degree, and always served up at exactly -the same heat. - -One would think that some of the particles in the recipe would be -exhausted; in short, to speak metaphorically, that the chickens -would at last be boiled to rags, or that the fire would go out for -want of coals; but the oftener one reflects on these sort of -subjects, the oftener is the old-fashioned observation repeated, -that let a man go where he will, Omnipotence is never from his view. - -It is good they say for the stomach--good for the skin--good for -ladies of all possible ages--for all sorts and conditions of men. -For a headache, drink, the inn-keepers exclaim, at the Koch-brunnen. -For gout in the heels, soak the body, the doctors say, in the -chicken-broth!--in short, the valetudinarian, reclining in his -carriage, has scarcely entered the town, say what he will of -himself, the inhabitants all seem to agree in repeating--"_Bene bene -respondere, dignus est intrare nostro docto corpore!_" - -There was something to my mind so very novel in bathing in broth, -that I resolved to try the experiment, particularly as it was the -only means I had of following the crowd. Accordingly, retiring to my -room, in a minute or two I also, in my slippers and black -dressing-gown was to be seen, staff in hand, mournfully walking down -the long passage, as slowly and as gravely as if I had been in such -a profession all my life. An infirm elderly lady was just before -me--some lighter-sounding footsteps were behind me--but without -raising our eyes from the ground, we all moved on, just as if we had -been corpses gliding or migrating from one church yard to another. - -The door was now closed, and my dressing-gown being carefully hung -upon a peg, (a situation I much envied it,) I proceeded, -considerably against my inclination, to introduce myself to my new -acquaintance, whose face, or surface, was certainly very revolting; -for a white, thick, dirty, greasy scum, exactly resembling what -would be on broth, covered the top of the bath. But all this, they -say is exactly as it should be; and indeed, German bathers at -Wiesbaden actually insist on its appearance, as it proves, they -argue, that the bath has not been used by any one else. In most -places in ordering a warm bath, it is necessary to wait till the -water be heated, but at Wiesbaden, the springs are so exceedingly -hot, that the baths are obliged to be filled over night, in order to -be cool enough in the morning; and the dirty scum I have mentioned -is the required proof that the water has, during that time, been -undisturbed. - -Resolving not to be bullied by the ugly face of my antagonist, I -entered my bath, and in a few seconds I lay horizontally, calmly -soaking, like my neighbors. - - -Here is a characteristic _crayoning_: - - -As soon as breakfast was over, I generally enjoyed the luxury of -idling about the town: and, in passing the shop of a blacksmith, who -lived opposite to the Goldene Kette, the manner in which he tackled -and shod a vicious horse amused me. On the outside wall of the house -two rings were firmly fixed, to one of which the head of the patient -was lashed close to the ground; the hind foot, to be shod, stretched -out to the utmost extent of the leg, was then secured to the other -ring about five feet high, by a cord which passed through a cloven -hitch, fixed to the root of the poor creature's tail. - -The hind foot was consequently very much higher than the head; -indeed, it was so exalted, and pulled so heavily at the tail, that -the animal seemed to be quite anxious to keep his other feet on -_terra firma_. With one hoof in the heavens, it did not suit him to -kick; with his nose pointing to the infernal regions, he could not -conveniently rear, and as the devil himself was apparently pulling -at his tail, the horse at last gave up the point, and quietly -submitted to be shod. - - * * * * * - -Mr. Fay wishes us to believe that the sale of a book is the proper -test of its merit. To save time and trouble we _will_ believe it, -and are prepared to acknowledge, as a consequence of the theory, -that the novel of Norman Leslie is not at all comparable to the -Memoirs of Davy Crockett, or the popular lyric of Jim Crow. - - - - -{341} SUPPLEMENT. - - -At the solicitation of our correspondents, we again publish some few -of the _Notices of the Messenger_, which have lately appeared in the -papers of the day. The supplement now printed contains probably -about one fifth of the flattering evidences of public favor which -have reached us, from all quarters, within a few weeks. Those -selected are a fair sample of the general character of the whole. - - -From the Charlottesville Advocate. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.--We have been favored by Mr. -White, the proprietor, with the March No. of this periodical. The -delay in the publication has been occasioned by the desire of Mr. -White to insert Prof. Dew's Address. However desirable a regular and -punctual issue may be, we are disposed to excuse the delay on the -present occasion, for the reason assigned. - -As the Messenger has now passed through the difficulties attendant -on new enterprises, is on a permanent footing, and has vindicated -its claims to rank among the first of American Periodicals, we -commenced the perusal of the present number, predetermined to -censure whenever we could get the slightest pretext. We have read it -calmly and with a "critic's eye," and though it is not faultless, -for with two exceptions the poetry is below mediocrity, we have been -so delighted with most of the articles, as not to have the heart to -censure. We candidly regard it the best single number of any -American periodical we have ever seen. Mr. Dew's Address and Mr. -Stanton's Essay on Manual Labor Schools, are articles of enduring -and inestimable worth. - -We subjoin the following notice of the contents from the Richmond -Compiler, with which we in the main concur. - -From the Richmond Compiler. - -We have already announced the appearance of the Literary Messenger -for March 1836. We always read the work with pleasure, and have -frequently awarded to it the high praise it so well deserves. In the -present instance, we are forcible struck with a sort of merit so -rare in publications of the kind, that, to a certain class of -readers, our praise may sound like censure. - -We hazard nothing in saying, that in the pages before us, there is -more substantial matter, more information, more food for the mind, -and more provocative to thought, than we have ever seen in any -periodical of a miscellaneous character. A chapter from Lionel -Granby--a _jeu d'esprit_ from Mr. Poe--some of the reviews--and a -page or two of description--together with a very few metrical -lines--make the sum total of light reading. - -We would not be understood to mean that the rest is heavy. Far from -it. But we want some word to distinguish that which ought to be read -and studied, from that which may be read for amusement only. He who -shall read the rest of the number, must be very careless or very -dull, if he is not edified and instructed. We will add, that his -taste must be bad, if he is not tempted to receive the instruction -here offered by the graces of style, the originality of thought, and -the felicity of illustration, with which the gravest of these -articles abounds. - -This remark applies in all its force to Professor Dew's Address, -which all who cherish a well-balanced love, at once for the -Sovereignty and the Union of these States, will read with delight. -Those who have yet to acquire this sentiment, will read it with -profit. If there be any man who doubts the peculiar advantages, -moral, intellectual and pecuniary of a system of federative harmony, -contradistinguished from consolidation on the one hand, and disunion -on the other, let him read, and doubt no more. - -A subject of less vivid interest has been treated in a style at once -amusing and instructive, by the author of the Essay on the Classics. -No one can read that essay, without feeling that there must be -something to refine and sublime the mind of man in the studies in -which the writer is so obviously a proficient. Are these the -thoughts? are these the images and illustrations? is this the -language, with which the study of the classics makes a man familiar? -Then it is true, as the poet has said: - - "Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes - Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros." - -"_Mutatis mutandis_," we would award the same general praise to an -Essay on Education, and to the addresses from Judge Tucker of the -Court of Appeals, and Mr. Maxwell of Norfolk. As to the continuation -of the Sketches of African History, it is enough to say that it is a -continuation worthy of what has gone before. - -The reviews are, as usual, piquant and lively, and in that style -which will teach writers to value the praise and dread the censures -of the critic. Among the articles reviewed, we are pleased at the -appearance of Dr. Hawk's historical work. We are delighted, too, to -find him, though not a Virginian, coming to the rescue of Virginia, -from the misjudged or disingenuous praises of men who knew not how -to appreciate the character of our ancestors. No. _It is a new thing -with Virginians to lean to the side of power._ Those who have taught -her that lesson, have found her an unapt scholar. The spirit of -Virginia tends _upwards_, and we have all seen - - "With what compulsion, and laborious flight," - -she has sunk to her present degraded condition. - -To think of our fathers, as they stood 180 years ago, yielding with -undisguised reluctance to inevitable necessity; and, in the very act -of _submission_ to the _power_ of the usurper, denying his _right_, -and protesting that they owed him no _obedience_! And we, the -sons--what are we? - - "'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace - Each step from glory to disgrace: - Enough!--No foreign foe could quell - Her soul, 'till from itself it fell; - And self-abasement paved the way - To villain bonds and despot sway." - - -From the Baltimore Patriot. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_, for March, is just out: late in -the day, it is true, but not any the less acceptable on that -account. We have just risen from a faithful perusal of its contents, -which are of uncommon richness and value. Its merits are solid, not -superficial: and therein it is more worthy of the support of the -lovers of literature, than any other literary Magazine published in -our country. We mean what we say, disdainful of the imputation of -being thought capable of a puff. It is a repository of works "to -keep," and not of the trash which "perisheth in the using." Still it -has variety. It combines the _utile et dulce_ in a most attractive -and pleasing degree, and there is no lack of that "change" of which -the poet says the "mind of desultory man" is "studious." - -We will give the readers of the Patriot a bird's eye view of the -contents of the number we have just laid down, in illustration and -corroboration of what we have said in relation to its merits. - -_Sketches of Tripoli, No. XI._--One may gather a very good idea of -the present condition of the Barbary States, from a perusal of these -graphic papers. We know no others extant so attractive and so -satisfactory. They are written in a pure and refined style, and form -a very valuable and interesting history. - -"_The Classics_" is the title of one of the most splendid articles -we have ever perused in any shape. This one paper would be cheaply -purchased by the scholar, at the subscription fee for the volume. It -is a defence of the Classics and a classical education, against the -modern innovations of the romantic school. The writer makes out his -case most ably and convincingly,--showing himself to be well fitted -for the task he assumed, by the devotedness with which he has -worshipped at the pure shrine to which he would win his readers. We -wish we were sure that we had said enough to draw a general -attention to this admirable article. - -{342} _A Loan to the Messenger_, including _Life_, a Brief History, -in three parts, with a sequel, by CUTTER, is not only "exceedingly -neat," but surpassingly beautiful. It is a rare instance of the -union of tender sentiment and epigrammatic point. For example-- - - A purpose, and a prayer; - The stars are in the sky-- - He wonders how e'en Hope should dare - To let him aim so high! - - Still Hope allures and flatters - And Doubt just makes him bold: - And so, with passion all in tatters, - The trembling tale is told! - -_Readings with my Pencil_, No. III, a most excellent article--full -of poetical thoughts and, generally speaking, profound ones. We -agree with J. F. O. cordially, in his opinion of _Burns_, in the -case "_Burns vs. Moore_." Yet there are not many who will so agree -with him. _Reading No. 12_, is more regardful of words than things. -Dr. Johnson was right, we think, in saying that "the suspicion of -Swift's irreligion proceeded, in a great measure, from his dread of -hypocrisy," and J. F. O. is wrong in therefore concluding that -"Swift, according to Johnson, was afraid of being thought a -hypocrite and so actually became one." But of this J. F. O. was well -aware--he could not think, however of sacrificing the antithesis. -Let him examine the word _hypocrisy_ and ascertain its _popular_ -meaning, for thereby hangs the tale. A man who feigns a character -which he does not possess, is not necessarily a hypocrite. The -_popular_ acceptation of hypocrisy requires that being vicious, he -shall feign virtue. This the very intelligent author of _Readings -with My Pencil_ will not fail to perceive at once. These readings -are far better than nine-tenths of the _fudge_ of _Lacon_--or the -purer _fudge_ of _Rochefoucault_. - -_Halley's Comet_.--After Miss Draper's stanzas thus entitled, the -poet of "Prince Edward" should not have sent his to the Messenger. -We cannot call this poetry or philosophy,--it was not intended -obviously as burlesque. - - Art thou the ship of heaven, laden with light, - From the eternal glory sent, - To feed the glowing suns, that might - In ceaseless radiance but for thee be spent? - -_Epimanes_.--This is one of Poe's queerities. He takes the reader -back in supposition to the city of Antioch, in the year of the world -3830, and in that peculiar style, which after all must be called -_Poe-tical_, because it is just that and nothing else, he feigns the -enactment of a real scene of the times before your eyes. The actors -"come like shadows, so depart,"--but yet assume a most vivid reality -while they stay. We hope this powerful pen will be again similarly -employed. - -"_To Helen_" is a pretty little gem, and from the same mine. It -shall glisten in the Patriot ere long. - -In the _Poetry of Burns_, by JAMES F. OTIS, we see much of the fine -lyrical feeling which distinguishes the "_Readings with My Pencil_." -The subject, to be sure, is _au peu passe_--but we can hardly have -too much of BURNS. Mr. OTIS seems fully to understand and appreciate -him. - -"_Change_"--pretty verses, but not poetry. The four last lines -should always be at least _as good_ as the rest. One judges of the -flavor of a fruit by the taste it _leaves_ in the mouth. Apply this -hint to these verses. - -The next paper is an Address delivered before the Literary Institute -at Hampden Sidney College by Mr. STANTON, upon the importance of -"_Manual Labor Schools_," as connected with literary institutions. -It is an admirable production; and one of that class of papers which -go to make the "Messenger" what we have already designated it, the -only Literary Magazine now set up in this country deserving the -name. - -An interesting description of a Natural Bridge in South America, -that the writer thinks more sublime than that in Virginia (which we -can hardly credit)--some dozen lines about Washington, good only for -filling in the spare nook they occupy, and an epigram without point, -next follow, and these are succeeded by another South American -sketch, describing a waterfall, of great beauty. - -We cannot say much in favor of the "_Song of Lee's Legion_," nor -will we say much against it. We wish the poetry of the Messenger -were of a higher order. At present it does not hold equality with -the prose department, by any means. - -"_Lionel Granby_" is written with much spirit, and the present (the -eleventh) chapter is one of the best. We will review this whole -story, at length, when completed. We think it equal to any of the -novellettes which it has now become so fashionable to publish in -this form: although that form, so full of interruptions as it is, -prevents that enjoyment in perusal which would be derived from the -possession of the work entire. - -"_The Patriarch's Inheritance_."--Rich language, fine conception, -smooth versification. "T. H. S." improves. - -_Americanisms:_ Captions.--We are too apt to bark before we are -bitten; and there was no especial need that "H." should growl at -BULWER, because he had made a very good terse word to express -_greedy_, from the Latin _avidus_, merely by way of vindicating our -people from old charges of a similar character. - -Stanzas _To Randolph of Roanoke_, written soon after his death. We -cannot say that Hesperus has done enough in this effusion to induce -us to alter our verdict upon the poetry of the Messenger. As the -stanzas appear to be a matter of feeling with the author, we will -not enter into a discussion of the sentiments they contain. We would -advise him to try another kind of theme. - -_Address_, by the Hon. HENRY ST. GEORGE TUCKER, before the Virginia -Historical and Philosophical Society--a most admirable paper. It was -delivered upon the distinguished author's taking the seat vacated by -the late Chief Justice MARSHALL, as President of the above named -Society; and is, mostly, a beautiful eulogy upon his illustrious -predecessor. It is just such a production as our knowledge of the -author would have led us to anticipate from him--alike creditable to -his head, stored with the lore of ages, and to his heart, full of -the kindest and most benevolent feelings. - -Mr. MAXWELL'S Speech, before the Virginia Historical and -Philosophical Society, at its late annual meeting, another eloquent -eulogy upon the lamented MARSHALL. Virginia seems to be taking the -most serene delight in wreathing garlands around his tomb, and this -is one of the most verdant, and promises to be one of the most -enduring. It is short, but breathes eloquently forth a spirit which -will impress it upon the minds and memories of hearers and readers. -It is a high compliment to the MESSENGER, and a pregnant proof of -the estimation into which that journal has worthily grown that it is -made the medium of conveying such productions to posterity. - -But the most valuable paper in the number is an Address on the -influence of the Federative Republican System of Government upon -Literature, and the Development of Character, by Professor Dew. We -have never perused a more able literary essay than this address. The -author traverses the whole field of literature, and draws from the -stores of antiquity lessons for the improvement of his own -countrymen in literature, art, and politics. We commend it to the -perusal of every American. - -Then follow "_Critical Notices_." These are written by POE. They are -few and clever. The sledge-hammer and scimetar are laid aside, and -not one poor devil of an author is touched, except one "Mahmoud," -who is let off with a box on the ear for plagiarism. The review of -"Georgia Scenes" has determined us to buy the book. The extracts are -irresistible. - -The merit of this number consists in its solidity. The same amount -of reading, of a similar character, can certainly no where and in no -other form be furnished the reader on the same terms. It is our duty -no less than our interest to sustain 'the Messenger.' - - -{343} From the Norfolk Herald. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.--No. 4, Vol. 2, of this Journal is -just issued, and contains 16 pages of matter over and above its -usual quantity--that is, it contains 80 closely printed pages in -place of 64, its promised amount. A very slight inspection will -convince any one at all conversant in these matters that the present -number of the Messenger embraces as much reading matter (if not -considerably more) than four ordinary volumes, such for example, as -the volumes of Paul Ulric or Norman Leslie. Of the value of the -matter, or rather of its value in comparison with such ephemera as -these just mentioned, it is of course unnecessary to say much. -Popular opinion has placed the Messenger in a very enviable position -as regards the Literature of the South. We have no hesitation in -saying that it has elevated it immeasurably. To use the words of a -Northern contemporary "it has done more within the last six months -to refine the literary standard in this country than has been -accomplished before in the space of ten years." - -The number before us commences with No. XI. (continued) of the -_Tripolitan Sketches_. We can add nothing to the public voice in -favor of this series of papers. They are excellent--and the one for -this month is equal to any in point of interest. - -_The Classics_ is a most admirable paper--indeed one of the most -forcible, and strange to say, one of the most original defences of -Ancient Literature we have ever perused. We do not, however, -altogether like the sneers at Bulwer in the beginning of the -article. They should have been omitted, for they are not only -unjust, but they make against the opinions advanced. Bulwer is not -only a ripe scholar, but an advocate of classical acquirement. - -_A Loan to the Messenger_, is beautiful--very beautiful--witness the -following-- - - Sonnets and serenades, - Sighs, glances, tears, and vows, - Gifts, tokens, souvenirs, parades, - And courtesies and bows. - - A purpose, and a prayer: - The stars are in the sky-- - He wonders how e'en hope should dare - To let him aim so high! - - Still Hope allures and flatters, - And Doubt just makes him bold: - And so, with passion all in tatters, - The trembling tale is told! - -_Readings with My Pencil, No. 2._ is a fine article in the manner of -Colton. A true sentiment well expressed is contained in the -concluding words: "I am one of those who are best when most -afflicted. While the weight hangs heavily, I keep time and measure, -like a clock; but remove it, and all the springs and wheels move -irregularly, and I am but a mere useless thing." - -_Halley's Comet_----so, so. - -_Epimanes_. By Edgar A. Poe--an historical tale in which, by -imaginary incidents, the character of Antiochus Epiphanes is vividly -depicted. It differs essentially from all the other tales of Mr. -Poe. Indeed no two of his articles bear more than a family -resemblance to one another. They all differ widely in matter, and -still more widely in manner. _Epimanes_ will convince all who read -it that Mr. P. is capable of even higher and better things. - -_To Helen_--by the same author--a sonnet full of quiet grace--we -quote it in full. - - Helen, thy beauty is to me - Like those Nicean barks of yore - That, gently, o'er a perfum'd sea, - The weary, wayworn wanderer bore - To his own native shore. - - On desperate seas long wont to roam, - Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, - Thy Naiad airs have brought me home - To the beauty of fair Greece - And the grandeur of old Rome. - - Lo! in that little window-niche - How statue-like I see thee stand; - The folded scroll within thy hand-- - Ah! Psyche from the regions which - Are Holy land! - -_On the Poetry of Burns. By James F. Otis_--a good essay on a -threadbare subject--one, too, but very lately handled in the -Messenger by Larry Lyle. - -_Change_--has some fine thoughts, for example, - - ----My little playmate crew - Have slept to wake no more - - Till Change itself shall cease to be, - And one successive scene - Of steadfastness immutable - Remain where Change hath been. - -_Manual Labor Schools--By the Rev. E. F. Stanton_ is an essay which, -while we disagree with it in some of its results, will serve to -convince any one of the absolute importance of exercise to men of -sedentary habits or occupations. - -_Song of Lee's Legion_--very spirited verses. - -_Natural Bridge of Pandi_, and _Fall of Tequendama_ are both -acceptable articles. - -_Lines on the Statue of Washington in the Capitol_, although a -little rugged in conclusion, are terse and forcible, and embody many -eloquent sentiments. We recognize one of our most distinguished -men--a fellow-townsman too--in the nerve and vigor of these verses. -The _Epigram_ below them is not worth much. - -_The Patriarch's Inheritance_--majestic and powerful. - -_Americanisms_--a very good article, and very true. - -_To Randolph of Roanoke_. These lines have some fine points and the -versification is good--but we do not like them upon the whole. - -_Judge Tucker's Address_, and _Mr. Maxwell's Speech_ before the -Virginia Historical and Philosophical society, we read with much -interest. Things of this nature are apt to be common place unless -the speakers are men of more than ordinary _tact_. There is no -deficiency, however, in the present instance. Mr. Maxwell's speech, -especially, is exceedingly well adapted to produce effect in -delivery--more particularly in such delivery as Mr. Maxwell's. - -The _Address of Professor Dew_ is, beyond doubt, an article of great -ability, and must excite strong attention, wherever it is read. It -occupies full 20 pages--which, perhaps, could not have been better -occupied. He has fully proved that a Republic such as ours, is the -fairest field in the world for the growth and florescence of -Literature. - -The _Critical Notices_ maintain their lofty reputation--but as they -will assuredly be read by all parties, and as we have already -exceeded our limits, we forbear to enter into detail. The Messenger -is no longer a query, it has earned a proud name. It demands -encouragement and _will have it_. - - -From the Cincinnati Mirror. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger for February_, is before us. It is -made up, as usual, of a very interesting miscellany of original -articles. This magazine is rapidly winning a high estimate for the -literature of the South. Its pages contain as good articles as any -other Monthly in the country. Its correspondents are numerous and -able, and its editor wields the gray goose quill like one who knows -what he is about, and who has a right to. Commend us to the literary -notices of this Magazine for genius, spice and spirit. Those which -are commendatory, are supported by the real merit of the books -themselves; but woe seize on the luckless wights who feel the savage -skill with which the editor uses his tomahawk and scalping knife. -The fact is, the Messenger is not given to the mincing of -matter--what it has to say is said fearlessly. - - -From the Boston Galaxy. - -_Smarting under Criticism_.--Fay can't bear criticism. The Southern -Literary Messenger cut him up sharply--and Fay has -retorted--evincing that the sting rankles. A pity. - - -{344} From the Natchez Christian Herald. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.--This elegantly printed Magazine -is issued monthly from the classic press of T. W. White, Esq. -Richmond, Va., and has, during the year elapsed since its -commencement, won a commanding share of public approbation and -attention. It is truly a high-minded and liberal specimen of -southern literature, on which is deeply engraved the impressions of -Southern character and feeling. We admire the periodical more on -that account. It has a glow of enthusiasm, offering to the public, -if not the very best, yet the best productions it can command, with -a sort of chivalrous hospitality which cannot but remind one of the -gentlemanly southron at his fireside. - -Among the contributions of original articles for this magazine we -cannot but notice the able historical papers entitled "Sketches of -the history and present condition of Tripoli, with some account of -the other Barbary states." These finely written papers have appeared -in ten consecutive numbers of the Literary Messenger, and, together -with "Extracts from my Mexican Journal," and "Extracts from an -unpublished abridgement of the History of Virginia," furnish a -valuable mass of the most useful information. The poetic writers for -the Messenger, as a whole, are not the favorites of the Muses, and -will no doubt be summoned to give an account of the cruel manner in -which they have distorted the pure English in giving utterance to -the spasmodic emotions of the _fytte_ which they may have imagined -was upon them like an inspiration. - -There is one department which we admire--the editorial criticisms. -Racy, pungent, and reasonable, the editor writes as one disposed to -test the true elements of authorship, and to weigh pretentions with -achievements in the opposite scale. He has gently, yet with almost -too daring a hand, taken apart the poetical attire of two or three -ladies, whose writings have long been ranked among the better -specimens of American poetry. He almost dares to hint that Mrs. -Sigourney has, by forcing her short scraps of poetry into half the -newspapers in the land, gained a wider fame than many a better poet -who may have spent a life in maturing and polishing one poem which -appears to the world, as poems should, in a dignified volume. He -also makes the same charge of the "_frequency_ of her appeals to the -attention of the public" against Miss Gould, and institutes the -following comparison between the productions of the two authors: -'The faults which we have already pointed out, and some others which -we will point out hereafter, are but dust in the balance, when -weighed against her (Mrs. Sigourney's) very many and distinguished -excellences. Among those high qualities which give her beyond doubt, -a title to the sacred name of poet, are an acute sensibility to -natural loveliness--a quick and perfectly just conception of the -moral and physical sublime--a calm and unostentatious vigor of -thought--a mingled delicacy and strength of expression--and above -all, a mind nobly and exquisitely attuned to all the gentle -charities and lofty pieties of life. - -'We have already pointed out the prevailing characteristics of Mrs. -Sigourney. In Miss Gould, we recognize, first, a disposition, like -that of Wordsworth, to seek beauty where it is not usually -sought--in the _homeliness_ (if we may be permitted the word,) and -in the most familiar realities of existence--secondly _abandon_ of -manner--thirdly a phraseology sparkling with antithesis, yet, -strange to say, perfectly simple and unaffected. - -'Without Mrs. Sigourney's high reach of thought, Miss Gould -surpasses her rival in the mere vehicle of thought--expression. -"Words, words, words," are the true secret of her strength. _Words_ -are her kingdom--and in the realm of language she rules with equal -despotism and _nonchalance_. Yet we do not mean to deny her -abilities of a higher order than any which a mere _logomachy_ can -imply. Her powers of imagination are great, and she has a faculty of -inestimable worth, when considered in relation to effect--the -faculty of holding ordinary ideas in so novel, and sometimes in so -fantastic a light, as to give them all the appearance, and much of -the value of originality. Miss Gould will, of course, be the -favorite with the multitude--Mrs. Sigourney with the few.' - -American prose writers and novelists are led under this keen -critic's knife, as sheep to the slaughter. In the name of literature -we thank Mr. White for his criticisms, that must purify the -literary, as lightning does the natural atmosphere. - -The Southern Literary Messenger is published on the first day of -every month, containing 64 pages in each number, printed on good -paper with a beautiful type. The terms are only _five dollars a -year_, to be paid in advance. - - -From the Raleigh Star. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.--"We have received the first number -of the 2d volume of this valuable periodical. This work has justly -acquired a reputation superior to that of any similar publication in -the country, on account both of its elegant typographical execution, -and the rich, valuable, and highly entertaining matter (mostly -original) it contains. In the neatness and beauty of its -typographical appearance, the number before us surpasses any of its -predecessors; and its contents fully sustain its high literary -character. We have no room at present for a particular notice of the -articles. We hope that every Southron, who feels an interest in that -sort of _internal improvement_ in the South, which respects the -mind, will patronize this work." - - -From the Columbia (Geo.) Times. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.--We have received, some time since, -and wished to have given an earlier notice to, this really excellent -journal; at whose copiousness, variety and goodness of matter, we -were surprized. In literary execution, we think it fully equal to -any Journal of its class, in all the North; and in quantity of -matter, it far exceeds, we believe, any of them. It is also on a -full equality with them, as to its typography. - -We are struck, in the _Messenger_, with this good point: the extent -of literary intelligence which it affords, by an unusual number of -critical notices of new publications, is exceedingly well judged. -Its criticisms, too, are in a sounder and more discriminating taste, -than that which infects the Magazines of the North, turning them all -into the mere vehicles of puffery for each man's little set of -associates in scribbling--and partners in literary iniquity. The -Messenger has also this feature, almost indispensable for a -successful Magazine, its Editorial articles are decidedly the best -that it contains. They seem to be almost uniformly good. - -We had intended to give some extracts from the Messenger: but the -claims of more pressing matters compel us to postpone them. It is -published in Richmond (Va.) by Thomas W. White, contains 64 large -pages, in double columns, with small type; and is published monthly, -at $5 per annum. - - -From the National Gazette. - -The number of the Southern Literary Messenger for March, has just -made its appearance, having been delayed in order to insert an -excellent address delivered by Professor Dew, of William and Mary -College, upon the influence of the federative republican system of -government upon literature and the developement of character. There -are various articles which may be read with equal pleasure and -profit. A short one upon "Americanisms" alludes to the word _avid_, -employed by Bulwer in his last production, the hero of which is said -to have been avid of personal power: and, the writer thinks it is -the coinage of the novelist, as he says he can find no authority for -it even in the latest dictionaries, nor in any author of repute. It -does not, however, proceed from Mr. Bulwer's mint. As far as we are -aware, Sir Egerton Brydges--who though not a first rate, is no mean -member of the scribbling confraternity--is the {345} first who has -employed it. His Autobiography, published a few years ago, and which -by the way, ought to have been re-published here as one of the most -interesting and singular works of the time, contains it often enough -to prove some feeling towards it in the author's breast akin to that -of paternal affection. - -As the review of the book which appeared in the Edinburgh Quarterly, -was attributed to Bulwer, it is very probable that he fell in love -with it when engaged in the task of criticism--a moment when, it -ought to be inferred he was particularly alive to the correctness or -incorrectness of any intrusion upon the premises of the King's -English. The word is unquestionably a good and expressive one, and -has quite as much inherent right to be incorporated with our -language as any other Latin excrescence. It is only "Hebrew roots," -we are informed by high authority, that "flourish most in barren -ground." No imputation, therefore, rests upon the soil from which -this sprang. Upon the subject of coining words, as upon so many -others, old Flaccus has spoken best: - - Licuit, semperque licebit, - Signatum presente notâ procudere nomen. - - -From the North Carolina Standard. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.--We have received the March No. -of this valuable monthly. It is as rich in matter, and its pieces -are as varied and interesting as any previous number; and we have -before said, that but few periodicals in the Union, and none _South_ -of the Potomac, are superior to it. - - -From the Washington Sun. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.--We have received the _Southern -Literary Messenger_ for February. Its contents are rich, varied and -interesting. The critiques are particularly good, and evidence a -mind feelingly alive to the literary reputation of our country. The -collection of autographs will be examined with much interest. We can -safely recommend this periodical to the patronage of the public. - - -From the Tuscaloosa Flag of the Union. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.--We have received the last number of -this beautiful and valuable Magazine, and take great pleasure in -expressing the delight with which we have perused its contents. It -is certainly the best Magazine now published in the Union, and is an -honor to Southern literature and talent. The present number like its -predecessors, is replete with 'pearls, and gems, and flowers,' and -fully sustains the elevated character of the work. The Critical -Notices are peculiarly meritorious and sensible. The Messenger is -now under the editorial guidance of Edgar A. Poe, a gentleman highly -distinguished for his literary taste and talent. - - -From the Fincastle Democrat. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.--We have been furnished, by the -worthy publisher, with the February number of this "best of American -periodicals," as it is said to be by a distinguished Northern -contemporary. This number is pronounced, in all of the many notices -which we have seen, to be the best of the fifteen that have been -published; of this we are not competent to decide, not having been -favored with the previous numbers; but, be it as it may, we -cheerfully coincide in the annexed sentiment of the editor of the -Pennsylvanian:--"If it is not well supported by our brethren of the -South, no faith is to be placed in their sectional feeling; _it is -vox et præterea nihil_." - - -From the U. S. Gazette. - -The Southern Literary Messenger for March, full of good matter, is -at hand--delayed with a view of giving the whole of Professor Dew's -address. We miss the racy and condemnatory criticism that -distinguishes the work, and which has been favorable to the -production of good books. We who publish no volumes, look with -complacency upon severe criticism. - - -From the Richmond Compiler. - -The writer of the following judicious article, has performed a task -for which he is entitled to our thanks. A want of time and a lack of -the proper talent for criticism, have prevented us from giving our -opinion at length upon the last number of the Messenger; and this -sketch saves us the labor. We accord with most of the writer's -positions, and are pleased with the good sense, moderation and -delicacy with which he has discharged the office of censor. -Criticism, to be useful, must be just and impartial. This is both. - -"_The Southern Literary Messenger_."--Virginia has cause of -exultation that her chief literary periodical bearing the above -title, has already attained a respectable rank in the United States, -and has won "golden opinions" from some of the highest dignitaries -in the empire of criticism. Whilst I do not think that the February -number which has just appeared, is superior to all its predecessors, -yet it may be considered a fair specimen of the general ability with -which the work is conducted. Its contents are copious--various in -their style and character, and, in candor be it spoken, of very -unequal merit. Whilst some articles are highly interesting--the -readers of the Messenger would have lost but little, if others had -been omitted. This remark is not made in the spirit of fault -finding; the Messenger has always _enough_ in its pages to admire, -without coveting an indiscriminate and unqualified praise of all -which it contains. - -The very first article in the February number, on the importance of -_Selection in Reading_, though short, contains much matter for grave -reflection. The writer states, and states truly, that if a man has -forty years to employ in reading, and reads fifty pages a day, he -will only be able in that period of time, to accomplish about -_sixteen hundred_ volumes of 500 pages each. Highly favored as such -a man would be, beyond the mass of his fellow creatures, how -insignificant the number of volumes read by him, compared with the -millions which fill the libraries of the world, and the thousands -and tens of thousand that continually drop from the press. How -vastly important is it, therefore, to be well directed in the choice -of books!--and I may add, how great is the responsibility of those -whose province it is so to direct; to whom the task has been -confided of selecting our literary food, and of separating what is -healthful and nutritious from what is poisonous and hurtful. A well -established magazine, or periodical, undoubtedly exercises great -influence on the literary taste, as well as the literary morality of -the circle of its readers. Hence good taste, good feeling--just -discrimination and high rectitude, are essential qualities in the -conduction of such a work. That Mr. Poe, the reputed editor of the -Messenger, is a gentleman of brilliant genius and endowments, is a -truth which I believe, will not be controverted by a large majority -of its readers. For one, however, I confess, that there are -occasionally manifested some errors of judgment--or faults in -taste--or whatever they may be called, which I should be glad to see -corrected. I do not think, for example, that such an article as "the -Duc De L'Omelette," in the number under consideration, ought to have -appeared. That kind of writing, I know, may plead high precedents in -its favor; but that it is calculated to produce effects permanently -injurious to sound morals, I think will not be doubted by those who -reflect seriously upon the subject. Mr. Poe is too fond of the -wild--unnatural and horrible! Why will he not permit his fine genius -to soar into purer, brighter, and happier regions? Why will he not -disenthral himself from the spells of German enchantment and -supernatural imagery? There is room enough for the exercise of the -highest powers, upon the multiform relations of human life, without -descending into the dark mysterious and unutterable creations of -licentious fancy. When Mr. Poe passes from the region of shadows, -into the plain practical dissecting room of criticism, he manifests -great dexterity and power. He exposes the imbecility and rottenness -of our _ad captandum_ popular literature, with the hand of a master. -The public I believe was much delighted with the admirable scalping -of "Norman Leslie," in the December number, and likewise of Mr. -Simms' "Partisan," in the number for January; and it will be no less -pleased at the caustic severity with which the puerile abortion of -"Paul Ulric" is exposed in the present number.--These miserable -attempts at fiction, will bring all fictitious writing into utter -disrepute, unless indeed the stern rebukes which shall come from our -chairs of criticism, shall rectify the public taste, and preserve -the purity of public feeling. - -It would be tedious to pronounce upon the merits and demerits of the -several articles in the number under review. Dr. Greenhow's -continuation of the Tripolitan Sketches is worthy of his calm and -philosophical pen. The re-appearance of "Nugator" in the pages of -the Messenger--after a long interval of silence--will be hailed by -its readers with great pleasure; his "Castellanus" is excellent. The -article on "Liberian Literature," will attract much attention. It -presents a very vivid picture of the wonderful progress which that -colony has made in most of the arts, and in many of the refinements -of life. Lionel Granby--the sketch of the lamented Cushing,--and the -sketches of Lake Superior, have each their peculiar merits, and will -be read with interest; of the _Critical Notices_, the sarcastic -power of the review of Paul Ulric, has been already spoken of. The -Review of "Rienzi," too, the last novel of Bulwer, is written in Mr. -Poe's best style,--but I must be permitted to dissent _toto cælo_ -from his opinion, that the author of that work is unsurpassed as a -novelist by any writer living or dead.--There is no disputing about -tastes, but according to my poor judgment, a single work might be -selected from among the voluminous labors of Walter Scott, worth all -that Bulwer has ever written, or ever will write--and this I {346} -believe will be the impartial verdict of posterity, at least so long -as unaffected simplicity and the true moral sublime, are preferred -to the gaudy and meretricious coloring which perverted genius throws -around its creations. The Eulogy on the great and good Marshall, is -an elaborate and elegant performance. It is a powerful, yet familiar -sketch of the principal features in the life and character of that -incomparable man. The notices of Emilia Harrington; Lieutenant -Slidell's work, the _American in England_; _Conti_; the _Noble Deeds -of Women_; of _Roget's Physiology_, (one of the Bridgewater -Treatises) and of Mathew Carey's _Auto-Biography_--are all very -spirited articles, and are greatly superior to papers of the same -description in the very best monthly periodicals of our country. The -last article "Autography" is not exactly to my taste, though there -are doubtless many who would find in it food for merriment. The -writer of "Readings with My Pencil, No. 1,"--contests the generally -received maxim of Horace, that poets are born such; in other words, -he denies that there is an "original, inherent organization" of the -mind which leads to the "high Heaven of invention," or which, -according to the phrenologists, confers the faculty of "ideality." -It would require too much space to prove that Horace was right, and -that his assailant is altogether wrong. Mr. J. F. O. is greatly -behind the philosophy of the age. It is too late in the day to prove -that Shakespeare and Byron were created exactly equal with the -common mass of mankind, and that _circumstances_ made them superior. -Circumstances may excite and _develope_ mental power, but cannot -create it. Napoleon, although not born Emperor of the French, was -originally endowed with that great capacity which fitted him to -tread the paths of military glory and to cut out his way to supreme -power. Ordinary mortals could not have achieved what he did, with -circumstances equally favorable, or with an education far superior. - -It is gratifying to learn that the "Messenger" is still extending -the circle of its readers. The wonder is,--supposing that we have -some love of country left on this side of the Potomac,--that its -patronage is not overflowing. It is the only respectable periodical, -I believe, south of that river; and with due encouragement, it might -not only become a potent reformer of literary taste, but the vehicle -of grave and solid instruction upon subjects deeply interesting to -the southern country. That with all our never-ending professions of -patriotism, however, there exists a vast deal more of selfishness -than public spirit, even in our sunny clime, is a lamentable -truth,--nor for one, am I sufficiently sanguine to unite with the -editor of the Messenger, in the answer which he gives to his own -interrogatory in the following eloquent passage, extracted from the -Review of "Conti;"--"How long shall mind succumb to the grossest -materiality? How long shall the veriest vermin of the earth who -crawl around the altar of Mammon be more esteemed of men, than they, -the gifted ministers to those exalted emotions which link us with -the mysteries of Heaven? To our own query we may venture a reply. -Not long--not long will such rank injustice be committed, or -permitted. A spirit is already abroad at war with it. And in every -billow of the unceasing sea of change--and in every breath, however -gentle, of the wide atmosphere of revolution encircling us, is that -spirit steadily, yet irresistibly at work." Alas! for this sea of -change and this atmosphere of revolution which are fast surrounding -us! For my part, I fear that all other distinctions but _wealth_ and -_power_ are about to be annihilated. What do we behold indeed in -society, but one universal struggle to acquire both? Moral and -intellectual worth are but lightly esteemed in comparison with the -possession of that sordid dross, which every brainless upstart or -every corrupt adventurer may acquire. - -Though the Muses occupy a small space in the present number of the -Messenger, their claims are not to be disregarded. Miss Draper's -"Lay of Ruin," and Mr. Flint's "Living Alone" have both decided -merit. The "Ballad" is written by one who can evidently write much -better, if he chooses; and there is a deep poetical inspiration -about Mr. Poe's "Valley Nis," which would be more attractive if his -verses were smoother, and his subject matter less obscure and -unintelligible. Mr. Poe will not consent to abide with ordinary -mortals. - -Upon the whole, the last number of the Messenger is one of decided -merit. - -X. Y. Z. - - -From the Richmond Compiler. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_. Our critical correspondent of the -22d, is not borne out, in some of his remarks, by public opinion. We -allude to his observations on the _Duc de L'Omelette_, and Mr. Poe's -_Autography_. These articles are eliciting the highest praise from -the highest quarters. Of the Duc de L'Omelette, the Baltimore -American, (a paper of the first authority and hitherto opposed to -Mr. P.) says: "The Duc de L'Omelette, by Edgar A. Poe, is one of -those light, spirited, fantastic inventions, of which we have had -specimens before in the Messenger, betokening a fertility of -imagination, and power of execution, that would, under a sustained -effort, produce creations of an enduring character." The Petersburg -Constellation copies the entire "_Autography_," with high -commendations, and of the Duc de L'Omelette, says, "of the lighter -contributions, of the diamonds which sparkle beside the more sombre -gems, commend us, thou spirit of eccentricity! to our favorite, -Edgar A. Poe's '_Duc de L'Omelette_,' the best thing of the kind we -ever have, or ever expect to read." These opinions seem to be -universal. In justice to Mr. Poe, and as an offsett to the remarks -of our correspondent, we extract the following notice of the -February number from the National Intelligencer. - -From the National Intelligencer. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_. The February No. of this -beautiful and interesting periodical has reached us, and it gives us -pleasure to learn that it will be distributed to a greater number of -subscribers than any previous one has been. This is creditable to -the taste of the people, to the industry of the proprietor, the -talents of its editor and contributors, and particularly to the -South, to whom Mr. White especially looks for the support of his -enterprise. The following notice of the contents of the present -number is from a friend of literary taste and discrimination: - -The present number is uncommonly rich. It opens with some valuable -hints upon the necessity of selection in reading, a capital -discourse of a column and a half upon the startling text, "if you -have forty years to employ in reading, and can read fifty pages a -day, you will be able in those forty years to accomplish only about -_sixteen hundred volumes_, of 500 pages each." This consideration, -ably put by the editor, is an antidote, one would think, to -"smattering." The next is No. X. of a very interesting series of -Historical sketches of Barbary States. This number brings the -history of Algiers down to the close of Charles Xth's reign. Taken -together, these papers are very valuable, and will form a useful -reference hereafter. It is such papers as these that make a -periodical worth keeping. The next prose article is amusing. It is a -translation from the French, and gives a most humorous account of "a -Cousin of the Married," a man who acquired that quaint _sobriquet_ -by attending all weddings, where there was a large company assembled -and making himself useful by proposing sentiments, reciting -_epithalamia_, and singing songs appropriate to those happy -occasions, until he was discovered by an aristocratic groom, and -compelled to vacate the premises. The paper contains a similar -narrative of "a Cousin of the Dead," who, having been advised to -ride for his health, and being too poor, used to go to all funerals -as a mourner, and thus obtained the medicine prescribed by his -physician, with no other cost than a few crocodile tears. Then comes -one of that eccentric writer, _Edgar A. Poe's_, characteristic -productions, "_The Duc de L'Omelette_," which is one of the best -things of the kind we have ever read. _Mr. Poe_ has great powers, -and every line _tells_ in all he writes. He is no spinner-out of -long yarns, but chooses his subject, whimsically, perhaps, yet -originally, and treats it in a manner peculiarly his own. "Rustic -Courtship in New England" has not the verisimilitude which is -necessary to entitle it to the only praise that such sketches -usually obtain; unless they were well done, it were always better -that Yankee stories be not done at all. We hate to be over-critical, -but would recommend to the "_Octogenarian_" to take the veritable -_Jack Downing_ or _John Beedle_, as his models, before he writes -again. Those inimitable writers have well-nigh, if not quite, -exhausted the subject of New England Courtship, and (we speak "as -one having authority, and not as the scribes," by which we mean the -critics) the writer before us has done but very indifferently what -they have done so well, as to gain universal applause. "Palæstine" -is a useful article, containing geographical, topographical, and -other statistical facts in the history of that interesting county, -well put together, and valuable as a reference. - -We were much entertained with "_Nugator's_" humorous sketches of the -castle-building farmer. No periodical in the country, numbers one -among its contributors more racy than "Nugator." The article on -"Liberian Literature" gives the reader a very flattering idea of the -condition of that colony. The "Biographical Sketch" of _President -Cushing_, of Hampden Sidney College, we read with much pleasure. We -would recommend a series of similar sketches, from the same hand: -nothing can give a periodical of this kind more solid value than -such tributes to departed worth. Sketches of "Lake -Superior"--beautiful! beautiful! We feel inclined to follow the -track so picturesquely described by _Mr. Woolsey_, and make a -pilgrimage to the wild and woody scenery of the Great Lake. This is -a continuous series of letters, and we shall hail the coming numbers -with much pleasure. The last prose _contribution_ in the book is -entitled "Readings with my Pencil," being a series of paraphrases of -different passages, taken at random, from various authors. We like -this plan, and think well of the performance thus far. It is to be -continued. - -The poetical department is not so rich as that in former numbers. -_Miss Draper's_ "Lay of Ruin" is irregular in the versification, and -shows the fair writer's forte to be in a different style altogether. -We wish she would give us something more like that gem of the -December number of the Messenger, "Halley's Comet in 1760." _Mr. -Flint's_ "Living Alone," capital; and _Mr. Poe's_ "Valley Nis," -characteristically wild, yet sweetly soft and smooth in measure as -in mood. The "Lines" on page 166 do no credit to the Messenger; they -should have been dropped into the fire as soon as the first stanza -was read by the editor; and if he had gotten to the eleventh, he -should have sent the MS. to the Museum as a curiosity. Look! The -Bard addresses the Mississippi! - - "'Tis not clearness--'tis not brightness - Such as dwell in mountain brooks-- - 'Tis thy big, big boiling torrent-- - 'Tis thy wild and angry looks." - -This is altogether too bad. _Eliza's_ Stanzas to "Greece" are very -beautiful. She writes from _Maine_, and, with care and cultivation, -will, by and by, do something worthy of the name to which she makes -aspiration. So much for the poetry of the {347} number; which -neither in quantity or quality is equal to the last three or four. - -In the "Editorial" department, we recognise the powerful -discrimination of _Mr. Poe_. The dissection of "Paul Ulric," though -well deserved, is perfectly savage. _Morris Mattson, Esq._ will -hardly write again. This article will as surely kill him as one not -half so scalpingly written did poor _Keats_, in the London -Quarterly. The notice of _Lieutenant Slidell's_ "American in -England" we were glad to see. It is a fair offset to the coxcombical -article (probably written by _Norman Leslie Fay_) which lately -appeared in the New York Mirror, in reference to our countryman's -really agreeable work. _Bulwer's_ "Rienzi" is ably reviewed, and in -a style to beget in him who reads it a strong desire to possess -himself immediately of the book itself. There is also an interesting -notice of _Matthew Carey's_ Autobiography, and two or three other -works lately published. - -Under this head, there is, in the number before us, the best sketch -of the character and life of _Chief Justice Marshall_ we have as yet -seen. This alone would make a volume of the Messenger valuable -beyond the terms of subscription. It purports to be a Review of -_Story's_, _Binney's_, and _Snowden's_ Eulogies upon that -distinguished jurist, while, in reality, it is a rich and pregnant -Biography of "The Expounder of the Constitution." - -The number closes with a most amusing paper containing twenty-five -admirably executed _fac simile_ autographs of some of the most -distinguished of our literati. The _equivoque_ of _Mr. Joseph A. B. -C. D. E. F. G._ &c. _Miller_ is admirably kept up, and the whimsical -character of the pretended letters to which the signatures are -attached is well preserved. Of almost all the autographs we can -speak on our own authority, and are able to pronounce them capital. - -Upon the whole, the number before us (entirely original) may be set -down as one of the very best that has yet been issued. - - -From the Pennsylvanian. - -The Southern Literary Messenger, published in Richmond, maintains -its high character. The March number, however, which has just come -to hand, would have been the better had the solid articles been -relieved, as in the previous numbers, by a greater variety of -contributions of a lighter cast. It is comparatively heavy, a fault -which should be carefully avoided in a magazine intended for all -sorts of readers. Sinning in the opposite direction would be much -more excusable. - - -From the Georgetown Metropolitan. - -We have taken time to go through the last number of the Southern -Literary Messenger, and find it, with some slight exceptions, in the -articles of its correspondents, worthy, in every respect, of the -high reputation of the series. The editorial articles are vigorous -and original, as usual, and there are papers not easily to be -surpassed in any periodical. Such a one is that on the Classics, -which is not the saucy and flippant thing we were half afraid to -find it, but an essay of great wisdom, learning, and strength,--and -what we generally see combined with it,--playfulness of mind. - -Another such article is the splendid address prepared by Professor -Dew, for delivery before the Historical and Philosophical Society of -Virginia. Its eloquence, vast compass, and subtlety of thought, will -amply and richly repay the attention. - -We have time to-day for but a brief notice of the other articles. - -Sketches of the Barbary States,--continues the description of the -French conquest, with the same clearness and ability which we have -before frequently commended. - -"Epimanes" displays a rich, but extravagant fancy. - -"To Helen," is pretty and classic, from the same hand--we will give -it in our next. - -"Change" has many lines in it, of sweet, and what we like best, of -thoughtful poetry; we will publish it in our next. - -"Manual Labor Schools."--Another "address," but practical and -sensible. We suggest, with deference, to the very able editor of the -Southern Literary Messenger, that the less frequently he admits -articles of this description into his columns, the better. Except in -rare circumstances, such for example as Professor Dew's, we think -they are unfit for a magazine,--the subject of the present one, is, -however, of great importance. "Georgia Scenes" makes a capital -article, and has excited, in our mind, a great curiosity to see the -book. - - -From the Georgetown Metropolitan. - -The Southern Literary Messenger, for the present month, is unusually -rich. The articles evince depth, talent and taste, and there is all -the eastern vigor and maturity of learning, with all the southern -spirit of imagination. It is, in fact, nobly edited and supported, -well worthy of being considered the representative and organ of -Southern talent. - -Of the articles in the present number, the general list as may be -seen by looking at the advertisement in another column, is very -attractive, and a perusal will not "unbeseem the promise." We have -not time to go over each as we would wish; but the historical sketch -of Algiers, which is brought down to the embarkation of the French -expedition, will command attention. "A _Lay of Ruin_," by Miss -Draper, has some lines of exquisite poetry, and Edgar A. Poe's -Sketch "The Duc de L'Omelette," is the best thing of the kind we -have seen from him yet. "Living Alone" by Timothy Flint, greatly -interested us. That this patriarch of American literature, in his -green and fresh old age, can write verses so full of the amaranthine -vigor of youth, is a delightful picture. We are sorry we cannot find -room for these pleasant verses. Among other attractions of the -number, we come upon a Drinking Song, by Major Noah, in which the -most agreeable and witty of editors, proves himself one of the most -moral and fascinating of lyrists. It is an anacreontic of the right -stamp, and does its author more credit than all the anti-Van Buren -articles he ever penned. - -The Critical Notices are better by far, than those in any other -magazine in the country. Paul Ulric is too small game for the -tremendous demolition he has received--a club of iron has been used -to smash a fly. The article on Judge Marshall is an able and -faithful epitome of that great jurist's character; in fact, the best -which the press has yet given to the public. We agree with all the -other critiques except that of Bulwer's Rienzi. The most -extraordinary article in the book and the one which will excite most -attention, is its tail piece, in which an American edition of -Frazer's celebrated Miller hoax has been played off on the American -Literati with great success--and better than all, an accurate fac -simile of each autograph given along with it. - -This article is extremely amusing, and will excite more attention -than probably any thing of the kind yet published in an American -periodical. It is quite new in this part of the world. - -We commend this excellent magazine to our readers, as in a high -degree deserving of encouragement, and as one which will reward it. - - -From the Baltimore American. - -The _Southern Literary Messenger_ for February is, we think, the -best of the fifteen numbers that have been published. Most of its -articles, prose and verse, are of good Magazine quality, sprightly -and diversified. The first, on "Selection in Reading," contains in a -brief space a useful lesson in these book-abounding times, when many -people take whatever publishers please to give them, or surrender -their right of selection to the self-complacent and shallow editors -of cheap "Libraries." Of the interesting "Sketches of the History -and present condition of Tripoli, with some account of the other -Barbary States," we have here No. 10, which concludes with the -preparations of the attack on Algiers by the French in 1830. "The -Cousin of the Married" and the "Cousin of the Dead" are two capital -comic pictures from the French. "The Duc de L'Omelette, by Edgar A. -Poe" is one of those light, spirited, fantastic inventions, of which -we have had specimens before in the Messenger, betokening a -fertility of imagination and power of execution, that with -discipline could, under a sustained effort, produce creations of an -enduring character. "Rustic Courtship in New England" is of a class -that should not get higher than the first page of a country -newspaper,--we mean no disrespect to any of our -"cotemporaries,"--for it has no literary capabilities. - -The best and also the largest portion of the present number of the -Messenger is the department of critical notices of books. These are -the work of a vigorous, sportive, keen pen, that, whether you -approve the judgments or not it records, takes captive your -attention by the spirit with which it moves. The number ends with -the amusing Miller correspondence, of which we have already spoken. - - -From the Petersburg Constellation. - -We briefly announced a few days ago, the receipt of the February -number of the _Southern Literary Messenger_. It is one of the -richest and raciest numbers of that Journal yet issued from the -Press. The judicious introductory article on the necessity of select -reading; the continuation of the Historical sketches of the Barbary -States; Palæstine; the Biographical notice of the late Professor -Cushing of Hampden Sidney College; the Review of the Eulogies on, -and Reminiscenses of the late Chief Justice Marshall, are among the -solid treasures of the Messenger of this month. Sketches of Lake -Superior in a series of Letters which are "_to be continued_;" the -Cousin of the Married and the Cousin of the Dead, a translation from -the French; Lionel Granby, Chapter 8; the Castle Builder turned -Farmer, and Rustic Courtship in New England, have each their -beauties, excellences and peculiarities. Of the lighter -contributions, of the diamonds which sparkle beside the more sombre -gems, commend us, thou spirit of eccentricity! forever and a day to -our favorite Edgar A. Poe's _Duc de L'Omelette_--the best thing of -the kind we ever have or ever expect to read. The idea of "dying of -an Ortolan;" the waking up in the palace of Pluto; of that -mysterious chain of "blood red metal" hung "_ parmi les nues_," at -the nether extremity of which was attached a "cresset," pouring -forth a light more "intense, still and terrible" than "Persia ever -worshipped, Gheber imagined, or Mussulman dreamed of;" the paintings -and statuary of that mysterious hall, whose solitary uncurtained -window looked upon blazing Tartarus, and whose ceiling was lost in a -mass of "fiery-colored clouds;" the _nonchalance_ of the _Duc_ in -challenging "His Majesty" to a _pass_ with the _points_; his -imperturbable, self-confident assurance during the playing of a game -of _ecarté_; his adroitness in slipping a card while his Infernal -Highness "took wine" (a trick which won the _Duc_ his game by the -by,) and finally his _characteristic_ compliment to the Deity of the -Place of "que s'il n'etait pas de L'Omelette, il n'aurait point -d'objection d'etre le Diable," are conceptions which for peculiar -eccentricity and graphic quaintness, are perfectly inimitable. Of -the criticisms, the most are good; that on Mr. Morris Mattson's -novel of "Paul Ulric," like a former criticism from the same pen on -Fay's "Norman Leslie" is a literal "flaying alive!" a carving up -into "ten thousand atoms!" a complete literary annihilation! If Mr. -Morris {348} Mattson is either courageous or wise, he will turn upon -his merciless assailant as Byron turned upon Jeffrey, and prove that -he can not only do better things, but that he deserves more lenient -usage! Last but not by far the least in interest, is Mr. Joseph A. -Q. Z. Miller's "Autography." We copy the whole article as a literary -treat which we should wrong their tastes did we suppose for a moment -would not be as highly appreciated by each and all of our readers, -as it is by ourself. - - -From the Baltimore Chronicle. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_. The last number of this -periodical is, perhaps the best that has appeared, and shows that -the favor with which its predecessors have been received has only -added stimulus to the exertions of its enterprising proprietor and -very able Editor. The number consists of 70 pages, all of which are -taken up with original matter. The prose articles are generally of -high merit--but the poetry of the present number is inferior to that -of some of the preceding. The critical notices are written in a -nervous style and with great impartiality and independence. The -Editor seems to have borne in mind the maxim of the greatest of -reviewers--"the judge is condemned when the guilty is acquitted." -The application of this severe rule to all criticism would impart -greater value to just commendation and render the censure of the -press more formidable to brainless pretenders. The public judgment -is constantly deluded and misled by indiscriminate puffing and -unmerited praise. The present Editor of the Messenger is in no -danger of doing violence to his feelings in this respect. - - -From the Boston Mercantile Journal. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.--This is a periodical which it is -probably well known to many of our readers, was established a little -more than a year since, in Richmond, Va. It is issued in monthly -numbers of about seventy pages each, and is devoted to every -department of Literature and the Fine Arts. Containing much matter -of a brilliant and superior order, evidently the productions of -accomplished scholars and Belles Lettres writers, with able and -discriminating critical notices of the principal publications on -this side the Atlantic, the Southern Literary Messenger is equal in -interest and excellence to any Monthly Periodical in the country, -and we are glad to learn from the February number that it has -already received extensive and solid patronage. - - -From the Norfolk Beacon. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_ for February appears in all its -freshness. The sketches of the history of the Barbary States -contained in the present number include the period of the equipment -and departure of the French fleet destined for the attack on -Algiers. The account of the diplomatic movements of England and -France on the subject of the proposed capture is novel and -instructive. The tribute to the memory of Cushing we hail with -pleasure. If it be not a faultless production, it is written in a -right spirit. The review of Paul Ulric is written with great freedom -and unusual severity. The reviewer wields a formidable weapon. The -article on Judge Marshall groups within a small compass much -valuable and interesting intelligence respecting the late Chief -Justice. It is not executed, however in a workmanlike manner. The -ungenerous allusion to Chapman Johnson was wholly gratuitous. There -is also a seasoning of federal politics, not referring to long past -times, that ought to have been spared us. But the article on -Autography is a treat of no common order. We have seen nothing of -the kind before in an American periodical. It must have cost Mr. -White a great deal of labor and expense in its typographical -execution. What has become of the excellent series of essays on the -sexes, ascribed to the pen of a distinguished professor of Wm. & -Mary? - - -From the Baltimore American. - -The publication of the Southern Literary Messenger, for March, was -delayed beyond the usual time, for the purpose of inserting in it an -Address by Professor Dew, of Wm. and Mary College, prepared to be -delivered before the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society. -The first copy sent to us having miscarried, we have been further -disappointed in the receipt of this number, which has just now -reached us. As yet we have read but one article in it, but that is -one of such merit on so interesting a subject, that it were nearly -sufficient alone to give value to the number, without the aid of Mr. -Dew's Address, to which we shall hereafter refer, doubting not to -find it of high excellence, as his reputation leads us to -anticipate. - -The article to which we allude is on 'Manual Labor Schools, and -their importance as connected with literary institutions.' The -introduction of manual labor as a regular department of the school -exercises is, we believe, one of the greatest improvements of the -age, in the most important branch of human endeavor--the _culture_ -of man. We make no apology for frequently recurring to this subject. -As reasonable would it be to expect apologies from the municipal -authorities for directing their efforts daily, and with unrelaxed -watchfulness, to the keeping pure and healthy the atmosphere of a -city. The culture or education of human beings is a subject of -unsurpassed moment and of never ceasing interest. The principles -upon which this culture is to be conducted, and the modes of -applying them, involve the well being of communities and nations. We -are glad therefore, to perceive, that in our new and promising race -of literary monthlies, education receives a large share of -attention. - -The paper before us in the Messenger, prepared by the Rev. Mr. -Stanton, is peculiarly interesting, because it embodies a quantity -of experience of the results produced by manual labor--results, -which though derived from comparatively few sources, the number of -institutions where the system has been introduced being as yet -small--are of the most emphatic and convincing character. They -already suffice to prove that the connexion of manual labor -establishments with literary institutions, is conducive not only in -the highest degree to health, but to morals, and to intellectual -proficiency. Moreover--and this is a point of incalculable -importance--in some of these institutions, a _majority_ of the -students have by their labor diminished their expenses about one -half; a portion of them have defrayed the whole of their expenses, -and a few have more than defrayed them--enjoying at the same time -better health, and making more rapid advances in knowledge than -usual. The distinct testimony of the pupils as well as -superintendents, is adduced to prove the beneficial effects upon -body and mind, of three hours agricultural or mechanical labor every -day. One of these effects is described in the following language. -"This system is calculated to make men hardy, enterprising, and -independent; and to wake up within them a spirit perseveringly to -do, and endure, and dare." - - -From the New Yorker. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.--The February No. of this -periodical is before us--rich in typographical beauty as ever, but -scarcely so fortunate as in some former instances in the character -of its original contributions. Such at least is our judgment; and -yet of some twenty articles the greater number will be perused with -decided satisfaction. Of these, No. X. of the "_Sketches of the -History of Tripoli_" and other Barbary States, affords an -interesting account of the series of outrages on the part of the -Algerine Regency which provoked the entire overthrow of that -infamous banditti and the subjugation of the country. [We take -occasion to say here that we trust France will _never_ restore the -Algerine territory to the sway of the barbarian and infidel, but -hold it at the expense, if need be, of a Continental War.] - -"_The Cousin of the Married and the Cousin of the Dead_" is a most -striking translation, which we propose to copy. - -"_Living Alone_," by Timothy Flint, forms an exception to the usual -character of the poetry of the Messenger, which we do not greatly -affect. Mr. Flint, however, writes to be read--and is rarely -disappointed or disappoints his readers. - -There are some amusing pictures of Virginia rural life and domestic -economy in the papers entitled "Lionel Granby" and "Castellanus;" -and the biographical sketch of the late President Cushing, of -Hampden Sidney College, indicates a just State pride properly -directed. The "Sketches of Lake Superior" are alike creditable to -the writer and the Magazine. "Greece" forms the inspiration of some -graceful lines. But the 'great feature' of this No. is an Editorial -critique on Mr. Morris Mattson's novel of "Paul Ulric," which is -tomahawked and scalped after the manner of a Winnebago. If any young -gentleman shall find himself irresistibly impelled to perpetrate a -novel, and all milder remedies prove unavailing, we earnestly advise -him to read this criticism. We are not sufficiently hard hearted to -recommend its perusal to any one else. - -The concluding paper will commend itself to the attention of the -rational curious. It embraces the autographs, quaintly introduced -and oddly accompanied, of twenty-four of the most distinguished -literary personages of our country--Mrs. Sigourney, Miss Leslie, -Miss Sedgwick, Messrs. Washington Irving, Fitz Greene Halleck, -Timothy Flint, J. K. Paulding, J. Fenimore Cooper, Robert Walsh, -Edward Everett, J. Q. Adams, Dr. Channing, &c. &c. We note this as -an evidence of the energy no less than the good taste of the -publisher, and as an earnest of his determination to spare no pains -or expense in rendering the work acceptable to its patrons. - - -From the New York Evening Star. - -The Southern Literary Messenger, for March, has been received, and a -particularly good number it is. There is one point in which this -Messenger stands pre-eminent, and that point is candor. If there is -any thing disgusting and sickening, it is the fashion of magazine -and newspaper reviewers of the present day of plastering every thing -which is heralded into existence with a tremendous sound of -trumpets--applaud every thing written by the twenty-fifth relation -distant of a really great writer, or the author of one or two -passable snatches of poetry, or every day sketches. - - -From the Natchez Courier. - -Last but not least, as the friends of a literature, emphatically -_southern_, we welcome the February number of the "Southern Literary -Messenger," a work that stands second to none in the country. Its -criticisms we pronounce to be at once the boldest and most generally -correct of any we meet with. True, it is very severe on many of the -current publications of the day; but we think no unprejudiced man -can say it is a whit too much so. The country is deluged from Maine -to Louisiana, with a mass of _stuff_ "done up" into _books_ that -_require_ the most severe handling. The Messenger _gives it to -them_. It is a work which ought to be in the hand of every literary -_southerner_, in particular. It is published by _T. W. White -Richmond, Va._ - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUTHERN LITERARY -MESSENGER, VOL. II., NO. 5, APRIL, 1836 *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -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. diff --git a/old/68785-0.zip b/old/68785-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ed8a7bd..0000000 --- a/old/68785-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68785-h.zip b/old/68785-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 543283b..0000000 --- a/old/68785-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68785-h/68785-h.htm b/old/68785-h/68785-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7c6445d..0000000 --- a/old/68785-h/68785-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8531 +0,0 @@ - -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> - -<html> -<head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> - <title>The Project Gutenberg e-Book of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 5, April 1836, by Various</title> - <style type="text/css"> - <!-- - body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} - h1 {text-align:center} - h2 {text-align:center} - h3 {text-align:center} - h4 {text-align:center} - h5 {text-align:center} - .pagenum {position:absolute; left:92%; text-align:right;} --> - </style> -</head> -<body> -<div lang='en' xml:lang='en'> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of <span lang='' xml:lang=''>The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 5, April, 1836</span>, by Various</p> -<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> -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: <span lang='' xml:lang=''>The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 5, April, 1836</span></p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Edgar Allan Poe</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 18, 2022 [eBook #68785]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Ron Swanson</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span lang='' xml:lang=''>THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, VOL. II., NO. 5, APRIL, 1836</span> ***</div> -<center>THE</center> -<h2>SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER:</h2> -<center>DEVOTED TO</center> -<h3>EVERY DEPARTMENT OF</h3> -<h1>LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS.</h1> -<br> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem1"> - <tr><td><small>Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents. </small></td></tr> - <tr><td align="right"><small><i>Crebillon's Electre</i>.</small></td></tr> - <tr><td><small> </small></td></tr> - <tr><td><small>As <i>we</i> will, and not as the winds will.</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<center><small>RICHMOND:<br> -T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.<br> -1835-6.</small></center> -<br><br><br><br> -<h3>CONTENTS OF VOLUME II, NUMBER 5</h3> - -<p><a href="#sect01">MSS. <small>OF</small> B<small>ENJ</small>. F<small>RANKLIN</small>.</a><br> - <a href="#sect02">A L<small>ECTURE</small></a> on the Providence of God -in the Government of the World.<br> - <a href="#sect03">L<small>ETTER FROM</small> A<small>NTHONY</small> A<small>FTERWIT</small>.</a><br> - <a href="#sect04">L<small>ETTER FROM</small> C<small>ELIA</small> S<small>INGLE</small>.</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect05">T<small>O THE</small> E<small>VENING</small> S<small>TAR</small></a>: by T. J. S.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect06">G<small>ENIUS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect07">A L<small>OAN TO THE</small> M<small>ESSENGER</small></a> No. II: by J. F. O.<br> - <a href="#sect08">T<small>O</small> ———</a>: by N. P. W.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect09">S<small>OME</small> A<small>NCIENT</small> G<small>REEK</small> A<small>UTHORS</small></a> -chronologically arranged: by P.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect10">T<small>O AN</small> A<small>RTIST</small>,</a> who requested the writer's -opinion of a Pencil Sketch of a very Lovely Woman.: by M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect11">M<small>ARCH</small> C<small>OURT</small></a>: by <small>NUGATOR</small></p> - -<p><a href="#sect12">T<small>HE</small> D<small>EATH OF</small> R<small>OBESPIERRE</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect13">W<small>OMAN</small></a>: by <small>PAULINA</small></p> - -<p><a href="#sect14">L<small>INES TO</small> ——</a>: by M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect15">R<small>EADINGS WITH MY</small> P<small>ENCIL</small></a>, No. III: by J. F. O.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect16">L<small>INES TO</small> ——</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect17">A T<small>ALE OF</small> J<small>ERUSALEM</small></a>: by Edgar A. Poe</p> - -<p><a href="#sect18">T<small>HE</small> A<small>NEMONE</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect19">L<small>EAVES FROM MY</small> S<small>CRAP</small> B<small>OOK</small></a></p> - -<p>E<small>DITORIAL</small><br> - <a href="#sect20">T<small>HE</small> L<small>OYALTY OF</small> V<small>IRGINIA</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect21">C<small>HIEF</small> J<small>USTICE</small> M<small>ARSHALL</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect22">M<small>AELZEL'S</small> C<small>HESS</small>-P<small>LAYER</small></a></p> - -<p>C<small>RITICAL</small> N<small>OTICES</small><br> - <a href="#sect23">T<small>HE</small> C<small>ULPRIT</small> -F<small>AY</small></a>, and other poems: by Joseph Rodman Drake<br> - <a href="#sect23">A<small>LNWICK</small> C<small>ASTLE</small></a>, -with other poems: by Fitz Greene Halleck<br> - <a href="#sect24">S<small>LAVERY IN THE</small> U<small>NITED</small> -S<small>TATES</small></a>: by J. K. Paulding<br> - <a href="#sect24">T<small>HE</small> S<small>OUTH</small> V<small>INDICATED -FROM THE</small> T<small>REASON AND</small> F<small>ANATICISM OF THE</small> N<small>ORTHERN</small> -A<small>BOLITIONISTS</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect25">B<small>UBBLES FROM THE</small> B<small>RUNNENS OF</small> -N<small>ASSAU</small></a>: by an old man<br> - -<p><a href="#sect26">S<small>UPPLEMENT</small></a></p> - -<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page293"><small><small>[p. 293]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<hr> -<h3>SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.</h3> -<hr> -<center>V<small>OL</small>. II. RICHMOND, APRIL, -1836. N<small>O</small>. V.</center> -<hr> -<center><small>T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE -DOLLARS PER ANNUM.</small></center> -<a name="sect01"></a> -<hr> -<br> -<br> -<h4>MSS. OF BENJ. FRANKLIN.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></h4> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> It is with great pleasure that we are enabled, through -the kindness of a friend in Philadelphia, to lay before our readers -an Essay, <i>never yet published</i>, from the pen of Benjamin Franklin. -It is copied from the original MS. of Franklin himself, and is not -to be found in any edition of his works. The Letters which succeed -the Essay are also copied from the original MS., but were first -published in the Doctor's <i>Weekly Pennsylvania Gazette</i>, which was -commenced in 1727. The Epistle from Anthony Afterwit appeared in No. -189—that from Celia Single in No. 191. Although these Letters are -to be found in the file of the Gazette at the Franklin Library in -Philadelphia, still they are not in either the 1809 or the 1835 -edition of the writer's works. We therefore make no apology for -publishing them in the Messenger.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect02"></a> -<br> -<h5>A LECTURE</h5> - -<center><small>On the Providence of God in the Government of the World.</small></center> -<br> - -<p>When I consider my own weakness and the discerning judgment of those -who are to be my audience, I cannot help blaming myself considerably -for this rash undertaking of mine, being a thing I am altogether -unpracticed in and very much unqualified for; but I am especially -discouraged when I reflect that you are all my intimate pot -companions, who have heard me say a thousand silly things in -conversation, and therefore have not that laudable partiality and -veneration for whatever I shall deliver that good people commonly -have for their spiritual guides; that you have no reverence for my -habit nor for the sanctity of my countenance; that you do not -believe me inspired or divinely assisted, and therefore will think -yourselves at liberty to assert or dissert, approve or disapprove of -any thing I advance, canvassing and sifting it as the private -opinion of one of your acquaintance. These are great disadvantages -and discouragements, but I am entered and must proceed, humbly -requesting your patience and attention.</p> - -<p>I propose at this time to discourse on the subject of our last -conversation, the Providence of God in the government of the world. -It might be judged an affront to your understandings should I go -about to prove this first principle, the existence of a Deity, and -that he is the Creator of the Universe, for that would suppose you -ignorant of what all mankind in all ages have agreed in. I shall -therefore proceed to observe that he must be a being of infinite -wisdom, as appears in his admirable order and disposition of things, -whether we consider the heavenly bodies, the stars and planets and -their wonderful regular motions, or this earth compounded of such an -excellent mixture of all the elements; or the admirable structure of -animate bodies of such infinite variety, and yet every one adapted -to its nature and the way of life it is to be placed in, whether on -earth, in the air, or in the water, and so exactly that the highest -and most exquisite human reason cannot find a fault and say this -would have been better so, or in such a manner, which whoever -considers attentively and thoroughly will be astonished and -swallowed up in admiration.</p> - -<p>That the Deity is a being of great goodness, appears in his giving -life to so many creatures each of which acknowledge it a benefit, by -their unwillingness to leave it; in his providing plentiful -sustenance for them all, and making those things that are most -useful, most common and easy to be had; such as water, necessary for -almost every creature to drink; air, without which few could -subsist; the inexpressible benefits of light and sunshine to almost -all animals in general; and to men the most useful vegetable such as -corn, the most useful of metals as iron &c. the most useful animals -as horses, oxen and sheep he has made easiest to raise or procure in -quantity or numbers; each of which particulars, if considered -seriously and carefully, would fill us with the highest love and affection.</p> - -<p>That he is a being of infinite power appears in his being able to -form and compound such vast masses of matter, as this earth and the -sun and innumerable stars and planets, and give them such prodigious -motion, and yet so to govern them in their greatest velocity as that -they shall not fly out of their appointed bounds, nor dash one -against another for their mutual destruction. But 'tis easy to -conceive his power, when we are convinced of his infinite knowledge -and wisdom; for if weak and foolish creatures as we are by knowing -the nature of a few things can produce such wonderful effects; such -as for instance, by knowing the nature only of nitre and sea salt -mixed we can make a water which will dissolve the hardest iron, and -by adding one ingredient more can make another water which will -dissolve gold, and make the most solid bodies fluid, and by knowing -the nature of saltpetre, sulphur and charcoal, those mean -ingredients mixed, we can shake the air in the most terrible manner, -destroy ships, houses and men at a distance, and in an instant, -overthrow cities, and rend rocks into a thousand pieces, and level -the highest mountains; what power must he possess who not only knows -the nature of every thing in the universe, but can make things of -new natures with the greatest ease and at his pleasure?</p> - -<p>Agreeing then that the world was at first made by a being of -infinite wisdom, goodness and power, which being we call God, the -state of things existing at this time must be in one of these four -following manners—viz.</p> - -<blockquote>1. Either he unchangeably decreed and appointed every thing that -comes to pass, and left nothing to the course of nature, nor allowed -any creature free agency.</blockquote> - -<blockquote>2. Without decreeing any thing he left all to general nature and the -events of free agency in his creatures which he never alters or -interrupts; or,</blockquote> - -<blockquote>3. He decreed some things unchangeably, and left others to general -nature and the events of free agency which also he never alters or -interrupts; or,</blockquote> - -<blockquote>4. He sometimes interferes by his particular providence and sets -aside the effects which would otherwise have been produced by any of -the above causes.</blockquote> - -<p>I shall endeavor to show the first three suppositions to be -inconsistent, with the common light of reason, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page294"><small><small>[p. 294]</small></small></a></span> that the -fourth is most agreeable to it and therefore most probably true.</p> - -<p>In the first place. If you say he has in the beginning unchangeably -decreed all things and left nothing to nature or free agency, these -strange conclusions will necessarily follow, 1. That he is now no -more a God. It is true indeed before he made such unchangeable -decree, he was a being of power almighty; but now having determined -every thing he has divested himself of all further power, he has -done and has no more to do, he has tied up his hands and has now no -greater power than an idol of wood or stone; nor can there be any -more reason for praying to him or worshipping of him than of such an -idol, for the worshippers can never be better for such worship. -Then, 2. He has decreed some things contrary to the very notion of a -wise and good being; such as that some of his creatures or children -shall do all manner of injury to others, and bring every kind of -evil upon them without cause; that some of them shall even blaspheme -him their Creator, in the most horrible manner; and which is still -more highly absurd, that he has decreed, that the greatest part of -mankind shall in all ages put up their earnest prayers to him both -in private and publicly, in great assemblies, when all the while he -had so determined their fate that he could not possibly grant them -any benefits on that account, nor could such prayers be in any way -available. Why then should he ordain them to make such prayers? It -cannot be imagined that they are of any service to him. Surely it is -not more difficult to believe the world was made by a God of wood or -stone, than that the God who made the world should be such a God as this.</p> - -<p>In the second place. If you say he has decreed nothing, but left all -things to general nature and the events of free agency which he -never alters or interrupts, then these conclusions will follow; he -must either utterly hide himself from the works of his own hands and -take no notice at all of their proceedings natural or moral, or he -must be, as undoubtedly he is, a spectator of every thing, for there -can be no reason or ground to suppose the first. I say there can be -no reason to imagine he would make so glorious a universe merely to -abandon it. In this case imagine the deity looking on and beholding -the ways of his creatures. Some heroes in virtue he sees are -incessantly endeavoring the good of others: they labor through vast -difficulties, they suffer incredible hardships and miseries to -accomplish this end, in hopes to please a good God, and attain his -favors which they earnestly pray for, what answer can he make then -within himself but this? <i>Take the reward chance may give you, I do -not intermeddle in these affairs.</i> He sees others continually doing -all manner of evil, and bringing by their actions misery and -destruction among mankind, what can he say here but this, <i>if chance -rewards you I shall not punish you, I am not to be concerned.</i> He -sees the just, the innocent, and the beneficent in the hands of the -wicked and violent oppressor, and when the good are at the brink of -destruction they pray to him, <i>Thou O God art mighty and powerful to -save, help us we beseech thee!</i> He answers, <i>I cannot help you, it -is none of my business, nor do I at all regard these things.</i> How is -it possible to believe a wise and an infinitely good being can be -delighted in this circumstance, and be utterly unconcerned what -becomes of the beings and things he has created? for thus, we must -believe him idle and inactive, and that his glorious attributes of -power, wisdom, and goodness are no more to be made use of.</p> - -<p>In the third place. If you say he has decreed some things and left -others to the events of nature and free agency, which he never -alters or interrupts; still you <i>un-God</i> him if I may be allowed the -expression—he has nothing to do; he can cause us neither good nor -harm; he is no more to be regarded than a lifeless image, than Dagon -or Baal, or Bell and the Dragon, and as in both the other -suppositions foregoing, that being which from its power is most able -to act, from its wisdom knows best how to act, and from its goodness -would always certainly act best, is in this opinion supposed to -become the most inactive of all beings, and remain everlastingly -idle: an absurdity which when considered or but barely seen, cannot -be swallowed without doing the greatest violence to common reason -and all the faculties of the understanding.</p> - -<p>We are then necessarily driven to the fourth supposition, that the -Deity sometimes interferes by his particular Providence, and sets -aside the events which would otherwise have been produced in the -course of nature or by the free agency of men, and this is perfectly -agreeable with what we can know of his attributes and perfections. -But as some may doubt whether it is possible there should be such a -thing as free agency in creatures, I shall just offer one short -argument on that account, and proceed to show how the duty of -religion necessarily follows the belief of a providence. You -acknowledge that God is infinitely powerful, wise and good, and also -a free agent, and you will not deny that he has communicated to us -part of his wisdom, power and goodness; that is, he has made us in -some degree, wise, potent and good. And is it then impossible for -him to communicate any part of his freedom, and make us also in some -degree free? Is not even his infinite power sufficient for this? I -should be glad to hear what reason any man can give for thinking in -that manner. It is sufficient for me to show it is not impossible, -and no man, I think, can show it is improbable. Much more might be -offered to demonstrate clearly, that men are in some degree free -agents and accountable for their actions; however, this I may -possibly reserve for another separate discourse hereafter, if I find occasion.</p> - -<p>Lastly. If God does not sometimes interfere by his providence, it is -either because he cannot, or because he will not. Which of these -positions will you choose? There is a righteous nation grievously -oppressed by a cruel tyrant, they earnestly intreat God to deliver -them. If you say he cannot, you deny his infinite power, which [you] -at first acknowledged. If you say he will not, you must directly -deny his infinite goodness. You are of necessity obliged to allow -that it is highly reasonable to believe a providence, because it is -highly absurd to believe otherwise.</p> - -<p>Now, if it is unreasonable to suppose it out of the power of the -Deity to help and favor us particularly, or that we are out of his -hearing and notice, or that good actions do not procure more of his -favor than ill ones; then I conclude, that believing a providence, -we have the foundation of all true religion, for we should love and -revere that Deity for his goodness, and thank him for his benefits; -we should adore him for his wisdom, fear him for his power, and pray -to him for his favor and protection. And this religion will be a -powerful <span class="pagenum"><a name="page295"><small><small>[p. 295]</small></small></a></span> -regulator of our actions, give us peace and -tranquillity within our own minds, and render us benevolent, useful -and beneficial to others.</p> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect03"></a> -<br> -<h5>LETTER FROM ANTHONY AFTERWIT.</h5> -<br> -<p><i>Mr. Gazetteer</i>,—I am an honest tradesman who never meant harm to -any body. My affairs went on smoothly while a bachelor; but of late -I have met with some difficulties of which I take the freedom to -give you an account.</p> - -<p>About the time I first addressed my present spouse, her father gave -out in speeches that if she married a man he liked, he would give -with her 200<i>l</i>. in cash on the day of marriage. He never said so -much to me, it is true, but he always received me very kindly at his -house, and openly countenanced my courtship. I formed several fine -schemes what to do with this same 200<i>l</i>. and in some measure -neglected my business on that account; but unluckily it came to pass -that when the old gentleman saw I was pretty well engaged and that -the match was too far gone to be easily broke off, he without any -reason given, grew very angry, forbid me the house, and told his -daughter that if she married me he would not give her a farthing. -However (as he thought) we were not to be disappointed in that -manner, but having stole a wedding I took her home to my house, -where we were not in quite so poor a condition as the couple -described in the Scotch song, who had</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem2"> - <tr><td><small>Neither pot nor pan<br> - But four bare legs together,</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>for I had a house tolerably furnished for a poor man, before. No -thanks to Dad, who, I understand, was very much pleased with his -politic management; and I have since learned that there are other -old curmudgeons (so called) besides him, who have this trick to -marry their daughters, and yet keep what they might well spare, till -they can keep it no longer. But this by way of digression, a word to -the wise is enough.</p> - -<p>I soon saw that with ease and industry we might live tolerably easy -and in credit with our neighbors; but my wife had a strong -inclination to be a gentlewoman. In consequence of this, my old -fashioned looking glass was one day broke, as she said, <i>no one -could tell which way</i>. However, since we could not be without a -glass in the room, <i>My dear</i>, saith she, <i>we may as well buy a large -fashionable one that Mr. Such-a-one has to sell. It will cost but -little more than a common glass, and will look much handsomer and -more creditable.</i> Accordingly, the glass was bought and hung against -the wall, but in a week's time I was made sensible by little and -little, that <i>the table was by no means suitable to such a glass;</i> -and a more proper table being procured, some time after, my spouse, -who was an excellent contriver, informed me where we might have very -handsome chairs <i>in the way;</i> and thus by degrees I found all my old -furniture stowed up in the garret, and every thing below altered for -the better.</p> - -<p>Had we stopped here it might have done well enough. But my wife -being entertained with tea by the good women she visited, we could -do no less than the like when they visited us, and so we got a tea -table with all its appurtenances of china and silver. Then my spouse -unfortunately overworked herself in washing the house, so that we -could do no longer without a maid. Besides this, it happened -frequently that when I came home at one, the dinner was but just put -in the pot, and <i>my dear thought really it had been but eleven</i>. At -other times when I came at the same hour, <i>she wondered I would stay -so long, for dinner was ready about one and had waited for me these -two hours</i>. These irregularities occasioned by mistaking the time -convinced me that it was absolutely necessary <i>to buy a clock</i>, -which my spouse observed was <i>a great ornament to the room</i>. And -lastly, to my grief, she was troubled with some ailment or other, -and <i>nothing did her so much good as riding, and these hackney -horses were such wretched ugly creatures that</i>—I bought a very fine -pacing mare which cost 20<i>l</i>.; and hereabouts affairs have stood for -about a twelvemonth past.</p> - -<p>I could see all along that this did not at all suit with my -circumstances, but had not resolution enough to help it, till lately -receiving a very severe dun which mentioned the next court, I began -in earnest to project relief. Last Monday, my dear went over the -river to see a relation and stay a fortnight, because she could not -bear the heat of the town air. In the interim I have taken my turn -to make alterations, viz.—I have turned away the maid, bag and -baggage—(for what should we do with a maid, who beside our boy, -have none but ourselves?) I have sold the pacing mare and bought a -good milch cow with 3<i>l</i>. of the money. I have disposed of the table -and put a good spinning wheel in its place, which methinks looks -very pretty: nine empty canisters I have stuffed with flax, and with -some of the money of the tea furniture I have bought a set of -knitting needles, for to tell you the truth <i>I begin to want -stockings</i>. The fine clock I have transformed into an hour glass, by -which I have gained a good round sum, and one of the pieces of the -old looking glass squared and framed, supplies the place of the -great one, which I have conveyed into a closet where it may possibly -remain some years. In short the face of things is quite changed, and -methinks you would smile to see my hour glass hanging in the place -of the clock,—what a great ornament it is to the room! I have paid -my debts and find money in my pocket. I expect my dear home next -Friday, and as your paper is taken at the house where she is, I hope -the reading of this will prepare her mind for the above surprising -revolutions. If she can conform herself to this new manner of -living, we shall be the happiest couple perhaps in the province, and -by the blessing of God may soon be in thriving circumstances. I have -reserved the great glass because I know her heart is set upon it; I -will allow her when she comes in to be taken suddenly ill with <i>the -headache</i>, <i>the stomach ache</i>, <i>fainting fits</i>, or whatever other -disorder she may think more proper, and she may retire to bed as -soon as she pleases. But if I should not find her in perfect health -both of body and mind the next morning, away goes the aforesaid -great glass with several other trinkets I have no occasion for, to -the vendue that very day—which is the irrevocable resolution</p> - -<div align="right">Of, Sir, her loving husband and - - <br> -Your very humble servant, - <br> -<small>ANTHONY AFTERWIT</small>. </div> - -<p>P. S. I would be glad to know how you approve my conduct.</p> - -<p><i>Answer</i>. I dont love to concern myself in affairs between man and -wife.</p> -<br><span class="pagenum"><a name="page296"><small><small>[p. 296]</small></small></a></span> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect04"></a> -<br> -<h5>LETTER FROM CELIA SINGLE.</h5> -<br> -<p><i>Mr. Gazetteer</i>,—I must needs tell you that some of the things you -print do more harm than good, particularly I think so of the -tradesman's letter, which was in one of your late papers, which -disobliged many of our sex and has broken the peace of several -families, by causing difference between men and their wives. I shall -give you here one instance of which I was an eye and ear witness.</p> - -<p>Happening last Wednesday morning to be at Mrs. W.'s when her husband -returned from market, among other things he showed her some balls of -thread which he had bought. My dear, says he, I like mightily those -stockings which I yesterday saw neighbor Afterwit knitting for her -husband, of thread of her own spinning. I should be glad to have -some such stockings myself. I understand that your maid Mary is a -very good knitter, and seeing this thread in market I have bought it -that the girl may make a pair or two for me. Mrs. W. was just then -at the glass dressing her head, and turning about with the pins in -her mouth, Lord, child, says she, are you crazy? What time has Mary -to knit? Who must do the work, I wonder, if you set her to knitting? -Perhaps, my dear, says he, you have a mind to knit them yourself. I -remember, when I courted you, I once heard you say that you had -learned to knit of your mother. I knit stockings for you, says she, -not I, truly! There are poor women enough in town who can knit; if -you please you may employ them. Well, but my dear, says he, you know -a penny saved is a penny got, and there is neither sin nor shame in -knitting a pair of stockings; why should you have such a mighty -aversion to it? And what signifies talking of poor women, you know -we are not people of quality. We have no income to maintain us but -arises from my labor and industry. Methinks you should not be at all -displeased when you have an opportunity of getting something as well -as myself. I wonder, says she, you can propose such a thing to me. -Did not you always tell me you would maintain me like a gentlewoman? -If I had married the Captain I am sure he would have scorned to -mention knitting of stockings. Prythee, says he, a little nettled, -what do you tell me of your Captain? If you could have had him I -suppose you would, or perhaps you did not like him very well. If I -did promise to maintain you as a gentlewoman, methinks it is time -enough for that when you know how to behave yourself like one. How -long, do you think, I can maintain you at your present rate of -living? Pray, says she, somewhat fiercely, and dashing the puff into -the powder box, dont use me in this manner, for I'll assure you I -wont bear it. This is the fruit of your poison newspapers: there -shall no more come here I promise you. Bless us, says he, what an -unaccountable thing is this? Must a tradesman's daughter and the -wife of a tradesman necessarily be a lady? In short, I tell you if I -am forced to work for a living and you are too good to do the like, -there's the door, go and live upon your estate. And as I never had -or could expect any thing with you, I dont desire to be troubled -with you.</p> - -<p>What answer she made I cannot tell, for knowing that man and wife -are apt to quarrel more violently when before strangers, than when -by themselves, I got up and went out hastily. But I understand from -Mary who came to me of an errand in the evening, that they dined -together very peaceably and lovingly, the balls of thread which had -caused the disturbance being thrown into the kitchen fire, of which -I was very glad to hear.</p> - -<p>I have several times in your paper seen reflections upon us women -for idleness and extravagance, but I do not remember to have once -seen such animadversions upon the men. If we were disposed to be -censorious we could furnish you with instances enough; I might -mention Mr. Billiard who loses more than he earns at the green -table, and would have been in jail long since had it not been for -his industrious wife. Mr. Husselcap, who every market day at least, -and often all day long, leaves his business for the rattling of half -pence in a certain alley—or Mr. Finikin, who has seven different -suits of fine clothes and wears a change every day, while his wife -and children sit at home half naked—Mr. Crownhim always dreaming -over the chequer board, and who cares not how the world goes with -his family so he does but get the game—Mr. Totherpot the tavern -haunter, Mr. Bookish the everlasting reader, Mr. Tweedledum and -several others, who are mighty diligent at any thing besides their -proper business. I say, if I were disposed to be censorious, I might -mention all these and more, but I hate to be thought a scandalizer -of my neighbors, and therefore forbear; and for your part I would -advise you for the future to entertain your readers with something -else besides people's reflections upon one another, for remember -that there are holes enough to be picked in your coat as well as -others, and those that are affronted by the satires that you may -publish, will not consider so much who wrote as who printed, and -treat you accordingly. Take not this freedom amiss from</p> - -<div align="right">Your friend and reader, - <br> -<small>CELIA SINGLE</small>. </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect05"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>TO THE EVENING STAR.</h4> -<br> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem3"> - <tr><td>'Star of descending night!'<br> - How lovely is thy beam;<br> - How softly pours thy silv'ry light,<br> - O'er the bright glories of the west,<br> - As now the sun sunk to his rest,<br> - Sends back his parting stream<br> - Of golden splendor, like a zone<br> - Of beauty, o'er the horizon!<br> -<br> - 'Star of descending night!'<br> - First of the sparkling train,<br> - That gems the sky, I hail thy light;<br> - And as I watch thy peaceful ray,<br> - That sweetly spreads o'er fading day,<br> - I think and think again,<br> - That thou art some fair orb of light,<br> - Where spirits bask in glory bright.<br> -<br> - 'Star of descending night!'<br> - Oft hast thou met my gaze,<br> - When evening's calm and mellow light,<br> - Invited to the secret bower,<br> - To spend with God the tranquil hour,<br> - In grateful pray'r and praise,—<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page297"><small><small>[p. 297]</small></small></a></span> - Then thy soft ray so passing sweet,<br> - Has beamed around my hallowed seat.<br> -<br> - And I have loved thee, star!<br> - When in night's diadem,<br> - I saw thee lovelier, brighter, far<br> - Than all the stellate worlds, and thought<br> - Of that great star the wise men sought,<br> - And came to Bethlehem,<br> - To view the infant Saviour's face,<br> - The last bright hope of Adam's race.</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>T. J. S.</small> </div> - -<blockquote><i>Frederick Co. Va.</i></blockquote> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect06"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>GENIUS.</h4> -<br> - -<p>Pope says in the preface to his works, "What we call a genius is -hard to be distinguished, by a man himself, from a strong -inclination." Such a distinction is certainly hard to make, and in -my opinion has no existence. Genius, as it appears to me, is merely -a decided preference for any study or pursuit, which enables its -possessor to give the close and unwearied attention necessary to -ensure success. When this constancy of purpose is wanting, the -brightest natural talents will give little aid in acquiring literary -or scientific eminence: and where it exists in any considerable -degree, it is rare to find one so ill endowed with common sense as -not to gain a respectable standing.</p> - -<p>Genius is of two sorts, which may be termed philosophical and -poetical. When the mind takes most pleasure in the exercise of -reason, the genius displayed is philosophical; when the fictions of -fancy give the greatest delight, the cast of mind is poetical. All -the operations of the human intellect may be referred to one of -these, or to a combination of both. Books of this last character are -much the most numerous; for we seldom find a work so severely -argumentative as to exclude all play of imagination even as -ornament, or so entirely poetical as never to allow the restraint of -sober reason.</p> - -<p>These two kinds of genius require different and peculiar faculties. -In philosophy, where the great end proposed is the discovery of -truth, the coloring of imagination should be carefully avoided as -useless and deceptive. It is necessary to divest the mind as far as -possible of all pre-conceived opinions, that so the proofs presented -may make just the impression which their character and importance -demand. No prejudice or association of former ideas must be allowed -to bias the judgment; but the question should be decided in strict -accordance with the deductions of the sternest reason. And yet this -perfect freedom from prejudice, however necessary to the proper use -of right reason, is perhaps the most difficult effort of the human -mind. "Nemo adhuc," says Lord Bacon, in a passage quoted by Stewart -in the introduction to his mental philosophy, "Nemo adhuc tanta -mentis constantia inventus est, ut decreverit et sibi imposuerit -theorias et notiones communes penitus abolere, et intellectum -abrasum et æquum ad particularia de integro applicare. Itaque illa -ratio humana quam habemus ex multa fide et multo etiam casu, necnon -ex puerilibus quas primo hausimus notionibus, farrago quædam est et -congeries. Quod si quis, ætate matura et sensibus integris et mente -repurgata, se ad experientiam et ad particularia de integro -applicet, de eo melius sperandum est." Such was the opinion of the -great father of modern philosophy.</p> - -<p>On the other hand these vulgar errors and superstitions, these -"theoriæ et notiones communes," supply the means of producing the -strongest effect of poetry. The dull scenes of real life can never -be suffered to chill the ardor of a romantic imagination. And as the -poet finds truth too plain and unadorned to satisfy his enthusiastic -fancy, he is compelled to seek subjects and scenery of more -faultless nature and brighter hues than this world affords. He -delights in combinations of the most striking images. The grand and -imposing, the dark and terrific, the furious and -desolating—whatever serves to fill the mind with awe and wonder, -are his favorite subjects of contemplation. The legends of -superstition contribute largely to the effect of poetical -composition. The enthusiast loves to fancy the agency of -supernatural beings, and endeavors to feel the influence of those -emotions which such a belief is suited to inspire. This seems to be -the spirit of Collins in the following lines of his ode to fear.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem4"> - <tr><td><small>"Dark power, with shuddering meek submitted thought,<br> - Be mine to read the visions old<br> - Which thy awakening bards have told;<br> - And lest thou meet my blasted view,<br> - Hold each strange tale devoutly true."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>In combinations of poetical images, no regard is had to their -consistency with truth and reason. It is the part of philosophy to -discover relations as they exist in nature; but to search out and -combine into one glowing and harmonious whole the brightest and -grandest images which art or nature supplies—this is the province -of poetry. The utmost calmness and most collected thought are -necessary to that patient and laborious reasoning by which progress -is made in the science of truth. The fury of impassioned feeling, on -the other hand, supports the loftier flights of poetry. Hence -philosophy and poetry rarely meet in the same individual. Yet the -smallness of the number of those who have gained renown both as -poets and philosophers, is to be ascribed less to any -incompatibility between the habits of mind peculiar to each, than to -the fact that the short space of human life will not allow to both -the attention necessary for their highest attainments. I speak now -of poetical and philosophical genius, not of poetry and philosophy. -Between the two last there <i>is</i> an incompatibility, as may easily be -shown. Euclid's elements, for example, contain as pure specimens of -mere reasoning as can be conceived; but in them simplicity, -clearness and precision of terms are all the ornament they need or -will admit: nor can poetical language be used by any arrangement -without producing obscurity and disgust. And the wild conceptions of -unbridled fancy will as little brook the restraint of heartless -reason. In short, poetry and philosophy are so distinct and opposed -in character, that neither can ever be used to heighten the proper -effect of the other.</p> - -<p>A most extraordinary combination of poetical and philosophical -talent in one individual was displayed by Lucretius. I might -challenge the whole circle of science or literature to furnish -examples of clearer, closer and more irrefutable argument than his -work presents. And for purity, sublimity, delicacy, strength and -feeling, passages of his poetry might be selected scarcely -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page298"><small><small>[p. 298]</small></small></a></span> -inferior to any effort of ancient or modern times. Yet his work may -well be chosen to furnish proof that even the brightest genius -cannot combine austere logic and gorgeous poetry, so as that each -shall produce its due effect. For although where the reasoning is -not deep the embellishments of fancy may be borne and even relished, -yet where the argument requires close and laborious thought, the -reader is willing to sacrifice all the ornaments of poetry to the -simpler grace of perspicuity. But it is mostly in episodes and -illustrations that the fire of his poetic genius burns so brightly; -and here we see him throw off the fetters of truth to wander in the -haunted fields of fiction. And although his work displays intense -thought and burning poetry, we rarely find them united in the same passage.</p> - -<p>Confirmed habits of philosophical reflection, it is not improbable, -will in time give a character of sobriety and apathy to the mind. -Quick susceptibility of impressions is one mark of a poetical -temperament; and of course if habits of calm reasoning destroy this -sensibility, philosophy and poetry cannot exist in perfection in the -same mind. But this apathetic coldness appears not to be the -immediate effect of philosophical habits, but rather to result from -disuse of the imagination while the attention is turned to graver -studies. Lucretius has shown what attainments may be made in pure -philosophy without lessening the strength and grace of fancy. He was -a man of the most acute and accurate observation, and of the most -rigid and cautious reasoning, yet possessed a quick perception of -the grand and beautiful, and had imbibed the warmest spirit of -poetic enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Poetry delights in personifications. According to Dryden,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem5"> - <tr><td><small>"Each virtue a divinity is seen:<br> - Prudence is Pallas, beauty Paphos' queen;<br> - 'Tis not a cloud from which swift lightnings fly,<br> - But Jupiter that thunders from the sky;<br> - Nor a rough storm that gives the sailor pain,<br> - But angry Neptune ploughing up the main;<br> - Echo's no more an empty, airy sound,<br> - But a fair nymph that weeps her lover drown'd:<br> - Thus in the endless treasure of his mind,<br> - The poet does a thousand figures find."<br> - - - - <i>Art of Poetry, Canto 3</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Philosophy on the contrary seeks to disrobe the subject of every -factitious charm, and present it to the mind in its naked -simplicity. It dispels the clouds of error, though gilded with the -bright colors of fancy; and boldly brings even objects of -superstitious veneration to the light of reason.</p> - -<p>These conflicting qualities are eminently shown in Lucretius; and it -is not without interest to mark how he contrives to blend in the -same work the solid simplicity of argument with the lighter graces -of imagination. As a poet he opens his work with an address to Venus -the mother and guardian of the Roman people, whose aid he invokes as -the companion of his song. He prays her to avert the frowns of -rugged war from the nation by the softening power of her charms. He -tells her that she alone governs the universe; that nothing springs -into the light of day without her; and ascribes to her, as the -source of all pleasure, whatever is joyous or lovely.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem6"> - <tr><td><small>"Nec sine te quidquam dias in luminis oras<br> - Exoritur, neque fit lætum neque amabile quidquam."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Yet in the next page the philosopher avows his intention of waging -eternal war with superstition; and gives exalted praise to Epicurus -because he suffered no feelings of religious awe to interfere with -his philosophical investigations. In this passage superstition (or -religion, to use his own term) is personified, and represented as -some hideous monster thrusting her head from out the skies, and -regarding mankind with an awful and terrible aspect. The whole image -presented is eminently grand and poetic.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem7"> - <tr><td><small>"Humana ante oculos fede quam vita jaceret<br> - In terris oppressa gravi sub religione;<br> - Quæ caput a cœli regionibus obtendebat,<br> - Horribili super adspectu mortalibus instans;<br> - Primum Graius homo mortaleis tollere contra<br> - Est oculos ausus, primusque obsistere contra:<br> - Quem neque fama deum, nec fulmina, nec minitanti<br> - Murmure compressit cœlum; sed eo magis acrem<br> - Inritat animi virtutem effringere ut arta<br> - Naturæ primus portarum claustra cupiret."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Thus we see that although one great part of his purpose was to -divest the mind of popular superstitions, he found the language of -philosophy too barren, and the images which truth presented too cold -and lifeless to supply the materials of poetry. Hence his -personifications, and his digressions, which abound in the richest -ornaments of fancy.</p> - -<p>As a philosopher Lucretius was led to reject the legends of ancient -superstition, because such terrors kept the human mind in darkness -and error.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem8"> - <tr><td><small>"Nam velutei puerei trepidant, atque omnia cæcis<br> - In tenebris metuunt; sic nos in luce timemus<br> - Interdum nihilo quæ sunt metuenda magisquam<br> - Quæ puerei in tenebris pavitant, finguntque futura.<br> - Hunc igitur terrorem animi tenebrasque, necesse est,<br> - Non radiei solis neque lucida tela diei<br> - Discutiant; sed naturæ species, ratioque."<br> - - - - -Lib. 2, lin. 54.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>But the spirit of poetry alone would have persuaded him to increase -the gloom and mists of superstition; for fancy's favorite range is -among regions darkened by the shades of ancient and venerable error. -The intrusion of cold reason is always unwelcome to a romantic -imagination. There is a passage of Campbell, (I cannot remember the -words,) in which he laments the dispersion by the clearer light of -reason of some fanciful notions in regard, I think, to the rainbow, -which had formerly been the delight of his youth. Collins too -regrets the restraint of imagination imposed by philosophy. He bids -farewell to metaphysics, and declares his purpose of leaving such -barren fields of speculation, and of retiring</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem9"> - <tr><td><small> - -"to thoughtful cell<br> - Where fancy breathes her potent spell."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>So much to mark the difference between poetical and philosophical -genius. The remainder of this essay shall be devoted to the -peculiarities which distinguish the genius of poetry in particular.</p> - -<p>It has been often remarked that men of brilliant fancy are never -satisfied with the productions of their own minds. The images of -grandeur or beauty continually present to their imaginations, it -would seem, are so far superior to all efforts they can make to -embody them in language, that their own works never yield them the -pleasure which they give others. The following quotation is from the -seventh chapter, sixth section, of Stewart's Elements of the -Philosophy of the Human -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page299"><small><small>[p. 299]</small></small></a></span> -Mind. "When the notions of enjoyment -or of excellence which imagination has formed are greatly raised -above the ordinary standard, they interest the passions too deeply -to leave us at all times the cool exercise of reason, and produce -that state of the mind which is commonly known by the name of -enthusiasm; a temper which is one of the most fruitful sources of -error and disappointment; but which is a source, at the same time, -of heroic actions and of exalted characters. To the exaggerated -conceptions of eloquence which perpetually revolved in the mind of -Cicero; to that idea which haunted his thoughts of <i>aliquid immensum -infinitumque</i>, we are indebted for some of the most splendid -displays of human genius: and it is probable that something of the -same kind has been felt by every man who has risen much above the -level of humanity either in speculation or in action." To the want -of this high imaginary standard of excellence, Dr. Johnson ascribes -the dullness of Blackmore's poetry. "It does not appear," he says, -"that he saw beyond his own performances, or had ever elevated his -views to that ideal perfection which every genius born to excel is -condemned always to pursue and never overtake. In the first -suggestions of his imagination he acquiesced; he thought them good -and did not seek for better. His works may be read a long time -without the occurrence of a single line that stands prominent from -the rest."</p> - -<p>Examples of such ardent aspirations after the <i>grande et immensum</i>, -are frequent among our best poets. Let the following from Lord Byron -suffice. In this will plainly appear that <i>agony</i> in giving birth to -the sublime conceptions of his imagination, which metaphysicians say -is a sure mark of lofty genius. After describing a terrific -thunderstorm in language suited to the majesty of his subject, he -proceeds:</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem10"> - <tr><td><small> "Could I embody and unbosom now<br> - That which is most within me,—could I wreak<br> - My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw<br> - Soul, heart, mind, passions, feelings, strong or weak,<br> - All that I would have sought, and all I seek,<br> - Bear, know, feel, and yet breathe—into <i>one</i> word,<br> - And that one word were lightning, I would speak;<br> - But as it is, I live and die unheard,<br> - With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The same burning enthusiasm prevails throughout the odes of Collins, -whose works breathe as much the soul of poetry as is shown by any -bard of Greece or Rome.</p> - -<p>This trait of genius often betrays young writers into a style of -affected grandiloquence, which their feebleness of thought makes -doubly ridiculous. Yet this pompous style of writing is often a -genuine mark of superior powers. Quintilian thinks extravagance a -more favorable sign in a very young writer, than a more sedate -simplicity; for his maturer judgment may be safely left to prune -such luxuriance, but where the soil is barren by nature, no art of -cultivation will produce a vigorous growth. Scarcely any writer was -ever guilty of more extravagance than Lucan; but his poem was -written in the earliest spring of manhood, and shows such strength -of genius as would probably have made him equal to Homer, had his -rising powers been suffered to reach their utmost elevation, and -receive the corrections of his finished taste.</p> - -<p>But here it may not be amiss to mention that a style of such -affected pomp is tolerable only in young writers. When the fancy is -fresh and vigorous, and the judgment unformed, redundance in words -and ornament may be pardoned; but it is a sure evidence of feeble -genius to continue the same style in riper age. Hortensius, Cicero's -rival, was in his youth admired for his florid oratory; but in after -life was justly despised for the same childish taste. The most -elegant writers always select the simplest words. Learning should -appear in the subject, but never in the language. Even the powers of -Johnson were too weak to preserve his ponderous learned style from -ridicule. It may be assumed as a universal rule, that when two words -equally express the same meaning, the shortest and simplest is -always the best.</p> - -<p>When the enthusiasm of poetry is joined with a correct and chastened -judgment, the utmost fastidiousness in composition is often -produced. To this may be ascribed the small number and extent of -writings left by some of our best authors. "I am tormented with a -desire to write better than I can," said Robert Hall in a letter to -a friend: and yet his works are said by Dugald Stewart (himself an -admirable writer in point of style) to combine the beauties of -Addison, Johnson and Burke, without their defects, and to contain -the purest specimens of the English language. And of Pascal too, it -is told that he spent much time in revising and correcting what to -others appeared from the first almost too perfect for amendment. -Gray, who had genius to become a pre-eminent poet, was never content -with the polish which repeated revisions were able to give his -works. The conclusion of Boileau's second Satire is so appropriate -to my purpose, that I will give it in full.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem11"> - <tr><td><small>"Un sot, en écrivant, fait tout avec plaisir:<br> - Il n'a point en ses vers l'embarras de choisir;<br> - Et toujours amoureux de ce qu'il vient d'écrire,<br> - Ravi d'étonnement, en soi-meme il s'admire.<br> - Mais un esprit sublime en vain veut s'élever<br> - A ce degré parfait qu'il tache de trouver;<br> - Et, toujours mécontent de ce qu'il vient de faire,<br> - Il plait a tout le monde, et ne saurait se plaire."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>And in a note on this passage, "Voila, s'écria Molière, en -interrompant son ami a cet endroit, voila la plus belle vérité que -vous ayez jamais dite. Je ne suis pas du nombre de ces esprits -sublimes dont vous parlez; mais tel que je suis, je n'ai rien fait -en ma vie dont je sois veritablement content." Horace too speaks -much the same language in several places.</p> - -<p>Of Shakspeare, the greatest poetical genius probably which the world -ever produced, our ignorance of his life permits us to speak only -from his works. But the fact that he scarcely ever condescended to -revise his plays, and took no care to preserve them from oblivion, -is ample proof how little his mind was satisfied with its own -sublime productions. Shakspeare is an illustrious example of -transcendent genius joined with unfinished taste. He had to depend -entirely on his own resources, for the best models he had access to -were not more faultless than his own writings, while they fell -infinitely below him in every positive excellence. His works, in -parts, show sublimity, delicacy, and grace of poetry, unequalled -perhaps by the productions of any writer before or since. Yet his -warmest admirers are often scandalized by the strange conceited -witticisms and other evidences of bad taste so abundant in his -writings. Still, the Bard of Avon's works will ever rank among the -noblest efforts of dramatic poetry.</p> - -<p>Poetical genius is always united with a love of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page300"><small><small>[p. 300]</small></small></a></span> sympathy. This -is the reason why men of warm imaginations so seldom fully relish a -poem when read alone. Robert Hall, in one remarkable passage, says, -that the most ardent admirer of poetry or oratory would not consent -to witness their grandest display on the sole condition that he -should never reveal his emotions.</p> - -<p>It is also generally, and perhaps always, joined with a thirst of -fame. This feeling impels the poet to make arduous exertions. It is -the passion which, as metaphysicians say, is implanted in the human -breast as an incentive to deeds beneficial to society. Whether it be -in its nature culpable or not, is perhaps a difficult question. -Quintilian says that if it be not itself a virtue, it is certainly -often the cause of virtuous actions; and this assertion few will -venture to question. And at all events, this passion has ever been a -characteristic of the greatest men. Few have risen to eminence -without its aid. It existed largely in Byron. In verses written -shortly after the publication of his English Bards and Scotch -Reviewers, he says:</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem12"> - <tr><td><small>"The fire in the cavern of Ætna concealed,<br> - Still mantles unseen in its secret recess;<br> - At length in a volume terrific revealed,<br> - No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.<br> -<br> - Oh, thus the desire in my bosom for fame<br> - Bids me live but to hope for posterity's praise:<br> - Could I soar with the Phœnix on pinions of flame,<br> - With him I could wish to expire in the blaze."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>How happy for the world had his genius led him to seek applause in -works designed for the good of mankind—in recommending religion and -virtue by the melody of his verse and the influence of his life, -instead of adorning vice with the beauties of poetry!</p> - -<p>When the thirst of glory is disappointed, the aspirant is apt to -become a gloomy misanthropist, who envies others the reputation -which he cannot attain. Much of the sullen melancholy shown by men -of genius may doubtless be ascribed to the perverted operation of -this principle. The portion of fame which falls to their share is -not sufficient to satisfy their wishes.</p> - -<p>But after all, the most brilliant genius will avail nothing without -study. No illiterate man ever gained renown as a writer. Some have -become great without the aid of foreign learning; but all have read -and thought. No man is born a poet in the ordinary sense of the -word. Whatever his own conceptions may be, he cannot reveal them -without the use of words; and this knowledge can be acquired only by -diligent study. In all time it has been true that they who have read -and thought most, have made the greatest writers, whatever line of -science or literature they pursued. Or perhaps there ought to be -exceptions made in cases where the mind has been misdirected, as -among the schoolmen, who spent their lives in perplexing themselves -and others with subtle questions which it was of no use to solve. -But however fruitless such labors as wasted their energies may be, -this at least is certain, that without study no man will become -great, whatever be his natural talents. Even such towering geniuses -as Homer, Aristotle, Cicero, Virgil, Shakspeare, Bacon, Newton, and -Byron were not exempt from this necessity.</p> - -<p>To conclude: Locke has sufficiently proved that all our ideas are -originally derived from the senses. These first impressions form the -basis of all human knowledge. General conclusions drawn from -comparison of such sensations are abstract thought. Reasoning and -reflection on these abstract ideas thus obtained, constitute -speculations of still greater refinement. Comparing and combining -ideas in the mind, for the purpose of discovering relations as they -exist in nature, is argument. Such comparisons and combinations made -for the purpose of pleasing, are works of fancy, or poetry. He then -who most carefully preserves his impressions, most attentively -considers and revolves his ideas, and most closely and accurately -compares them for the purpose of discovering such combinations as -nature has made, or of combining anew the separate images into such -grand and beautiful fabrics as may suit the taste of fancy, is -likely to make the best philosopher or poet, as his attention is -mainly turned to one or the other. Some difference in natural -faculties no doubt exists, but this is probably small.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Of course no Editor is responsible for the opinions of -his contributors—but in the present instance we feel called upon in -self-defence to disclaim any belief in the doctrines advanced—and, -moreover, to enter a solemn protest against them. The Essay on -Genius is well written and we therefore admitted it. While many of -its assumptions are indisputable—some we think are not to be -sustained—and the inferences, generally, lag far behind the spirit -of the age. Our correspondent is evidently no phrenologist.—<i>Ed.</i></small></blockquote> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect07"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>A LOAN TO THE MESSENGER.</h4> -<center><small>No. II.</small></center> -<br> - -<p>Here is a scrap from another of my poetical friends, which has never -seen the light, and which I will lend to the readers of the -Messenger for the month. I give it as it came to me, apology and -all, and doubt not it will be well received by those to whom I now -dedicate it.</p> -<div align="right"><small>J. F. O.</small> </div> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect08"></a> -<br> -<p><i>My Dear O</i>,—Instead of writing something new for your collection, -I copy a few lines from a bagatelle, written a few days ago to a -woman who is worthy of better verses: and, as they will never be -published, of course, they may answer your purpose.</p> -<div align="right">Very truly yours, - <br> -<small>WILLIS</small>. </div> - -<blockquote><i>Boston, August, 1831</i>.</blockquote> - -<h5>TO ———.</h5> -<br> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem13"> - <tr><td>Lady! the fate that made me poor,<br> - Forgot to take away my heart,—<br> - And 'tis not easy to immure<br> - The burning soul, and live apart:<br> - To meet the wildering touch of beauty,<br> - And hear her voice,—and think of <i>duty:</i><br> - To check a thought of burning passion,<br> - When trembling on the lip like flame,—<br> - And talk indifferently of fashion,—<br> - A language choked till it is tame!<br> - Oh God! I know not why I'm gifted<br> - With feeling, if I may not love!<br> - I know not why my cup is lifted<br> - So far my thirsting lips above!<br> - My look on thine unchidden lingers,<br> - My hand retains thy dewy fingers,<br> - Thy smile, thy glance, thy glorious tone<br> - For hours and hours are mine alone:<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page301"><small><small>[p. 301]</small></small></a></span> - Yet must my fervor back, and wait<br> - Till solitude can set it free,—<br> - Yet must I not forget that fate<br> - Has locked my heart, and lost the key;<br> - These very rhymes I'm weaving now<br> - Condemn me for a broken vow!</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>N. P. W.</small> </div> - -<p>N. B. My friend soon recovered from this sad stroke, and he has -since recovered the "key," and locked within the fate-closed casket -a pearl, I learn, of great price. So much for a sophomore's -Anacreontics!</p> - -<p>If this "loan" prove acceptable, I have a choice one in store for -May.</p> -<div align="right"><small>O.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect09"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>SOME ANCIENT GREEK AUTHORS.</h4> -<center><small>CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED.</small></center> -<br> - -<p>Whether Homer or Hesiod lived first has never been determined. -Herodotus supposes them both to have lived at the same time, viz. -B.C. 884. The Arun. marbles make them contemporaries, but place -their era B.C. 907. Besides the Iliad and Odyssey, Homer wrote, -according to some, a poem upon Amphiaraus' expedition against -Thebes; Also, the Phoceis, the Cercopes, the small Iliad, the -Epiciclides, the Batrachomyomachia, and some Hymns to the Gods.</p> - -<p><i>Hesiod</i> wrote a poem on Agriculture, called The Works and Days, -also Theogony, which is valuable for its account of the Gods of -antiquity. His Shield of Hercules, and some others, are now lost.</p> - -<p><i>Archilocus</i> wrote elegies, satires, odes and epigrams, and was the -inventor of Iambics; these are by some ascribed to Epodes. Some -fragments of his poetry remain. He is supposed to have lived B.C. 742.</p> - -<p><i>Alcæus</i> is the inventor of Alcaic verses. Of all his works, nothing -remains but a few fragments, found in Athenæus. B.C. 600.</p> - -<p>He was contemporary with the famous Sappho. She was the inventress -of the Sapphic verse, and had composed nine books in lyric verses, -besides epigrams, elegies, &c. Of all these, two pieces alone -remain, and a few fragments quoted by Didymus.</p> - -<p><i>Theognis</i> of Megara wrote several poems, of which only a few -sentences are now extant, quoted by Plato and some others. B.C. 548.</p> - -<p><i>Simonides</i> wrote elegies, epigrams and dramatical pieces; also Epic -poems—one on Cambyses, King of Persia, &c. One of his most famous -compositions, The Lamentations, a beautiful fragment, is still extant.</p> - -<p><i>Thespis</i>, supposed to be the inventor of Tragedy, lived about this time.</p> - -<p><i>Anacreon</i>. His odes are thought to be still extant, but very few of -them can be truly ascribed to Anacreon.</p> - -<p><i>Æschylus</i> is the first who introduced two actors on the stage, and -clothed them with suitable dresses. He likewise removed murder from -the eyes of the spectator. He wrote 90 tragedies, of which 7 are -extant, viz. Prometheus Vinctus, Septem Duces contra Thebas, Persæ, -Agamemnon, Chöephoræ, Eumenides and Supplices.</p> - -<p><i>Pindar</i> was his contemporary. Most of Pindar's works have perished. -He had written some hymns to the Gods,—poems in honor of -Apollo,—dithyrambics to Bacchus, and odes on several victories -obtained at the Olympic, Isthmian, Pythian and Nemean games. Of all -these the odes alone remain.</p> - -<p><i>Sophocles</i> first increased the number of actors to three, and added -the decorations of painted scenery. He composed 120 tragedies—7 -only of which are extant, viz. Ajax, Electra, Œdipus, Antigone, The -Trachniæ, Philoctetes and Œdipus at Colonos. B.C. 454.</p> - -<p><i>Plato</i>, the comic poet, called the prince of the middle comedy, and -of whose pieces some fragments remain, flourished about this time.</p> - -<p>Also, <i>Aristarchus</i>, the tragic poet of Tegea, who composed 70 -tragedies, one of which was translated into Latin verse by Ennius.</p> - -<p><i>Herodotus</i> of Halicarnassus, wrote a history of the Wars of the -Greeks against the Persians from the age of Cyrus to the battle of -Mycale, including an account of the most celebrated nations in the -world. Besides this, he had written a history of Assyria and Arabia -which is not extant. There is a life of Homer generally attributed -to him, but doubtfully. B.C. 445.</p> - -<p><i>Euripides</i>, who lived at this time, wrote 75 or, as some say, 92 -tragedies, of which only 19 are extant. He was the rival of Sophocles.</p> - -<p>About the commencement of the Peloponnesian war, flourished many -celebrated authors, among whom was <i>Aristophanes</i>. He wrote 54 -comedies, of which only 11 are extant.</p> - -<p>Also, <i>Cratinus</i> and <i>Eupolis</i>, who with Aristophanes, are mentioned -by Horace—they were celebrated for their comic writings. B.C. 431.</p> - -<p>Also, the mathematician and astrologer, <i>Meton</i>, who, in a book -called Enneadecaterides, endeavored to adjust the course of the sun -and moon, and maintained that the solar and lunar years could -regularly begin from the same point in the heavens. This is called -the Metonic cycle.</p> - -<p><i>Thucydides</i> flourished at this time. He wrote a history of the -important events which happened during his command. This history is -continued only to the 21st year of the war. It has been divided into -eight books—the last of which is supposed to have been written by -his daughters. It is imperfect.</p> - -<p>Also <i>Hippocrates;</i>—few of his writings remain.</p> - -<p><i>Lysias</i>, the orator, wrote, according to Plutarch, no less than 425 -orations—of these 34 are extant. B.C. 404.</p> - -<p>Contemporary with him was <i>Agatho</i>, an Athenian tragic and comic -poet—there is now nothing extant of his works, except quotations in -Aristotle and others.</p> - -<p><i>Xenophon</i>, whose works are well known, lived about the year 398 -before Christ.</p> - -<p><i>Ctesias</i>, who wrote a history of the Assyrians and Persians, which -Justin and Diodorus have prefered to that of Herodotus, lived also -at this time. Some fragments of his compositions have been preserved.</p> - -<p>The works of <i>Plato</i> are numerous—they are all written, except -twelve letters, in the form of a dialogue. 388.</p> - -<p>Of the 64 orations of Isæus, 10 are extant. Demosthenes imitated -him. 377.</p> - -<p>About 32 of the orations of <i>Isocrates</i>, who lived at the same time, remain.</p> - -<p>All the compositions of the historian <i>Theopompus</i> are lost, except -a few fragments quoted by ancient writers. 354.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page302"><small><small>[p. 302]</small></small></a></span> -<p><i>Ephorus</i> lived in his time—he wrote a history commencing -with the return of the Heraclidæ and ending with the 20th year of -Philip of Macedon. It was in 30 books and is frequently quoted by -Strabo and others.</p> - -<p>Almost all the writings of <i>Aristotle</i> are extant. Diogenes Laertes -has given a catalogue of them. His Art of Poetry has been imitated -by Horace.</p> - -<p><i>Æschines</i>, his contemporary, wrote 5 orations and 9 epistles. The -orations alone are extant. 340.</p> - -<p><i>Demosthenes</i> was his contemporary and rival.</p> - -<p><i>Theophrastus</i> composed many books and treatises—Diogenes -enumerates 200. Of these 20 are extant—among which are a history of -stones—treatises on plants, on the winds, signs of fair weather, -&c.—also, his Characters, a moral treatise. 320.</p> - -<p><i>Menander</i> was his pupil; lie was called prince of the new comedy. -Only a few fragments remain of 108 comedies which he wrote.</p> - -<p><i>Philemon</i> was contemporary with these two. The fragments of some of -his comedies are printed with those of Menander.</p> - -<p><i>Megasthenes</i> lived about this time. He wrote about the Indians and -other oriental nations. His history is often quoted by the ancients. -There is a work now extant which passes for his composition, but -which is spurious.</p> - -<p><i>Epicurus</i> also lived now. He wrote 300 volumes according to -Diogenes.</p> - -<p><i>Chrysippus</i> indeed, rivalled him in the number, but not in the -merit of his productions. They were contemporaries. 280.</p> - -<p><i>Bion</i>, the pastoral poet, whose Idyllia are so celebrated, lived -about this time. It is probable that <i>Moschus</i>, also a pastoral -poet, was his contemporary—from the affection with which he -mentions him.</p> - -<p><i>Theocritus</i> distinguished himself by his poetical compositions, of -which 30 Idyllia and some epigrams remain—also, a ludicrous poem -called Syrinx. Virgil imitated him. B.C. 280.</p> - -<p><i>Aratus</i> flourished now; he wrote a poem on Astronomy, also some -hymns and epigrams.</p> - -<p><i>Lycophron</i> also lived at this time. The titles of 20 of his -tragedies are preserved. There is extant a strange work of this -poet, call Cassandra, or Alexandra,—it contains about 1500 verses, -from whose obscurity the author has been named Tenebrosus.</p> - -<p>In the Anthology is preserved a most beautiful hymn to Jupiter, -written by <i>Cleanthes</i>,—of whose writings none except this is -preserved.</p> - -<p><i>Manetho</i> lived about this period,—an Egyptian who wrote, in the -Greek language, a history of Egypt. The writers of the Universal -History suspect some mistake in the passage of Eusebius which -contains an account of this history.</p> - -<p>This was also the age of <i>Apollonius</i> of Perga, the Geometrician. He -composed a treatise on conic sections in eight books—seven of which -remain. It is one of the most valuable remains of antiquity.</p> - -<p><i>Nicander's</i> writings were held in much estimation. Two of his -poems, entitled Theriaca, and Alexipharniaca, are still extant. He -is said to have written 5 books of Metamorphoses, which Ovid has -imitated. He wrote also history. 150.</p> - -<p>About this time flourished <i>Polybius</i>. He wrote an universal History -in Greek, divided into 40 books; which began with the Punic wars, -and finished with the conquest of Macedonia by Paulus. This is lost, -except the first 5 books, and fragments of the 12 following. Livy -has copied whole books from him, almost word for word—and thinks -proper to call him in return "haudquaquam spernendus auctor."</p> -<div align="right"><small>P.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect10"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>TO AN ARTIST,</h4> -<center><small>Who requested the writer's opinion of a Pencil Sketch of a very -Lovely Woman.</small></center> -<br> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem14"> - <tr><td>The sketch is somewhat happy of the maid;<br> - But where's the dark ethereal eye—<br> - The lip of innocence—the sigh,<br> - That breathes like spring o'er roses just betrayed?<br> - And where the smile, the bright bewitching smile<br> - That lights her youthful cheek with pleasure,<br> - Where health and beauty hoard their treasure,<br> - And all is loveliness unmixed with guile?<br> - The spirit of the bloomy months is she,<br> - Surrounded by the laughing hours:<br> - Her very foot-prints glow with flowers!<br> - And dared'st thou then successful hope to be?<br> - Presumptuous man! thy boasted art how vain!<br> - Too dull thy daring pencil's light<br> - To shadow forth the vision bright,<br> - Which flowed from Jove's own hand without a stain.<br> - What mortal skill can paint her wond'rous eye<br> - Or catch the smile of woman's face,<br> - When all the virtues seem to grace<br> - Its beams with something of divinity?<br> - None but Apollo should the task essay;<br> - To him alone the pow'r is given<br> - To blend the radiant hues of heaven,<br> - And in the look the very soul portray;<br> - Then hold, proud Artist! 'tis the God's command;<br> - Eugenia's face requires thy master's hand!</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>M.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect11"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>MARCH COURT.</h4> -<br> - -<p>Court day!—what an important day in Virginia!—what a day of bustle -and business!—what a requisition is made upon every mode of -conveyance to the little metropolis of the county! How many debts -are then to be paid!—how many to be <i>put off!</i>—Alas! how -preponderate the latter! If a man says "<i>I will pay you at Court</i>," -I give up the debt as hopeless, without the intervention of the -<i>la</i>. But if court day be thus important, how much more so is March -court! That is the day when our candidates are expected home from -Richmond to give an account of their stewardship; at least it used -to be so, before the number of our legislators was lessened with a -view of facilitating the transaction of business, and with a promise -of <i>shortening</i> the sessions. But somehow or other, the public chest -has such a multitude of charms, it seems now to be more impossible -than ever to get away from it.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem15"> - <tr><td><small>"'Tis that capitol rising in grandeur on high,<br> - Where bank notes, by thousands, bewitchingly lie,"</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>as the song says, which makes our sessions "<i>of so long a life</i>," -and there is no practicable mode of preventing the <i>evisceration</i> of -the aforesaid chest, but deferring the meeting of the Assembly to -the month of February, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page303"><small><small>[p. 303]</small></small></a></span> -and thereby compelling the performance -of the Commonwealth's business within the two months which would -intervene till the planting of corn. However, this is foreign to my -present purpose, which is to describe a scene at which I have often -gazed with infinite amusement. Would I had the power of Hogarth, -that I might perpetuate the actings and doings of a March court; but -having no turn that way, I must barely attempt to group the -materials, and leave the painting to some regular artist to perfect. -Picture to yourself, my gentle reader, our little town of -<i>Dumplinsburg</i>, consisting of a <i>store</i>, a <i>tavern</i>, and a -<i>blacksmith shop</i>, the common ingredients of a county town, with a -court house and a jail in the foreground, as denoting the superior -respect to which they are entitled. Imagine a number of roads -diverging from the town like the radii of a circle, and upon these -roads horsemen and footmen of every imaginable kind, moving, helter -skelter, to a single point of attraction. Justices and -jurymen—counsellors and clients—planters and -pettifoggers—constables and cakewomen—farmers and -felons—horse-drovers and horse-jockies, and <i>so on</i>, all rushing -onward like the logs and rubbish upon the current of some mighty -river swollen by rains, hurrying pell mell to the vast ocean which -is to swallow them all up—a simile not altogether unapt, when we -consider that the greater part of these people have law business, -and the law is universally allowed to be a vortex worse than the -Maelstrom. Direct the "fringed curtains of thine eyes" a little -further to the main street—a street well entitled to the epithet -main in all its significations, being in truth the principal and -only street, and being moreover the political arena or cockpit, in -which is settled pugilistically, all the tough and knotty points -which cannot be adjusted by argument. See, on either side, rows of -nags of all sorts and sizes, from the skeleton just unhitched from -the plough, to the saucy, fat, impudent pony, with roached mane and -bobtail, and the sleek and long tailed pampered horse, whose coat -proclaims his breeding, all tied to the <i>staggering</i> fence which -constitutes the boundary of the street. Behold the motley assemblage -within these limits hurrying to and fro with rapid strides, as if -life were at stake. Who is he who slips about among the "<i>greasy -rogues</i>," with outstretched palm, and shaking as many hands as the -Marquis La Fayette? It is the candidate for election, and he -distributes with liberal hand that <i>barren chronicle</i> of legislative -deeds, denominated the list of laws, upon which are fed a people -starving for information. This is a mere register of the titles of -acts passed at the last session, but it is caught at with avidity by -the sovereigns, who are highly offended if they do not come in for a -share of the Delegate's bounty. The purchase and distribution of -these papers is a sort of <i>carmen necessarium</i>, or indispensable -lesson, and it frequently happens that a member of the Assembly who -has been absent from his post the whole winter, except upon the yeas -and nays, acquires credit for his industry and attention to business -in proportion to the magnitude of the bundle he distributes of this -uninstructive record.</p> - -<p>See now he mounts some elevated stand and harangues the gaping -crowd, while a jackass led by his groom is braying at the top of his -lungs just behind him. The jack takes in his breath, like Fay's -Snorer, "<i>with the tone of an octave flute, and lets it out with the -profound depth of a trombone</i>." Wherever a candidate is seen, there -is sure to be a jackass—surely, his long eared companion does not -mean to satirize the candidate! However that may be, you perceive -the orator is obliged to desist, overwhelmed perhaps by this -thundering applause. Now the crowd opens to the right and left to -make way for some superb animal at full trot, some Highflyer or -Daredevil, who is thus exhibited <i>ad captandum vulgus</i>, which seems -the common purpose of the candidate, the jack, and his more noble -competitor. But look—here approaches an object more terrible than -all, if we may judge from the dispersion of the crowd who <i>ensconce</i> -themselves behind every convenient corner and peep from their -lurking holes, while the object of their dread moves onward with -saddle bags on arm, a pen behind his ear, and an inkhorn at his -button hole. Lest some of my readers should be ignorant of this -august personage, I must do as they do in England, where they take a -shaggy dog, and dipping him in red paint, they dash him against the -signboard and write underneath, this is the Red Lion. This is the -sheriff and he is summoning his jury—"Mr. Buckskin, you, sir, -dodging behind the blacksmith's shop, I summon you on the jury;" ah, -luckless wight! he is caught and obliged to succumb. In vain he begs -to be let off,—"you must apply to the magistrates," is the surly -reply. And if, reader, you could listen to what passes afterwards in -the court house, you might hear something like the following -colloquy—Judge. "What is your excuse, sir?" Juror. "I am a lawyer, -sir." Judge. "Do you follow the law now, sir?" Juror. "No, sir, the -law follows me." Judge. "Swear him, Mr. Clerk." Ah, there is a -battle!!! see how the crowd rushes to the spot—"who fights?"—"part -'em"—"stand off"—"fair play"—"let no man touch"—"hurrah, -Dick"—"at him, Tom." An Englishman thinking himself in England, -bawls out, "sheriff, read the riot act"—a Justice comes up and -commands the peace; <i>inter arma silent leges;</i> he is unceremoniously -knocked down, and Justice is blind as ought to be the case. Two of -the rioters now attempt to ride in at the tavern door, and for -awhile all Pandemonium seems broke loose. To complete this picture, -I must, like Asmodeus, unroof the court house, and show you a trial -which I had the good fortune to witness. It was during the last war, -when the vessels of Admiral Gordon were making their way up the -Potomac to Alexandria, that a negro woman was arraigned for killing -one of her own sex and color; she had been committed for murder, but -the evidence went clearly to establish the deed to be manslaughter, -inasmuch as it was done in sudden heat, and without malice -aforethought. The Attorney for the commonwealth waived the -prosecution for murder, but quoted <i>British authorities</i> to show -that she might be convicted of manslaughter, though committed for -murder. The counsel for the accused arose, and in the most solemn -manner, asked the court if it was a thing ever heard of, that an -individual accused of one crime and acquitted, should be arraigned -immediately for another, under the same prosecution? At -intervals—boom—boom—boom went the <i>British cannon</i>—<i>British -authorities!</i> exclaimed the counsel; <i>British authorities</i>, -gentlemen!! Is there any one upon that bench so dead to the feelings -of patriotism as at such a moment to listen to <i>British -authorities</i>, when the British cannon is shaking the very walls of -your court house to their <span class="pagenum"><a name="page304"><small><small>[p. 304]</small></small></a></span> -foundation? This appeal was too -cogent to be resisted. Up jumped one of the Justices and protested -that it was not to be borne; let the prisoner go; away with your -British authorities! The counsel for the accused, rubbed his hands -and winked at the attorney; the attorney stood aghast; his -astonishment was too great for utterance, and the negro was half way -home before he recovered from his amazement.</p> -<div align="right"><small>NUGATOR</small>. </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect12"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE DEATH OF ROBESPIERRE.</h4> -<br> -<h5>SCENE I.</h5> -<center><small>ROBESPIERRE'S HOUSE.<br> -<br> -<i>Robespierre and St. Just meeting.</i></small></center> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Danton is gone!</p> - -<p><i>Robespierre.</i>—Then can I hope for all things,<br> - Since he is dead whose shadow darken'd me;<br> - Did the crowd cheer or hiss him?</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Neither, sir:<br> - Save a few voices, all look'd on in silence.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Ha! did they so?—but when the engine rattled,<br> - And the axe fell, didst thou perceive him shudder?</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—He turn'd his face to the descending steel,<br> - And calmly smil'd. A low and ominous murmur<br> - Spread through the vast assemblage—then, in peace,<br> - They all dispers'd.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—I did not wish for this.</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—No man, since Louis Capet——</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Say no more<br> - My worthy friend—the friend of France and freedom—<br> - Hasten to guard our interest in yon junto<br> - Of fools and traitors, who, like timid sheep,<br> - Nor fight nor fly, but huddle close together,<br> - Till the wolves come to gorge themselves among them—<br> - And in the evening, you and all my friends<br> - Will meet me here, deliberate, and decide<br> - To advance, or to recede. Be still, we cannot;<br> - And hear me, dear St. Just—A man like you,<br> - Firm and unflinching through so many trials,<br> - Who sooner would behold this land manured<br> - With carcases and moistened with their blood,<br> - Than yielding food for feudal slaves to eat,<br> - True to your party and to me your <i>brother</i>—<br> - For so I would be term'd—has the best claim<br> - That man can have to name his own reward<br> - When France is all our own. Bethink you then<br> - What post of honor or of profit suits you,<br> - And tell me early, that I may provide,<br> - To meet your views, a part in this great drama.</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Citizen Robespierre—my hearty thanks;<br> - Financial Minister, by any name<br> - Or trumpery title that may suit these times,<br> - Is what I aim at—gratify me there<br> - And I am yours through more blood than would serve<br> - To float the L'Orient.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> A French line of battle ship. Burnt at the battle of -Aboukir.</small></blockquote> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—'Tis well, St. Just,<br> - But wherefore citizen me? I have not used<br> - The term to you—we are not strangers here.</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Pardon me, sir, (or <i>Sire</i>, even as you please)<br> - The cant of Jacobins infects my tongue,<br> - I had no meaning farther. One word more<br> - Before we part—now Danton is cut off,<br> - We may be sure that all his partisans<br> - And personal friends are our most deadly foes,<br> - And it were politic and kind in us<br> - To spare their brains unnumbered schemes of vengeance<br> - And seize at once the power to silence them.<br> - To give them time were ruin; some there are<br> - Whose love of gold is such that were it wet<br> - With Danton's blood they would not less receive it.<br> - These may be brib'd to league with us. Farewell.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>solus</i>.) Blood on its base—upon its every step—<br> - Yea, on its very summit—still I climb:<br> - But thickest darkness veils my destiny,<br> - And standing as I do on a frail crag<br> - Whence I must make one desperate spring to power,<br> - To safety, honor, and unbounded wealth,<br> - Or be as Danton is, why do I pause?<br> - Why do I gaze back on my past career,<br> - Upon those piles of headless, reeking dead?<br> - Those whitening sculls? those streams of guiltless blood<br> - Still smoking to the skies?—why think I hear<br> - The shrieks, the groans, the smothered execrations<br> - That swell the breeze, or seem as if I shrank<br> - Beneath the o'ergrown, yet still accumulating,<br> - Curse of humanity that clings around me?<br> - Is not my hate of them as fixed, intense,<br> - And all unquenchable as theirs of me?<br> - But they must tremble in their rage while I<br> - Destroy and scorn them.<br> - - - (<i>reads a letter</i>.)</p> -<hr align="center" width="10"> - <blockquote><small>"Exert your dexterity to escape a scene on which you are to appear - once more ere you leave it forever. Your dictatorial chair, if - attained, will be only a step to the scaffold, through a rabble - who will spit on you as on Egalité. You have treasure enough. I - expect you with anxiety. We will enjoy a hearty laugh at the - expense of a people as credulous as greedy of novelty."</small></blockquote> -<hr align="center" width="10"> -<p> - -He but little knows,<br> - Who wrote this coward warning, what I am.<br> - I love not life so well, nor hate mankind<br> - So slightly as to fly this country now:<br> - No, I will ride and rule the storm I have rais'd,<br> - Or perish in its fury.<br> - - - (<i>Madame de Cabarus enters</i>.)<br> - - -Ha! a woman!<br> - How entered you?</p> - -<p><i>Lady.</i>—Your civic guard were sleeping;<br> - I pass'd unquestioned, and my fearful strait<br> - Compels appeal to thee, great Robespierre!<br> - Deny me not, and Heaven will grant thy prayer<br> - In that dread hour when every mortal needs it.<br> - Repulse me not, and heaven thus at the last<br> - Will not repulse thee from eternal life.<br> - I am the daughter of the unhappy Laurens,<br> - Who hath but one day more to live on earth.<br> - Oh, for the sake of all thou holdest dear,<br> - - - (<i>kneeling before him</i>.)<br> - Spare to his only child the misery<br> - Of seeing perish thus her much lov'd sire.<br> - His head is white with age—let it not fall<br> - Beneath yon dreadful axe. Through sixty years<br> - A peaceful and reproachless life he led.<br> - Thy word can save him. Speak, oh speak that word,<br> - For our Redeemer's sake redeem his life,<br> - And child and father both shall bless thee ever.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>aside</i>.) I know her now—the chosen of Tallien<br> - How beautiful in tears! A noble dame<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page305"><small><small>[p. 305]</small></small></a></span> - And worthy to be mine. 'Twould sting his heart<br> - To lose his mistress ere I take his head;<br> - If I would bribe her passions or her fears,<br> - As well I trust I can, I must be speedy.<br> - Those drunken guards—should any see her here,<br> - Then what a tale to spread on Robespierre,<br> - The chaste, the incorruptible, forsooth——<br> - - - (<i>coldly approaching her</i>.)<br> - Lady, I may not save your father's life—<br> - Duty forbids—he holds back evidence<br> - Which would convict Tallien; nay, do not kneel,<br> - I cannot interfere.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—Oh, say not so.<br> - He is too peaceful for intrigues or plotters—<br> - Too old, too helpless for their trust or aid.<br> - Oh, for the filial love thou bearest thy sire,<br> - Thy reverence for his years——</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—If he were living<br> - And spoke in thy behalf, it were in vain.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—For the dear mother's sake who gave thee birth<br> - And suffer'd agony that thou might'st live——</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Not if her voice could hail me from the tomb,<br> - And plead in thy own words to save his life.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—If thou hast hope or mercy——</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—I have neither.<br> - Rise and depart while you are safe—yet stay,<br> - One path to his redemption still is open—<br> - It leads to yonder chamber—Ha! I see<br> - Thou understandest me.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—I trust I do not.<br> - I hope that Heaven beholds not—Earth contains not<br> - A being capable of such an offer.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—And dare you scorn me, knowing who I am?<br> - Bethink you where you stand—your sire—and lover—<br> - And hear my offer. Life and wealth for them,<br> - Jewels and splendor and supremacy<br> - Shall wait on thee—no dame shall breathe in France<br> - But bends the knee before thee.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—Let him die.<br> - Better he perish now than live to curse<br> - His daughter for dishonor. Fare you well.<br> - There is a time for all things, and the hour<br> - May come when thou wilt think of this again.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>laughing</i>.) Ha! ha! Wouldst thou depart to spread this tale?<br> - Never, save to such ears as will not trust thee!<br> - Choose on the spot between thy father's death,<br> - Thy lover's and <i>thine own</i>, or my proposal.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—My choice is made, let me rejoin my sire.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—I'll furnish thee a passport—guards awake!<br> - - - (<i>seizing her arm</i>.)<br> - Without there! murder! treason! guards come hither!<br> - - - (<i>Jacobins rush in and seize her</i>.)<br> - A watchful crew ye are, to leave me thus<br> - To perish like Marât by the assassins;<br> - See that you guard her well, and keep this weapon<br> - Which, but I wrench'd it from her, would have slain me.</p> - -<p><i>Daughter.</i>—And thus my father dies and one as dear.<br> - 'Tis joy to suffer with them, though I perish.<br> - I feel assured thou canst not triumph long—<br> - And I adjure thee by the Heaven thou hast scorn'd,<br> - Whose lingering fires are not yet launch'd against thee,<br> - And by the Earth thou cumberest, which hath not<br> - Yet opened to entomb thee living, come,<br> - Meet me, and mine, and thy ten thousand victims,<br> - Before God's judgment seat, ere two days pass.<br> - - - (<i>the guards take her out</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—She must have thought in sooth I was a Christian.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<h5>SCENE II.</h5> -<center><small>TALLIEN'S HOUSE.<br> -<br> -<i>Tallien with a letter in his hand.</i></small></center> - -<p>In prison!—In his power!—to die to-morrow!<br> - My body trembles and my senses reel.<br> - This is a just and fearful retribution—<br> - Would it were on my head alone! Oh Heaven,<br> - Spare but this angel woman and her father,<br> - And let me die—or might my life be pardon'd,<br> - The criminal excess to which these times<br> - Have hurried my rash hand and wilful heart,<br> - I will atone to outrag'd human nature,<br> - To her and to my country. Wretched France!<br> - Once the fair home of music and of mirth,<br> - So torn, so harrassed by these factions now,<br> - That even the wise and good of other lands<br> - Cannot believe a patriot breathes in this!<br> - And she complains that I am grown a craven!<br> - My acts of late may justify the thought,<br> - But let to-morrow show how much I fear him.<br> - - - (<i>A Servant enters</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Servant.</i>—The Minister of Police——</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Attend him hither—<br> - Fouché—perhaps to sound me; let him try—<br> - I yet may baffle him, and one more fatal——<br> - - - (<i>Fouché enters</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—So you are in the scales with Robespierre,<br> - And which do you expect will kick the beam?</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Why should you think that I will stake my power,<br> - Friends, interest, and life, in useless efforts<br> - To thwart the destined ruler of the land?</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—Yourself have told me so. I did but mean<br> - That he had risk'd his power and party strength<br> - Against your life. You mean to strike at his.<br> - Your faltering voice and startled looks betray<br> - The secret of your heart, though sooth to say,<br> - I knew it all before.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—You see too far,<br> - And are for once wise over much, Monsieur;<br> - I never sought to oppose your great colleague,<br> - But would conciliate him if I might.</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i> (<i>sternly</i>.) And do you hope to throw dust in my eyes?<br> - What means this note from Madame de Cabarus<br> - Now in your bosom—sent to you this morning—<br> - And this your answer? (<i>producing a billet</i>.) Have I fathom'd you?<br> - The mystic writing on the palace wall<br> - Scar'd not Belshazzar more than this does you.<br> - - - (<i>Tallien goes to the door</i>.)<br> - Nay, never call your men or make those signals,<br> - I have foreseen the worst that you can do.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Chief of Police, while you are in this house<br> - Your life is in my hands—when you are gone,<br> - Mine is in yours. Now tell me why you came?</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—To show you that I know of your designs.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—And is that all?</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—Not quite. To offer service—<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page306"><small><small>[p. 306]</small></small></a></span> - A politician should not start as you do<br> - At every word.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Ah—can I—dare I trust you?</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—I do not ask created man to trust<br> - Honor or oath of him whose name is Fouché.<br> - I know mankind, and study my own interest—<br> - Interest, Tallien—that mainstring of all motion—<br> - Chain of all strength—pole star of all attraction<br> - For human hearts to turn to. Let me see<br> - My interest in supporting you, and I<br> - Can aid and guard you through the coming peril.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Name your terms.</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—My present post and what<br> - Beside is mentioned in this schedule.<br> - - - (<i>giving a paper</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Tallien</i>.—Your <i>price</i> is high, but I am pledged to pay it.<br> - - - (<i>giving his hand</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—Thou knowest I never was over scrupulous,<br> - But he whom I was link'd with, Robespierre,<br> - Can stand no longer. Earth is weary of him.<br> - The small majority in the Convention<br> - He calculates upon to be his plea<br> - For wreaking summary vengeance on the heads<br> - Of all who, like yourself, are not prepared<br> - To grant him supreme power or dip their hands<br> - In blood for any, every, or no profit.<br> - A ravenous beast were better in the chair.<br> - Henriot and the civic force here, stand<br> - Prompt to obey him. Were we only sure<br> - To raise the citizens, these dogs were nothing—<br> - But, sink or swim, to-morrow is the day<br> - Must ruin him or us. Do you impeach him,<br> - And paint his crimes exactly as they are;<br> - Have a decree of arrest, and I and mine<br> - Will see he quits not the Convention Hall<br> - But in the custody of friends of ours.<br> - 'Tis true I bargain'd to assist the fiend<br> - The better to deceive him. Mark, Tallien,<br> - A presage of his fall—not only I<br> - Abandon him, but I can bring Barrère<br> - And all his tribe to give their votes against him.<br> - Give me <i>carte blanche</i> to pay them for their voices.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—But think you I can move them to arrest him?</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—That is a <i>chance</i> unknown even to myself,<br> - There are so many waiters on the wind,<br> - Straws to be blown wherever it may list<br> - That surety of success we cannot have,<br> - But certain ruin if we pass to-morrow.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Is't true she aim'd a weapon at his life?</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—A lie of his invention. I have seen<br> - The weapon he pretended to have snatch'd<br> - From her fair hands, and know it for his own.<br> - Though I seem foul compar'd to better men,<br> - I claim to appear an angel match'd with him.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<h5>SCENE III.</h5> -<center><small>ROBESPIERRE'S HOUSE.<br> -<br> -<i>Robespierre, Fouché, Henriot and others.</i></small></center> - -<p><i>Henriot.</i>—All things are ready now, six thousand men<br> - And twenty cannon wait your word to-morrow.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Henriot, I have a word to say to thee:<br> - Thou hast <i>one</i> vice that suits not with a leader,<br> - If that thou hopest to thrive in our attempt,<br> - Taste not of wine till victory is ours.</p> - -<p><i>Henriot.</i>—I thank your caution.</p> - -<p><i>Fouché</i>.—I have seen Tallien<br> - And offered peace between you; he knew not<br> - That Laurens' daughter had assail'd your life,<br> - Or he had mentioned it. Nor did he dream<br> - Of what will peal upon his ears to-morrow.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Then, friends, farewell until to-morrow dawns.</p> - -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—And ere its night sets in we hail thee Ruler,<br> - Dictator of the land.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—If such your will—<br> - Without you I am nothing—fare you well.<br> - - - (<i>they leave him</i>.)<br> - (<i>looking up to the stars</i>.)—Unchang'd, unfading, never-dying lights—<br> - Gods, or coeval with them! If there be<br> - In your bright aspects aught of influence<br> - Which men have made a science here on earth,<br> - Shed it benignly on my fortunes now!<br> - Spirit of Terror! Rouse thee at my bidding—<br> - Shake thy red wings o'er Liberty's Golgotha—<br> - Palsy men's energies and stun their souls,<br> - That no more foes may cross my path to-morrow<br> - Than I and mine can drown in their own blood;<br> - Or, let them rise by thousands, so my slaves<br> - Fight but as heartily for gold and wine<br> - As they have done ere now. When I shall lead them,<br> - Then 'mid the artillery's roar and bayonet's flash<br> - I write my title to be Lord of France<br> - In flame and carnage, o'er this den of thieves.<br> - Beneath th' exterior, frozen, stern demeanor,<br> - How my veins throb to bursting, while I think<br> - On the rich feast of victory and revenge<br> - The coming day may yield me! Yes, this land<br> - Of bigot slaves who tremble at a devil,<br> - Or frantic atheists who with lifted hands<br> - Will gravely <small>VOTE</small> their Maker from his throne,<br> - This horde of dupes and miscreants shall feel<br> - And own in tears, blood, crime and retribution,<br> - The iron rule of him they trampled on—<br> - The outrag'd, ruin'd, and despised attorney.<br> - Though few the anxious hours that lie between<br> - My brightest, proudest hopes, or sure destruction,<br> - All yet is vague, uncertain, and obscure<br> - As what may chance in ages yet to come.<br> - How if the dungeon or the scaffold—Ha!<br> - That shall not be—my hand shall overrule it—<br> - Ingenious arbiter of life and death!<br> - - - (<i>looking to the charge of a small pistol</i>.)<br> - Be thou my bosom friend in time of need!<br> - No—if my star is doom'd to set forever,<br> - The cheeks of men shall pale as they behold<br> - The lurid sky it sinks in. Should I fall<br> - Leading my Helots on to slay each other,<br> - Then death, all hail!—for only thou canst quench<br> - The secret fire that rages in my breast;<br> - If there be an hereafter, which I know not,<br> - He who hath borne <i>my</i> life may dare its worst,<br> - And if mortality's last pangs end all,<br> - Welcome eternal sleep!—annihilation!</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<h5>SCENE IV.</h5> -<center><small>THE HALL OF THE NATIONAL CONVENTION.</small></center> - -<p><small><i>Couthon concluding a speech from the Tribune. Tallien, Fouché, -Carnôt, and others, standing near him. Robespierre, St. Just, and -others, in their seats.</i></small></p> - -<p><i>Tallien</i> (<i>to Fouché</i>.)—Are you ready?</p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page307"><small><small>[p. 307]</small></small></a></span> -<p><i>Fouché.</i>—Doubt not my aid—denounce him where he stands—<br> - And lose no time—this hour decides our fate.</p> - -<p><i>Couthon</i> (<i>to the Convention</i>.)—Our country is in danger—I invoke<br> - Your aid, compatriots, to shield her now!<br> - Fain as I am to avoid confiding power<br> - Without control, in even patriot hands,<br> - We cannot choose—and much as I abhor<br> - To see blood flow, let punishment descend<br> - On traitors' heads, for this alone can save us.</p> - -<p><i>Tallien</i> (<i>approaching him</i>.) Thou aged fangless tiger! not yet glutted?<br> - Torrents of blood are shed for thee and thine—<br> - Must thou have more? Descend—before I trample<br> - Thee to the earth. Thou art not fit to live.<br> - (<i>he drags Couthon down by the hair of his head and mounts the Tribune</i>.)<br> - (<i>addressing the Convention</i>.) Yes, citizens, our country is imperiled,<br> - And by a band of dark conspirators,<br> - Soul-hardened miscreants, in whose grasp the ties<br> - That bind mankind together are rent asunder<br> - By spies—by fraud—by hope of power and spoils—<br> - By baser fears, and by increasing terror<br> - Of their dread engine, whose incessant strokes<br> - And never failing stream astound mankind.<br> - These men have pav'd the way, that open force<br> - May crush the hopes of France, and bend our necks<br> - Unto a despotism strange as bloody.<br> - And who, my countrymen, hath been their leader?<br> - Ye know him well—and every Frenchman breathing<br> - Hath need to rue the hour which gave <i>him</i> birth—<br> - A wretch accursed in heaven—abhorred on earth,<br> - Hath dared aspire to sway most absolute<br> - In this Republic—and the dread tribunals<br> - Which for the land's protection were established<br> - When pressed by foreign arms and homebred treason,<br> - He hath converted to the deadly end<br> - Of slaughtering all who crossed his onward path.<br> - His black intrigues have occupied their seats<br> - With robbers and assassins—whose foul riot,<br> - Polluted lives, and unquenched thirst of gold,<br> - Have beggar'd France and murdered half her sons.<br> - Witness those long—long lists of dire proscription<br> - Prepar'd at night for every coming day,<br> - Even in the very chamber of the tyrant!<br> - Witness the wanton, groundless confiscations,<br> - Which ruin helpless men, to feed his minions!<br> - Witness the cry of woe too great to bear,<br> - That hath gone up to heaven from this fair land!<br> - Yes—hear it, every man who loves his country—<br> - France, for a ruler now, is ask'd to choose<br> - The vampire who would drain her dearest blood:<br> - A sordid slave, whose hideous form contains<br> - A mind in moral darkness and fierce passions<br> - Like nothing, save the cavern gloom of hell,<br> - Which knows no light but its consuming fires!<br> - I need not point to him. Your looks of terror,<br> - Disgust and hatred turn at once upon him.<br> - Though there be others of his name, this Hall—<br> - This City—France—the World itself contains<br> - Only one—Robespierre.<br> - - - (<i>the Assembly in great confusion</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>to St. Just</i>.) This blow is sudden.</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Up to the Tribune—speed—your life—our power<br> - All hang upon a moment. Art thou dumb?</p> - -<p><i>Tallien</i> (<i>continuing</i>.) The evil spirit who serv'd abandons him,<br> - And I denounce him as the mortal foe<br> - Of every man in France who would be free—<br> - Impeach him as a traitor to the State<br> - In league with Henriot, Couthon and St. Just.<br> - To overawe by force and crush the Assembly!<br> - I appeal for proof to those who plotted with him,<br> - But now repentant have abjur'd his cause.<br> - I move that he be instantly arrested<br> - With Henriot and all accomplices.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>to St. Just</i>.) See how they rise like fiends and point the hand<br> - Of bitterest hatred at your head and mine,<br> - Our veriest bloodhounds turn and strive to rend us.<br> - (<i>he rushes towards the Tribune, amid -loud cries of "Down with the tyrant!"</i>)</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Hear me, ye members of the Mountain—hear me,<br> - Cordeliers, who have prais'd and cheer'd me on—<br> - Ye Girondists, give even your foes a hearing—<br> - Ye members of the Plain, who moderate<br> - The fury of contending factions—hear me<br> - For all I have done or have designed to do,<br> - I justify myself—and I appeal<br> - To God—and——<br> - - - (<i>he pauses choked with rage</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Tallien.</i>—Danton's blood is strangling him.<br> - Consummate hypocrite!—darest thou use<br> - Thy Maker's name to sanctify thy crimes,<br> - Thou lover of Religion! Saintly being!<br> - The executioner! thou prayerless atheist!<br> - To thy high priest. The scaffold is thy temple—<br> - The block thy altar—murder is thy God.<br> - And could it come to this? Oh, France! Oh, France!<br> - Was it for this that Louis Capet died?<br> - For this was it we swore eternal hatred<br> - To kings and nobles—pour'd our armies forth—<br> - Crush'd banded despots and confirmed our rights?<br> - And have we bled, endur'd and toil'd, that now<br> - Our triumph should be to disgrace ourselves<br> - And bend in worship to a man whose deeds<br> - Have written demon on his very brow?<br> - What! style Dictator—clothe with regal honors<br> - And more than regal power this Robespierre,<br> - So steep'd in guilt—so bath'd in human blood!<br> - It may not be—France is at last awake<br> - From this long dreary dream of shame and sorrow,<br> - And may her sons in renovated strength<br> - Shake off the lethargy that drew it on!<br> - Spirits of Earth's <i>true</i> heroes!—if ye see us<br> - From the calm sunshine of your blest abodes,<br> - Look with approval on me in this hour!<br> - - - (<i>turning to the statue of Brutus</i>.)<br> - Thee, I invoke!—Shade of the virtuous Brutus!<br> - Like thee, I swear, should man refuse me justice<br> - I draw this poignard for the tyrant's heart<br> - Or for my own. Tallien disdains to live<br> - The slave of Robespierre. I do not ask<br> - Nor can expect him to receive the meed<br> - Which should be his. Death cannot punish him<br> - Whose life hath well deserv'd a thousand deaths,<br> - But let us purge this plague-spot from among us,<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page308"><small><small>[p. 308]</small></small></a></span> - And tell wide Europe by our vote this night<br> - That Terror's reign hath ceas'd—that axe and sceptre<br> - Are both alike disown'd, destroyed forever.<br> - Let us impeach him, Frenchmen, with the spirit<br> - That springs from conscious rectitude of purpose.<br> - Patriots arise! and with uplifted hands<br> - Attest your deep abhorrence of this man,<br> - And your consent that he be now arrested!<br> - (<i>members rising in disorder</i>.) Away, away with him—arrest him guards!<br> - To the Conciergerie—away with him!</p> - -<p>(<i>President rising.</i>) The National Convention have decreed<br> - The arrest of Maximilien Robespierre.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>to St. Just</i>.) The day is theirs—with wrath and with despair<br> - My utterance is chok'd. Oh, were my breath<br> - A pestilential gale to sting their lives!<br> - (<i>to the President</i>.) Order me to be slain where now I stand,<br> - Or grant me liberty of speech.</p> - -<p>(<i>President</i>.) Thy name is Robespierre—it is enough,<br> - And speaks for thee far more than thou wilt tell us.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i> (<i>to St. Just</i>.) Come thou with me—I see an opening yet<br> - To victory, or a funeral pile—whose light<br> - Shall dazzle France and terrify the world.<br> - (<i>Robespierre, St. Just and others taken out by the guards</i>.<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small>)</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> It may be well to recall to the reader's recollection, -that Robespierre subsequently escaped from his guards to the Hotel -de Ville. But such partisans as rallied around him speedily -deserted, when a proclamation of outlawry from the Convention was -issued against him, and enforced by pointing cannon against the -building. After an ineffectual attempt at suicide he was conveyed in -a cart to the guillotine, July 28th, 1794.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The language put into his mouth in the following pages, is of course -inconsistent with historical probability, as he had wounded himself -with a pistol ball in the lower part of his face.</small></blockquote> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<h5>SCENE V.</h5> -<center><small>ROBESPIERRE AND ST. JUST IN A CART CONDUCTED BY GUARDS TOWARDS THE -PLACE DE GRÊVE.</small></center> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—So here ends our part in a tragic farce,<br> - Hiss'd off the stage, my friend—ha, ha!<br> - - - (<i>laughing</i>.)<br> - I am content—I mean I am resigned—<br> - As well die now as later. Does your wound<br> - Pain you severely that you look so gravely?<br> - Cheer thee, my comrade, we shall quickly learn<br> - The last dread secret of our frail existence,<br> - Few moments more will cut our barks adrift<br> - Upon an ocean, boundless and unknown,<br> - Even to ourselves who have despatched so many<br> - To explore for us its dark and fathomless depths.<br> - Give me some wine. (<i>they give him wine</i>.) Here's to a merry voyage!<br> - What in the fiend's name art thou musing on!</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—My thoughts were with the past—the days of youth,<br> - And peace, and innocence, and woman's love,<br> - And ardent hope—the blossoms of a life<br> - So baleful in its fruits. This day, the last<br> - Of my career, is the anniversary<br> - Of one, from which my after life may date<br> - Its withering influence. Wouldst thou not think<br> - That I, whom thou hast known for a few years,<br> - Must ever have been, even from my earliest youth,<br> - A hard and cruel man?</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Much like myself.<br> - I think you were no saint even when a child.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Such is the common blunder of the world<br> - To think me, like the demon they believe in,<br> - From the beginning, "murderer and liar;"<br> - So let it be—I would not change their thoughts.<br> - But I, St. Just, strange as it seems to you,<br> - Even I, whose name, even in this age of crime,<br> - Must stand aloft alone a blood-red beacon<br> - And warning to posterity, was once<br> - Young, warm, enthusiastic, generous,<br> - Candid, affectionate, a son and brother,<br> - But proud and sensitive. I lov'd a maid—<br> - Yes, if entire and all-absorbed devotion<br> - Of life and soul and being to her, were love—<br> - If to be willing to lay down my life,<br> - My hopes of fame and honorable notice,<br> - And all the world holds dear, for her dear sake,<br> - May be call'd love, then I most truly lov'd her.<br> - I was a thriving lawyer, and could raise<br> - My voice without reward to shield the oppress'd,<br> - I lov'd my kind and bore a stainless name.<br> - - - (<i>a funeral crosses the street</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>St. Just</i> (<i>to the officer</i>.) Whose obsequies are these,<br> - That look as if the dead one had <i>not</i> perished<br> - By trying our Republican proscription,<br> - The guillotine?</p> - -<p><i>Officer.</i>—'Tis Madame de la Harpe.<br> - Your worthy friend there sent his satellites<br> - To bring her to the bar of your tribunal,<br> - The high-soul'd lady sooner than be made<br> - A gaze for all the outcasts in the city,<br> - As you are now, hurl'd herself from a window.</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—How strange a meeting this! Ah! foolish woman,<br> - Had she but dar'd to live another day,<br> - She might have died at ninety in her bed,<br> - And I, who sought to escape her threatened doom,<br> - Baffled of self-destruction, could not die.<br> - - - (<i>they pass on</i>.)<br> - (<i>to St. Just</i>.) How small a thing may sometimes change the stream<br> - Of a man's life even to its source, to poison!<br> - A trifle scarcely worthy of a name,<br> - The sarcasms of a brute, while I was pleading<br> - An orphan's cause, convulsed the court with mirth,<br> - Marr'd all my rhetoric, and snatch'd the palm<br> - Of truth and justice from my eager grasp—<br> - My wrath boil'd forth—with loud and fierce reproach<br> - I brav'd the judge, and thunder'd imprecations<br> - On all around. This passion ruin'd me.<br> - And she too laugh'd among that idiot throng—<br> - Oh, tell not me of jealousy or hate<br> - Or hunger for revenge—no sting so fierce,<br> - So all tormenting to a proud man's soul<br> - As public ridicule from lips belov'd.<br> - Have they not rued it? Let yon engine tell:<br> - - - (<i>pointing to the scaffold in the distance</i>.)<br> - What I have been since then mankind have seen,<br> - But could they see the scorpion that hath fed<br> - Where once a heart beat in this breast of mine,<br> - They would not marvel at my past career.<br> - I quit the world with only one regret,<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page309"><small><small>[p. 309]</small></small></a></span> - I would have shown them how the scrivener,<br> - Who with his tongue and pen hath rack'd this land,<br> - Could plague it with a sword. Had yonder cowards<br> - Who vainly hope to save themselves, but stood<br> - As prompt to follow me as I to lead them,<br> - Our faction would have rallied. Might the cries<br> - Of death and rapine through this blazing city<br> - Have been my funeral knell I had gladly died.<br> - Then had they seen my spirit whelm'd and crush'd,<br> - Yet gazing upward like the o'erthrown arch fiend<br> - To a <i>loftier</i> seat than that from which he fell.<br> - But now——</p> - -<p><i>St. Just.</i>—Regrets are useless! such as we<br> - May not join hands or say farewell, like others;<br> - But since we die together, let us face<br> - This reptile crowd, like men who've been their lords,<br> - And show them, though they slay, they cannot daunt<br> - Those who were born to sway their destinies.<br> - - - (<i>men and women surrounding the cart</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>1st Woman.</i>—Descend to hell, I triumph in thy death!<br> - Die, thou accurs'd of every wife and mother!<br> - May every orphan's wail ring in thy ears,<br> - And every widow's cry, and matron's groan!</p> - -<p><i>2d Woman.</i>—Thine execution maddens me with joy:<br> - Monster, depart—perish, even in thy crimes,<br> - And may our curses sink thee into depths<br> - Whence even omnipotent mercy will not raise thee!<br> - - - (<i>they shout and hiss him</i>.)</p> - -<p><i>Robes.</i>—Silence awhile these shouts, unfetter'd slaves,<br> - Hear his last words, whose name but yesterday<br> - Struck terror to your souls! Dare ye so soon<br> - Think that your lives are safe, and I still breathing?<br> - Deem ye the blow that speeds my dissolution<br> - And gives my body to the elements,<br> - Will be the signal to call freedom hither?<br> - Will peace and virtue dwell among ye <i>then?</i><br> - Never! ye bondmen of your own vile passions;<br> - For crested serpents are as meet to range<br> - At large and poison-fang'd among mankind,<br> - As ye who claim a birthright to be free.<br> - Thank your own thirst of plunder and of blood,<br> - That I, and such as I, could reign in France.<br> - A tyrant ye <i>must</i> have. I have been <i>one</i>,<br> - And <i>such</i> a one, that ages hence shall gaze,<br> - Awe-struck on my pre-eminence in blood,<br> - And men shall, marvelling, ask of your descendants<br> - If that my name and deeds be not a fable.<br> - I die—and, Frenchmen, triumph while you may!<br> - The man breathes now and walks abroad among ye,<br> - Who shall be my successor. I can see<br> - Beyond the tomb—and when ye dare to rise<br> - And beard the tyrant faction, now victorious,<br> - His rule commences. He shall spill more blood<br> - In one short day to crush your hopes of freedom,<br> - Than I in half my reign—but God himself<br> - Ne'er had the homage ye shall render <i>him</i>.<br> - Champions of freedom, ye shall <i>worship</i> him,<br> - And in the name of liberty be plunder'd<br> - Of all for which your sons have fought and died;<br> - And in the name of glory he shall lead ye<br> - On to perdition, and when ye have plac'd<br> - Your necks beneath his feet, shall spend like dust<br> - Your treasures and pour forth your bravest blood<br> - To be the scourge of nations and of kings.<br> - And he shall plant your eagles in the west,<br> - And spread your triumphs even to northern snow,<br> - Tormenting man and trampling every law,<br> - Divine and human, till the very name<br> - Of Frenchmen move to nought but hate and scorn.<br> - Then heaven with storms, and earth with all her armies<br> - Shall rise against ye, and the o'erwhelming tide<br> - Of your vast conquests ebb in shame and ruin.<br> - Then—false to honor, native land, and chief!—<br> - Ye who could swarm like locusts on the earth<br> - For glory or for plunder, shall desert,<br> - Or Judas-like betray, the cause of freedom,<br> - And tamely crouch to your now banish'd king,<br> - When foreign swords instale him in his throne:<br> - And laugh and sing while Prussians and Cossacks<br> - Parade the streets of this vice-branded city,<br> - And see without a blush the Austrian flag<br> - And England's banner float o'er Notre Dame.</p> - -<p>Bye-word among the nations! Fickle France!<br> - Distant and doubtful is your day of freedom,<br> - If ever it shall dawn, which it ne'er will,<br> - Until ye learn, what my hate would not teach ye.<br> - On, to the scaffold! May my blood infect<br> - With its fierce mania every human heart—<br> - Mourn'd as I am by none! May ye soon prove<br> - Another ruler o'er this land like me.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect13"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>WOMAN.</h4> -<br> - -<p>To woman is assigned the second grade in the order of created -beings. Man occupies the first, and to him she looks for earthly -support, protection, and a "present help" in time of need. The -stations which they occupy—the pursuits which they should engage -in—the legitimate aim to which their thoughts and wishes should -tend, are widely different, yet inseparably connected. To show the -error so prevalent in respect to these subjects, the improper mode -of education so generally adopted, and if possible, to assign to -woman her proper sphere, privileges and pursuits, is the object of -the present sketch. We have stated that woman is second <i>only</i> in -the scale of created beings, and proceed to examine, first, the -important station which she occupies—secondly, the means usually -adopted for preparing her for this station—thirdly, the results -produced by those means—fourthly, the proper means—and lastly, -endeavor to illustrate the ideas advanced by the testimony of -history, and the observations drawn from real life.</p> - -<p>1st. The important stations which she occupies. A daughter, a -sister—the friend and companion of both sexes and all ages—the -wife, the mistress, the mother—stations high, honorable, important.</p> - -<p>In the second place, we will examine the means usually adopted for -preparing her for these elevated and important duties. View her -first the helpless infant—her heart uncorrupted by external -influences, and her mind, like the unsullied mirror, to be made the -reflector of those images and lessons, to which it is to be -subjected and exposed. Soon, however, the innocence of the infant -gives way to the frowardness and turbulence of the child. Generally, -no restraints of a salutary nature have been exercised over her -mind. The hacknied axiom, that "she is too young to understand," has -prevented any examination into her powers of perception or -reflection, and she has been left to follow -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page310"><small><small>[p. 310]</small></small></a></span> -the desires of her -own heart. The petulance of a nurse, impatience or thoughtlessness -of a mother, may have frequently thwarted her little plans, or -denied her some indulgence. Her feelings were most frequently soured -by these restraints, ill humor or obstinacy was the usual -result—both either suffered to pass by unnoticed, or treated in a -manner calculated to engender feelings and passions, which in future -life are destined to exercise a powerful and painful influence over -her own happiness and that of others. Soon the child exchanges the -nursery for the school room. If her circumstances in life are -prosperous and <i>refined</i>, humorous studies and indiscriminately -selected accomplishments are forced upon her mind, or crowded upon -her hands; the former, impaired by early neglect, and enervated by -improper indulgences, is wholly incompetent to the task assigned it. -A superficial knowledge of many things is the usual result, while -her vanity, long fed by the praises of menials and imprudent -commendations of friends, visitors, &c. steps in and whispers to her -credulous ear, that she <i>is</i>, or <i>will</i> be, all that woman <i>can</i> or -<i>ought</i> to be. During these school-day exercises, her mind has -frequently been edified by relations of future scenes of pleasure in -ball-rooms, theatres, assemblies, &c.—that she may shine in them -being the object of her present course of study; while tales of -rivalry, conquest, hatred and revenge, are frequently related in her -presence, or placed in her hands; things which, if not really -praiseworthy in themselves, are related and heard with an <i>eclat</i>, -that induces the belief that they are the inevitable attendants on -fashionable pleasures and high life. If a stimulant is applied to -urge her on to diligence, it is to excel some companion, or some -other like inducement, which must inevitably foster feelings of envy -or emulation, calculated to poison the fountain from which is to -flow the future stream of life. Such is a fashionable or popular -education. The next stage on which we behold her, is the broad -theatre of gay life. The duties of the daughter and sister she was -never taught, and is now acting under her third station—that of the -companion and friend of both sexes and most ages. If possessed of -personal attractions, she moves about—the little magnet of her -circle. Meeting with no events to arouse evil passions, she contents -herself with exercising a petty tyranny over the hearts of the -admiring swains, who follow, bow to, and flatter her. After a few -brief months or years of pleasure, she determines to marry; and at -length selects from her <i>train</i> the wealthiest, handsomest, or most -admired of her suitors. Her heart has no part in this transaction. -Ignorant of the nature of love—ignorant of the principles necessary -to ensure happiness in the married state, she remains ignorant of -the exalting, ennobling influence, which it exercises over minds -capable of appreciating or enjoying its blessings. She is now the -wife—the mistress—the mother. Thus are rapidly crowded on her -duties, for which she was never prepared by education, and which she -is consequently incompetent to perform. Perhaps, for a season, the -current of her life runs smooth. Her husband—either blindly devoted -to her, or bent on the gratification of his own pleasures—allows -her unrestrained to mingle in the same pleasures and gay scenes in -which he found her. She is still seemingly amiable, and perhaps -considered quite a notable woman by the most of her companions.</p> - -<p>But a change comes! the sun of prosperity withdraws his rays. She is -now forced to abandon that, which has hitherto formed all her -happiness. Need I describe the result. Her heart, unaccustomed to -disappointments or restraints, unfortified by holy principles, -unsustained by mental resources, and perhaps too little influenced -by conjugal devotion or maternal tenderness, either frets away the -smile of peace and rose of health; or, sunk in self-consuming -mortification, envy or some unholy passion, abandons itself to the -darkness of despair, the rust of inactivity, or the canker of -discontent. Her husband, if his pride and principles have survived -his ruined prospects, may struggle for a time to keep up the dignity -of a man; but his heart is chilled, his exertions are -paralyzed—domestic happiness he cannot find, and too frequently he -is driven abroad in search of those comforts and that peace, which -can be found at home alone.</p> - -<p>This is no ideal picture—it is only one of the thousands which may -be found in real life. If we leave our own land and direct our -attention to those countries where women hold the reins of state, we -will only see the principles of early education more powerfully -displayed. Among savage nations (and what but want of early culture -makes a savage?) see the horrid Zingha, queen of Matamba and Angola. -Nursed in scenes of carnage and blood, what could she be but a -monster, the existence of whom would fain be believed to have sprung -but in the heated imagination of a dream? In a more civilized -country, behold Christina of Sweden. She was reared by her father to -be any thing but a useful woman. She knew no restraint when young, -and when she ascended the throne, knew no law but her own will—and -what was the result? Despised at home, and finding that even on a -throne she must in self-defence yield some of her feelings to -demands of others, rather than do so she abdicated it, and leaving -her native land, roamed among other nations, a reproach to her sex -and a general object of disgust. Look at Mary, Queen of England. Her -first lessons were malice and revenge, and faithfully did she -practise them when exalted to power. And we may name the beautiful -Anne Boleyn. Ambition was the goal to which all her early energies -were directed, and to ambition she sacrificed honor, humanity, and -eventually her life. In more modern times, the lovely lady Mary W. -Montague may be noticed. Endowed with talents, accomplishments, -beauty, rank, fortune, she seemed formed to move a bright and -favored star in the world's horizon. But no early discipline had -prepared her to be happy. United to a man who idolized her, and whom -she loved—what but the want of self-control and submission to the -will of others, caused her separation from a husband every way -worthy of her? But why enumerate other cases? These are but a few, -taken from among thousands of both modern and ancient times.</p> - -<p>In the fourth place, we proceed to point out the remedy for these -evils, by briefly shewing some of the proper plans to be adopted in -education. We again assert, that in the nursery are first sown the -seeds of future character. Where is the prudent and observing -parent, that will not acknowledge, that at a very early age the -infant is capable of forming good or bad habits, and of -discriminating between the approbation or -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page311"><small><small>[p. 311]</small></small></a></span> displeasure shown -towards it. None, we presume, will gainsay this point. As soon then -as this intelligence on the part of a child is discovered, so soon -does a parent's duties begin, and if faithfully discharged, the task -of rearing up a useful and ornamental member of society, will be -found comparatively easy.</p> - -<p>If taught then to yield its desires to parental wishes and -commands—taught that the path of duty is the path of -pleasure—convinced by every day's experience that the object of all -restraints is her good, and proving continually that her happiness -is her parent's great delight, she soon becomes, both by habit and -nature, submissive,—and consequently is at peace with herself and -all around her. If a sister, early does she learn, that affection -and tenderness to those so closely united to her, is a duty, the -performance of which, brings a sweet reward. Gradually are her -duties enlarging, and gradually is she prepared by judicious -government and good habits, to fulfil them.</p> - -<p>When the nursery is exchanged for the school room, easy is the task -to lead that child on from knowledge to knowledge. The mind is not -crowded with many and incongruous studies—but gradually is it -enlarged, and its wants supplied by a well regulated course. If in a -situation to permit the acquirement of ornamental branches, she is -taught to regard them as the light dressings of the mind, intended -not to interfere with what is useful and solid, but as a recreation -and source of future pleasure to herself and friends. When the -mental powers are sufficiently expanded, to digest what is presented -to them, books of general knowledge and taste are allowed, while the -manners have been formed by good society, and the ideas arranged by -conversation, &c. If intended to mingle in a gay circle for a -season, her character is so formed as to be able to resist, in a -great degree, the snares to which such scenes usually expose the -young and thoughtless. Taught to regard these things as trifles -compared to the other pursuits of life, she enjoys without abusing -them, and willingly returns to the sweet domestic fireside, and the -pleasures and amusements within her own bosom.</p> - -<p>The feelings which will exist between that daughter and her parents, -deserve to be considered. The filial care and tenderness which was -exercised over her mind, will not be forgotten or unrepaid. In all -times of doubt or difficulty, to a parent's bosom and counsel will -she fly, as her surest refuge. If about to settle in life, prudence -and the heart directs her choice. To her parents she confides the -feelings and hopes that agitate her bosom. On their judgment she -relies, and knowing their sentiments are governed by the desire to -see her happy, she is prepared to weigh all their reasons, and to -act with prudence. She was early taught to reflect, and is now -capable of acting, with dignity. Her heart is capable of <i>love</i>—she -has been taught the nature of the flame, and the only solid grounds -on which it could be reared. She is capable of discriminating -between a man of <i>ton</i> and a man of worth. Most generally, such a -woman will marry well. The man of lightness, dissipation and folly, -rarely seeks her hand. He may and does admire her, but he feels his -own inferiority, and rarely wishes to form such an alliance.</p> - -<p>The man of sense, of virtue, and of solidity, would seek such a -companion to share his pleasure and sooth his pain. Mutual -sympathies would engender mutual esteem, and on that foundation it -is easy, very easy to rear the altar of love. A union formed with -such feelings would most generally prove a happy one. If prosperous, -such a woman is qualified to use without abusing her blessings. The -lessons learnt at her first <i>home</i> would be practised in her second, -and she would be likely to discharge with credit the duties of a -wife, a mother, and a mistress. If misfortunes came, she would be -prepared to brave the storm. Her affections, never set on earthly -pleasures and splendid scenes, would relinquish them without grief. -Her mind, stored with useful and ornamental information, would -furnish a treasury from whence her family and herself could draw -with profit and delight. In the humblest vale of poverty, such a -woman would be a blessing to her whole circle of associates, and in -most cases preserve the affection of her husband and raise a family, -respectable and useful. This too is no ideal picture. Such women -have been found in all ages, and such women may be raised up in -almost every circle of society. If denied the extended advantage -meant by a liberal or elegant education, the principles here laid -down may be carried to the peasant's cottage, as well as to the -splended domes of the rich and great. Among the biographies of women -in all civilized nations, many beautiful examples might be adduced.</p> - -<p>Among the wives and mothers of our own land a rich collection might -be found. One thing is here worthy of record. In tracing the history -of nearly all the great men, with whose history we are acquainted, -whether remarkable for valor, piety, or any other noble attribute, -to a mother's influence is their eminence to be attributed, in a -greater or less degree. But it is needless to enumerate instances on -this occasion, as our sketch is already extended beyond the intended -limits. Should it give rise to inquiry and serious investigation on -this important subject, or furnish a hint worthy the attention of -the serious and anxious parent, the utmost ambition of the author -will be realized.</p> -<div align="right"><small>PAULINA</small>. </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect14"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LINES TO ——.</h4> -<br> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem16"> - <tr><td>While yet the ling'ring blush of day<br> - Hangs sweetly on the brow of even,<br> - And birds and flowers their homage pay<br> - In song and incense breathed to heaven,<br> - Accept this tribute of a friend,<br> - Whose heart of hearts for thee is glowing;<br> - Who prays thy path of life may wend<br> - Through light, and flowers forever blowing.<br> -<br> - I've seen the midnight Cereus bloom;<br> - Th' admiring throng around it gathered,<br> - And ere they dreampt its rapid doom,<br> - It breathed, it bloomed, collapsed and withered!<br> - Thus youth and beauty fill the eye,<br> - Dear lady! oft in bloomy weather,<br> - And time scarce rolls the season by,<br> - When with the leaf they fade together.<br> -<br> - Though nature 'wails the dying leaf,<br> - And sorrows o'er her silent bowers,<br> - She soon forgets her gloom and grief<br> - When dew-eyed spring revives her flowers;<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page312"><small><small>[p. 312]</small></small></a></span> - But when affection weeps for one,<br> - Whose daily life new charms imparted,<br> - Alas! what power beneath the sun<br> - Can cheer the lone—the broken-hearted!<br> -<br> - Friendship and love must ever mourn<br> - The faded wreath of promised pleasure,<br> - And though the flow'ers of hope lie torn<br> - Fond mem'ry hoards the heart's lost treasure.<br> - Oh! cherish then, that vestal flow'r!<br> - Simplicity, dear maiden, cherish!<br> - 'Twill shed a fragrance o'er the hour<br> - When all thy mortal charms shall perish!</td></tr> -</table> -<div align="right"><small>M.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect15"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>READINGS WITH MY PENCIL.</h4> - -<center>NO. III.<br> -<br> -<small>Legere sine calamo est dormire.—<i>Quintilian</i>.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<blockquote><small>21. "There is a pride, in being left behind, to find resources -within, which others seek without."—<i>Washington Irving</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>I have pondered a good deal on this passage, and find a beautiful -moral in what, when I first read it, I was fain to fancy but a -misanthropic, or, at the least, an unsocial sentiment. I now feel -and acknowledge its truth. "There <i>is</i> a pride in being left behind, -to find resources within, which others seek without." What concern -have I in the greater brightness that another's name is shedding? -Let them shine on whose honor is greater. Their orbit cannot -interfere with mine. There may be something very grand and sublime -in the wide sweep of Herschel and Saturn: but planets, whose path is -smaller, are more cheered by the rays of light and warmth from the -sun, which is the centre of their revolutions.</p> - -<blockquote><small>22. "Oh the hopeless misery of March in America. Poetry, taste, -fancy, feeling,—all are chilled by that ever-snowing sky, that ever -snow clad earth. Man were happy could he be a mole for the nonce, -and so sleep out this death-in-life, an American six months' -winter."—<i>Subaltern in America</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>What a querulous noodle! He is one of those who can "travel from Dan -to Beersheba, and cry, All is barren!" It is March, and "March in -America," while I write. The air is bracing and full of reviving -springlike influences. I disagree with the would-be mole from whom I -quote. I love to watch every month's sweep of the sun,—while he is -performing his low wintry arc, as if almost ashamed to revolve -around the cheerless earth, and while he daily performs a wider and -wider circle, until at length he comes to stand nearly over my head -at noon. I enjoy the result the more intensely for watching its -progress. I love to watch him gradually calling out the green on the -black hills around me, whose only beauty now are the narrow stripes -of fading snow, forming white borders that intersect each other, -thus dividing the mould into something not altogether void of the -picturesque. So, on yonder field, where the sun now shines quite -cheeringly, there is a remnant of beauty. The dead grass, with its -yellow and reddish tinge, is divided by small crystal ponds and -canals, glistening in the bright ray, and seeming like the gratitude -of the poor,—able to return but little, yet determined to return -that little gladly.</p> - -<blockquote><small>23. "There is no motion so graceful as that of a beautiful girl in -the mazy meanderings of the dance. Nature cannot furnish a more -perfect illustration of the poetry of motion than this."—<i>Ibid.</i></small></blockquote> - -<p>Yes she can. I will give the traveller two far more perfect -illustrations. The <i>on deggiando</i> movement of a light breeze, as it -passes, wave upon wave, over high grass: and the gradual and rapid -passing away of a shadow, when the sun leaves a cloud, from a hill -side of rich foliage.</p> - -<blockquote><small>24. "I have been thinking, more and more, of the probability of -departed friends' watching over those whom they have left -behind."—<i>Henry Kirk White</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>I have often done so; and whether the idea be a delusive one or not, -there is no delusion in believing that the Deity sees them and us at -the same instant. They turn, and we turn, at the same moment, to -him, and thus through him we enjoy a communion. If two hearts were -once preserved in reciprocal love by contemplating, when parted from -each other, the same star, how close will be the bond with those who -have gone before us, when, at such a distance, we are worshipping -the same God!</p> - -<blockquote><small>25. "<i>When one is angry, and edits a paper</i>, I should think the -temptation too strong for literary, <i>which is not always human -nature</i>."—<i>Lord Byron</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>There is a couple of young Irishmen who "edit a paper" not far from -the place of this present writing, who might furnish a striking -corroboration of this opinion of the noble poet. Think of a couple -of boobies, pretending to be oracles in literature, wreaking their -petty vengeance upon the productions of one against whom they have a -personal pique! Such and so contemptible are some of the "critics!" -God save the mark! of this generation!</p> -<div align="right"><small>J. F. O.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect16"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LINES TO ——.</h4> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem17"> - <tr><td>Lady!—afar yet loved the more—<br> - My spirit ever hovers near,<br> - And haunts in dreams the distant shore<br> - That prints at eve thy footstep dear.<br> -<br> - And say—when musing by the tide,<br> - Beneath the quiet twilight sky,<br> - Wilt thou forget all earth beside<br> - And mark my memory with a sigh?<br> -<br> - The wind that wantons in thy hair—<br> - The wave that murmurs at thy feet,<br> - Shall whisper to thy dreaming ear<br> - An answer—loving—true and meet.<br> -<br> - Oh! fancy not if from thy bower<br> - I tarry now a weary while,<br> - My heart e'er owns another's power<br> - Or sighs to win a stranger's smile.<br> -<br> - Those gentle eyes, which in my dream,<br> - With unforgotten love still shine—<br> - Shall never glance a sadder beam<br> - Nor dim with tears for change of mine.<br> -<br> - I gaze not on a cloud, nor flower<br> - That is not eloquent of thee—<br> - The very calm of twilight's hour<br> - Seems voiceless with thy memory.<br> -<br> - Like waves that dimple o'er the stream<br> - And ripple to the shores around,<br> - Each wandering wish—each hope—each dream<br> - Steals unto thee—their utmost bound.<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page313"><small><small>[p. 313]</small></small></a></span> - Oh! think of me when day light dies<br> - Among the far Hesperian bowers—<br> - But most of all 'neath silent skies,<br> - When weep the stars o'er earth's dim flowers.<br> -<br> - When the mysterious holiness<br> - Which spell-like lulls the silent air,<br> - Steals to the heart with power to bless,<br> - And hallows every feeling there.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect17"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>A TALE OF JERUSALEM.</h4> - -<center>BY EDGAR A. POE.</center> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem18"> - <tr><td><small>Intensos rigidam in frontem ascendere canos<br> - Passus erat———<br> - - - - <i>Lucan</i>—<i>de Catone</i>.<br> -<br> - ———a bristly <i>bore</i>———<br> - - - - <i>Translation</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> - -<p>"Let us hurry to the walls"—said Abel-Shittim to Buzi-Ben-Levi, and -Simeon the Pharisee, on the tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the -year of the world three thousand nine hundred and forty-one—"let us -hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of Benjamin, which is in -the city of David, and overlooking the camp of the -uncircumcised—for it is the last hour of the fourth watch, being -sunrise; and the idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey, -should be awaiting us with the lambs for the sacrifices."</p> - -<p>Simeon, Abel-Shittim, and Buzi-Ben-Levi were the Gizbarim, or -Sub-Collectors of the offering in the holy city of Jerusalem.</p> - -<p>"Verily"—replied the Pharisee—"let us hasten: for this generosity -in the heathen is unwonted; and fickle-mindedness has ever been an -attribute of the worshippers of Baal."</p> - -<p>"That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is as true as the -Pentateuch"—said Buzi-Ben-Levi—"but that is only towards the -people of Adonai. When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved -wanting to their own interest? Methinks it is no great stretch of -generosity to allow us lambs for the altar of the Lord, receiving in -lieu thereof thirty silver shekels per head!"</p> - -<p>"Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi"—replied Abel-Shittim—"that -the Roman Pompey, who is now impiously beseiging the City of the -Most High, has no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus -purchased for the altar to the sustenance of the body, rather than -of the spirit."</p> - -<p>"Now by the five corners of my beard"—shouted the Pharisee, who -belonged to the sect called The Dashers (that little knot of saints -whose manner of <i>dashing</i> and lacerating the feet against the -pavement was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees—a -stumbling block to less gifted perambulators)—"by the five corners -of that beard which as a priest I am forbidden to shave!—have we -lived to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous upstart of -Rome shall accuse us of appropriating to the appetites of the flesh -the most holy and consecrated elements? Have we lived to see the day -when"——</p> - -<p>"Let us not question the motives of the Philistine"—interrupted -Abel-Shittim—"for to-day we profit for the first time by his -avarice or by his generosity. But rather let us hurry to the -ramparts, lest offerings should be wanting for that altar whose fire -the rains of Heaven cannot extinguish—and whose pillars of smoke no -tempest can turn aside."</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarim now hastened, and -which bore the name of its architect King David, was esteemed the -most strongly fortified district of Jerusalem—being situated upon -the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here a broad, deep, -circumvallatory trench—hewn from the solid rock—was defended by a -wall of great strength erected upon its inner edge. This wall was -adorned, at regular interspaces, by square towers of white -marble—the lowest sixty—the highest one hundred and twenty cubits -in height. But in the vicinity of the gate of Benjamin the wall -arose by no means immediately from the margin of the fosse. On the -contrary, between the level of the ditch and the basement of the -rampart, sprang up a perpendicular cliff of two hundred and fifty -cubits—forming part of the precipitous Mount Moriah. So that when -Simeon and his associates arrived on the summit of the tower called -Adoni-Bezek—the loftiest of all the turrets around about Jerusalem, -and the usual place of conference with the beseiging army—they -looked down upon the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling, -by many feet, that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and, by several, that -of the Temple of Belus.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>"Verily"—sighed the Pharisee, as he peered dizzily over the -precipice—"the uncircumcised are as the sands by the sea shore—as -the locusts in the wilderness! The valley of The King hath become -the valley of Adommin."</p> - -<p>"And yet"—added Ben-Levi—"thou canst not point me out a -Philistine—no, not one—from Aleph to Tau—from the wilderness to -the battlements—who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!"</p> - -<p>"Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!"—here shouted a -Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough voice, which appeared to issue from -the regions of Pluto—"lower away the basket with that accursed coin -which it has broken the jaw of a noble Roman to pronounce! Is it -thus you evince your gratitude to our master Pompeius, who, in his -condescension, has thought fit to listen to your idolatrous -importunities? The God Phœbus, who is a true God, has been -charioted for an hour—and were you not to have been on the ramparts -by sunrise? Ædepol! do you think that we, the conquerors of the -world, have nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls of -every kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth? Lower away! I -say—and see that your trumpery be bright in color, and just in weight!"</p> - -<p>"El Elohim!"—ejaculated the Pharisee, as the discordant tones of -the centurion rattled up the crags of the precipice, and fainted -away against the Temple—"El Elohim!—<i>who</i> is the God -Phœbus?—<i>whom</i> doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi! -who art read in the laws of the Gentiles, and hast sojourned among -them who dabble with the Teraphim!—is it Nergal of whom the -idolater speaketh?—or Ashimah?—or Nibhaz?—or Tartak?—or -Adramalech?—or Anamalech?—or Succoth-Benoth?—or Dagon?—or -Belial?—or Baal-Perith?—or Baal-Peor?—or Baal-Zebub?"</p> - -<p>"Verily, it is neither—but beware how thou lettest the rope slip -too rapidly through thy fingers—for should the wicker-work chance -to hang on the projection of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page314"><small><small>[p. 314]</small></small></a></span> -yonder crag, there will be a -woful outpouring of the holy things of the Sanctuary."</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>By the assistance of some rudely-constructed machinery, the -heavily-laden basket was now lowered carefully down among the -multitude—and, from the giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen -crowding confusedly around it—but, owing to the vast height and the -prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their operations could be obtained.</p> - -<p>A half-hour had already elapsed.</p> - -<p>"We shall be too late"—sighed the Pharisee, as, at the expiration -of this period, he looked over into the abyss—"we shall be too -late—we shall be turned out of office by the Katholim."</p> - -<p>"No more"—responded Abel-Shittim—"no more shall we feast upon the -fat of the land—no longer shall our beards be odorous with -frankincense—our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple."</p> - -<p>"Raca!"—swore Ben-Levi—"Raca!—do they mean to defraud us of the -purchase-money?—or, Holy Moses! are they weighing the shekels of -the tabernacle?"</p> - -<p>"They have given the signal at last"—roared the Pharisee—"they -have given the signal at last!—pull away! Abel-Shittim!—and thou, -Buzi-Ben-Levi! pull away!—for verily the Philistines have either -still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts -to place therein a beast of good weight!" And the Gizbarim pulled -away, while their burthen swung heavily upwards through the still -increasing mist.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>"Booshoh he!"—as, at the conclusion of an hour, some object at the -extremity of the rope became indistinctly visible—"Booshoh -he!"—was the exclamation which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi.</p> - -<p>"Booshoh he!—for shame!—it is a ram from the thickets of Engedi, -and as rugged as the valley of Jehosaphat!"</p> - -<p>"It is a firstling of the flock," said Abel-Shittim—"I know him by -the bleating of his lips, and the innocent folding of his limbs. His -eyes are more beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral—and his -flesh is like the honey of Hebron."</p> - -<p>"It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan"—said the -Pharisee—"the Heathen have dealt wonderfully with us—let us raise -up our voices in a psalm—let us give thanks on the shawm and on the -psaltery—on the harp and on the huggab—on the cythern and on the sackbut."</p> - -<p>It was not until the basket had arrived within a few feet of the -Gizbarim that a low grunt betrayed to their perception a <i>hog</i> of no -common size.</p> - -<p>"Now El Emanu!"—slowly, and with upturned eyes ejaculated the trio, -as, letting go their hold, the emancipated porker tumbled headlong -among the Philistines—"El Emanu!—God be with us!—it is the -unutterable flesh!"</p> - -<p>"Let me no longer," said the Pharisee wrapping his cloak around him -and departing within the city—"let me no longer be called Simeon, -which signifieth 'he who listens'—but rather Boanerges, 'the Son of -Thunder.'"</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect18"></a> -<br> -<br> -<p>Lucian calls unmeaning verbosity, <i>anemonæ verborum</i>. The anemone, -with great brilliancy, has no fragrance.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect19"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LEAVES FROM MY SCRAP BOOK.</h4> -<br> - -<h5>I.</h5> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem19"> - <tr><td><small>"I think Homer, as a poet, inferior to Scott."<br> - - - -<i>T. C. Grimckè—Pamphlet</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The gentleman whose words I have just used, maintained on all -occasions the superiority of modern over ancient literature. He -prefers the better portions of Milman's "Samor, Lord of the Bright -City," to the better portions of the Odyssey; and contends that -"Scott's description of the battle of Flodden Hill, the midnight -visit of William of Deloraine to Melrose Abbey, &c., are unequalled -by anything in the Iliad or Æneid."</p> - -<p>Now such comparisons are plainly unreasonable. "To read Homer's -poems, is to look upon a brightly colored nosegay whose odor is -departed," or, if not departed, at least lost to our dull and -ignorant sense. The subtle odor of idiom and provincial -peculiarity—the stronger odor of association are entirely lost to -us. I may better illustrate my idea. Every one will recollect the -following couplet in the description of William of Deloraine:</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem20"> - <tr><td><small>"A stark moss-trooping Scot was he,<br> - As e'er couched border lance by knee."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Reversing the order of things, suppose these lines read by a Greek -of twenty-seven centuries ago; suppose him even well acquainted with -the English tongue—could he appreciate their beauty? Let the Greek -attempt to <i>translate</i> the lines into his own language. He begins -with <i>stark</i>. The nice excellence of this word he knows nothing of. -He finds that its meaning is somewhere between <i>stout</i> and <i>swift</i>, -and gives the Greek word "οχυς." The first downward step -has been taken. He next pounces upon the term, <i>moss-troopers</i>. He -translates this "Ληστης ιπποτʼ ανδρειο." <i>Couched</i>, is an -idiom which he cannot translate; he gives us by way of equivalent, -"εβαλλε." <i>Border lance</i>, is beyond his version. He -contents himself with a simple "δορυ,"—for how is the word -<i>Border</i> to be translated? It is a word depending on collateral -matters for its meaning. These matters—involving the storied reyd -and feud—must be known before the word can be understood; and -twenty centuries would blot out all remembrance of the Percy and -Douglas feuds. The word <i>Border</i> is therefore, wholly lost in the -version.</p> - -<p>The Greek version would read when completed—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem21"> - <tr><td><small>Ληστης, καλεδονος οχυς ην ιπποτʼ ανδρειος<br> -ʼΟυ, το δορυ μηδεις αθεμιστον, αμεινον εβαλλε,</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>which may be re-translated into</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem22"> - <tr><td><small>This Scot was a swift horse-riding robber,<br> -And no one balanced spear by knee better,</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>—verses as little resembling the original as "an eyas does a true hawk."</p> - -<p>Translated into Latin, the original lines would read</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem23"> - <tr><td><small>Scotticus fuit eques, strenuus raptoque pollutus<br> -Quo nullus hastam a genu tam apte librabat,</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>as great a failure as the Greek.</p> - -<p>If Scott would suffer so much in the eyes of the Greek and Latin -reader, it is only fair to presume that Homer and Virgil suffer as -much in our eyes.</p> - -<p>We perceive the merits of our modern poet; we are blind to the -merits of the ancient. We are consequently incapable of judging -between them. Mr. Grimckè's comparison is unreasonable.</p> -<br> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page315"><small><small>[p. 315]</small></small></a></span> -<h5>II.</h5> - -<blockquote><small>"Humility is certainly beautiful, but vanity is not always -uncomely."—<i>Anon.</i></small></blockquote> - -<p>It is singular how little we appreciate the humility of some men. -Launce says, "I am an ass," and we, coinciding with him in the -sentiment, scarcely think of giving him credit for his humility. We -perhaps take the trouble to approve of his want of vanity—but this -is only a negative sort of approbation. Humility seems such a man's -province—as natural to him as the grass to a snail. To be -appreciated, humility must manifest itself in high natures. We are -captivated by the spectacle of highness contenting itself with -lowliness. The grass is natural to the snail, but the home of the -lark is the sky—and when he descends to the meadow, we, mindful of -his fleetness of pinion, marvel at his descent and love him for his -simple humility. The "great Lyttleton" was a man of the most perfect -modesty. A fine specimen of this may be found in the last paragraph -of his work upon the English laws, "And know, my son, that I would -not have thee believe, that all which I have said in these bookes is -law, for I will not presume to take this upon me. But of those -things which are not law, inquire and learn of my wise masters -learned in the law." Sir John Mandeville, who wrote in the -fourteenth century, was also remarkable for his modesty as a writer. -I will quote a fine sample of it. "I, John Maundeville, knyghte -aboveseyd (alle thoughe I be unworthi) have passed manye londes, and -many yles and contrees, and cerched manye fulle straunge places, and -have ben in manye a fulle gode honourable companye, and at manye a -faire dede of armes—alle be it that I dide none myself, for myn -unable insuffisance—etc."</p> - -<p>V<small>ANITY</small> in a weak man is disgusting; all pretension is disgusting. -But "vanity is not always uncomely." The vanity of a strong man is -sometimes beautiful. I remember an instance or two of this beautiful -vanity. Some lines of Spenser—a part, I believe, of the preface to -his Dreams of Petrarch, occur to me.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem24"> - <tr><td><small>"This thing he writ who framed a calendar;<br> - Who eke inscribed on monument of brass<br> - Words brillianter than lighte of moon or star<br> - And destinyed to lyve till alle things pass."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Southey too has given us a magnificent specimen of vanity in the -opening to "Madoc,"</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem25"> - <tr><td><small>"Come listen to a tale of times of old:<br> - <i>Come, for ye know me; I am he who framed<br> - Of Thalaba the wild and wondrous song.</i>"</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The younger D'Israeli has placed in the mouth of Vivian Grey some -expressions which, regarded as outbreaks of lofty confidence, and -youthful reliance upon self, are strikingly beautiful. I refer more -particularly to the page or paragraph ending with the words—"<i>and -have I not skill to play upon that noblest of all instruments—the -human voice?</i>"</p> -<br> - -<h5>III.</h5> - -<blockquote><small>"Love, despair, ambition, and peace, spring up like trees from the -soil of our natures."—<i>E. Irving</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This idea, by a "singular coincidence," has been carried out in the -Chinese novel, 'Yu-Kiao-Li, or the Adventures of Red Jasper and -Dream of a Peartree,'—<i>traduit par M. Abel Remusat</i>. I translate -from the French translation.</p> - -<p>"In a fresh soil under a pleasant sky—clouded, but spanned by a -rainbow—grew a green tree. Its branches were beautifully fashioned, -and wore leaves which seemed to be chiselled from emerald. The -moonlight fell upon the tree, and so intense was the reflection that -every portion of the surrounding scenery took upon itself a gaudy -and happy coloring. This tree was <i>Love</i>—it grew from the soil of a -young nature. Alas! its life cannot be the life of the amaranth.</p> - -<p>"The second tree was in a soil torn up and bruised—the plants of -which were freezing under a cold wind. Its branches were matted and -black. No light penetrated them. The sky above was of ebony. The -rainbow was not there. This tree was <i>Despair</i>. Alas! for the beauty -of Love! Is it not pushed from its stool by Despair?</p> - -<p>"The third tree was in a soil firm to the eye, but undermined by the -molewarp. Its scathed branches were entombed in the sky. Its peak, -jealous of the eagle, out-towered him. About its stem, and through -its haughty boughs a strange light played. It was neither the light -of the sun nor yet the light of the moon. It was a false glare—a -glare greatest about the region of decay. This tree was <i>Ambition</i>. -Alas! for the pride and the haughty yearning of mortal men!</p> - -<p>"In the healthy soil of a valley, on which the eye of a bright day -seemed ever open, grew the fourth tree. Its branches neither towered -haughtily nor stooped slavishly. Health was in every bough; and lo! -the rainbow which had fallen from the sky of Despair had surely been -imprisoned among its leaves. The wind fanned these leaves healthily -and their transparent cups teinted by the sunlight—as red wines -teint the fine vases of porcelain—were beautiful to behold. This -tree was <i>Peace</i>. The moonlight of Love may grow dim; the sky of -Despair is of ebony; the light of Ambition dies in the ashes of its -fuel; but the sunlight of Peace is the light of an eye ever open. -The head may be white and bowed down, but the threads of the -angel-woven rainbow are wrapped about the heart of peaceful and holy Eld."</p> -<br> - -<h5>IV.</h5> - -<blockquote><small>"The chiefest constituent of human beauty is the hair; after which -in degree is to be ranked the eye; and lastly come the color and the -texture of the skin. The varieties of these, cause it to happen that -not unfrequently men differ in opinion as to what is comely and what -is uncomely; this man maintaining black to be the better color for -the hair as for the eye; that man maintaining a lighter color to be -the better for both."—<i>Burton</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Poets are generally persons of taste, and if we could find one of -them certainly unbiassed by early recollections and the thousand -trifles which warp taste, we might consider his judgment in regard -to "the rival colors of the hair," as going far to exalt the color -of his choice above its rivals. But the first of the modern -philosophers loved squinting eyes because in his youth he had been -in love with a little girl who squinted; and no taste is free from -the influence of early recollections. Spenser's cousin, the lady who -discarded him, "had hair of a flaxen hue." He ever after preferred -this "hue," to all others. Lady Elizabeth Fitzgerald was "of a -stately person and gifted with pale glossy hair, with a sunny tinge -about it." Lord Surrey sang of these "mixed ringlets" until the day -of his death. I do not know that Ben. Jonson ever had a sweetheart, -but he surely had a taste as good as if it had never been biassed by -love for one. He speaks very well of—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem26"> - <tr><td><small> - "Crisped hair<br> - Cast in a thousand snares and rings<br> - For love's fingers and his wings:<br> - Chesnut color or more slack<br> - <i>Gold upon a ground of black</i>."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Leigh Hunt says that Lucrecia Borgia had hair "perfectly golden." -Neither auburn nor red, but "perfectly -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page316"><small><small>[p. 316]</small></small></a></span> golden." He has written -some pretty verses upon a lock of this golden hair. He speaks of -each thread as, - -<center><small>——"meandering in pellucid gold."</small></center> - -<p>I forget the lines. This was the color beloved by a thousand poets; -and one was found who forgot in contemplating the rare masses that, -stained with it, lay upon the brow of Lucrecia Borgia, the "dark and -unbridled passions" which led her to the bed of one brother and to -the murder of another—and which have doomed her to "an immortality -of evil repute."</p> - -<p>Anacreon preferred auburn hair.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem27"> - <tr><td><small>"Deepening inwardly, a dun;<br> - Sparkling golden next the sun,"</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>conveys nearly the same idea with that expressed in Jonson's "Gold -upon a ground of black."</p> - -<p>I have two or three more verses upon hair, which I recollect to have -seen in an old English poem. They are descriptive of "Hero the <i>nun -of Venus</i>—the lady beloved of Leander." These are the lines—three -in number,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem28"> - <tr><td><small>"Come listen to the tale of Hero young,<br> - <i>Whom pale Apollo courted for her hair,<br> - And offered as a dower his burning throne</i>."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>We often meet with double tastes. Tasso loved two Leonoras. Leonora -D'Este had a fair skin. The other was a brunette.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem29"> - <tr><td><small>"Bruna sei tu ma bella<br> - Qual virgini viola."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>It is difficult to decide between the rival colors of the eye. This -difficulty is set forth in a little poem called the "Dilemma," which -I find in an old number of the New England Magazine.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem30"> - <tr><td><small>"I had a vision in my dreams,<br> - I saw a row of twenty beams;<br> - From every beam a rope was hung,<br> - In every rope a lover swung.<br> - I asked the hue of every eye<br> - That bade each luckless lover die;<br> - Ten livid lips said heavenly blue<br> - And ten accused the darker hue."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Before ending this "scrap" I will quote some sentences written by a -friend of my own long ago—a very eccentric man, and indeed a -melancholy one. He had been crossed in love, and could rarely speak -or write without recurring to the origin of his unhappiness. He had -a great many faults, but he is dead now, and has been so for many -years; I am not anxious to say any more about them. The paragraph -which I copy from his manuscript, is a portion of a flighty book, -the aim or meaning of which I could never discover. It owes its -fanciful extravagance, I rather think, to the influence of opium -upon the author's nerves. After pointing out the numerous -particulars in which "nature imitates our women," he proceeds to -observe after the following fashion,</p> - -<blockquote><small>"In the hair, nature is most an imitator. The cascade caressing the -precipice with the threads of its silver locks, which the teeth of -the granite comb have frizled, and which the winds play at gambol -with, is only a copy. So with the vine on the rock—the great vine -whose metallic tendrils I have looked on and wondered at when the -sunshine spanned them with a cloven halo. So with the drooping -moss—the <i>Barba Espagna</i>, with its drapery of gold held by threads -of spun alabaster, hanging in <i>hard</i> festoons from the tree beside -the Lagoon and sighing when its hues die with the sunlight. And so -with the boughs of our weeping trees. O, but are not these last most -beautiful? Place your ear to the soft grass-blades on the brink of a -valley brook, and listen to the monotone of the willow's stirred -ringlets, and watch them as the wind lifts them from the eddy -beneath to float, bejewelled by adhering globules. And then look -upon them as with the abating wind they sink lower and lower, -leaving their cool rain upon your cheek. See them trail in the -pebbly waters and conjure up in each detached leaf an Elfin barque -laden with its rare boatmen and tiny beauties. Hear the tinkle of -the little bells and the shrieks of the wrecked mariners, as they -cling to the hair of the willow (as Zal clung to the locks of his -mistress) and splash the brook into foam. And now they leap to the -backs of their skipper steeds, and ply the spur of the thistle seed, -and gallop off for the green shore, wringing their hands and -bewailing the ill fate of their holiday trim. Such marvellous -fancies, if you are fanciful, will prick your brain until the drowsy -sough of the tree-hair and the renewed trickle of the raining spray -lend your eyes sleep and call forth the dream spirit, as the fly -from its cocoon, and give it the wings of wilder vagary to flutter -away withal—whither? <i>Mine</i> would return to my wanderings by Goluon -with her whose tomb in the valley of sweet waters often pillows my -head."</small></blockquote> - -<p>Alas for my poor friend Bob! He died of a broken heart—that is to -say <i>mediately</i>. He died <i>im</i>-mediately of hard drinking. Napoleon -remembered the Seine on his death-bed and asked to be buried upon -its sunniest bank; Bob remembered Goluon when his great temples had -the death-damp upon them. His vision had failed him; his nose had -become peaked; his body, like a jaded and worn hack, had fallen -under the spirit, which like a stout horseman had long kept it to -its paces; but the little abiding place of memory had not been -destroyed, and poor Bob muttered at times of a dead lady with fair -hair—of a valley of sweet waters—of a grave with two willows above -it—of pleasant Goluon—and died with an unuttered prayer upon his -lips, and with a strong desire at his heart. The prayer was, that I, -his friend, would bury him between the two willows—on the evening -bank of Goluon—side by side with Betty Manning his old sweetheart. -Poor Bob! May God take kind care of his soul!</p> -<br> - -<h5>V.</h5> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem31"> - <tr><td><small>"I much lament that nevermore to me<br> - Can come fleet pulse, bright heart, and frolic mood;<br> - I much lament that nevermore may be<br> - My tame step light, my wan cheek berry-hued."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>In the lines just quoted, the poet (old Philip Allen, a Welshman) -strikes the proper key. When we have ceased to derive pleasure from -that which once afforded it to us, we should regard the change as -<i>in ourselves</i>. The grass of the hill is as green as it ever was, -but the step once "light" has become "tame." The bird sings as -sweetly as ever, but the "bright heart" into which the "honey drops -of his constant song" once fell, has been dimmed and darkened by -human passions. The berry-clusters are still in the fringe of the -thicket, but the palate has no longer any relish for them. <i>We have -changed.</i> Yet we are apt to believe the change any where rather than -in ourselves. Indeed we are for the most part like Launcelot in the -play.</p> - -<blockquote><small><i>Gobbo</i>.—"Lord worshipped might he be! What a beard hast thou got! -Thou hast more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my thill horse, has on -his tail."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><i>Launcelot</i>.—"It would seem then that Dobbin's tail grows backward. -I am sure that he had more hair on his tail than I had on my face -when I last saw him."</small></blockquote> - -<p>It was the chin of Launcelot that had undergone the change, and not -the tail of his father Gobbo's thill horse Dobbin.</p> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page317"><small><small>[p. 317]</small></small></a></span> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect20"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4><i>Editorial</i>.</h4> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>THE LOYALTY OF VIRGINIA.</center> -<br> -<p>In our last number, while reviewing the Ecclesiastical History of -Dr. Hawks, we had occasion to speak of those portions of Mr. George -Bancroft's <i>United Slates</i>, which have reference to the loyalty of -Virginia immediately before and during the Protectorate of Cromwell. -Since the publication of our remarks, a personal interview with Mr. -Bancroft, and an examination, especially, of one or two passages in -his History, have been sufficient to convince us that injustice (of -course unintentional) has been done that gentleman, not only by -ourselves, but by Dr. Hawks and others.</p> - -<p>In our own review alluded to above, we concluded, in the following -words, a list of arguments adduced, <i>or supposed to be adduced</i>, in -proof of Virginia's disloyalty.</p> - -<p>"6. Virginia was infected with republicanism. She wished to set up -for herself. Thus intent, she demands of Berkeley a distinct -acknowledgment of her Assembly's supremacy. His reply was 'I am but -the servant of the Assembly.' Berkeley, therefore, was republican, -and his tumultuous election proves nothing but the republicanism of -Virginia." To which our reply was thus.</p> - -<p>"6. The reasoning here is reasoning in a circle. Virginia is first -declared republican. From this assumed fact, deductions are made -which prove Berkeley so—and Berkeley's republicanism, thus proved, -is made to establish that of Virginia. But Berkeley's answer (from -which Mr. Bancroft has extracted the words, 'I am but the servant of -the Assembly,') runs thus. 'You desire me to do that concerning your -titles and claims to land in this northern part of America, which I -am in no capacity to do: for I am but the servant of the Assembly: -neither do they arrogate to themselves any power farther than the -miserable distractions in England force them to. For when God shall -be pleased to take away and dissipate the unnatural divisions of -their native country, they will immediately return to their -professed obedience.'—<i>Smith's New York</i>. It will be seen that Mr. -Bancroft has been disingenuous in quoting only a <i>portion</i> of this -sentence. <i>The whole</i> proves incontestibly that neither Berkeley nor -the Assembly <i>arrogated to themselves any power beyond what they -were forced to assume by circumstances</i>—in a word it proves their loyalty."</p> - -<p>We are now, however, fully persuaded that Mr. Bancroft had not only -no intention of representing Virginia as disloyal—but that his -work, closely examined, will not admit of such interpretation. As an -offset to our argument just quoted, we copy the following (the -passage to which our remarks had reference) from page 245 of Mr. -B.'s only published volume.</p> - -<p>"On the death of Matthews, the Virginians were without a chief -magistrate, just at the time when the resignation of Richard had -left England without a government. The burgesses, who were -immediately convened, resolving to become the arbiters of the fate -of the colony, enacted 'that the supreme power of the government of -this country shall be resident in the assembly, and all writs shall -issue in its name, until there shall arrive from England a -commission which the assembly itself shall adjudge to be lawful.' -This being done, Sir William Berkeley was elected governor, and -acknowledging the validity of the acts of the burgesses, whom it was -expressly agreed he could in no event dissolve, he accepted the -office to which he had been chosen, and recognized, without a -scruple, the authority to which he owed his elevation. 'I am,' said -he, 'but a servant of the assembly.' <i>Virginia did not lay claim to -absolute independence; but anxiously awaited the settlement of -affairs in England.</i>"</p> - -<p>It will here be seen, that the words italicized beginning "Virginia -did not lay claim," &c. are very nearly, if not altogether -equivalent to what we assume as proved by <i>the whole</i> of Berkeley's -reply, viz. <i>that neither Berkeley nor the Assembly arrogated to -themselves any power beyond what they were forced to assume by -circumstances</i>. Our charge, therefore, of disingenuousness on the -part of Mr. Bancroft in quoting only a portion of the answer, is -evidently unsustained, and we can have no hesitation in recalling it.</p> - -<p>At page 226 of the History of the United States, we note the -following passage.</p> - -<p>"At Christmas, 1648, there were trading in Virginia, ten ships from -London, two from Bristol, twelve Hollanders, and seven from New -England. The number of the colonists was already twenty thousand; -and they, who had sustained no griefs, were not tempted to engage in -the feuds by which the mother country was divided. They were -attached to the cause of Charles, not because they loved monarchy, -but because they cherished the liberties of which he had left them -in undisturbed possession; and after his execution, though there -were not wanting <i>some</i> who favored republicanism, <i>the government -recognized his son without dispute. The loyalty of the Virginians -did not escape the attention of the royal exile.</i> From his retreat -in Breda he transmitted to Berkeley a new commission, and <i>Charles -the Second, a fugitive from England, was still the sovereign of -Virginia</i>."</p> - -<p>This passage alone will render it evident that Mr. Bancroft's -readers have been wrong in supposing him to maintain the disloyalty -of the State. It cannot be denied, however, (and if we understand -Mr. B. he does not himself deny it,) that there is, about some -portions of his volume, an ambiguity, or perhaps a laxity of -expression, which it would be as well to avoid hereafter. The note -of Dr. Hawks we consider exceptionable, inasmuch as it is not -sufficiently explanatory. The passages in Mr. B.'s History which we -have noted above, and other passages equally decisive, were pointed -out to Dr. Hawks. He should have therefore not only stated that Mr. -B. disclaimed the intention of representing Virginia as republican, -but also that his work, if accurately examined, would not admit of -such interpretation. The question of Virginia's loyalty may now be -considered as fully determined.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect21"></a> -<br> -<center>CHIEF JUSTICE MARSHALL.</center> - -<p>It is with great pleasure, at the opportunity thus afforded us of -correcting an error, that we give place to the following letter.</p> - -<div align="right"><small><i>Philadelphia, March 25, 1836</i></small>. - </div> - -<blockquote><small>S<small>IR</small>,—A mistake, evidently unintentional, having appeared in the -February number of your journal for -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page318"><small>[p. 318]</small></a></span> this year, we feel -convinced you will, upon proper representation, take pleasure in -correcting it, as an impression so erroneous might have a -prejudicial tendency. Under the notice of the Eulogies on the Life -and Character of the late Chief Justice Marshall, it is there stated -that "for several years past Judge Marshall had suffered under a -most excruciating malady. A surgical operation by Dr. Physick of -Philadelphia at length procured him relief; but a hurt received in -travelling last Spring seems to have caused a return of the former -complaint with circumstances of aggravated pain and danger. Having -revisited Philadelphia in the hope of again finding a cure, his -disease there overpowered him, and he died on the 6th of July, 1835, -in the 80th year of his age."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Now, sir, the above quotation is incorrect in the following respect: -Judge Marshall never had a return of the complaint for which he was -operated upon by Dr. Physick. After the demise of Chief Justice -Marshall, it became our melancholy duty to make a <i>post mortem</i> -examination, which we did in the most careful manner, and -ascertained that his bladder did not contain one particle of -calculous matter; its mucous coat was in a perfectly natural state, -and exhibited not the slightest traces of irritation.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The cause of his death was a very diseased condition of the liver, -which was enormously enlarged, and contained several tuberculous -abscesses of great size; its pressure upon the stomach had the -effect of dislodging this organ from its natural situation, and -compressing it in such a manner, that for some time previous to his -death it would not retain the smallest quantity of nutriment. By -publishing this statement, you will oblige</small></blockquote> - -<div align="right"><small>Yours, very respectfully, - - - <br> - <small>N. CHAPMAN, M.D.</small> - - <br> - <small>J. RANDOLPH, M.D.</small> - - </small></div> - - -<blockquote><small><i>To T. W. White, Esq.</i></small></blockquote> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect22"></a> -<br> -<center>MAELZEL'S CHESS-PLAYER.</center> - -<p>Perhaps no exhibition of the kind has ever elicited so general -attention as the Chess-Player of Maelzel. Wherever seen it has been -an object of intense curiosity, to all persons who think. Yet the -question of its <i>modus operandi</i> is still undetermined. Nothing has -been written on this topic which can be considered as decisive—and -accordingly we find every where men of mechanical genius, of great -general acuteness, and discriminative understanding, who make no -scruple in pronouncing the Automaton a <i>pure machine</i>, unconnected -with human agency in its movements, and consequently, beyond all -comparison, the most astonishing of the inventions of mankind. And -such it would undoubtedly be, were they right in their supposition. -Assuming this hypothesis, it would be grossly absurd to compare with -the Chess-Player, any similar thing of either modern or ancient -days. Yet there have been many and wonderful automata. In Brewster's -Letters on Natural Magic, we have an account of the most remarkable. -Among these may be mentioned, as having beyond doubt existed, -firstly, the coach invented by M. Camus for the amusement of Louis -XIV when a child. A table, about four feet square, was introduced, -into the room appropriated for the exhibition. Upon this table was -placed a carriage, six inches in length, made of wood, and drawn by -two horses of the same material. One window being down, a lady was -seen on the back seat. A coachman held the reins on the box, and a -footman and page were in their places behind. M. Camus now touched a -spring; whereupon the coachman smacked his whip, and the horses -proceeded in a natural manner, along the edge of the table, drawing -after them the carriage. Having gone as far as possible in this -direction, a sudden turn was made to the left, and the vehicle was -driven at right angles to its former course, and still closely along -the edge of the table. In this way the coach proceeded until it -arrived opposite the chair of the young prince. It then stopped, the -page descended and opened the door, the lady alighted, and presented -a petition to her sovereign. She then re-entered. The page put up -the steps, closed the door, and resumed his station. The coachman -whipped his horses, and the carriage was driven back to its original -position.</p> - -<p>The magician of M. Maillardet is also worthy of notice. We copy the -following account of it from the <i>Letters</i> before mentioned of Dr. -B., who derived his information principally from the Edinburgh -Encyclopædia.</p> - -<p>"One of the most popular pieces of mechanism which we have seen, is -the Magician constructed by M. Maillardet, for the purpose of -answering certain given questions. A figure, dressed like a -magician, appears seated at the bottom of a wall, holding a wand in -one hand, and a book in the other. A number of questions, ready -prepared, are inscribed on oval medallions, and the spectator takes -any of these he chooses, and to which he wishes an answer, and -having placed it in a drawer ready to receive it, the drawer shuts -with a spring till the answer is returned. The magician then arises -from his seat, bows his head, describes circles with his wand, and -consulting the book as if in deep thought, he lifts it towards his -face. Having thus appeared to ponder over the proposed question, he -raises his wand, and striking with it the wall above his head, two -folding doors fly open, and display an appropriate answer to the -question. The doors again close, the magician resumes his original -position, and the drawer opens to return the medallion. There are -twenty of these medallions, all containing different questions, to -which the magician returns the most suitable and striking answers. -The medallions are thin plates of brass, of an elliptical form, -exactly resembling each other. Some of the medallions have a -question inscribed on each side, both of which the magician answered -in succession. If the drawer is shut without a medallion being put -into it, the magician rises, consults his book, shakes his head, and -resumes his seat. The folding doors remain shut, and the drawer is -returned empty. If two medallions are put into the drawer together, -an answer is returned only to the lower one. When the machinery is -wound up, the movements continue about an hour, during which time -about fifty questions may be answered. The inventor stated that the -means by which the different medallions acted upon the machinery, so -as to produce the proper answers to the questions which they -contained, were extremely simple."</p> - -<p>The duck of Vaucanson was still more remarkable. It was of the size -of life, and so perfect an imitation of the living animal that all -the spectators were deceived. It executed, says Brewster, all the -natural movements <span class="pagenum"><a name="page319"><small><small>[p. 319]</small></small></a></span> -and gestures, it eat and drank with avidity, -performed all the quick motions of the head and throat which are -peculiar to the duck, and like it muddled the water which it drank -with its bill. It produced also the sound of quacking in the most -natural manner. In the anatomical structure the artist exhibited the -highest skill. Every bone in the real duck had its representative in -the automaton, and its wings were anatomically exact. Every cavity, -apophysis, and curvature was imitated, and each bone executed its -proper movements. When corn was thrown down before it, the duck -stretched out its neck to pick it up, swallowed, and digested it.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Under the head <i>Androides</i> in the Edinburgh -Encyclopædia may be found a full account of the principle automata -of ancient and modern times.</small></blockquote> - -<p>But if these machines were ingenious, what shall we think of the -calculating machine of Mr. Babbage? What shall we think of an engine -of wood and metal which can not only compute astronomical and -navigation tables to any given extent, but render the exactitude of -its operations mathematically certain through its power of -correcting its possible errors? What shall we think of a machine -which can not only accomplish all this, but actually print off its -elaborate results, when obtained, without the slightest intervention -of the intellect of man? It will, perhaps, be said, in reply, that a -machine such as we have described is altogether above comparison -with the Chess-Player of Maelzel. By no means—it is altogether -beneath it—that is to say provided we assume (what should never for -a moment be assumed) that the Chess-Player is a <i>pure machine</i>, and -performs its operations without any immediate human agency. -Arithmetical or algebraical calculations are, from their very -nature, fixed and determinate. Certain <i>data</i> being given, certain -results necessarily and inevitably follow. These results have -dependence upon nothing, and are influenced by nothing but the -<i>data</i> originally given. And the question to be solved proceeds, or -should proceed, to its final determination, by a succession of -unerring steps liable to no change, and subject to no modification. -This being the case, we can without difficulty conceive the -<i>possibility</i> of so arranging a piece of mechanism, that upon -starting it in accordance with the <i>data</i> of the question to be -solved, it should continue its movements regularly, progressively, -and undeviatingly towards the required solution, since these -movements, however complex, are never imagined to be otherwise than -finite and determinate. But the case is widely different with the -Chess-Player. With him there is no determinate progression. No one -move in chess necessarily follows upon any one other. From no -particular disposition of the men at one period of a game can we -predicate their disposition at a different period. Let us place the -<i>first move</i> in a game of chess, in juxta-position with the <i>data</i> -of an algebraical question, and their great difference will be -immediately perceived. From the latter—from the <i>data</i>—the second -step of the question, dependent thereupon, inevitably follows. It is -modelled by the <i>data</i>. It must be <i>thus</i> and not otherwise. But -from the first move in the game of chess no especial second move -follows of necessity. In the algebraical question, as it proceeds -towards solution, the <i>certainty</i> of its operations remains -altogether unimpaired. The second step having been a consequence of -the <i>data</i>, the third step is equally a consequence of the second, -the fourth of the third, the fifth of the fourth, and so on, <i>and -not possibly otherwise</i>, to the end. But in proportion to the -progress made in a game of chess, is the <i>uncertainty</i> of each -ensuing move. A few moves having been made, <i>no</i> step is certain. -Different spectators of the game would advise different moves. All -is then dependant upon the variable judgment of the players. Now -even granting (what should not be granted) that the movements of the -Automaton Chess-Player were in themselves determinate, they would be -necessarily interrupted and disarranged by the indeterminate will of -his antagonist. There is then no analogy whatever between the -operations of the Chess-Player, and those of the calculating machine -of Mr. Babbage, and if we choose to call the former a <i>pure machine</i> -we must be prepared to admit that it is, beyond all comparison, the -most wonderful of the inventions of mankind. Its original projector, -however, Baron Kempelen, had no scruple in declaring it to be a -"very ordinary piece of mechanism—a <i>bagatelle</i> whose effects -appeared so marvellous only from the boldness of the conception, and -the fortunate choice of the methods adopted for promoting the -illusion." But it is needless to dwell upon this point. It is quite -certain that the operations of the Automaton are regulated by -<i>mind</i>, and by nothing else. Indeed this matter is susceptible of a -mathematical demonstration, <i>a priori</i>. The only question then is of -the <i>manner</i> in which human agency is brought to bear. Before -entering upon this subject it would be as well to give a brief -history and description of the Chess-Player for the benefit of such -of our readers as may never have had an opportunity of witnessing -Mr. Maelzel's exhibition.</p> - -<center><img src="images/turk.jpg" alt="chess player"></center> - -<p>The Automaton Chess-Player was invented in 1769, by Baron Kempelen, -a nobleman of Presburg in Hungary, who afterwards disposed of it, -together with the secret of its operations, to its present -possessor. Soon after its completion it was exhibited in Presburg, -Paris, Vienna, and other continental cities. In 1783 and 1784, it -was taken to London by Mr. Maelzel. Of late years it has visited the -principal towns in the United States. Wherever seen, the most -intense curiosity was excited by its appearance, and numerous have -been the attempts, by men of all classes, to fathom the mystery of -its evolutions. The cut above gives a tolerable representation of -the figure as seen by the citizens of Richmond a few weeks ago. The -right arm, however, should lie more at length upon the box, a -chess-board should appear upon it, and the cushion should not be -seen while the pipe is held. Some immaterial alterations have been -made in the costume of the player since it came into the possession -of Maelzel—the plume, for example, was not originally worn.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page320"><small><small>[p. 320]</small></small></a></span> -<p>At the hour appointed for exhibition, a curtain is withdrawn, -or folding doors are thrown open, and the machine rolled to within -about twelve feet of the nearest of the spectators, between whom and -it (the machine) a rope is stretched. A figure is seen habited as a -Turk, and seated, with its legs crossed, at a large box apparently -of maple wood, which serves it as a table. The exhibiter will, if -requested, roll the machine to any portion of the room, suffer it to -remain altogether on any designated spot, or even shift its location -repeatedly during the progress of a game. The bottom of the box is -elevated considerably above the floor by means of the castors or -brazen rollers on which it moves, a clear view of the surface -immediately beneath the Automaton being thus afforded to the -spectators. The chair on which the figure sits is affixed -permanently to the box. On the top of this latter is a chess-board, -also permanently affixed. The right arm of the Chess-Player is -extended at full length before him, at right angles with his body, -and lying, in an apparently careless position, by the side of the -board. The back of the hand is upwards. The board itself is eighteen -inches square. The left arm of the figure is bent at the elbow, and -in the left hand is a pipe. A green drapery conceals the back of the -Turk, and falls partially over the front of both shoulders. To judge -from the external appearance of the box, it is divided into five -compartments—three cupboards of equal dimensions, and two drawers -occupying that portion of the chest lying beneath the cupboards. The -foregoing observations apply to the appearance of the Automaton upon -its first introduction into the presence of the spectators.</p> - -<p>Maelzel now informs the company that he will disclose to their view -the mechanism of the machine. Taking from his pocket a bunch of keys -he unlocks with one of them, door marked 1 in the cut above, and -throws the cupboard fully open to the inspection of all present. Its -whole interior is apparently filled with wheels, pinions, levers, -and other machinery, crowded very closely together, so that the eye -can penetrate but a little distance into the mass. Leaving this door -open to its full extent, he goes now round to the back of the box, -and raising the drapery of the figure, opens another door situated -precisely in the rear of the one first opened. Holding a lighted -candle at this door, and shifting the position of the whole machine -repeatedly at the same time, a bright light is thrown entirely -through the cupboard, which is now clearly seen to be full, -completely full, of machinery. The spectators being satisfied of -this fact, Maelzel closes the back door, locks it, takes the key -from the lock, lets fall the drapery of the figure, and comes round -to the front. The door marked 1, it will be remembered, is still -open. The exhibiter now proceeds to open the drawer which lies -beneath the cupboards at the bottom of the box—for although there -are apparently two drawers, there is really only one—the two -handles and two key holes being intended merely for ornament. Having -opened this drawer to its full extent, a small cushion, and a set of -chessmen, fixed in a frame work made to support them -perpendicularly, are discovered. Leaving this drawer, as well as -cupboard No. 1 open, Maelzel now unlocks door No. 2, and door No. 3, -which are discovered to be folding doors, opening into one and the -same compartment. To the right of this compartment, however, (that -is to say the spectators' right) a small division, six inches wide, -and filled with machinery, is partitioned off. The main compartment -itself (in speaking of that portion of the box visible upon opening -doors 2 and 3, we shall always call it the main compartment) is -lined with dark cloth and contains no machinery whatever beyond two -pieces of steel, quadrant-shaped, and situated one in each of the -rear top corners of the compartment. A small protuberance about -eight inches square, and also covered with dark cloth, lies on the -floor of the compartment near the rear corner on the spectators' -left hand. Leaving doors No. 2 and No. 3 open as well as the drawer, -and door No. 1, the exhibiter now goes round to the back of the main -compartment, and, unlocking another door there, displays clearly all -the interior of the main compartment, by introducing a candle behind -it and within it. The whole box being thus apparently disclosed to -the scrutiny of the company, Maelzel, still leaving the doors and -drawer open, rolls the Automaton entirely round, and exposes the -back of the Turk by lifting up the drapery. A door about ten inches -square is thrown open in the loins of the figure, and a smaller one -also in the left thigh. The interior of the figure, as seen through -these apertures, appears to be crowded with machinery. In general, -every spectator is now thoroughly satisfied of having beheld and -completely scrutinized, at one and the same time, every individual -portion of the Automaton, and the idea of any person being concealed -in the interior, during so complete an exhibition of that interior, -if ever entertained, is immediately dismissed as preposterous in the -extreme.</p> - -<p>M. Maelzel, having rolled the machine back into its original -position, now informs the company that the Automaton will play a -game of chess with any one disposed to encounter him. This challenge -being accepted, a small table is prepared for the antagonist, and -placed close by the rope, but on the spectators' side of it, and so -situated as not to prevent the company from obtaining a full view of -the Automaton. From a drawer in this table is taken a set of -chess-men, and Maelzel arranges them generally, but not always, with -his own hands, on the chess board, which consists merely of the -usual number of squares painted upon the table. The antagonist -having taken his seat, the exhibiter approaches the drawer of the -box, and takes therefrom the cushion, which, after removing the pipe -from the hand of the Automaton, he places under its left arm as a -support. Then taking also from the drawer the Automaton's set of -chess-men, he arranges them upon the chess-board before the figure. -He now proceeds to close the doors and to lock them—leaving the -bunch of keys in door No. 1. He also closes the drawer, and, -finally, winds up the machine, by applying a key to an aperture in -the left end (the spectators' left) of the box. The game now -commences—the Automaton taking the first move. The duration of the -contest is usually limited to half an hour, but if it be not -finished at the expiration of this period, and the antagonist still -contend that he can beat the Automaton, M. Maelzel has seldom any -objection to continue it. Not to weary the company, is the -ostensible, and no doubt the real object of the limitation. It will -of course be understood that when a move is made at his own table, -by the antagonist, the corresponding move is made at the box of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page321"><small><small>[p. 321]</small></small></a></span> -Automaton, by Maelzel himself, who then acts as the -representative of the antagonist. On the other hand, when the Turk -moves, the corresponding move is made at the table of the -antagonist, also by M. Maelzel, who then acts as the representative -of the Automaton. In this manner it is necessary that the exhibitor -should often pass from one table to the other. He also frequently -goes in rear of the figure to remove the chessmen which it has -taken, and which it deposits, when taken, on the box to the left (to -its own left) of the board. When the Automaton hesitates in relation -to its move, the exhibitor is occasionally seen to place himself -very near its right side, and to lay his hand, now and then, in a -careless manner, upon the box. He has also a peculiar shuffle with -his feet, calculated to induce suspicion of collusion with the -machine in minds which are more cunning than sagacious. These -peculiarities are, no doubt, mere mannerisms of M. Maelzel, or, if -he is aware of them at all, he puts them in practice with a view of -exciting in the spectators a false idea of pure mechanism in the -Automaton.</p> - -<p>The Turk plays with his left hand. All the movements of the arm are -at right angles. In this manner, the hand (which is gloved and bent -in a natural way,) being brought directly above the piece to be -moved, descends finally upon it, the fingers receiving it, in most -cases, without difficulty. Occasionally, however, when the piece is -not precisely in its proper situation, the Automaton fails in his -attempt at seizing it. When this occurs, no second effort is made, -but the arm continues its movement in the direction originally -intended, precisely as if the piece were in the fingers. Having thus -designated the spot whither the move should have been made, the arm -returns to its cushion, and Maelzel performs the evolution which the -Automaton pointed out. At every movement of the figure machinery is -heard in motion. During the progress of the game, the figure now and -then rolls its eyes, as if surveying the board, moves its head, and -pronounces the word <i>echec</i> (check) when necessary.<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> If a false -move be made by his antagonist, he raps briskly on the box with the -fingers of his right hand, shakes his head roughly, and replacing -the piece falsely moved, in its former situation, assumes the next -move himself. Upon beating the game, he waves his head with an air -of triumph, looks round complacently upon the spectators, and -drawing his left arm farther back than usual, suffers his fingers -alone to rest upon the cushion. In general, the Turk is -victorious—once or twice he has been beaten. The game being ended, -Maelzel will again, if desired, exhibit the mechanism of the box, in -the same manner as before. The machine is then rolled back, and a -curtain hides it from the view of the company.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> The making the Turk pronounce the word <i>echec</i>, is an -improvement by M. Maelzel. When in possession of Baron Kempelen, the -figure indicated a <i>check</i> by rapping on the box with his right -hand.</small></blockquote> - -<p>There have been many attempts at solving the mystery of the -Automaton. The most general opinion in relation to it, an opinion -too not unfrequently adopted by men who should have known better, -was, as we have before said, that no immediate human agency was -employed—in other words, that the machine was purely a machine and -nothing else. Many, however maintained that the exhibiter himself -regulated the movements of the figure by mechanical means operating -through the feet of the box. Others again, spoke confidently of a -magnet. Of the first of these opinions we shall say nothing at -present more than we have already said. In relation to the second it -is only necessary to repeat what we have before stated, that the -machine is rolled about on castors, and will, at the request of a -spectator, be moved to and fro to any portion of the room, even -during the progress of a game. The supposition of the magnet is also -untenable—for if a magnet were the agent, any other magnet in the -pocket of a spectator would disarrange the entire mechanism. The -exhibiter, however, will suffer the most powerful loadstone to -remain even upon the box during the whole of the exhibition.</p> - -<p>The first attempt at a written explanation of the secret, at least -the first attempt of which we ourselves have any knowledge, was made -in a large pamphlet printed at Paris in 1785. The author's -hypothesis amounted to this—that a dwarf actuated the machine. This -dwarf he supposed to conceal himself during the opening of the box -by thrusting his legs into two hollow cylinders, which were -represented to be (but which are not) among the machinery in the -cupboard No. 1, while his body was out of the box entirely, and -covered by the drapery of the Turk. When the doors were shut, the -dwarf was enabled to bring his body within the box—the noise -produced by some portion of the machinery allowing him to do so -unheard, and also to close the door by which he entered. The -interior of the Automaton being then exhibited, and no person -discovered, the spectators, says the author of this pamphlet, are -satisfied that no one is within any portion of the machine. This -whole hypothesis was too obviously absurd to require comment, or -refutation, and accordingly we find that it attracted very little attention.</p> - -<p>In 1789 a book was published at Dresden by M. I. F. Freyhere in -which another endeavor was made to unravel the mystery. Mr. -Freyhere's book was a pretty large one, and copiously illustrated by -colored engravings. His supposition was that "a well-taught boy very -thin and tall of his age (sufficiently so that he could be concealed -in a drawer almost immediately under the chess-board") played the -game of chess and effected all the evolutions of the Automaton. This -idea, although even more silly than that of the Parisian author, met -with a better reception, and was in some measure believed to be the -true solution of the wonder, until the inventor put an end to the -discussion by suffering a close examination of the top of the box.</p> - -<p>These bizarre attempts at explanation were followed by others -equally bizarre. Of late years however, an anonymous writer, by a -course of reasoning exceedingly unphilosophical, has contrived to -blunder upon a plausible solution—although we cannot consider it -altogether the true one. His Essay was first published in a -Baltimore weekly paper, was illustrated by cuts, and was entitled -"An attempt to analyze the Automaton Chess-Player of M. Maelzel." -This Essay we suppose to have been the original of the <i>pamphlet</i> to -which Sir David Brewster alludes in his letters on Natural Magic, -and which he has no hesitation in declaring a thorough and -satisfactory explanation. The <i>results</i> of the analysis are -undoubtedly, in the main, just; but we can only account for -Brewster's pronouncing the Essay a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page322"><small><small>[p. 322]</small></small></a></span> thorough and satisfactory -explanation, by supposing him to have bestowed upon it a very -cursory and inattentive perusal. In the compendium of the Essay, -made use of in the Letters on Natural Magic, it is quite impossible -to arrive at any distinct conclusion in regard to the adequacy or -inadequacy of the analysis, on account of the gross misarrangement -and deficiency of the letters of reference employed. The same fault -is to be found in the "Attempt &c." as we originally saw it. The -solution consists in a series of minute explanations, (accompanied -by wood-cuts, the whole occupying many pages) in which the object is -to show the <i>possibility</i> of <i>so shifting the partitions</i> of the -box, as to allow a human being, concealed in the interior, to move -portions of his body from one part of the box to another, during the -exhibition of the mechanism—thus eluding the scrutiny of the -spectators. There can be no doubt, as we have before observed, and -as we will presently endeavor to show, that the principle, or rather -the result, of this solution is the true one. Some person <i>is</i> -concealed in the box during the whole time of exhibiting the -interior. We object, however, to the whole verbose description of -the <i>manner</i> in which the partitions are shifted, to accommodate the -movements of the person concealed. We object to it as a mere theory -assumed in the first place, and to which circumstances are -afterwards made to adapt themselves. It was not, and could not have -been, arrived at by any inductive reasoning. In whatever way the -shifting is managed, it is of course concealed at every step from -observation. To show that certain movements might possibly be -effected in a certain way, is very far from showing that they are -actually so effected. There may be an infinity of other methods by -which the same results may be obtained. The probability of the one -assumed proving the correct one is then as unity to infinity. But, -in reality, this particular point, the shifting of the partitions, -is of no consequence whatever. It was altogether unnecessary to -devote seven or eight pages for the purpose of proving what no one -in his senses would deny—viz: that the wonderful mechanical genius -of Baron Kempelen could invent the necessary means for shutting a -door or slipping aside a pannel, with a human agent too at his -service in actual contact with the pannel or the door, and the whole -operations carried on, as the author of the Essay himself shows, and -as we shall attempt to show more fully hereafter, entirely out of -reach of the observation of the spectators.</p> - -<p>In attempting ourselves an explanation of the Automaton, we will, in -the first place, endeavor to show how its operations are effected, -and afterwards describe, as briefly as possible, the nature of the -<i>observations</i> from which we have deduced our result.</p> - -<p>It will be necessary for a proper understanding of the subject, that -we repeat here in a few words, the routine adopted by the exhibiter -in disclosing the interior of the box—a routine from which he -<i>never</i> deviates in any material particular. In the first place he -opens the door No. 1. Leaving this open, he goes round to the rear -of the box, and opens a door precisely at the back of door No. 1. To -this back door he holds a lighted candle. He then <i>closes the back -door</i>, locks it, and, coming round to the front, opens the drawer to -its full extent. This done, he opens the doors No. 2 and No. 3, (the -folding doors) and displays the interior of the main compartment. -Leaving open the main compartment, the drawer, and the front door of -cupboard No. 1, he now goes to the rear again, and throws open the -back door of the main compartment. In shutting up the box no -particular order is observed, except that the folding doors are -always closed before the drawer.</p> - -<p>Now, let us suppose that when the machine is first rolled into the -presence of the spectators, a man is already within it. His body is -situated behind the dense machinery in cupboard No. 1, (the rear -portion of which machinery is so contrived as to slip <i>en masse</i>, -from the main compartment to the cupboard No. 1, as occasion may -require,) and his legs lie at full length in the main compartment. -When Maelzel opens the door No. 1, the man within is not in any -danger of discovery, for the keenest eye cannot penetrate more than -about two inches into the darkness within. But the case is otherwise -when the back door of the cupboard No. 1, is opened. A bright light -then pervades the cupboard, and the body of the man would be -discovered if it were there. But it is not. The putting the key in -the lock of the back door was a signal on hearing which the person -concealed brought his body forward to an angle as acute as -possible—throwing it altogether, or nearly so, into the main -compartment. This, however, is a painful position, and cannot be -long maintained. Accordingly we find that Maelzel <i>closes the back -door</i>. This being done, there is no reason why the body of the man -may not resume its former situation—for the cupboard is again so -dark as to defy scrutiny. The drawer is now opened, and the legs of -the person within drop down behind it in the space it formerly -occupied.<small><small><sup>3</sup></small></small> There is, consequently, now no longer any part of the -man in the main compartment—his body being behind the machinery in -cupboard No. 1, and his legs in the space occupied by the drawer. -The exhibiter, therefore, finds himself at liberty to display the -main compartment. This he does—opening both its back and front -doors—and no person is discovered. The spectators are now satisfied -that the whole of the box is exposed to view—and exposed too, all -portions of it at one and the same time. But of course this is not -the case. They neither see the space behind the drawer, nor the -interior of cupboard No. 1—the front door of which latter the -exhibiter virtually shuts in shutting its back door. Maelzel, having -now rolled the machine around, lifted up the drapery of the Turk, -opened the doors in his back and thigh, and shown his trunk to be -full of machinery, brings the whole back into its original position, -and closes the doors. The man within is now at liberty to move -about. He gets up into the body of the Turk just so high as to bring -his eyes above the level of the chess-board. It is very probable -that he seats himself upon the little square block or protuberance -which is seen in a corner of the main compartment when the doors are -open. In this position he sees the chess-board through the bosom of -the Turk which is of gauze. Bringing his right arm across his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page323"><small><small>[p. 323]</small></small></a></span> -breast he actuates the little machinery necessary to guide the left -arm and the fingers of the figure. This machinery is situated just -beneath the left shoulder of the Turk, and is consequently easily -reached by the right hand of the man concealed, if we suppose his -right arm brought across the breast. The motions of the head and -eyes, and of the right arm of the figure, as well as the sound -<i>echec</i> are produced by other mechanism in the interior, and -actuated at will by the man within. The whole of this -mechanism—that is to say all the mechanism essential to the -machine—is most probably contained within the little cupboard (of -about six inches in breadth) partitioned off at the right (the -spectators' right) of the main compartment.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>3</sup></small> Sir David Brewster supposes that there is always a -large space behind this drawer even when shut—in other words that -the drawer is a "false drawer" and does not extend to the back of -the box. But the idea is altogether untenable. So commonplace a -trick would be immediately discovered—especially as the drawer is -always opened to its full extent, and an opportunity thus afforded -of comparing its depth with that of the box.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In this analysis of the operations of the Automaton, we have -purposely avoided any allusion to the manner in which the partitions -are shifted, and it will now be readily comprehended that this point -is a matter of no importance, since, by mechanism within the ability -of any common carpenter, it might be effected in an infinity of -different ways, and since we have shown that, however performed, it -is performed out of the view of the spectators. Our result is -founded upon the following <i>observations</i> taken during frequent -visits to the exhibition of Maelzel.<small><small><sup>4</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>4</sup></small> Some of these <i>observations</i> are intended merely to -prove that the machine must be regulated <i>by mind</i>, and it may be -thought a work of supererogation to advance farther arguments in -support of what has been already fully decided. But our object is to -convince, in especial, certain of our friends upon whom a train of -suggestive reasoning will have more influence than the most positive -<i>a priori</i> demonstration.</small></blockquote> - -<p>1. The moves of the Turk are not made at regular intervals of time, -but accommodate themselves to the moves of the antagonist—although -this point (of regularity) so important in all kinds of mechanical -contrivance, might have been readily brought about by limiting the -time allowed for the moves of the antagonist. For example, if this -limit were three minutes, the moves of the Automaton might be made -at any given intervals longer than three minutes. The fact then of -irregularity, when regularity might have been so easily attained, -goes to prove that regularity is unimportant to the action of the -Automaton—in other words, that the Automaton is not <i>a pure -machine</i>.</p> - -<p>2. When the Automaton is about to move a piece, a distinct motion is -observable just beneath the left shoulder, and which motion agitates -in a slight degree, the drapery covering the front of the left -shoulder. This motion invariably precedes, by about two seconds, the -movement of the arm itself—and the arm never, in any instance, -moves without this preparatory motion in the shoulder. Now let the -antagonist move a piece, and let the corresponding move be made by -Maelzel, as usual, upon the board of the Automaton. Then let the -antagonist narrowly watch the Automaton, until he detect the -preparatory motion in the shoulder. Immediately upon detecting this -motion, and before the arm itself begins to move, let him withdraw -his piece, as if perceiving an error in his manœuvre. It will then -be seen that the movement of the arm, which, in all other cases, -immediately succeeds the motion in the shoulder, is withheld—is not -made—although Maelzel has not yet performed, on the board of the -Automaton, any move corresponding to the withdrawal of the -antagonist. In this case, that the Automaton was about to move is -evident—and that he did not move, was an effect plainly produced by -the withdrawal of the antagonist, and without any intervention of Maelzel.</p> - -<p>This fact fully proves, 1—that the intervention of Maelzel, in -performing the moves of the antagonist on the board of the -Automaton, is not essential to the movements of the Automaton, -2—that its movements are regulated by <i>mind</i>—by some person who -sees the board of the antagonist, 3—that its movements are not -regulated by the mind of Maelzel, whose back was turned towards the -antagonist at the withdrawal of his move.</p> - -<p>3. The Automaton does not invariably win the game. Were the machine -a pure machine this would not be the case—it would always win. The -<i>principle</i> being discovered by which a machine can be made to -<i>play</i> a game of chess, an extension of the same principle would -enable it to <i>win</i> a game—a farther extension would enable it to -<i>win all</i> games—that is, to beat any possible game of an -antagonist. A little consideration will convince any one that the -difficulty of making a machine beat all games, is not in the least -degree greater, as regards the principle of the operations -necessary, than that of making it beat a single game. If then we -regard the Chess-Player as a machine, we must suppose, (what is -highly improbable,) that its inventor preferred leaving it -incomplete to perfecting it—a supposition rendered still more -absurd, when we reflect that the leaving it incomplete would afford -an argument against the possibility of its being a pure machine—the -very argument we now adduce.</p> - -<p>4. When the situation of the game is difficult or complex, we never -perceive the Turk either shake his head or roll his eyes. It is only -when his next move is obvious, or when the game is so circumstanced -that to a man in the Automaton's place there would be no necessity -for reflection. Now these peculiar movements of the head and eyes -are movements customary with persons engaged in meditation, and the -ingenious Baron Kempelen would have adapted these movements (were -the machine a pure machine) to occasions proper for their -display—that is, to occasions of complexity. But the reverse is -seen to be the case, and this reverse applies precisely to our -supposition of a man in the interior. When engaged in meditation -about the game he has no time to think of setting in motion the -mechanism of the Automaton by which are moved the head and the eyes. -When the game, however, is obvious, he has time to look about him, -and, accordingly, we see the head shake and the eyes roll.</p> - -<p>5. When the machine is rolled round to allow the spectators an -examination of the back of the Turk, and when his drapery is lifted -up and the doors in the trunk and thigh thrown open, the interior of -the trunk is seen to be crowded with machinery. In scrutinizing this -machinery while the Automaton was in motion, that is to say while -the whole machine was moving on the castors, it appeared to us that -certain portions of the mechanism changed their shape and position -in a degree too great to be accounted for by the simple laws of -perspective; and subsequent examinations convinced us that these -undue alterations were attributable to mirrors in the interior of -the trunk. The introduction of mirrors among the machinery could not -have been <span class="pagenum"><a name="page324"><small><small>[p. 324]</small></small></a></span> -intended to influence, in any degree, the machinery -itself. Their operation, whatever that operation should prove to be, -must necessarily have reference to the eye of the spectator. We at -once concluded that these mirrors were so placed to multiply to the -vision some few pieces of machinery within the trunk so as to give -it the appearance of being crowded with mechanism. Now the direct -inference from this is that the machine is not a pure machine. For -if it were, the inventor, so far from wishing its mechanism to -appear complex, and using deception for the purpose of giving it -this appearance, would have been especially desirous of convincing -those who witnessed his exhibition, of the <i>simplicity</i> of the means -by which results so wonderful were brought about.</p> - -<p>6. The external appearance, and, especially, the deportment of the -Turk, are, when we consider them as imitations of <i>life</i>, but very -indifferent imitations. The countenance evinces no ingenuity, and is -surpassed, in its resemblance to the human face, by the very -commonest of wax-works. The eyes roll unnaturally in the head, -without any corresponding motions of the lids or brows. The arm, -particularly, performs its operations in an exceedingly stiff, -awkward, jerking, and rectangular manner. Now, all this is the -result either of inability in Maelzel to do better, or of -intentional neglect—accidental neglect being out of the question, -when we consider that the whole time of the ingenious proprietor is -occupied in the improvement of his machines. Most assuredly we must -not refer the unlife-like appearances to inability—for all the rest -of Maelzel's automata are evidence of his full ability to copy the -motions and peculiarities of life with the most wonderful -exactitude. The rope-dancers, for example, are inimitable. When the -clown laughs, his lips, his eyes, his eye-brows, and -eye-lids—indeed, all the features of his countenance—are imbued -with their appropriate expressions. In both him and his companion, -every gesture is so entirely easy, and free from the semblance of -artificiality, that, were it not for the diminutiveness of their -size, and the fact of their being passed from one spectator to -another previous to their exhibition on the rope, it would be -difficult to convince any assemblage of persons that these wooden -automata were not living creatures. We cannot, therefore, doubt Mr. -Maelzel's ability, and we must necessarily suppose that he -intentionally suffered his Chess-Player to remain the same -artificial and unnatural figure which Baron Kempelen (no doubt also -through design) originally made it. What this design was it is not -difficult to conceive. Were the Automaton life-like in its motions, -the spectator would be more apt to attribute its operations to their -true cause, (that is, to human agency within) than he is now, when -the awkward and rectangular manœuvres convey the idea of pure and -unaided mechanism.</p> - -<p>7. When, a short time previous to the commencement of the game, the -Automaton is wound up by the exhibiter as usual, an ear in any -degree accustomed to the sounds produced in winding up a system of -machinery, will not fail to discover, instantaneously, that the axis -turned by the key in the box of the Chess-Player, cannot possibly be -connected with either a weight, a spring, or any system of machinery -whatever. The inference here is the same as in our last observation. -The winding up is inessential to the operations of the Automaton, -and is performed with the design of exciting in the spectators the -false idea of mechanism.</p> - -<p>8. When the question is demanded explicitly of Maelzel—"Is the -Automaton a pure machine or not?" his reply is invariably the -same—"I will say nothing about it." Now the notoriety of the -Automaton, and the great curiosity it has every where excited, are -owing more especially to the prevalent opinion that it <i>is</i> a pure -machine, than to any other circumstance. Of course, then, it is the -interest of the proprietor to represent it as a pure machine. And -what more obvious, and more effectual method could there be of -impressing the spectators with this desired idea, than a positive -and explicit declaration to that effect? On the other hand, what -more obvious and effectual method could there be of exciting a -disbelief in the Automaton's being a pure machine, than by -withholding such explicit declaration? For, people will naturally -reason thus,—It is Maelzel's interest to represent this thing a -pure machine—he refuses to do so, directly, in words, although he -does not scruple, and is evidently anxious to do so, indirectly by -actions—were it actually what he wishes to represent it by actions, -he would gladly avail himself of the more direct testimony of -words—the inference is, that a consciousness of its <i>not</i> being a -pure machine, is the reason of his silence—his actions cannot -implicate him in a falsehood—his words may.</p> - -<p>9. When, in exhibiting the interior of the box, Maelzel has thrown -open the door No. 1, and also the door immediately behind it, he -holds a lighted candle at the back door (as mentioned above) and -moves the entire machine to and fro with a view of convincing the -company that the cupboard No. 1 is entirely filled with machinery. -When the machine is thus moved about, it will be apparent to any -careful observer, that whereas that portion of the machinery near -the front door No. 1, is perfectly steady and unwavering, the -portion farther within fluctuates, in a very slight degree, with the -movements of the machine. This circumstance first aroused in us the -suspicion that the more remote portion of the machinery was so -arranged as to be easily slipped, <i>en masse</i>, from its position when -occasion should require it. This occasion we have already stated to -occur when the man concealed within brings his body into an erect -position upon the closing of the back door.</p> - -<p>10. Sir David Brewster states the figure of the Turk to be of the -size of life—but in fact it is far above the ordinary size. Nothing -is more easy than to err in our notions of magnitude. The body of -the Automaton is generally insulated, and, having no means of -immediately comparing it with any human form, we suffer ourselves to -consider it as of ordinary dimensions. This mistake may, however, be -corrected by observing the Chess-Player when, as is sometimes the -case, the exhibiter approaches it. Mr. Maelzel, to be sure, is not -very tall, but upon drawing near the machine, his head will be found -at least eighteen inches below the head of the Turk, although the -latter, it will be remembered, is in a sitting position.</p> - -<p>11. The box behind which the Automaton is placed, is precisely three -feet six inches long, two feet four inches deep, and two feet six -inches high. These dimensions are fully sufficient for the -accommodation of a man very much above the common size—and the main -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page325"><small><small>[p. 325]</small></small></a></span> -compartment alone is capable of holding any ordinary man in -the position we have mentioned as assumed by the person concealed. -As these are facts, which any one who doubts them may prove by -actual calculation, we deem it unnecessary to dwell upon them. We -will only suggest that, although the top of the box is apparently a -board of about three inches in thickness, the spectator may satisfy -himself by stooping and looking up at it when the main compartment -is open, that it is in reality very thin. The height of the drawer -also will be misconceived by those who examine it in a cursory -manner. There is a space of about three inches between the top of -the drawer as seen from the exterior, and the bottom of the -cupboard—a space which must be included in the height of the -drawer. These contrivances to make the room within the box appear -less than it actually is, are referrible to a design on the part of -the inventor, to impress the company again with a false idea, viz. -that no human being can be accommodated within the box.</p> - -<p>12. The interior of the main compartment is lined throughout with -<i>cloth</i>. This cloth we suppose to have a twofold object. A portion -of it may form, when tightly stretched, the only partitions which -there is any necessity for removing during the changes of the man's -position, viz: the partition between the rear of the main -compartment and the rear of the cupboard No. 1, and the partition -between the main compartment, and the space behind the drawer when -open. If we imagine this to be the case, the difficulty of shifting -the partitions vanishes at once, if indeed any such difficulty could -be supposed under any circumstances to exist. The second object of -the cloth is to deaden and render indistinct all sounds occasioned -by the movements of the person within.</p> - -<p>13. The antagonist (as we have before observed) is not suffered to -play at the board of the Automaton, but is seated at some distance -from the machine. The reason which, most probably, would be assigned -for this circumstance, if the question were demanded, is, that were -the antagonist otherwise situated, his person would intervene -between the machine and the spectators, and preclude the latter from -a distinct view. But this difficulty might be easily obviated, -either by elevating the seats of the company, or by turning the end -of the box towards them during the game. The true cause of the -restriction is, perhaps, very different. Were the antagonist seated -in contact with the box, the secret would be liable to discovery, by -his detecting, with the aid of a quick ear, the breathings of the -man concealed.</p> - -<p>14. Although M. Maelzel, in disclosing the interior of the machine, -sometimes slightly deviates from the <i>routine</i> which we have pointed -out, yet <i>never</i> in any instance does he <i>so</i> deviate from it as to -interfere with our solution. For example, he has been known to open, -first of all, the drawer—but he never opens the main compartment -without first closing the back door of cupboard No. 1—he never -opens the main compartment without first pulling out the drawer—he -never shuts the drawer without first shutting the main -compartment—he never opens the back door of cupboard No. 1 while -the main compartment is open—and the game of chess is never -commenced until the whole machine is closed. Now, if it were -observed that <i>never, in any single instance</i>, did M. Maelzel differ -from the routine we have pointed out as necessary to our solution, -it would be one of the strongest possible arguments in corroboration -of it—but the argument becomes infinitely strengthened if we duly -consider the circumstance that he <i>does occasionally</i> deviate from -the routine, but never does <i>so</i> deviate as to falsify the solution.</p> - -<p>15. There are six candles on the board of the Automaton during -exhibition. The question naturally arises—"Why are so many -employed, when a single candle, or, at farthest, two, would have -been amply sufficient to afford the spectators a clear view of the -board, in a room otherwise so well lit up as the exhibition room -always is—when, moreover, if we suppose the machine a <i>pure -machine</i>, there can be no necessity for so much light, or indeed any -light at all, to enable <i>it</i> to perform its operations—and when, -especially, only a single candle is placed upon the table of the -antagonist?" The first and most obvious inference is, that so strong -a light is requisite to enable the man within to see through the -transparent material (probably fine gauze) of which the breast of -the Turk is composed. But when we consider the <i>arrangement</i> of the -candles, another reason immediately presents itself. There are six -lights (as we have said before) in all. Three of these are on each -side of the figure. Those most remote from the spectators are the -longest—those in the middle are about two inches shorter—and those -nearest the company about two inches shorter still—and the candles -on one side differ in height from the candles respectively opposite -on the other, by a ratio different from two inches—that is to say, -the longest candle on one side is about three inches shorter than -the longest candle on the other, and so on. Thus it will be seen -that no two of the candles are of the same height, and thus also the -difficulty of ascertaining the <i>material</i> of the breast of the -figure (against which the light is especially directed) is greatly -augmented by the dazzling effect of the complicated crossings of the -rays—crossings which are brought about by placing the centres of -radiation all upon different levels.</p> - -<p>16. While the Chess-Player was in possession of Baron Kempelen, it -was more than once observed, first, that an Italian in the suite of -the Baron was never visible during the playing of a game at chess by -the Turk, and, secondly, that the Italian being taken seriously ill, -the exhibition was suspended until his recovery. This Italian -professed a <i>total</i> ignorance of the game of chess, although all -others of the suite played well. Similar observations have been made -since the Automaton has been purchased by Maelzel. There is a man, -<i>Schlumberger</i>, who attends him wherever he goes, but who has no -ostensible occupation other than that of assisting in the packing -and unpacking of the automata. This man is about the medium size, -and has a remarkable stoop in the shoulders. Whether he professes to -play chess or not, we are not informed. It is quite certain, -however, that he is never to be seen during the exhibition of the -Chess-Player, although frequently visible just before and just after -the exhibition. Moreover, some years ago Maelzel visited Richmond -with his automata, and exhibited them, we believe, in the house now -occupied by M. Bossieux as a Dancing Academy. <i>Schlumberger</i> was -suddenly taken ill, and during his illness there was no exhibition -of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page326"><small><small>[p. 326]</small></small></a></span> -Chess-Player. These facts are well known to many of our -citizens. The reason assigned for the suspension of the -Chess-Player's performances, was <i>not</i> the illness of -<i>Schlumberger</i>. The inferences from all this we leave, without -farther comment, to the reader.</p> - -<p>17. The Turk plays with his <i>left</i> arm. A circumstance so remarkable -cannot be accidental. Brewster takes no notice of it whatever, -beyond a mere statement, we believe, that such is the fact. The -early writers of treatises on the Automaton, seem not to have -observed the matter at all, and have no reference to it. The author -of the pamphlet alluded to by Brewster, mentions it, but -acknowledges his inability to account for it. Yet it is obviously -from such prominent discrepancies or incongruities as this that -deductions are to be made (if made at all) which shall lead us to -the truth.</p> - -<p>The circumstance of the Automaton's playing with his left hand -cannot have connexion with the operations of the machine, considered -merely as such. Any mechanical arrangement which would cause the -figure to move, in any given manner, the left arm—could, if -reversed, cause it to move, in the same manner, the right. But these -principles cannot be extended to the human organization, wherein -there is a marked and radical difference in the construction, and, -at all events, in the powers, of the right and left arms. Reflecting -upon this latter fact, we naturally refer the incongruity noticeable -in the Chess-Player to this peculiarity in the human organization. -If so, we must imagine some <i>reversion</i>—for the Chess-Player plays -precisely as a man <i>would not</i>. These ideas, once entertained, are -sufficient of themselves, to suggest the notion of a man in the -interior. A few more imperceptible steps lead us, finally, to the -result. The Automaton plays with his left arm, because under no -other circumstances could the man within play with his right—a -<i>desideratum</i> of course. Let us, for example, imagine the Automaton -to play with his right arm. To reach the machinery which moves the -arm, and which we have before explained to lie just beneath the -shoulder, it would be necessary for the man within either to use his -right arm in an exceedingly painful and awkward position, (viz. -brought up close to his body and tightly compressed between his body -and the side of the Automaton,) or else to use his left arm brought -across his breast. In neither case could he act with the requisite -ease or precision. On the contrary, the Automaton playing, as it -actually does, with the left arm, all difficulties vanish. The right -arm of the man within is brought across his breast, and his right -fingers act, without any constraint, upon the machinery in the -shoulder of the figure.</p> - -<p>We do not believe that any reasonable objections can be urged -against this solution of the Automaton Chess-Player.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"> -<br> -<br><a name="sect23"></a> -<h4>CRITICAL NOTICES.</h4> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>DRAKE—HALLECK.</center> - -<p><i>The Culprit Fay, and other Poems, by Joseph Rodman Drake. New York: -George Dearborn.</i></p> - -<p><i>Alnwick Castle, with other Poems, by Fitz Greene Halleck. New York: -George Dearborn.</i></p> - -<p>Before entering upon the detailed notice which we propose of the -volumes before us, we wish to speak a few words in regard to the -present state of American criticism.</p> - -<p>It must be visible to all who meddle with literary matters, that of -late years a thorough revolution has been effected in the censorship -of our press. That this revolution is infinitely for the worse we -believe. There was a time, it is true, when we cringed to foreign -opinion—let us even say when we paid a most servile deference to -British critical dicta. That an American book could, by any -possibility, be worthy perusal, was an idea by no means extensively -prevalent in the land; and if we were induced to read at all the -productions of our native writers, it was only after repeated -assurances from England that such productions were not altogether -contemptible. But there was, at all events, a shadow of excuse, and -a slight basis of reason for a subserviency so grotesque. Even now, -perhaps, it would not be far wrong to assert that such basis of -reason may still exist. Let us grant that in many of the abstract -sciences—that even in Theology, in Medicine, in Law, in Oratory, in -the Mechanical Arts, we have no competitors whatever, still nothing -but the most egregious national vanity would assign us a place, in -the matter of Polite Literature, upon a level with the elder and -riper climes of Europe, the earliest steps of whose children are -among the groves of magnificently endowed Academies, and whose -innumerable men of leisure, and of consequent learning, drink daily -from those august fountains of inspiration which burst around them -every where from out the tombs of their immortal dead, and from out -their hoary and trophied monuments of chivalry and song. In paying -then, as a nation, a respectful and not undue deference to a -supremacy rarely questioned but by prejudice or ignorance, we -should, of course, be doing nothing more than acting in a rational -manner. The <i>excess</i> of our subserviency was blameable—but, as we -have before said, this very excess might have found a shadow of -excuse in the strict justice, if properly regulated, of the -principle from which it issued. Not so, however, with our present -follies. We are becoming boisterous and arrogant in the pride of a -too speedily assumed literary freedom. We throw off, with the most -presumptuous and unmeaning hauteur, <i>all</i> deference whatever to -foreign opinion—we forget, in the puerile inflation of vanity, that -<i>the world</i> is the true theatre of the biblical histrio—we get up a -hue and cry about the necessity of encouraging native writers of -merit—we blindly fancy that we can accomplish this by -indiscriminate puffing of good, bad, and indifferent, without taking -the trouble to consider that what we choose to denominate -encouragement is thus, by its general application, rendered -precisely the reverse. In a word, so far from being ashamed of the -many disgraceful literary failures to which our own inordinate -vanities and misapplied patriotism have lately given birth, and so -far from deeply lamenting that these daily puerilities are of home -manufacture, we adhere pertinaciously to our original blindly -conceived idea, and thus often find ourselves involved in the gross -paradox of liking a stupid book the better, because, sure enough, -its stupidity is American.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> This charge of indiscriminate puffing will, of course, -only apply to the <i>general</i> character of our criticism—there are -some noble exceptions. We wish also especially to discriminate -between those <i>notices</i> of new works which are intended merely to -call public attention to them, and deliberate criticism on the works -themselves.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Deeply lamenting this unjustifiable state of public -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page327"><small><small>[p. 327]</small></small></a></span> feeling, -it has been our constant endeavor, since assuming the Editorial -duties of this Journal, to stem, with what little abilities we -possess, a current so disastrously undermining the health and -prosperity of our literature. We have seen our efforts applauded by -men whose applauses we value. From all quarters we have received -abundant private as well as public testimonials in favor of our -<i>Critical Notices</i>, and, until very lately, have heard from no -respectable source one word impugning their integrity or candor. In -looking over, however, a number of the New York Commercial -Advertiser, we meet with the following paragraph.</p> - -<blockquote><small>The last number of the Southern Literary Messenger is very readable -and respectable. The contributions to the Messenger are much better -than the original matter. The critical department of this work—much -as it would seem to boast itself of impartiality and -discernment,—is in our opinion decidedly <i>quacky</i>. There is in it a -great assumption of acumen, which is completely unsustained. Many a -work has been slashingly condemned therein, of which the critic -himself could not write a page, were he to die for it. This -affectation of eccentric sternness in criticism, without the power -to back one's suit withal, so far from deserving praise, as some -suppose, merits the strongest reprehension.—[<i>Philadelphia -Gazette</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We are entirely of opinion with the Philadelphia Gazette in relation -to the Southern Literary Messenger, and take this occasion to -express our total dissent from the numerous and lavish encomiums we -have seen bestowed upon its critical notices. Some few of them have -been judicious, fair and candid; bestowing praise and censure with -judgment and impartiality; but by far the greater number of those we -have read, have been flippant, unjust, untenable and uncritical. The -duty of the critic is to act as judge, not as enemy, of the writer -whom he reviews; a distinction of which the Zoilus of the Messenger -seems not to be aware. It is possible to review a book severely, -without bestowing opprobrious epithets upon the writer; to condemn -with courtesy, if not with kindness. The critic of the Messenger has -been eulogized for his scorching and scarifying abilities, and he -thinks it incumbent upon him to keep up his reputation in that line, -by sneers, sarcasm, and downright abuse; by straining his vision -with microscopic intensity in search of faults, and shutting his -eyes, with all his might, to beauties. Moreover, we have detected -him, more than once, in blunders quite as gross as those on which it -was his pleasure to descant.<small><sup>2</sup></small></small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> In addition to these things we observe, in the New York -Mirror, what follows: "Those who have read the Notices of American -books in a certain Southern Monthly, which is striving to gain -notoriety by the loudness of its abuse, may find amusement in the -sketch on another page, entitled 'The Successful Novel.' The -Southern Literary Messenger knows ==><i>by experience</i><== what it is -to write a successless novel." We have, in this case, only to deny, -flatly, the assertion of the Mirror. The Editor of the Messenger -never in his life wrote or published, or attempted to publish, a -novel either successful or <i>successless</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In the paragraph from the Philadelphia Gazette, (which is edited by -Mr. Willis Gaylord Clark, one of the Editors of the Knickerbocker) -we find nothing at which we have any desire to take exception. Mr. -C. has a right to think us <i>quacky</i> if he pleases, and we do not -remember having assumed for a moment that we could write a single -line of the works we have reviewed. But there is something -equivocal, to say the least, in the remarks of Col. Stone. He -acknowledges that "<i>some</i> of our notices have been judicious, fair, -and candid, bestowing praise and censure with judgment and -impartiality." This being the case, how can he reconcile his <i>total</i> -dissent from the public verdict in our favor, with the dictates of -justice? We are accused too of bestowing "opprobrious epithets" upon -writers whom we review, and in the paragraph so accusing us we are -called nothing less than "flippant, unjust, and uncritical."</p> - -<p>But there is another point of which we disapprove. While in our -reviews we have at all times been particularly careful <i>not</i> to deal -in generalities, and have never, if we remember aright, advanced in -any single instance an unsupported assertion, our accuser has -forgotten to give us any better evidence of our flippancy, -injustice, personality, and gross blundering, than the solitary -<i>dictum</i> of Col. Stone. We call upon the Colonel for assistance in -this dilemma. We wish to be shown our blunders that we may correct -them—to be made aware of our flippancy, that we may avoid it -hereafter—and above all to have our personalities pointed out that -we may proceed forthwith with a repentant spirit, to make the -<i>amende honorable</i>. In default of this aid from the Editor of the -Commercial we shall take it for granted that we are neither -blunderers, flippant, personal, nor unjust.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<p>Who will deny that in regard to individual poems no definitive -opinions can exist, so long as to Poetry in the abstract we attach -no definitive idea? Yet it is a common thing to hear our critics, -day after day, pronounce, with a positive air, laudatory or -condemnatory sentences, <i>en masse</i>, upon metrical works of whose -merits and demerits they have, in the first place, virtually -confessed an utter ignorance, in confessing ignorance of all -determinate principles by which to regulate a decision. Poetry has -never been defined to the satisfaction of all parties. Perhaps, in -the present condition of language it never will be. Words cannot hem -it in. Its intangible and purely spiritual nature refuses to be -bound down within the widest horizon of mere sounds. But it is not, -therefore, misunderstood—at least, not by all men is it -misunderstood. Very far from it. If, indeed, there be any one circle -of thought distinctly and palpably marked out from amid the jarring -and tumultuous chaos of human intelligence, it is that evergreen and -radiant Paradise which the true poet knows, and knows alone, as the -limited realm of his authority—as the circumscribed Eden of his -dreams. But a definition is a thing of words—a conception of ideas. -And thus while we readily believe that Poesy, the term, it will be -troublesome, if not impossible to define—still, with its image -vividly existing in the world, we apprehend no difficulty in so -describing Poesy, the Sentiment, as to imbue even the most obtuse -intellect with a comprehension of it sufficiently distinct for all -the purposes of practical analysis.</p> - -<p>To look upwards from any existence, material or immaterial, to its -<i>design</i>, is, perhaps, the most direct, and the most unerring method -of attaining a just notion of the nature of the existence itself. -Nor is the principle at fault when we turn our eyes from Nature even -to Nature's God. We find certain faculties implanted within us, and -arrive at a more plausible conception of the character and -attributes of those faculties, by considering, with what finite -judgment we possess, the <i>intention</i> of the Deity in so implanting -them within us, than by any actual investigation of their powers, or -any speculative deductions from their visible and material effects. -Thus, for example, we discover in all men a disposition to look with -reverence upon <span class="pagenum"><a name="page328"><small><small>[p. 328]</small></small></a></span> -superiority, whether real or supposititious. In -some, this disposition is to be recognized with difficulty, and, in -very peculiar cases, we are occasionally even led to doubt its -existence altogether, until circumstances beyond the common routine -bring it accidentally into development. In others again it forms a -prominent and distinctive feature of character, and is rendered -palpably evident in its excesses. But in all human beings it is, in -a greater or less degree, finally perceptible. It has been, -therefore, justly considered a primitive sentiment. Phrenologists -call it Veneration. It is, indeed, the instinct given to man by God -as security for his own worship. And although, preserving its -nature, it becomes perverted from its principal purpose, and -although, swerving from that purpose, it serves to modify the -relations of human society—the relations of father and child, of -master and slave, of the ruler and the ruled—its primitive essence -is nevertheless the same, and by a reference to primal causes, may -at any moment be determined.</p> - -<p>Very nearly akin to this feeling, and liable to the same analysis, -is the Faculty of Ideality—which is the sentiment of Poesy. This -sentiment is the sense of the beautiful, of the sublime, and of the -mystical.<small><small><sup>3</sup></small></small> Thence spring immediately admiration of the fair -flowers, the fairer forests, the bright valleys and rivers and -mountains of the Earth—and love of the gleaming stars and other -burning glories of Heaven—and, mingled up inextricably with this -love and this admiration of Heaven and of Earth, the unconquerable -desire—<i>to know</i>. Poesy is the sentiment of Intellectual Happiness -here, and the Hope of a higher Intellectual Happiness hereafter.<small><small><sup>4</sup></small></small> -Imagination is its Soul.<small><small><sup>5</sup></small></small> With the <i>passions</i> of mankind—although -it may modify them greatly—although it may exalt, or inflame, or -purify, or control them—it would require little ingenuity to prove -that it has no inevitable, and indeed no necessary co-existence. We -have hitherto spoken of Poetry in the abstract: we come now to speak -of it in its every-day acceptation—that is to say, of the practical -result arising from the sentiment we have considered.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>3</sup></small> We separate the sublime and the mystical—for, despite -of high authorities, we are firmly convinced that the latter <i>may</i> -exist, in the most vivid degree, without giving rise to the sense of -the former.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>4</sup></small> The consciousness of this truth was possessed by no -mortal more fully than by Shelley, although he has only once -especially alluded to it. In his <i>Hymn to Intellectual Beauty</i> we -find these lines.</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem32"> - <tr><td><small>While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped<br> - Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin,<br> - And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing<br> - Hopes of high talk with the departed dead:<br> - I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed:<br> - I was not heard: I saw them not.<br> - When musing deeply on the lot<br> - Of life at that sweet time when birds are wooing<br> - All vital things that wake to bring<br> - News of buds and blossoming<br> - Sudden thy shadow fell on me—<br> - I shrieked and clasp'd my hands in ecstacy!<br> - I vow'd that I would dedicate my powers<br> - To thee and thine: have I not kept the vow?<br> - With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now<br> - I call the phantoms of a thousand hours<br> - Each from his voiceless grave: they have in vision'd bowers<br> - Of studious zeal or love's delight<br> - Outwatch'd with me the envious night:<br> - They know that never joy illum'd my brow,<br> - Unlink'd with hope that thou wouldst free,<br> - This world from its dark slavery,<br> - That thou, O awful <i>Loveliness</i>,<br> - Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>5</sup></small> Imagination is, possibly, in man, a lesser degree of -the creative power in God. What the Deity imagines, <i>is</i>, but <i>was -not</i> before. What man imagines, <i>is</i>, but <i>was</i> also. The mind of -man cannot imagine what <i>is not</i>. This latter point may be -demonstrated.—<i>See Les Premiers Traits de L'Erudition Universelle, -par M. Le Baron de Bielfield, 1767</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>And now it appears evident, that since Poetry, in this new sense, -<i>is</i> the practical result, expressed in language, of this Poetic -Sentiment in certain individuals, the only proper method of testing -the merits of a poem is by measuring its capabilities of exciting -the Poetic Sentiment in others. And to this end we have many -aids—in observation, in experience, in ethical analysis, and in the -dictates of common sense. Hence the <i>Poeta nascitur</i>, which is -indisputably true if we consider the Poetic Sentiment, becomes the -merest of absurdities when we regard it in reference to the -practical result. We do not hesitate to say that a man highly -endowed with the powers of Causality—that is to say, a man of -metaphysical acumen—will, even with a very deficient share of -Ideality, compose a finer poem (if we test it, as we should, by its -measure of exciting the Poetic Sentiment) than one who, without such -metaphysical acumen, shall be gifted, in the most extraordinary -degree, with the faculty of Ideality. For a poem is not the Poetic -faculty, but <i>the means</i> of exciting it in mankind. Now these means -the metaphysician may discover by analysis of their effects in other -cases than his own, without even conceiving the nature of these -effects—thus arriving at a result which the unaided Ideality of his -competitor would be utterly unable, except by accident, to attain. -It is more than possible that the man who, of all writers, living or -dead, has been most successful in writing the purest of all -poems—that is to say, poems which excite most purely, most -exclusively, and most powerfully the imaginative faculties in -men—owed his extraordinary and almost magical pre-eminence rather -to metaphysical than poetical powers. We allude to the author of -Christabel, of the Rime of the Auncient Mariner, and of Love—to -Coleridge—whose head, if we mistake not its character, gave no -great phrenological tokens of Ideality, while the organs of -Causality and Comparison were most singularly developed.</p> - -<p>Perhaps at this particular moment there are no American poems held -in so high estimation by our countrymen, as the poems of Drake, and -of Halleck. The exertions of Mr. George Dearborn have no doubt a far -greater share in creating this feeling than the lovers of literature -for its own sake and spiritual uses would be willing to admit. We -have indeed seldom seen more beautiful volumes than the volumes now -before us. But an adventitious interest of a loftier nature—the -interest of the living in the memory of the beloved dead—attaches -itself to the few literary remains of Drake. The poems which are now -given to us with his name are nineteen in number; and whether all, -or whether even the best of his writings, it is our present purpose -to speak of these alone, since upon this edition his poetical -reputation to all time will most probably depend.</p> - -<p>It is only lately that we have read <i>The Culprit Fay</i>. This is a -poem of six hundred and forty irregular lines, generally iambic, and -divided into thirty six stanzas, of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page329"><small><small>[p. 329]</small></small></a></span> unequal length. The scene -of the narrative, as we ascertain from the single line,</p> - -<center>The moon looks down on old <i>Cronest</i>,</center> - -<p>is principally in the vicinity of West Point on the Hudson. The plot -is as follows. An Ouphe, one of the race of Fairies, has "broken his -vestal vow,"</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem33"> - <tr><td>He has loved an earthly maid<br> - And left for her his woodland shade;<br> - He has lain upon her lip of dew,<br> - And sunned him in her eye of blue,<br> - Fann'd her cheek with his wing of air,<br> - Play'd with the ringlets of her hair,<br> - And, nestling on her snowy breast,<br> - Forgot the lily-king's behest—</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>in short, he has broken Fairy-law in becoming enamored of a mortal. -The result of this misdemeanor we could not express so well as the -poet, and will therefore make use of the language put into the mouth -of the Fairy-King who reprimands the criminal.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem34"> - <tr><td>Fairy! Fairy! list and mark,<br> - Thou hast broke thine elfin chain,<br> - Thy flame-wood lamp is quench'd and dark<br> - And thy wings are dyed with a deadly stain.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The Ouphe being in this predicament, it has become necessary that -his case and crime should be investigated by a jury of his fellows, -and to this end the "shadowy tribes of air" are summoned by the -"sentry elve" who has been awakened by the "wood-tick"—are summoned -we say to the "elfin-court" at midnight to hear the doom of the -<i>Culprit Fay</i>.</p> - -<p>"Had a stain been found on the earthly fair" whose blandishments so -bewildered the litle Ouphe, his punishment had been severe indeed. -In such case he would have been (as we learn from the Fairy judge's -exposition of the criminal code,)</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem35"> - <tr><td>Tied to the hornet's shardy wings;<br> - Tossed on the pricks of nettles' stings;<br> - Or seven long ages doomed to dwell<br> - With the lazy worm in the walnut shell;<br> - Or every night to writhe and bleed<br> - Beneath the tread of the centipede;<br> - Or bound in a cobweb dungeon dim,<br> - His jailer a spider huge and grim,<br> - Amid the carrion bodies to lie<br> - Of the worm and the bug and the murdered fly—</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Fortunately, however, for the Culprit, his mistress is proved to be -of "sinless mind" and under such redeeming circumstances the -sentence is, mildly, as follows—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem36"> - <tr><td>Thou shalt seek the beach of sand<br> - Where the water bounds the elfin land,<br> - Thou shalt watch the oozy brine<br> - Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine,<br> - Then dart the glistening arch below,<br> - And catch a drop from his silver bow.<br> - * * - * - * - * -<br> - If the spray-bead gem be won<br> - The stain of thy wing is washed away,<br> - But another errand must be done<br> - Ere thy crime be lost for aye;<br> - Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark,<br> - Thou must re-illume its spark.<br> - Mount thy steed and spur him high<br> - To the heaven's blue canopy;<br> - And when thou seest a shooting star<br> - Follow it fast and follow it far—<br> - The last faint spark of its burning train<br> - Shall light the elfin lamp again.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Upon this sin, and upon this sentence, depends the web of the -narrative, which is now occupied with the elfin difficulties -overcome by the Ouphe in washing away the stain of his wing, and -re-illuming his flame-wood lamp. His soiled pinion having lost its -power, he is under the necessity of wending his way on foot from the -Elfin court upon Cronest to the river beach at its base. His path is -encumbered at every step with "bog and briar," with "brook and -mire," with "beds of tangled fern," with "groves of nightshade," and -with the minor evils of ant and snake. Happily, however, a spotted -toad coming in sight, our adventurer jumps upon her back, and -"bridling her mouth with a silkweed twist" bounds merrily along</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem37"> - <tr><td>Till the mountain's magic verge is past<br> - And the beach of sand is reached at last.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Alighting now from his "courser-toad" the Ouphe folds his wings -around his bosom, springs on a rock, breathes a prayer, throws his -arms above his head,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem38"> - <tr><td>Then tosses a tiny curve in air<br> - And plunges in the waters blue.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Here, however, a host of difficulties await him by far too -multitudinous to enumerate. We will content ourselves with simply -stating the names of his most respectable assailants. These are the -"spirits of the waves" dressed in "snail-plate armor" and aided by -the "mailed shrimp," the "prickly prong," the "blood-red leech," the -"stony star-fish," the "jellied quarl," the "soldier crab," and the -"lancing squab." But the hopes of our hero are high, and his limbs -are strong, so</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem39"> - <tr><td>He spreads his arms like the swallow's wing<br> - And throws his feet with a frog-like fling.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>All, however is to no purpose.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem40"> - <tr><td>On his thigh the leech has fixed his hold,<br> - The quarl's long arms are round him roll'd,<br> - The prickly prong has pierced his skin,<br> - And the squab has thrown his javelin,<br> - The gritty star has rubb'd him raw,<br> - And the crab has struck with his giant claw;<br> - He bawls with rage, and he shrieks with pain<br> - He strikes around but his blows are vain—</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>So then,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem41"> - <tr><td>He turns him round and flies amain<br> - With hurry and dash to the beach again.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Arrived safely on land our Fairy friend now gathers the dew from the -"sorrel-leaf and henbane-bud" and bathing therewith his wounds, -finally ties them up with cobweb. Thus recruited, he</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem42"> - <tr><td> ——treads the fatal shore<br> - As fresh and vigorous as before.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>At length espying a "purple-muscle shell" upon the beach, he -determines to use it as a boat, and thus evade the animosity of the -water-spirits whose powers extend not above the wave. Making a -"sculler's notch" in the stern, and providing himself with an oar of -the bootle-blade, the Ouphe a second time ventures upon the deep. -His perils are now diminished, but still great. The imps of the -river heave the billows up before the prow of the boat, dash the -surges against her side, and strike against her keel. The quarl -uprears "his island-back" in her path, and the scallop, floating in -the rear of the vessel, spatters it all over with water. Our -adventurer however, bails it out with the colen bell (which he has -luckily provided for the purpose of catching the drop from the -silver bow of the sturgeon,) and keeping his little bark warily -trimmed, holds on his course undiscomfited.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page330"><small><small>[p. 330]</small></small></a></span> -<p>The object of his first adventure is at length discovered in a -"brown-backed sturgeon," who</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem43"> - <tr><td>Like the heaven-shot javelin<br> - Springs above the waters blue,<br> - And, instant as the star-fall light<br> - Plunges him in the deep again,<br> - But leaves an arch of silver bright,<br> - The rainbow of the moony main.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>From this rainbow our Ouphe succeeds in catching, by means of his -colen-bell cup, a "droplet of the sparkling dew." One half of his -task is accordingly done—</p> - -<center>His wings are pure, for the gem is won.</center> - -<p>On his return to land, the ripples divide before him, while the -water-spirits, so rancorous before, are obsequiously attentive to -his comfort. Having tarried a moment on the beach to breathe a -prayer, he "spreads his wings of gilded blue" and takes his way to -the elfin court—there resting until the cricket, at two in the -morning, rouses him up for the second portion of his penance.</p> - -<p>His equipments are now an "acorn helmet," a "thistle-down plume," a -corslet of the "wild-bee's" skin, a cloak of the "wings of -butterflies," a shield of the "shell of the lady-bug," for lance -"the sting of a wasp," for sword a "blade of grass," for horse "a -fire-fly," and for spurs a couple of "cockle seed." Thus accoutred,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem44"> - <tr><td>Away like a glance of thought he flies<br> - To skim the heavens and follow far<br> - The fiery trail of the rocket-star.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>In the Heavens he has new dangers to encounter. The "shapes of air" -have begun their work—a "drizzly mist" is cast around him—"storm, -darkness, sleet and shade" assail him—"shadowy hands" twitch at his -bridle-rein—"flame-shot tongues" play around him—"fiendish eyes" -glare upon him—and</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem45"> - <tr><td>Yells of rage and shrieks of fear<br> - Come screaming on his startled ear.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Still our adventurer is nothing daunted.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem46"> - <tr><td> He thrusts before, and he strikes behind,<br> - Till he pierces the cloudy bodies through<br> - And gashes the shadowy limbs of wind,</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>and the Elfin makes no stop, until he reaches the "bank of the milky -way." He there checks his courser, and watches "for the glimpse of -the planet shoot." While thus engaged, however, an unexpected -adventure befalls him. He is approached by a company of the "sylphs -of Heaven attired in sunset's crimson pall." They dance around him, -and "skip before him on the plain." One receiving his "wasp-sting -lance," and another taking his bridle-rein,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem47"> - <tr><td>With warblings wild they lead him on,<br> - To where, through clouds of amber seen,<br> - Studded with stars resplendent shone<br> - The palace of the sylphid queen.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>A glowing description of the queen's beauty follows; and as the form -of an earthly Fay had never been seen before in the bowers of light, -she is represented as falling desperately in love at first sight -with our adventurous Ouphe. He returns the compliment in some -measure, of course; but, although "his heart bent fitfully," the -"earthly form imprinted there" was a security against a too vivid -impression. He declines, consequently, the invitation of the queen -to remain with her and amuse himself by "lying within the fleecy -drift," "hanging upon the rainbow's rim," having his "brow adorned -with all the jewels of the sky," "sitting within the Pleiad ring," -"resting upon Orion's belt," "riding upon the lightning's gleam," -"dancing upon the orbed moon," and "swimming within the milky way."</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem48"> - <tr><td>Lady, he cries, I have sworn to-night<br> - On the word of a fairy knight<br> - To do my sentence task aright.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The queen, therefore, contents herself with bidding the Fay an -affectionate farewell—having first directed him carefully to that -particular portion of the sky where a star is about to fall. He -reaches this point in safety, and in despite of the "fiends of the -cloud" who "bellow very loud," succeeds finally in catching a -"glimmering spark" with which he returns triumphantly to Fairy-land. -The poem closes with an Io Pæan chaunted by the elves in honor of -these glorious adventures.</p> - -<p>It is more than probable that from among ten readers of the <i>Culprit -Fay</i>, nine would immediately pronounce it a poem betokening the most -extraordinary powers of imagination, and of these nine, perhaps five -or six, poets themselves, and fully impressed with the truth of what -we have already assumed, that Ideality is indeed the soul of the -Poetic Sentiment, would feel embarrassed between a -half-consciousness that they <i>ought</i> to admire the production, and a -wonder that they <i>do not</i>. This embarrassment would then arise from -an indistinct conception of the results in which Ideality is -rendered manifest. Of these results some few are seen in the -<i>Culprit Fay</i>, but the greater part of it is utterly destitute of -any evidence of imagination whatever. The general character of the -poem will, we think, be sufficiently understood by any one who may -have taken the trouble to read our foregoing compendium of the -narrative. It will be there seen that what is so frequently termed -the imaginative power of this story, lies especially—we should have -rather said is thought to lie—in the passages we have quoted, or in -others of a precisely similar nature. These passages embody, -principally, mere specifications of qualities, of habiliments, of -punishments, of occupations, of circumstances &c., which the poet -has believed in unison with the size, firstly, and secondly with the -nature of his Fairies. To all which may be added specifications of -other animal existences (such as the toad, the beetle, the -lance-fly, the fire-fly and the like) supposed also to be in -accordance. An example will best illustrate our meaning upon this -point—we take it from page 20.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem49"> - <tr><td>He put his acorn helmet on;<br> - It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down:<br> - The corslet plate that guarded his breast<br> - Was once the wild bee's golden vest;<br> - His cloak of a thousand mingled dyes,<br> - Was formed of the wings of butterflies;<br> - His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen,<br> - Studs of gold on a ground of green;<small><small><sup>6</sup></small></small><br> - And the quivering lance which he brandished bright<br> - Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight.</td></tr> -</table> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem50"> - <tr><td><small><small><sup>6</sup></small> Chesnut color, or more slack,<br> - Gold upon a ground of black.<br> - - - - <i>Ben Jonson</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>We shall now be understood. Were any of the admirers of the <i>Culprit -Fay</i> asked their opinion of these lines, they would most probably -speak in high terms of the <i>imagination</i> they display. Yet let the -most stolid and <span class="pagenum"><a name="page331"><small><small>[p. 331]</small></small></a></span> -the most confessedly unpoetical of these -admirers only try the experiment, and he will find, possibly to his -extreme surprise, that he himself will have no difficulty whatever -in substituting for the equipments of the Fairy, as assigned by the -poet, other equipments equally comfortable, no doubt, and equally in -unison with the preconceived size, character, and other qualities of -the equipped. Why we could accoutre him as well ourselves—let us -see.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem51"> - <tr><td>His blue-bell helmet, we have heard,<br> - Was plumed with the down of the humming-bird,<br> - The corslet on his bosom bold<br> - Was once the locust's coat of gold,<br> - His cloak, of a thousand mingled hues,<br> - Was the velvet violet, wet with dews,<br> - His target was the crescent shell<br> - Of the small sea Sidrophel,<br> - And a glittering beam from a maiden's eye<br> - Was the lance which he proudly wav'd on high.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The truth is, that the only requisite for writing verses of this -nature, <i>ad libitum</i>, is a tolerable acquaintance with the qualities -of the objects to be detailed, and a very moderate endowment of the -faculty of Comparison—which is the chief constituent of <i>Fancy</i> or -the powers of combination. A thousand such lines may be composed -without exercising in the least degree the Poetic Sentiment, which -is Ideality, Imagination, or the creative ability. And, as we have -before said, the greater portion of the <i>Culprit Fay</i> is occupied -with these, or similar things, and upon such, depends very nearly, -if not altogether, its reputation. We select another example from -page 25.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem52"> - <tr><td>But oh! how fair the shape that lay<br> - Beneath a rainbow bending bright,<br> - She seem'd to the entranced Fay<br> - The loveliest of the forms of light;<br> - Her mantle was the purple rolled<br> - At twilight in the west afar;<br> - 'Twas tied with threads of dawning gold,<br> - And button'd with a sparkling star.<br> - Her face was like the lily roon<br> - That veils the vestal planet's hue;<br> - Her eyes, two beamlets from the moon<br> - Set floating in the welkin blue.<br> - Her hair is like the sunny beam,<br> - And the diamond gems which round it gleam<br> - Are the pure drops of dewy even,<br> - That ne'er have left their native heaven.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Here again the faculty of Comparison is alone exercised, and no mind -possessing the faculty in any ordinary degree would find a -difficulty in substituting for the materials employed by the poet -other materials equally as good. But viewed as mere efforts of the -Fancy and without reference to Ideality, the lines just quoted are -much worse than those which were taken from page 20. A congruity was -observable in the accoutrements of the Ouphe, and we had no trouble -in forming a distinct conception of his appearance when so -accoutred. But the most vivid powers of Comparison can attach no -definitive idea to even "the loveliest form of light," when habited -in a mantle of "rolled purple tied with threads of dawn and buttoned -with a star," and sitting at the same time under a rainbow with -"beamlet" eyes and a visage of "lily roon."</p> - -<p>But if these things evince no Ideality in their author, do they not -excite it in others?—if so, we must conclude, that without being -himself imbued with the Poetic Sentiment, he has still succeeded in -writing a fine poem—a supposition as we have before endeavored to -show, not altogether paradoxical. Most assuredly we think not. In -the case of a great majority of readers the only sentiment aroused -by compositions of this order is a species of vague wonder at the -writer's <i>ingenuity</i>, and it is this indeterminate sense of wonder -which passes but too frequently current for the proper influence of -the Poetic power. For our own parts we plead guilty to a predominant -sense of the ludicrous while occupied in the perusal of the poem -before us—a sense whose promptings we sincerely and honestly -endeavored to quell, perhaps not altogether successfully, while -penning our compend of the narrative. That a feeling of this nature -is utterly at war with the Poetic Sentiment, will not be disputed by -those who comprehend the character of the sentiment itself. This -character is finely shadowed out in that popular although vague idea -so prevalent throughout all time, that a species of melancholy is -inseparably connected with the higher manifestations of the -beautiful. But with the numerous and seriously-adduced incongruities -of the Culprit Fay, we find it generally impossible to connect other -ideas than those of the ridiculous. We are bidden, in the first -place, and in a tone of sentiment and language adapted to the -loftiest breathings of the Muse, to imagine a race of Fairies in the -vicinity of West Point. We are told, with a grave air, of their -camp, of their king, and especially of their sentry, who is a -wood-tick. We are informed that an Ouphe of about an inch in height -has committed a deadly sin in falling in love with a mortal maiden, -who may, very possibly, be six feet in her stockings. The -consequence to the Ouphe is—what? Why, that he has "dyed his -wings," "broken his elfin chain," and "quenched his flame-wood -lamp." And he is therefore sentenced to what? To catch a spark from -the tail of a falling star, and a drop of water from the belly of a -sturgeon. What are his equipments for the first adventure? An acorn -helmet, a thistle-down plume, a butterfly cloak, a lady-bug shield, -cockle-seed spurs, and a fire-fly horse. How does he ride to the -second? On the back of a bull-frog. What are his opponents in the -one? "Drizzly mists," "sulphur and smoke," "shadowy hands" and -"flame-shot tongues." What in the other? "Mailed shrimps," "prickly -prongs," "blood-red leeches," "jellied quarls," "stony star fishes," -"lancing squabs" and "soldier crabs." Is that all? No—Although only -an inch high he is in imminent danger of seduction from a "sylphid -queen," dressed in a mantle of "rolled purple," "tied with threads -of dawning gold," "buttoned with a sparkling star," and sitting -under a rainbow with "beamlet eyes" and a countenance of "lily -roon." In our account of all this matter we have had reference to -the book—and to the book alone. It will be difficult to prove us -guilty in any degree of distortion or exaggeration. Yet such are the -puerilities we daily find ourselves called upon to admire, as among -the loftiest efforts of the human mind, and which not to assign a -rank with the proud trophies of the matured and vigorous genius of -England, is to prove ourselves at once a fool, a maligner, and no -patriot.<small><small><sup>7</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>7</sup></small> A review of Drake's poems, emanating from one of our -proudest Universities, does not scruple to make use of the following -language in relation to the <i>Culprit Fay</i>. "<i>It is, to say the -least, an elegant production, the purest specimen of Ideality -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page332"><small>[p. 332]</small></a></span> we -have ever met with, sustaining in each incident a most bewitching -interest. Its very title is enough</i>," &c. &c. We quote these -expressions as a fair specimen of the general unphilosophical and -adulatory tenor of our criticism.</small></blockquote> - -<p>As an instance of what may be termed the sublimely ridiculous -we quote the following lines from page 17.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem53"> - <tr><td>With sweeping tail and quivering fin,<br> - Through the wave the sturgeon flew,<br> - And like the heaven-shot javelin,<br> - He sprung above the waters blue.<br> -<br> - Instant as the star-fall light,<br> - He plunged into the deep again,<br> - But left an arch of silver bright<br> - The rainbow of the moony main.<br> -<br> - <i>It was a strange and lovely sight<br> - To see the puny goblin there;<br> - He seemed an angel form of light<br> - With azure wing and sunny hair,<br> - Throned on a cloud of purple fair<br> - Circled with blue and edged with white<br> - And sitting at the fall of even<br> - Beneath the bow of summer heaven.</i></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The verses here italicized, if considered without their context, -have a certain air of dignity, elegance, and chastity of thought. If -however we apply the context, we are immediately overwhelmed with -the grotesque. It is impossible to read without laughing, such -expressions as "It was a strange and lovely sight"—"He seemed an -angel form of light"—"And sitting at the fall of even, beneath the -bow of summer heaven" to a Fairy—a goblin—an Ouphe—half an inch -high, dressed in an acorn helmet and butterfly-cloak, and sitting on -the water in a muscle-shell, with a "brown-backed sturgeon" turning -somersets over his head.</p> - -<p>In a world where evil is a mere consequence of good, and good a mere -consequence of evil—in short where all of which we have any -conception is good or bad only by comparison—we have never yet been -fully able to appreciate the validity of that decision which would -debar the critic from enforcing upon his readers the merits or -demerits of a work by placing it in juxta-position with another. It -seems to us that an adage based in the purest ignorance has had more -to do with this popular feeling than any just reason founded upon -common sense. Thinking thus, we shall have no scruple in -illustrating our opinion in regard to what <i>is not</i> Ideality or the -Poetic Power, by an example of what <i>is</i>.<small><small><sup>8</sup></small></small> We have already given -the description of the Sylphid Queen in the <i>Culprit Fay</i>. In the -<i>Queen Mab</i> of Shelley a Fairy is thus introduced—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem54"> - <tr><td>Those who had looked upon the sight,<br> - Passing all human glory,<br> - Saw not the yellow moon,<br> - Saw not the mortal scene,<br> - Heard not the night wind's rush,<br> - Heard not an earthly sound,<br> - Saw but the fairy pageant,<br> - Heard but the heavenly strains<br> - That filled the lonely dwelling—</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>and thus described—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem55"> - <tr><td>The Fairy's frame was slight; yon fibrous cloud<br> - That catches but the palest tinge of even,<br> - And which the straining eye can hardly seize<br> - When melting into eastern twilight's shadow,<br> - Were scarce so thin, so slight; but the fair star<br> - That gems the glittering coronet of morn,<br> - <i>Sheds not a light so mild, so powerful,<br> - As that which, bursting from the Fairy's form,<br> - Spread a purpureal halo round the scene,<br> - Yet with an undulating motion,<br> - Swayed to her outline gracefully</i>.</td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>8</sup></small> As examples of entire poems of the purest ideality, we -would cite the <i>Prometheus Vinctus</i> of Æschylus, the <i>Inferno</i> of -Dante, Cervantes' <i>Destruction of Numantia</i>, the <i>Comus</i> of Milton, -Pope's <i>Rape of the Lock</i>, Burns' <i>Tam O'Shanter</i>, the <i>Auncient -Mariner</i>, the <i>Christabel</i>, and the <i>Kubla Khan</i> of Coleridge; and -most especially the <i>Sensitive Plant</i> of Shelley, and the -<i>Nightingale</i> of Keats. We have seen American poems evincing the -faculty in the highest degree.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In these exquisite lines the Faculty of mere Comparison is but -little exercised—that of Ideality in a wonderful degree. It is -probable that in a similar case the poet we are now reviewing would -have formed the face of the Fairy of the "fibrous cloud," her arms -of the "pale tinge of even," her eyes of the "fair stars," and her -body of the "twilight shadow." Having so done, his admirers would -have congratulated him upon his <i>imagination</i>, not taking the -trouble to think that they themselves could at any moment <i>imagine</i> -a Fairy of materials equally as good, and conveying an equally -distinct idea. Their mistake would be precisely analogous to that of -many a schoolboy who admires the imagination displayed in <i>Jack the -Giant-Killer</i>, and is finally rejoiced at discovering his own -imagination to surpass that of the author, since the monsters -destroyed by Jack are only about forty feet in height, and he -himself has no trouble in imagining some of one hundred and forty. -It will be seen that the Fairy of Shelley is not a mere compound of -incongruous natural objects, inartificially put together, and -unaccompanied by any <i>moral</i> sentiment—but a being, in the -illustration of whose nature some physical elements are used -collaterally as adjuncts, while the main conception springs -immediately <i>or thus apparently springs</i>, from the brain of the -poet, enveloped in the moral sentiments of grace, of color, of -motion—of the beautiful, of the mystical, of the august—in short -of <i>the ideal</i>.<small><small><sup>9</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>9</sup></small> Among things, which not only in our opinion, but in the -opinion of far wiser and better men, are to be ranked with the mere -prettinesses of the Muse, are the positive similes so abundant in -the writings of antiquity, and so much insisted upon by the critics -of the reign of Queen Anne.</small></blockquote> - -<p>It is by no means our intention to deny that in the <i>Culprit Fay</i> -are passages of a different order from those to which we have -objected—passages evincing a degree of imagination not to be -discovered in the plot, conception, or general execution of the -poem. The opening stanza will afford us a tolerable example.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem56"> - <tr><td>'Tis the middle watch of a summer's night—<br> - <i>The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright</i><br> - Naught is seen in the vault on high<br> - But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,<br> - And the flood which rolls its milky hue<br> - A river of light on the welkin blue.<br> - The moon looks down on old Cronest,<br> - She mellows the shades of his shaggy breast,<br> - And seems his huge grey form to throw<br> - In a silver cone on the wave below;<br> - His sides are broken by spots of shade,<br> - By the walnut bough and the cedar made,<br> - And through their clustering branches dark<br> - <i>Glimmers and dies</i> the fire-fly's spark—<br> - Like starry twinkles that momently break<br> - Through the rifts of the gathering tempest rack.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>There is Ideality in these lines—but except in the case of the -words italicized—it is Ideality <i>not of a high order</i>. We have it -is true, a collection of natural -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page333"><small><small>[p. 333]</small></small></a></span> -objects, each individually of -great beauty, and, if actually seen as in nature, capable of -exciting in any mind, through the means of the Poetic Sentiment more -or less inherent in all, a certain sense of the beautiful. But to -view such natural objects as they exist, and to behold them through -the medium of words, are different things. Let us pursue the idea -that such a collection as we have here will produce, of necessity, -the Poetic Sentiment, and we may as well make up our minds to -believe that a catalogue of such expressions as moon, sky, trees, -rivers, mountains &c., shall be capable of exciting it,—it is -merely an extension of the principle. But in the line "the earth is -dark, <i>but</i> the heavens are bright" besides the simple mention of -the "dark earth" and the "bright heaven," we have, directly, the -moral sentiment of the brightness of the sky compensating for the -darkness of the earth—and thus, indirectly, of the happiness of a -future state compensating for the miseries of a present. All this is -effected by the simple introduction of the word <i>but</i> between the -"dark heaven" and the "bright earth"—this introduction, however, -was prompted by the Poetic Sentiment, and by the Poetic Sentiment -alone. The case is analogous in the expression "glimmers and dies," -where the imagination is exalted by the moral sentiment of beauty -heightened in dissolution.</p> - -<p>In one or two shorter passages of the <i>Culprit Fay</i> the poet will -recognize the purely ideal, and be able at a glance to distinguish -it from that baser alloy upon which we have descanted. We give them -without farther comment.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem57"> - <tr><td>The winds <i>are whist</i>, and the owl is still<br> - The bat in the shelvy rock <i>is hid</i><br> - And naught is heard on the <i>lonely</i> hill<br> - But the cricket's chirp and the answer <i>shrill</i><br> - Of the gauze-winged katy-did;<br> - And the plaint of the <i>wailing</i> whippoorwill<br> - Who mourns <i>unseen</i>, and ceaseless sings<br> - Ever a note of wail and wo—<br> -<br> - Up to the vaulted firmament<br> - His path the fire-fly courser bent,<br> - And at every gallop on the wind<br> - <i>He flung a glittering spark behind</i>.<br> -<br> - He blessed the force of the charmed line,<br> - And he banned the water-goblins' spite,<br> - For he saw around <i>in the sweet moonshine,<br> - Their little wee faces above the brine,<br> - Giggling and laughing with all their might</i><br> - At the piteous hap of the Fairy wight.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The poem "<i>To a Friend</i>" consists of fourteen Spenserian stanzas. -They are fine spirited verses, and probably were not supposed by -their author to be more. Stanza the fourth, although beginning -nobly, concludes with that very common exemplification of the -bathos, the illustrating natural objects of beauty or grandeur by -reference to the tinsel of artificiality.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem58"> - <tr><td>Oh! for a seat on Appalachia's brow,<br> - That I might scan the glorious prospects round,<br> - Wild waving woods, and rolling floods below,<br> - Smooth level glades and fields with grain embrowned,<br> - High heaving hills, with tufted forests crowned,<br> - Rearing their tall tops to the heaven's blue dome,<br> - And emerald isles, <i>like banners green unwound,<br> - Floating along the lake, while round them roam<br> - Bright helms of billowy blue, and plumes of dancing foam</i>.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>In the <i>Extracts from Leon</i>, are passages not often surpassed in -vigor of passionate thought and expression—and which induce us to -believe not only that their author would have succeeded better in -prose romance than in poetry, but that his attention would have -naturally fallen into the former direction, had the Destroyer only -spared him a little longer.</p> - -<p>This poem contains also lines of far greater poetic power than any -to be found in the <i>Culprit Fay</i>. For example—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem59"> - <tr><td>The stars have lit in heaven their lamps of gold,<br> - The <i>viewless</i> dew falls lightly on the world;<br> - The gentle air <i>that softly sweeps the leaves</i><br> - A strain of faint unearthly music weaves:<br> - As when the harp of heaven <i>remotely</i> plays,<br> - Or cygnets <i>wail</i>—or song of <i>sorrowing</i> fays<br> - That <i>float amid the moonshine glimmerings pale</i>,<br> - On wings of woven air in some enchanted vale.<small><small><sup>10</sup></small></small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>10</sup></small> The expression "woven air," much insisted upon by the -friends of Drake, seems to be accredited to him as original. It is -to be found in many English writers—and can be traced back to -Apuleius who calls fine drapery <i>ventum textilem</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p><i>Niagara</i> is objectionable in many respects, and in none more so -than in its frequent inversions of language, and the artificial -character of its versification. The invocation,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem60"> - <tr><td>Roar, raging torrent! and thou, mighty river,<br> - Pour thy white foam on the valley below!<br> - Frown ye dark mountains, &c.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>is ludicrous—and nothing more. In general, all such invocations -have an air of the burlesque. In the present instance we may fancy -the majestic Niagara replying, "Most assuredly I will roar, whether, -worm! thou tellest me or not."</p> - -<p><i>The American Flag</i> commences with a collection of those bald -conceits, which we have already shown to have no dependence whatever -upon the Poetic Power—springing altogether from Comparison.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem61"> - <tr><td>When Freedom from her mountain height<br> - Unfurled her standard to the air,<br> - She tore the azure robe of night<br> - And set the stars of glory there.<br> - She mingled with its gorgeous dyes<br> - The milky baldric of the skies,<br> - And striped its pure celestial white<br> - With streakings of the morning light;<br> - Then from his mansion in the sun<br> - She called her eagle bearer down<br> - And gave into his mighty hand<br> - The symbol of her chosen land.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Let us reduce all this to plain English, and we have—what? Why, a -flag, consisting of the "azure robe of night," "set with stars of -glory," interspersed with "streaks of morning light," relieved with -a few pieces of "the milky way," and the whole carried by an "eagle -bearer," that is to say, an eagle ensign, who bears aloft this -"symbol of our chosen land" in his "mighty hand," by which we are to -understand his claw. In the second stanza, the "thunder-drum of -Heaven" is bathetic and grotesque in the highest degree—a -commingling of the most sublime music of Heaven with the most -utterly contemptible and common-place of Earth. The two concluding -verses are in a better spirit, and might almost be supposed to be -from a different hand. The images contained in the lines,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem62"> - <tr><td>When Death careering on the gale<br> - Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,<br> - And frighted waves rush wildly back,<br> - Before the broadside's reeling rack,</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>are of the highest order of Ideality. The deficiencies -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page334"><small><small>[p. 334]</small></small></a></span> of the -whole poem may be best estimated by reading it in connection with -"Scots wha hae," with the "Mariners of England," or with -"Hohenlinden." It is indebted for its high and most undeserved -reputation to our patriotism—not to our judgment.</p> - -<p>The remaining poems in Mr. Dearborn's edition of Drake, are three -Songs; Lines in an Album; Lines to a Lady; Lines on leaving New -Rochelle; Hope; A Fragment; To ——; Lines; To Eva; To a Lady; To -Sarah; and Bronx. These are all poems of little compass, and with -the exception of Bronx and a portion of the Fragment, they have no -character distinctive from the mass of our current poetical -literature. Bronx, however, is in our opinion, not only the best of -the writings of Drake, but altogether a lofty and beautiful poem, -upon which his admirers would do better to found a hope of the -writer's ultimate reputation than upon the <i>niaiseries</i> of the -<i>Culprit Fay</i>. In the <i>Fragment</i> is to be found the finest -individual passage in the volume before us, and we quote it as a -proper finale to our Review.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem63"> - <tr><td>Yes! thou art lovelier now than ever;<br> - How sweet 'twould be <i>when all the air<br> - In moonlight swims</i>, along thy river<br> - To couch upon the grass, and hear<br> - Niagara's everlasting voice<br> - Far in the deep blue west away;<br> - That dreamy and poetic noise<br> - We mark not in the glare of day,<br> - Oh! how unlike its torrent-cry,<br> - When o'er the brink the tide is driven,<br> - <i>As if the vast and sheeted sky<br> - In thunder fell from Heaven</i>.</td></tr> -</table> -<br> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<p>Halleck's poetical powers appear to us essentially inferior, upon -the whole, to those of his friend Drake. He has written nothing at -all comparable to <i>Bronx</i>. By the hackneyed phrase, <i>sportive -elegance</i>, we might possibly designate at once the general character -of his writings and the very loftiest praise to which he is justly -entitled.</p> - -<p><i>Alnwick Castle</i> is an irregular poem of one hundred and -twenty-eight lines—was written, as we are informed, in October -1822—and is descriptive of a seat of the Duke of Northumberland, in -Northumberlandshire, England. The effect of the first stanza is -materially impaired by a defect in its grammatical arrangement. The -fine lines,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem64"> - <tr><td>Home of the Percy's high-born race,<br> - Home of their beautiful and brave,<br> - Alike their birth and burial place,<br> - Their cradle and their grave!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>are of the nature of an invocation, and thus require a continuation -of the address to the "Home, &c." We are consequently disappointed -when the stanza proceeds with—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem65"> - <tr><td>Still sternly o'er the castle gate<br> - <i>Their</i> house's Lion stands in state<br> - As in <i>his</i> proud departed hours;<br> - And warriors frown in stone on high,<br> - And feudal banners "flout the sky"<br> - Above <i>his</i> princely towers.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The objects of allusion here vary, in an awkward manner, from the -castle to the Lion, and from the Lion to the towers. By writing the -verses thus the difficulty would be remedied.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem66"> - <tr><td>Still sternly o'er the castle gate<br> - <i>Thy</i> house's Lion stands in state,<br> - As in his proud departed hours;<br> - And warriors frown in stone on high,<br> - And feudal banners "flout the sky"<br> - Above <i>thy</i> princely towers.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The second stanza, without evincing in any measure the loftier -powers of a poet, has that quiet air of grace, both in thought and -expression, which seems to be the prevailing feature of the Muse of -Halleck.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem67"> - <tr><td>A gentle hill its side inclines,<br> - Lovely in England's fadeless green,<br> - To meet the quiet stream which winds<br> - Through this romantic scene<br> - As silently and sweetly still,<br> - As when, at evening, on that hill,<br> - While summer's wind blew soft and low,<br> - Seated by gallant Hotspur's side<br> - His Katherine was a happy bride<br> - A thousand years ago.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>There are one or two brief passages in the poem evincing a degree of -rich imagination not elsewhere perceptible throughout the book. For -example—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem68"> - <tr><td>Gaze on the Abbey's ruined pile:<br> - Does not the succoring Ivy keeping,<br> - Her watch around it seem to smile<br> - As o'er a lov'd one sleeping?</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>and,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem69"> - <tr><td>One solitary turret gray<br> - Still tells in melancholy glory<br> - The legend of the Cheviot day.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The commencement of the fourth stanza is of the highest order of -Poetry, and partakes, in a happy manner, of that quaintness of -expression so effective an adjunct to Ideality, when employed by the -Shelleys, the Coleridges and the Tennysons, but so frequently -debased, and rendered ridiculous, by the herd of brainless -imitators.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem70"> - <tr><td>Wild roses by the Abbey towers<br> - Are gay in their young bud and bloom:<br> - <i>They were born of a race of funeral flowers</i>,<br> - That garlanded in long-gone hours,<br> - A Templar's knightly tomb.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The tone employed in the concluding portions of Alnwick Castle, is, -we sincerely think, reprehensible, and unworthy of Halleck. No true -poet can unite in any manner the low burlesque with the ideal, and -not be conscious of incongruity and of a profanation. Such verses as</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem71"> - <tr><td>Men in the coal and cattle line<br> - From Teviot's bard and hero land,<br> - From royal Berwick's beach of sand,<br> - From Wooller, Morpeth, Hexham, and<br> - Newcastle upon Tyne,</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>may lay claim to oddity—but no more. These things are the defects -and not the beauties of <i>Don Juan</i>. They are totally out of keeping -with the graceful and delicate manner of the initial portions of -<i>Alnwick Castle</i>, and serve no better purpose than to deprive the -entire poem of all unity of effect. If a poet must be farcical, let -him be just that, and nothing else. To be drolly sentimental is bad -enough, as we have just seen in certain passages of the <i>Culprit -Fay</i>, but to be sentimentally droll is a thing intolerable to men, -and Gods, and columns.</p> - -<p><i>Marco Bozzaris</i> appears to have much lyrical without any high order -of <i>ideal</i> beauty. <i>Force</i> is its prevailing character—a force, -however, consisting more in a well ordered and sonorous arrangement -of the metre, and a <span class="pagenum"><a name="page335"><small><small>[p. 335]</small></small></a></span> -judicious disposal of what may be called -the circumstances of the poem, than in the true <i>materiel</i> of lyric -vigor. We are introduced, first, to the Turk who dreams, at -midnight, in his guarded tent,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem72"> - <tr><td> - - of the hour<br> - When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,<br> - Should tremble at his power—</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>He is represented as revelling in the visions of ambition.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem73"> - <tr><td>In dreams through camp and court he bore<br> - The trophies of a conqueror;<br> - In dreams his song of triumph heard;<br> - Then wore his monarch's signet ring:<br> - Then pressed that monarch's throne—a king;<br> - As wild his thoughts and gay of wing<br> - As Eden's garden bird.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>In direct contrast to this we have Bozzaris watchful in the forest, -and ranging his band of Suliotes on the ground, and amid the -memories, of Platœa. An hour elapses, and the Turk awakes from his -visions of false glory—to die. But Bozzaris dies—to awake. He dies -in the flush of victory to awake, in death, to an ultimate certainty -of Freedom. Then follows an invocation to Death. His terrors under -ordinary circumstances are contrasted with the glories of the -dissolution of Bozzaris, in which the approach of the Destroyer is</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem74"> - <tr><td> - welcome as the cry<br> - That told the Indian isles were nigh<br> - To the world-seeking Genoese,<br> - When the land-wind from woods of palm,<br> - And orange groves and fields of balm,<br> - Blew o'er the Haytian seas.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The poem closes with the poetical apotheosis of Marco Bozzaris as</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem75"> - <tr><td>One of the few, the immortal names<br> - That are not born to die.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>It will be seen that these arrangements of the subject are skilfully -contrived—perhaps they are a little too evident, and we are enabled -too readily by the perusal of one passage, to anticipate the -succeeding. The rhythm is highly artificial. The stanzas are well -adapted for vigorous expression—the fifth will afford a just -specimen of the versification of the whole poem.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem76"> - <tr><td>Come to the bridal Chamber, Death!<br> - Come to the mother's, when she feels<br> - For the first time her first born's breath;<br> - Come when the blessed seals<br> - That close the pestilence are broke,<br> - And crowded cities wail its stroke;<br> - Come in consumption's ghastly form,<br> - The earthquake shock, the ocean storm;<br> - Come when the heart beats high and warm,<br> - With banquet song, and dance, and wine;<br> - And thou art terrible—the tear,<br> - The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier;<br> - And all we know, or dream, or fear<br> - Of agony, are thine.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Granting, however, to <i>Marco Bozzaris</i>, the minor excellences we -have pointed out, we should be doing our conscience great wrong in -calling it, upon the whole, any thing more than a very ordinary -matter. It is surpassed, even as a lyric, by a multitude of foreign -and by many American compositions of a similar character. To -Ideality it has few pretensions, and the finest portion of the poem -is probably to be found in the verses we have quoted elsewhere—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem77"> - <tr><td>Thy grasp is welcome as the hand<br> - Of brother in a foreign land;<br> - Thy summons welcome as the cry<br> - That told the Indian isles were nigh<br> - To the world-seeking Genoese,<br> - When the land-wind from woods of palm<br> - And orange groves, and fields of balm<br> - Blew o'er the Haytian seas.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The verses entitled <i>Burns</i> consist of thirty eight quatrains—the -three first lines of each quatrain being of four feet, the fourth of -three. This poem has many of the traits of <i>Alnwick Castle</i>, and -bears also a strong resemblance to some of the writings of -Wordsworth. Its chief merit, and indeed the chief merit, so we -think, of all the poems of Halleck is the merit of <i>expression</i>. In -the brief extracts from <i>Burns</i> which follow, our readers will -recognize the peculiar character of which we speak.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem78"> - <tr><td>Wild Rose of Alloway! my thanks:<br> - Thou mind'st me of <i>that autumn noon<br> - When first we met upon "the banks<br> - And braes o' bonny Doon"</i>—</td></tr> - - <tr><td align="center">—</td></tr> - - <tr><td>Like thine, beneath the thorn-tree's bough,<br> - My sunny hour was glad and brief—<br> - We've crossed the winter sea, <i>and thou<br> - Art withered—flower and leaf</i>.</td></tr> - - <tr><td align="center">—</td></tr> - - <tr><td><i>There have been loftier themes than his,<br> - And longer scrolls and louder lyres<br> - And lays lit up with Poesy's<br> - Purer and holier fires.</i></td></tr> - - <tr><td align="center">—</td></tr> - - <tr><td><i>And when he breathes his master-lay<br> - Of Alloway's witch-haunted wall</i><br> - All passions in our frames of clay<br> - Come thronging at his call.</td></tr> - - <tr><td align="center">—</td></tr> - - <tr><td>Such graves as his are pilgrim-shrines,<br> - Shrines to no code or creed confined—<br> - <i>The Delphian vales, the Palestines,<br> - The Meccas of the mind</i>.</td></tr> - - <tr><td align="center">—</td></tr> - - <tr><td><i>They linger by the Doon's low trees,<br> - And pastoral Nith, and wooded Ayr</i>,<br> - And round thy Sepulchres, Dumfries!<br> - The Poet's tomb is there.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Wyoming</i> is composed of nine Spenserian stanzas. With some unusual -excellences, it has some of the worst faults of Halleck. The lines -which follow are of great beauty.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem79"> - <tr><td> I then but dreamed: thou art before me now,<br> - In life—a vision of the brain no more,<br> - I've stood upon the wooded mountain's brow,<br> - That beetles high thy lovely valley o'er;<br> - And now, <i>where winds thy river's greenest shore,<br> - Within a bower of sycamores am laid;<br> - And winds as soft and sweet as ever bore<br> - The fragrance of wild flowers through sun and shade<br> - Are singing in the trees, whose low boughs press my head</i>.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The poem, however, is disfigured with the mere burlesque of some -portions of Alnwick Castle—with such things as</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem80"> - <tr><td> he would look <i>particularly droll</i><br> - In his Iberian boot and Spanish plume;</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>and</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem81"> - <tr><td> a girl of sweet sixteen<br> - Love-darting eyes and tresses like the morn<br> - <i>Without a shoe or stocking—hoeing corn</i>,</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>mingled up in a pitiable manner with images of real beauty.</p> - -<p><i>The Field of the Grounded Arms</i> contains twenty-four quatrains, -without rhyme, and, we think, of a -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page336"><small><small>[p. 336]</small></small></a></span> disagreeable versification. -In this poem are to be observed some of the finest passages of -Halleck. For example—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem82"> - <tr><td>Strangers! your eyes are on that valley fixed<br> - Intently, as we gaze on vacancy,<br> - <i>When the mind's wings o'erspread<br> - The spirit world of dreams</i>.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>And again—</p> - -<center><i>O'er sleepless seas of grass whose waves are flowers</i>.</center> - -<p><i>Red-Jacket</i> has much power of expression with little evidence of -poetical ability. Its humor is very fine, and does not interfere, in -any great degree, with the general tone of the poem.</p> - -<p><i>A Sketch</i> should have been omitted from the edition as altogether -unworthy of its author.</p> - -<p>The remaining pieces in the volume are <i>Twilight;</i> <i>Psalm</i> cxxxvii; -<i>To ****;</i> <i>Love;</i> <i>Domestic Happiness;</i> <i>Magdalen;</i> <i>From the -Italian;</i> <i>Woman;</i> <i>Connecticut;</i> <i>Music;</i> <i>On the Death of Lieut. -William Howard Allen;</i> <i>A Poet's Daughter;</i> and <i>On the Death of -Joseph Rodman Drake</i>. Of the majority of these we deem it -unnecessary to say more than that they partake, in a more or less -degree, of the general character observable in the poems of Halleck. -The <i>Poet's Daughter</i> appears to us a particularly happy specimen of -that general character, and we doubt whether it be not the favorite -of its author. We are glad to see the vulgarity of</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem83"> - <tr><td>I'm busy in the cotton trade<br> - And sugar line,</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>omitted in the present edition. The eleventh stanza is certainly not -English as it stands—and besides it is altogether unintelligible. -What is the meaning of this?</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem84"> - <tr><td>But her who asks, though first among<br> - The good, the beautiful, the young,<br> - The birthright of a spell more strong<br> - Than these have brought her.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>The Lines on the Death of Joseph Rodman Drake</i>, we prefer to any of -the writings of Halleck. It has that rare merit in compositions of -this kind—the union of tender sentiment and simplicity. This poem -consists merely of six quatrains, and we quote them in full.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem85"> - <tr><td>Green be the turf above thee,<br> - Friend of my better days!<br> - None knew thee but to love thee,<br> - Nor named thee but to praise.<br> -<br> - Tears fell when thou wert dying,<br> - From eyes unused to weep,<br> - And long, where thou art lying,<br> - Will tears the cold turf steep.<br> -<br> - When hearts whose truth was proven,<br> - Like thine are laid in earth,<br> - There should a wreath be woven<br> - To tell the world their worth.<br> -<br> - And I, who woke each morrow<br> - To clasp thy hand in mine,<br> - Who shared thy joy and sorrow,<br> - Whose weal and woe were thine—<br> -<br> - It should be mine to braid it<br> - Around thy faded brow,<br> - But I've in vain essayed it,<br> - And feel I cannot now.<br> -<br> - While memory bids me weep thee,<br> - Nor thoughts nor words are free,<br> - The grief is fixed too deeply,<br> - That mourns a man like thee.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>If we are to judge from the subject of these verses, they are a work -of some care and reflection. Yet they abound in faults. In the line,</p> - -<center>Tears fell when thou wert dying;</center> - -<p><i>wert</i> is not English.</p> - -<center>Will tears the cold turf steep,</center> - -<p>is an exceedingly rough verse. The metonymy involved in</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem86"> - <tr><td>There should a wreath be woven<br> - To <i>tell</i> the world their worth,</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>is unjust. The quatrain beginning,</p> - -<center>And I who woke each morrow,</center> - -<p>is ungrammatical in its construction when viewed in connection with -the quatrain which immediately follows. "Weep thee" and "deeply" are -inaccurate rhymes—and the whole of the first quatrain,</p> - -<center>Green be the turf, &c.</center> - -<p>although beautiful, bears too close a resemblance to the still more -beautiful lines of William Wordsworth,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem87"> - <tr><td>She dwelt among the untrodden ways<br> - Beside the springs of Dove,<br> - A maid whom there were none to praise<br> - And very few to love.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>As a versifier Halleck is by no means equal to his friend, all of -whose poems evince an ear finely attuned to the delicacies of -melody. We seldom meet with more inharmonious lines than those, -generally, of the author of <i>Alnwick Castle</i>. At every step such -verses occur as,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem88"> - <tr><td>And <i>the</i> monk's hymn and minstrel's song—<br> - True <i>as</i> the steel of <i>their</i> tried blades—<br> - For <i>him</i> the joy of <i>her</i> young years—<br> - Where <i>the</i> Bard-peasant first drew breath—<br> - And withered <i>my</i> life's leaf like thine—</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>in which the proper course of the rhythm would demand an accent upon -syllables too unimportant to sustain it. Not unfrequently, too, we -meet with lines such as this,</p> - -<center>Like torn branch from death's leafless tree,</center> - -<p>in which the multiplicity of consonants renders the pronunciation of -the words at all, a matter of no inconsiderable difficulty.</p> - -<p>But we must bring our notice to a close. It will be seen that while -we are willing to admire in many respects the poems before us, we -feel obliged to dissent materially from that public opinion (perhaps -not fairly ascertained) which would assign them a very brilliant -rank in the empire of Poesy. That we have among us poets of the -loftiest order we believe—but we do <i>not</i> believe that these poets -are Drake and Halleck.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect24"></a> -<br> -<center>SLAVERY.</center> - -<p><i>Slavery in the United States. By J. K. Paulding. New York: Harper -and Brothers.</i></p> - -<p><i>The South Vindicated from the Treason and Fanaticism of the -Northern Abolitionists. Philadelphia: Published by H. Manly.</i></p> - -<p>It is impossible to look attentively and understandingly on those -phenomena that indicate public sentiment in regard to the subject of -these works, without deep and anxious interest. "<i>Nulla vestigia -retrorsum</i>," is a saying fearfully applicable to what is called the -"march of mind." It is unquestionable truth. The absolute and -palpable impossibility of ever unlearning what we know, and of -returning, even by forgetfulness, to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page337"><small><small>[p. 337]</small></small></a></span> the state of mind in -which the knowledge of it first found us, has always afforded -flattering encouragement to the hopes of him who dreams about the -perfectibility of human nature. Sometimes one scheme, and sometimes -another is devised for accomplishing this great end; and these means -are so various, and often so opposite, that the different -experiments which the world has countenanced would seem to -contradict the maxim we have quoted. At one time human nature is to -be elevated to the height of perfection, by emancipating the mind -from all the restraints imposed by Religion. At another, the same -end is to be accomplished by the universal spread of a faith, under -the benign influence of which every son of Adam is to become holy, -"even as God is holy." One or the other of these schemes has been a -cardinal point in every system of perfectibility which has been -devised since the earliest records of man's history began. At the -same time the progress of knowledge (subject indeed to occasional -interruptions) has given to each successive experiment a seeming -advantage over that which preceded it.</p> - -<p>But it is lamentable to observe, that let research discover, let -science teach, let art practice what it may, man, in all his -mutations, never fails to get back to some point at which he has -been before. The human mind seems to perform, by some invariable -laws, a sort of cycle, like those of the heavenly bodies. We may be -unable, (and, for ourselves, we profess to be so) to trace the -<i>causes</i> of these changes; but we are not sure that an accurate -observation of the history of various nations at different times, -may not detect the <i>laws</i> that govern them. However eccentric the -orbit, the comet's place in the heavens enables the enlightened -astronomer to anticipate its future course, to tell when it will -pass its perihelion, in what direction it will shoot away into the -unfathomable abyss of infinite space, and at what period it will -return. But what especially concerns us, is to mark its progress -through our planetary system, to determine whether in coming or -returning it may infringe upon us, and prove the messenger of that -dispensation which, in the end of all things, is to wrap our earth -in flames.</p> - -<p>Not less eccentric, and far more deeply interesting to us, is the -orbit of the human mind. If, as some have supposed, the comet in its -upward flight is drawn away by the attraction of some other sun, -around which also it bends its course, thus linking another system -with our own, the analogy will be more perfect. For while man is -ever seen rushing with uncontrollable violence toward one or the -other of his opposite extremes, fanaticism and irreligion—at each -of these we find placed an attractive force identical in its nature -and in many of its effects. At each extreme, we find him influenced -by the same prevailing interest—devoting himself to the -accomplishment of the same great object. Happiness is his purpose. -The sources of that, he may be told, are within himself—but his eye -will fix on the external means, and these he will labor to obtain. -Foremost among these, and the equivalent which is to purchase all -the rest, is property. At this all men aim, and their eagerness -seems always proportioned to the excitement, which, from whatever -cause, may for the time prevail. Under such excitement, the many who -want, band themselves together against the few that possess; and the -lawless appetite of the multitude for the property of others calls -itself the spirit of liberty.</p> - -<p>In the calm, and, as we would call it, the healthful condition of -the public mind, when every man worships God after his own manner, -and Religion and its duties are left to his conscience and his -Maker, we find each quietly enjoying his own property, and -permitting to others the quiet enjoyment of theirs. Under that state -of things, those modes and forms of liberty which regulate and -secure this enjoyment, are preferred. Peace reigns, the arts -flourish, science extends her discoveries, and man, and the sources -of his enjoyments, are multiplied. But in this condition things -never rest. We have already disclaimed any knowledge of the causes -which forbid this—we only know that such exist. We know that men -are always passing, with fearful rapidity, between the extremes of -fanaticism and irreligion, and that at either extreme, property and -all the governmental machinery provided to guard it, become -insecure. "Down with the Church! Down with the Altar!" is at one -time the cry. "Turn the fat bigots out of their styes, sell the -property of the Church and give the money to the poor!" "Behold our -turn cometh," says the Millenarian. "The kingdoms of this world are -about to become the kingdoms of God and of his Christ. Sell what you -have and give to the poor, and let all things be in common!"</p> - -<p>It is now about two hundred years since this latter spirit showed -itself in England with a violence and extravagance which -accomplished the overthrow of all the institutions of that kingdom. -With that we have nothing to do; but we should suppose that the -striking resemblance between the aspect of a certain party in that -country then and now, could hardly escape the English statesman. -Fifty years ago, in France, this eccentric comet, "public -sentiment," was in its opposite node. Making allowance for the -difference in the characters of the two people, the effects were -identical, the apparent causes were the opposites of each other. In -the history of the French Revolution, we find a sort of symptomatic -phenomenon, the memory of which was soon lost in the fearful -exacerbation of the disease. But it should be remembered now, that -in that war against property, the first object of attack was -property in slaves; that in that war on behalf of the alleged right -of man to be discharged from all control of law, the first triumph -achieved was in the emancipation of slaves.</p> - -<p>The recent events in the West Indies, and the parallel movement -here, give an awful importance to these thoughts in our minds. They -superinduce a something like despair of success in any attempt that -may be made to resist the attack on all our rights, of which that on -Domestic Slavery (the basis of all our institutions) is but the -precursor. It is a sort of boding that may belong to the family of -superstitions. All vague and undefined fears, from causes the nature -of which we know not, the operations of which we cannot stay, are of -that character. Such apprehensions are alarming in proportion to our -estimate of the value of the interest endangered; and are excited by -every thing which enhances that estimate. Such apprehensions have -been awakened in our minds by the books before us. To Mr. Paulding, -as a Northern man, we tender our grateful thanks for the faithful -picture he has drawn of slavery as it appeared to him in his visit -to the South, and as <span class="pagenum"><a name="page338"><small><small>[p. 338]</small></small></a></span> -exhibited in the information he has -carefully derived from those most capable of giving it. His work is -executed in the very happiest manner of an author in whom America -has the greatest reason to rejoice, and will not fail to enhance his -reputation immeasurably as a writer of pure and vigorous English, as -a clear thinker, as a patriot, and as a man. The other publication, -which we take to be from a Southern pen, is more calculated to -excite our indignation against the calumnies which have been put -forth against us, and the wrongs meditated by those who come to us -in the names of our common Redeemer and common country—seeking our -destruction under the mask of Christian Charity and Brotherly Love. -This too is executed with much ability, and may be read with -pleasure as well as profit. While we take great pleasure in -recommending these works to our readers, we beg leave to add a few -words of our own. We are the more desirous to do this, because there -is a view of the subject most deeply interesting to us, which we do -not think has ever been presented, by any writer, in as high relief -as it deserves. We speak of the moral influences flowing from the -relation of master and slave, and the moral feelings engendered and -cultivated by it. A correspondent of Mr. Paulding's justly speaks of -this relation as one partaking of the patriarchal character, and -much resembling that of clanship. This is certainly so. But to say -this, is to give a very inadequate idea of it, unless we take into -consideration the peculiar character (I may say the peculiar nature) -of the negro. Let us reason upon it as we may, there is certainly a -power, in causes inscrutable to us, which works essential changes in -the different races of animals. In their physical constitution this -is obvious to the senses. The color of the negro no man can deny, -and therefore, it was but the other day, that they who will believe -nothing they cannot account for, made this manifest fact an -authority for denying the truth of holy writ. Then comes the -opposite extreme—they are, like ourselves, the sons of Adam, and -must therefore, have like passions and wants and feelings and -tempers in all respects. This, we deny, and appeal to the knowledge -of all who know. But their authority will be disputed, and their -testimony falsified, unless we can devise something to show how a -difference might and should have been brought about. Our theory is a -short one. It was the will of God it should be so. But the -means—how was this effected? We will give the answer to any one who -will develop the causes which might and should have blackened the -negro's skin and crisped his hair into wool. Until that is done, we -shall take leave to speak, as of things <i>in esse</i>, of a degree of -loyal devotion on the part of the slave to which the white man's -heart is a stranger, and of the master's reciprocal feeling of -parental attachment to his humble dependant, equally -incomprehensible to him who drives a bargain with the cook who -prepares his food, the servant who waits at his table, and the nurse -who doses over his sick bed. That these sentiments in the breast of -the negro and his master, are stronger than they would be under like -circumstances between individuals of the white race, we believe. -That they belong to the class of feelings "by which the heart is -made better," we know. How come they? They have their rise in the -relation between the infant and the nurse. They are cultivated -between him and his foster brother. They are cherished by the -parents of both. They are fostered by the habit of affording -protection and favors to the younger offspring of the same nurse. -They grow by the habitual use of the word "my," used as the language -of affectionate appropriation, long before any idea of value mixes -with it. It is a term of endearment. That is an easy transition by -which he who is taught to call the little negro "his," in this sense -and <i>because he loves him</i>, shall love him <i>because he is his</i>. The -idea is not new, that our habits and affections are reciprocally -cause and effect of each other.</p> - -<p>But the great teacher in this school of feeling is sickness. In this -school we have witnessed scenes at which even the hard heart of a -thorough bred philanthropist would melt. But here, we shall be told, -it is not humanity, but interest that prompts. Be it so. Our -business is not with the cause but the effect. But is it interest, -which, with assiduous care, prolongs the life of the aged and -decrepid negro, who has been, for years, a burthen? Is it interest -which labors to rear the crippled or deformed urchin, who can never -be any thing but a burthen—which carefully feeds the feeble lamp of -life that, without any appearance of neglect, might be permitted to -expire? Is not the feeling more akin to that parental στοργη, which, -in defiance of reason, is most careful of the life -which is, all the time, felt to be a curse to the possessor. Are -such cases rare? They are as rare as the occasions; but let the -occasion occur, and you will see the case. How else is the longevity -of the negro proverbial? A negro who does no work for thirty years! -(and we know such examples) is it interest which has lengthened out -his existence?</p> - -<p>Let the philanthropist think as he may—by the negro himself, his -master's care of him in sickness is not imputed to interested -feelings. We know an instance of a negress who was invited by a -benevolent lady in Philadelphia to leave her mistress. The lady -promised to secrete her for a while, and then to pay her good wages. -The poor creature felt the temptation and was about to yield. "You -are mighty good, madam," said she "and I am a thousand times obliged -to you. And if I am sick, or any thing, I am sure you will take care -of me, and nurse me, like my good mistress used to do, and bring me -something warm and good to comfort me, and tie up my head and fix my -pillow." She spoke in the simplicity of her heart, and the tempter -had not the heart to deceive her. "No," said she "all <i>that</i> will -come out of your wages—for you will have money enough to hire a -nurse." The tears had already swelled into the warm hearted -creature's eyes, at her own recital of her mistress's kindness. They -now gushed forth in a flood, and running to her lady who was a -lodger in the house, she threw herself on her knees, confessed her -fault, was pardoned, and was happy.</p> - -<p>But it is not by the bedside of the sick negro that the feeling we -speak of is chiefly engendered. They who would view it in its causes -and effects must see him by the sick bed of his master—must see -<i>her</i> by the sick bed of her <i>mistress</i>. We have seen these things. -We have seen the dying infant in the lap of its nurse, and have -stood with the same nurse by the bed side of her own dying child. -Did mighty nature assert her empire, and wring from the mother's -heart more and bitterer tears than she had shed over her foster -babe? None that <span class="pagenum"><a name="page339"><small><small>[p. 339]</small></small></a></span> -the eye of man could distinguish. And he who -sees the heart—did he see dissimulation giving energy to the -choking sobs that <i>seemed</i> to be rendered more vehement by her -attempts to repress them? <i>Philanthropy</i> may think so if it pleases.</p> - -<p>A good lady was on her death bed. Her illness was long and -protracted, but hopeless from the first. A servant, (by no means a -favorite with her, being high tempered and ungovernable) was -advanced in pregnancy, and in bad health. Yet she could not be kept -out of the house. She was permitted to stay about her mistress -during the day, but sent to bed at an early hour every night. Her -reluctance to obey was obvious, and her master found that she evaded -his order, whenever she could escape his eye. He once found her in -the house late at night, and kindly reproving her, sent her home. An -hour after, suddenly going out of the sick room, he stumbled over -her in the dark. She was crouched down at the door, listening for -the groans of the sufferer. She was again ordered home, and turned -to go. Suddenly she stopped, and bursting into tears, said, "Master -it aint no use for me to go to bed, Sir. It don't do me no good, I -cannot sleep, Sir."</p> - -<p>Such instances prove that in reasoning concerning the moral effect -of slavery, he who regards man as a unit, the same under all -circumstances, leaves out of view an important consideration. The -fact that he is not so, is manifest to every body—but the -application of the fact to this controversy is not made. The author -of "The South Vindicated" quotes at page 228, a passage from -Lamartine, on this very point, though he only uses it to show the -absurdity of any attempt at amalgamation. The passage is so apt to -our purpose that we beg leave to insert it.</p> - -<blockquote><small>The more I have travelled, the more I am convinced <i>that the races -of men form the great secret of history and manners</i>. Man is not so -capable of education as philosophers imagine. The influence of -governments and laws has less power, radically, than is supposed, -over the manners and instincts of any people, while the primitive -constitution and the blood of the race have always their influence, -and manifest themselves, thousands of years afterwards, in the -physical formations and moral habits of a particular family or -tribe. Human nature flows in rivers and streams into the vast ocean -of humanity; but its waters mingle but slowly, sometimes never; and -it emerges again, like the Rhone from the Lake of Geneva, with its -own taste and color. Here is indeed an abyss of thought and -meditation, and at the same time a grand secret for legislators. As -long as they keep the spirit of the race in view they succeed; but -they fail when they strive against this natural predisposition: -nature is stronger than they are. This sentiment is not that of the -philosophers of the present time, but it is evident to the -traveller; and there is more philosophy to be found in a caravan -journey of a hundred leagues, than in ten years' reading and -meditation.</small></blockquote> - -<p>There is much truth here, though certainly not what passes for truth -with those who study human nature wholly in the closet, and in -reforming the world address themselves exclusively to the faults of -<i>others</i>, and the evils of which they know the least, and which -least concern themselves.</p> - -<p>We hope the day has gone by when we are to be judged by the -testimony of false, interested, and malignant accusers alone. We -repeat that we are thankful to Mr. Paulding for having stepped -forward in our defence. Our assailants arc numerous, and it is -indispensable that we should meet the assault with vigor and -activity. Nothing is wanting but manly discussion to convince our -own people at least, that in continuing to command the services of -their slaves, they violate no law divine or human, and that in the -faithful discharge of their reciprocal obligations lies their true -duty. Let these be performed, and we believe (with our esteemed -correspondent Professor Dew) that society in the South will derive -much more of good than of evil from this much abused and -partially-considered institution.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect25"></a> -<br> -<center>BRUNNENS OF NASSAU.</center> - -<p><i>Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau. By an Old Man. New York: -Harper and Brothers.</i></p> - -<p>This "old man" is the present Governor of Canada, and a very amusing -"old man" is he. A review of his work, which appeared a year ago in -the North American, first incited us to read it, a pleasure which -necessity has compelled us to forego until the present time—there -not having been an American edition put to press until now, and the -splendid hot-pressed, calf-bound, gilt-edged edition from -Albemarle-street being too costly for very general circulation here.</p> - -<p>The "bubbles" are blown into being by a gentleman who represents -himself as having been sentenced, in the cold evening of his life, -to drink the mineral waters of Nassau; and who, upon arriving at the -springs, found that, in order to effect the cure designed by his -physicians, the mind was to be relaxed as the body was being -strengthened. The result of this regimen was the production of "The -Bubbles," or hasty sketches of whatever chanced for the moment to -please either the eyes or the mind of the patient. He anticipates -the critic's verdict as to his book—that it is empty, light, vain, -hollow and superficial: "but then," says he, "it is the nature of -'bubbles' to be so."</p> - -<p>He describes his voyage from the Custom House Stairs in the Thames, -by steamboat to Rotterdam, and thence his journey to the Nassau -springs of <i>Langen-Schwalbach</i>, <i>Schlangen-bad</i>, <i>Nieder-selters</i>, -and <i>Wiesbaden</i>. Here he spends a season, bathing and drinking the -waters of those celebrated springs, and describing such incidents as -occurred to relieve the monotony of his somewhat idle life, in a -most agreeable and <i>taking</i> way. To call this work facetious, as -that term is commonly used, were not perhaps to give so accurate an -idea of its style as might be conveyed by the adjective whimsical. -Without subjecting the "old man" to the imputation of <i>copyism</i>, one -may describe the manner as being an agreeable mixture of <i>Charles -Lamb's</i> and <i>Washington Irving's</i>. The same covert conceit, the same -hidden humor, the same piquant allusion, which, while you read, -place the author bodily before you, a quiet old gentleman fond of -his ease, but fonder of his joke—not a broad, forced, loud, -vacant-minded joke, but a quiet, pungent, sly, laughter-moving -conceit, which, at first stirring the finest membranes of your -<i>pericardium</i>, at length sets you out into a broad roar of laughter, -honest fellow as you are, and which you must be, indeed, a very -savage, if you can avoid.</p> - -<p>Our bubble-blower observes everything within the sphere of his -vision, and even makes a most amusing chapter out of "The -schwein-general," or pig-drover of Schlangen-bad, which we wish we -had space for entire. As it is, we give some reflections upon "the -pig," <span class="pagenum"><a name="page340"><small><small>[p. 340]</small></small></a></span> -as being perfectly characteristic of the author's -peculiar style.</p> - -<blockquote><small>There exists perhaps in creation no animal which has less justice -and more injustice done to him by man than the pig. Gifted with -every faculty of supplying himself, and of providing even against -the approaching storm, which no creature is better capable of -foretelling than a pig, we begin by putting an iron ring through the -cartilage of his nose, and having thus barbarously deprived him of -the power of searching for, and analyzing his food, we generally -condemn him for the rest of his life to solitary confinement in a -sty.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>While his faculties are still his own, only observe how, with a bark -or snort, he starts if you approach him, and mark what shrewd -intelligence there is in his bright, twinkling little eye; but with -pigs, as with mankind, idleness is the root of all evil. The poor -animal, finding that he has absolutely nothing to do—having no -enjoyment—nothing to look forward to but the pail which feeds him, -naturally most eagerly, or as we accuse him, most greedily, greets -its arrival. Having no natural business or diversion—nothing to -occupy his brain—the whole powers of his system are directed to the -digestion of a superabundance of food. To encourage this, nature -assists him with sleep, which lulling his better faculties, leads -his stomach to become the ruling power of his system—a tyrant that -can bear no one's presence but his own. The poor pig, thus treated, -gorges himself—sleeps—eats again—sleeps—wakens in a -fright—screams—struggles against the blue apron—screams fainter -and fainter—turns up the whites of his little eyes—and—dies!</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It is probably from abhorring this picture, that I know of nothing -which is more distressing to me than to witness an indolent man -eating his own home-fed pork.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>There is something so horribly similar between the life of the human -being and that of his victim—their notions on all subjects are so -unnaturally contracted—there is such a melancholy resemblance -between the strutting residence in the village, and the stalking -confinement in the sty—between the sound of the dinner-bell and the -rattling of the pail—between snoring in an armchair and grunting in -clean straw—that, when I contrast the "pig's countenance" in the -dish with that of his lord and master, who, with outstretched -elbows, sits leaning over it, I own I always feel it is so hard the -one should have killed the other.—In short there is a sort of "Tu -quoque, B<small>RUTE</small>!" moral in the picture, which to my mind is most -painfully distressing.</small></blockquote> - -<p>The author thus speaks in relation to the mineral water of -Wiesbaden.</p> - -<blockquote><small>In describing the taste of the mineral water of Wiesbaden, were I to -say, that while drinking it, one hears in one's ears the cackling of -hens, and that one sees feathers flying before one's eyes, I should -certainly grossly exaggerate; but when I declare that it exactly -resembles very hot chicken-broth, I only say what Dr. Granville -said, and what in fact everybody says, and must say, respecting it; -and certainly I do wonder why the common people should be at the -inconvenience of making bad soup, when they can get much better from -nature's great stock pot—the Koch-brunnen of Wiesbaden. At all -periods of the year, summer or winter, the temperature of this broth -remains the same, and when one reflects that it has been bubbling -out of the ground, and boiling over in the same state, certainly -from the time of the Romans, and probably from the time of the -flood, it is really astonishing to think what a most wonderful -apparatus there must exist below, what an inexhaustible stock of -provisions to ensure such an everlasting supply of broth, always -formed of exactly the same degree, and always served up at exactly -the same heat.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>One would think that some of the particles in the recipe would be -exhausted; in short, to speak metaphorically, that the chickens -would at last be boiled to rags, or that the fire would go out for -want of coals; but the oftener one reflects on these sort of -subjects, the oftener is the old-fashioned observation repeated, -that let a man go where he will, Omnipotence is never from his view.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It is good they say for the stomach—good for the skin—good for -ladies of all possible ages—for all sorts and conditions of men. -For a headache, drink, the inn-keepers exclaim, at the Koch-brunnen. -For gout in the heels, soak the body, the doctors say, in the -chicken-broth!—in short, the valetudinarian, reclining in his -carriage, has scarcely entered the town, say what he will of -himself, the inhabitants all seem to agree in repeating—"<i>Bene bene -respondere, dignus est intrare nostro docto corpore!</i>"</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>There was something to my mind so very novel in bathing in broth, -that I resolved to try the experiment, particularly as it was the -only means I had of following the crowd. Accordingly, retiring to my -room, in a minute or two I also, in my slippers and black -dressing-gown was to be seen, staff in hand, mournfully walking down -the long passage, as slowly and as gravely as if I had been in such -a profession all my life. An infirm elderly lady was just before -me—some lighter-sounding footsteps were behind me—but without -raising our eyes from the ground, we all moved on, just as if we had -been corpses gliding or migrating from one church yard to another.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The door was now closed, and my dressing-gown being carefully hung -upon a peg, (a situation I much envied it,) I proceeded, -considerably against my inclination, to introduce myself to my new -acquaintance, whose face, or surface, was certainly very revolting; -for a white, thick, dirty, greasy scum, exactly resembling what -would be on broth, covered the top of the bath. But all this, they -say is exactly as it should be; and indeed, German bathers at -Wiesbaden actually insist on its appearance, as it proves, they -argue, that the bath has not been used by any one else. In most -places in ordering a warm bath, it is necessary to wait till the -water be heated, but at Wiesbaden, the springs are so exceedingly -hot, that the baths are obliged to be filled over night, in order to -be cool enough in the morning; and the dirty scum I have mentioned -is the required proof that the water has, during that time, been -undisturbed.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Resolving not to be bullied by the ugly face of my antagonist, I -entered my bath, and in a few seconds I lay horizontally, calmly -soaking, like my neighbors.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Here is a characteristic <i>crayoning:</i></p> - -<blockquote><small>As soon as breakfast was over, I generally enjoyed the luxury of -idling about the town: and, in passing the shop of a blacksmith, who -lived opposite to the Goldene Kette, the manner in which he tackled -and shod a vicious horse amused me. On the outside wall of the house -two rings were firmly fixed, to one of which the head of the patient -was lashed close to the ground; the hind foot, to be shod, stretched -out to the utmost extent of the leg, was then secured to the other -ring about five feet high, by a cord which passed through a cloven -hitch, fixed to the root of the poor creature's tail.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The hind foot was consequently very much higher than the head; -indeed, it was so exalted, and pulled so heavily at the tail, that -the animal seemed to be quite anxious to keep his other feet on -<i>terra firma</i>. With one hoof in the heavens, it did not suit him to -kick; with his nose pointing to the infernal regions, he could not -conveniently rear, and as the devil himself was apparently pulling -at his tail, the horse at last gave up the point, and quietly -submitted to be shod.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Fay wishes us to believe that the sale of a book is the proper -test of its merit. To save time and trouble we <i>will</i> believe it, -and are prepared to acknowledge, as a consequence of the theory, -that the novel of Norman Leslie is not at all comparable to the -Memoirs of Davy Crockett, or the popular lyric of Jim Crow.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect26"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page341"><small><small>[p. 341]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<h4>SUPPLEMENT.</h4> -<br> -<p>At the solicitation of our correspondents, we again publish some few -of the <i>Notices of the Messenger</i>, which have lately appeared in the -papers of the day. The supplement now printed contains probably -about one fifth of the flattering evidences of public favor which -have reached us, from all quarters, within a few weeks. Those -selected are a fair sample of the general character of the whole.</p> -<br> - -<center><small>From the Charlottesville Advocate.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have been favored by Mr. -White, the proprietor, with the March No. of this periodical. The -delay in the publication has been occasioned by the desire of Mr. -White to insert Prof. Dew's Address. However desirable a regular and -punctual issue may be, we are disposed to excuse the delay on the -present occasion, for the reason assigned.</p> - -<p>As the Messenger has now passed through the difficulties attendant -on new enterprises, is on a permanent footing, and has vindicated -its claims to rank among the first of American Periodicals, we -commenced the perusal of the present number, predetermined to -censure whenever we could get the slightest pretext. We have read it -calmly and with a "critic's eye," and though it is not faultless, -for with two exceptions the poetry is below mediocrity, we have been -so delighted with most of the articles, as not to have the heart to -censure. We candidly regard it the best single number of any -American periodical we have ever seen. Mr. Dew's Address and Mr. -Stanton's Essay on Manual Labor Schools, are articles of enduring -and inestimable worth.</p> - -<p>We subjoin the following notice of the contents from the Richmond -Compiler, with which we in the main concur.</p> - -<center><small>From the Richmond Compiler.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>We have already announced the appearance of the Literary Messenger -for March 1836. We always read the work with pleasure, and have -frequently awarded to it the high praise it so well deserves. In the -present instance, we are forcible struck with a sort of merit so -rare in publications of the kind, that, to a certain class of -readers, our praise may sound like censure.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We hazard nothing in saying, that in the pages before us, there is -more substantial matter, more information, more food for the mind, -and more provocative to thought, than we have ever seen in any -periodical of a miscellaneous character. A chapter from Lionel -Granby—a <i>jeu d'esprit</i> from Mr. Poe—some of the reviews—and a -page or two of description—together with a very few metrical -lines—make the sum total of light reading.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We would not be understood to mean that the rest is heavy. Far from -it. But we want some word to distinguish that which ought to be read -and studied, from that which may be read for amusement only. He who -shall read the rest of the number, must be very careless or very -dull, if he is not edified and instructed. We will add, that his -taste must be bad, if he is not tempted to receive the instruction -here offered by the graces of style, the originality of thought, and -the felicity of illustration, with which the gravest of these -articles abounds.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>This remark applies in all its force to Professor Dew's Address, -which all who cherish a well-balanced love, at once for the -Sovereignty and the Union of these States, will read with delight. -Those who have yet to acquire this sentiment, will read it with -profit. If there be any man who doubts the peculiar advantages, -moral, intellectual and pecuniary of a system of federative harmony, -contradistinguished from consolidation on the one hand, and disunion -on the other, let him read, and doubt no more.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>A subject of less vivid interest has been treated in a style at once -amusing and instructive, by the author of the Essay on the Classics. -No one can read that essay, without feeling that there must be -something to refine and sublime the mind of man in the studies in -which the writer is so obviously a proficient. Are these the -thoughts? are these the images and illustrations? is this the -language, with which the study of the classics makes a man familiar? -Then it is true, as the poet has said:</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem89"> - <tr><td><small>"Ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes<br> - Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small>"<i>Mutatis mutandis</i>," we would award the same general praise to an -Essay on Education, and to the addresses from Judge Tucker of the -Court of Appeals, and Mr. Maxwell of Norfolk. As to the continuation -of the Sketches of African History, it is enough to say that it is a -continuation worthy of what has gone before.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The reviews are, as usual, piquant and lively, and in that style -which will teach writers to value the praise and dread the censures -of the critic. Among the articles reviewed, we are pleased at the -appearance of Dr. Hawk's historical work. We are delighted, too, to -find him, though not a Virginian, coming to the rescue of Virginia, -from the misjudged or disingenuous praises of men who knew not how -to appreciate the character of our ancestors. No. <i>It is a new thing -with Virginians to lean to the side of power.</i> Those who have taught -her that lesson, have found her an unapt scholar. The spirit of -Virginia tends <i>upwards</i>, and we have all seen</small></blockquote> - -<center><small>"With what compulsion, and laborious flight,"</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>she has sunk to her present degraded condition.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>To think of our fathers, as they stood 180 years ago, yielding with -undisguised reluctance to inevitable necessity; and, in the very act -of <i>submission</i> to the <i>power</i> of the usurper, denying his <i>right</i>, -and protesting that they owed him no <i>obedience!</i> And we, the -sons—what are we?</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem90"> - <tr><td><small>"'Twere long to tell, and sad to trace<br> - Each step from glory to disgrace:<br> - Enough!—No foreign foe could quell<br> - Her soul, 'till from itself it fell;<br> - And self-abasement paved the way<br> - To villain bonds and despot sway."</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Baltimore Patriot.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>, for March, is just out: late in -the day, it is true, but not any the less acceptable on that -account. We have just risen from a faithful perusal of its contents, -which are of uncommon richness and value. Its merits are solid, not -superficial: and therein it is more worthy of the support of the -lovers of literature, than any other literary Magazine published in -our country. We mean what we say, disdainful of the imputation of -being thought capable of a puff. It is a repository of works "to -keep," and not of the trash which "perisheth in the using." Still it -has variety. It combines the <i>utile et dulce</i> in a most attractive -and pleasing degree, and there is no lack of that "change" of which -the poet says the "mind of desultory man" is "studious."</p> - -<p>We will give the readers of the Patriot a bird's eye view of the -contents of the number we have just laid down, in illustration and -corroboration of what we have said in relation to its merits.</p> - -<p><i>Sketches of Tripoli, No. XI.</i>—One may gather a very good idea of -the present condition of the Barbary States, from a perusal of these -graphic papers. We know no others extant so attractive and so -satisfactory. They are written in a pure and refined style, and form -a very valuable and interesting history.</p> - -<p>"<i>The Classics</i>" is the title of one of the most splendid articles -we have ever perused in any shape. This one paper would be cheaply -purchased by the scholar, at the subscription fee for the volume. It -is a defence of the Classics and a classical education, against the -modern innovations of the romantic school. The writer makes out his -case most ably and convincingly,—showing himself to be well fitted -for the task he assumed, by the devotedness with which he has -worshipped at the pure shrine to which he would win his readers. We -wish we were sure that we had said enough to draw a general -attention to this admirable article.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page342"><small><small>[p. 342]</small></small></a></span> -<p><i>A Loan to the Messenger</i>, including <i>Life</i>, a Brief History, -in three parts, with a sequel, by C<small>UTTER</small>, is not only "exceedingly -neat," but surpassingly beautiful. It is a rare instance of the -union of tender sentiment and epigrammatic point. For example—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem91"> - <tr><td>A purpose, and a prayer;<br> - The stars are in the sky—<br> - He wonders how e'en Hope should dare<br> - To let him aim so high!<br> -<br> - Still Hope allures and flatters<br> - And Doubt just makes him bold:<br> - And so, with passion all in tatters,<br> - The trembling tale is told!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Readings with my Pencil</i>, No. III, a most excellent article—full -of poetical thoughts and, generally speaking, profound ones. We -agree with J. F. O. cordially, in his opinion of <i>Burns</i>, in the -case "<i>Burns vs. Moore</i>." Yet there are not many who will so agree -with him. <i>Reading No. 12</i>, is more regardful of words than things. -Dr. Johnson was right, we think, in saying that "the suspicion of -Swift's irreligion proceeded, in a great measure, from his dread of -hypocrisy," and J. F. O. is wrong in therefore concluding that -"Swift, according to Johnson, was afraid of being thought a -hypocrite and so actually became one." But of this J. F. O. was well -aware—he could not think, however of sacrificing the antithesis. -Let him examine the word <i>hypocrisy</i> and ascertain its <i>popular</i> -meaning, for thereby hangs the tale. A man who feigns a character -which he does not possess, is not necessarily a hypocrite. The -<i>popular</i> acceptation of hypocrisy requires that being vicious, he -shall feign virtue. This the very intelligent author of <i>Readings -with My Pencil</i> will not fail to perceive at once. These readings -are far better than nine-tenths of the <i>fudge</i> of <i>Lacon</i>—or the -purer <i>fudge</i> of <i>Rochefoucault</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Halley's Comet</i>.—After Miss Draper's stanzas thus entitled, the -poet of "Prince Edward" should not have sent his to the Messenger. -We cannot call this poetry or philosophy,—it was not intended -obviously as burlesque.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem92"> - <tr><td>Art thou the ship of heaven, laden with light,<br> - From the eternal glory sent,<br> - To feed the glowing suns, that might<br> - In ceaseless radiance but for thee be spent?</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Epimanes</i>.—This is one of Poe's queerities. He takes the reader -back in supposition to the city of Antioch, in the year of the world -3830, and in that peculiar style, which after all must be called -<i>Poe-tical</i>, because it is just that and nothing else, he feigns the -enactment of a real scene of the times before your eyes. The actors -"come like shadows, so depart,"—but yet assume a most vivid reality -while they stay. We hope this powerful pen will be again similarly -employed.</p> - -<p>"<i>To Helen</i>" is a pretty little gem, and from the same mine. It -shall glisten in the Patriot ere long.</p> - -<p>In the <i>Poetry of Burns</i>, by J<small>AMES</small> F. O<small>TIS</small>, we see much of the fine -lyrical feeling which distinguishes the "<i>Readings with My Pencil</i>." -The subject, to be sure, is <i>au peu passe</i>—but we can hardly have -too much of B<small>URNS</small>. Mr. O<small>TIS</small> seems fully to understand and appreciate -him.</p> - -<p>"<i>Change</i>"—pretty verses, but not poetry. The four last lines -should always be at least <i>as good</i> as the rest. One judges of the -flavor of a fruit by the taste it <i>leaves</i> in the mouth. Apply this -hint to these verses.</p> - -<p>The next paper is an Address delivered before the Literary Institute -at Hampden Sidney College by Mr. S<small>TANTON</small>, upon the importance of -"<i>Manual Labor Schools</i>," as connected with literary institutions. -It is an admirable production; and one of that class of papers which -go to make the "Messenger" what we have already designated it, the -only Literary Magazine now set up in this country deserving the -name.</p> - -<p>An interesting description of a Natural Bridge in South America, -that the writer thinks more sublime than that in Virginia (which we -can hardly credit)—some dozen lines about Washington, good only for -filling in the spare nook they occupy, and an epigram without point, -next follow, and these are succeeded by another South American -sketch, describing a waterfall, of great beauty.</p> - -<p>We cannot say much in favor of the "<i>Song of Lee's Legion</i>," nor -will we say much against it. We wish the poetry of the Messenger -were of a higher order. At present it does not hold equality with -the prose department, by any means.</p> - -<p>"<i>Lionel Granby</i>" is written with much spirit, and the present (the -eleventh) chapter is one of the best. We will review this whole -story, at length, when completed. We think it equal to any of the -novellettes which it has now become so fashionable to publish in -this form: although that form, so full of interruptions as it is, -prevents that enjoyment in perusal which would be derived from the -possession of the work entire.</p> - -<p>"<i>The Patriarch's Inheritance</i>."—Rich language, fine conception, -smooth versification. "T. H. S." improves.</p> - -<p><i>Americanisms:</i> Captions.—We are too apt to bark before we are -bitten; and there was no especial need that "H." should growl at -B<small>ULWER</small>, because he had made a very good terse word to express -<i>greedy</i>, from the Latin <i>avidus</i>, merely by way of vindicating our -people from old charges of a similar character.</p> - -<p>Stanzas <i>To Randolph of Roanoke</i>, written soon after his death. We -cannot say that Hesperus has done enough in this effusion to induce -us to alter our verdict upon the poetry of the Messenger. As the -stanzas appear to be a matter of feeling with the author, we will -not enter into a discussion of the sentiments they contain. We would -advise him to try another kind of theme.</p> - -<p><i>Address</i>, by the Hon. H<small>ENRY</small> S<small>T</small>. -G<small>EORGE</small> T<small>UCKER</small>, before the Virginia -Historical and Philosophical Society—a most admirable paper. It was -delivered upon the distinguished author's taking the seat vacated by -the late Chief Justice M<small>ARSHALL</small>, as President of the above named -Society; and is, mostly, a beautiful eulogy upon his illustrious -predecessor. It is just such a production as our knowledge of the -author would have led us to anticipate from him—alike creditable to -his head, stored with the lore of ages, and to his heart, full of -the kindest and most benevolent feelings.</p> - -<p>Mr. M<small>AXWELL'S</small> Speech, before the Virginia Historical and -Philosophical Society, at its late annual meeting, another eloquent -eulogy upon the lamented M<small>ARSHALL</small>. Virginia seems to be taking the -most serene delight in wreathing garlands around his tomb, and this -is one of the most verdant, and promises to be one of the most -enduring. It is short, but breathes eloquently forth a spirit which -will impress it upon the minds and memories of hearers and readers. -It is a high compliment to the M<small>ESSENGER</small>, and a pregnant proof of -the estimation into which that journal has worthily grown that it is -made the medium of conveying such productions to posterity.</p> - -<p>But the most valuable paper in the number is an Address on the -influence of the Federative Republican System of Government upon -Literature, and the Development of Character, by Professor Dew. We -have never perused a more able literary essay than this address. The -author traverses the whole field of literature, and draws from the -stores of antiquity lessons for the improvement of his own -countrymen in literature, art, and politics. We commend it to the -perusal of every American.</p> - -<p>Then follow "<i>Critical Notices</i>." These are written by P<small>OE</small>. They are -few and clever. The sledge-hammer and scimetar are laid aside, and -not one poor devil of an author is touched, except one "Mahmoud," -who is let off with a box on the ear for plagiarism. The review of -"Georgia Scenes" has determined us to buy the book. The extracts are -irresistible.</p> - -<p>The merit of this number consists in its solidity. The same amount -of reading, of a similar character, can certainly no where and in no -other form be furnished the reader on the same terms. It is our duty -no less than our interest to sustain 'the Messenger.'</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page343"><small><small>[p. 343]</small></small></a></span> -<center><small>From the Norfolk Herald.</small></center> - -<p><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—No. 4, Vol. 2, of this Journal is -just issued, and contains 16 pages of matter over and above its -usual quantity—that is, it contains 80 closely printed pages in -place of 64, its promised amount. A very slight inspection will -convince any one at all conversant in these matters that the present -number of the Messenger embraces as much reading matter (if not -considerably more) than four ordinary volumes, such for example, as -the volumes of Paul Ulric or Norman Leslie. Of the value of the -matter, or rather of its value in comparison with such ephemera as -these just mentioned, it is of course unnecessary to say much. -Popular opinion has placed the Messenger in a very enviable position -as regards the Literature of the South. We have no hesitation in -saying that it has elevated it immeasurably. To use the words of a -Northern contemporary "it has done more within the last six months -to refine the literary standard in this country than has been -accomplished before in the space of ten years."</p> - -<p>The number before us commences with No. XI. (continued) of the -<i>Tripolitan Sketches</i>. We can add nothing to the public voice in -favor of this series of papers. They are excellent—and the one for -this month is equal to any in point of interest.</p> - -<p><i>The Classics</i> is a most admirable paper—indeed one of the most -forcible, and strange to say, one of the most original defences of -Ancient Literature we have ever perused. We do not, however, -altogether like the sneers at Bulwer in the beginning of the -article. They should have been omitted, for they are not only -unjust, but they make against the opinions advanced. Bulwer is not -only a ripe scholar, but an advocate of classical acquirement.</p> - -<p><i>A Loan to the Messenger</i>, is beautiful—very beautiful—witness the -following—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem93"> - <tr><td>Sonnets and serenades,<br> - Sighs, glances, tears, and vows,<br> - Gifts, tokens, souvenirs, parades,<br> - And courtesies and bows.<br> -<br> - A purpose, and a prayer:<br> - The stars are in the sky—<br> - He wonders how e'en hope should dare<br> - To let him aim so high!<br> -<br> - Still Hope allures and flatters,<br> - And Doubt just makes him bold:<br> - And so, with passion all in tatters,<br> - The trembling tale is told!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Readings with My Pencil, No. 2.</i> is a fine article in the manner of -Colton. A true sentiment well expressed is contained in the -concluding words: "I am one of those who are best when most -afflicted. While the weight hangs heavily, I keep time and measure, -like a clock; but remove it, and all the springs and wheels move -irregularly, and I am but a mere useless thing."</p> - -<p><i>Halley's Comet</i>——so, so.</p> - -<p><i>Epimanes</i>. By Edgar A. Poe—an historical tale in which, by -imaginary incidents, the character of Antiochus Epiphanes is vividly -depicted. It differs essentially from all the other tales of Mr. -Poe. Indeed no two of his articles bear more than a family -resemblance to one another. They all differ widely in matter, and -still more widely in manner. <i>Epimanes</i> will convince all who read -it that Mr. P. is capable of even higher and better things.</p> - -<p><i>To Helen</i>—by the same author—a sonnet full of quiet grace—we -quote it in full.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem94"> - <tr><td>Helen, thy beauty is to me<br> - Like those Nicean barks of yore<br> - That, gently, o'er a perfum'd sea,<br> - The weary, wayworn wanderer bore<br> - To his own native shore.<br> -<br> - On desperate seas long wont to roam,<br> - Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,<br> - Thy Naiad airs have brought me home<br> - To the beauty of fair Greece<br> - And the grandeur of old Rome.<br> -<br> - Lo! in that little window-niche<br> - How statue-like I see thee stand;<br> - The folded scroll within thy hand—<br> - Ah! Psyche from the regions which<br> - Are Holy land!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>On the Poetry of Burns. By James F. Otis</i>—a good essay on a -threadbare subject—one, too, but very lately handled in the -Messenger by Larry Lyle.</p> - -<p><i>Change</i>—has some fine thoughts, for example,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem95"> - <tr><td>——My little playmate crew<br> - Have slept to wake no more<br> -<br> - Till Change itself shall cease to be,<br> - And one successive scene<br> - Of steadfastness immutable<br> - Remain where Change hath been.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Manual Labor Schools—By the Rev. E. F. Stanton</i> is an essay -which, while we disagree with it in some of its results, will serve -to convince any one of the absolute importance of exercise to men of -sedentary habits or occupations.</p> - -<p><i>Song of Lee's Legion</i>—very spirited verses.</p> - -<p><i>Natural Bridge of Pandi</i>, and <i>Fall of Tequendama</i> are both -acceptable articles.</p> - -<p><i>Lines on the Statue of Washington in the Capitol</i>, although a -little rugged in conclusion, are terse and forcible, and embody many -eloquent sentiments. We recognize one of our most distinguished -men—a fellow-townsman too—in the nerve and vigor of these verses. -The <i>Epigram</i> below them is not worth much.</p> - -<p><i>The Patriarch's Inheritance</i>—majestic and powerful.</p> - -<p><i>Americanisms</i>—a very good article, and very true.</p> - -<p><i>To Randolph of Roanoke</i>. These lines have some fine points and the -versification is good—but we do not like them upon the whole.</p> - -<p><i>Judge Tucker's Address</i>, and <i>Mr. Maxwell's Speech</i> before the -Virginia Historical and Philosophical society, we read with much -interest. Things of this nature are apt to be common place unless -the speakers are men of more than ordinary <i>tact</i>. There is no -deficiency, however, in the present instance. Mr. Maxwell's speech, -especially, is exceedingly well adapted to produce effect in -delivery—more particularly in such delivery as Mr. Maxwell's.</p> - -<p>The <i>Address of Professor Dew</i> is, beyond doubt, an article of great -ability, and must excite strong attention, wherever it is read. It -occupies full 20 pages—which, perhaps, could not have been better -occupied. He has fully proved that a Republic such as ours, is the -fairest field in the world for the growth and florescence of Literature.</p> - -<p>The <i>Critical Notices</i> maintain their lofty reputation—but as they -will assuredly be read by all parties, and as we have already -exceeded our limits, we forbear to enter into detail. The Messenger -is no longer a query, it has earned a proud name. It demands -encouragement and <i>will have it</i>.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Cincinnati Mirror.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger for February</i>, is before us. It is -made up, as usual, of a very interesting miscellany of original -articles. This magazine is rapidly winning a high estimate for the -literature of the South. Its pages contain as good articles as any -other Monthly in the country. Its correspondents are numerous and -able, and its editor wields the gray goose quill like one who knows -what he is about, and who has a right to. Commend us to the literary -notices of this Magazine for genius, spice and spirit. Those which -are commendatory, are supported by the real merit of the books -themselves; but woe seize on the luckless wights who feel the savage -skill with which the editor uses his tomahawk and scalping knife. -The fact is, the Messenger is not given to the mincing of -matter—what it has to say is said fearlessly.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Boston Galaxy.</small></center> - -<p><i>Smarting under Criticism</i>.—Fay can't bear criticism. The Southern -Literary Messenger cut him up sharply—and Fay has -retorted—evincing that the sting rankles. A pity.</p> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page344"><small><small>[p. 344]</small></small></a></span> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Natchez Christian Herald.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—This elegantly printed Magazine -is issued monthly from the classic press of T. W. White, Esq. -Richmond, Va., and has, during the year elapsed since its -commencement, won a commanding share of public approbation and -attention. It is truly a high-minded and liberal specimen of -southern literature, on which is deeply engraved the impressions of -Southern character and feeling. We admire the periodical more on -that account. It has a glow of enthusiasm, offering to the public, -if not the very best, yet the best productions it can command, with -a sort of chivalrous hospitality which cannot but remind one of the -gentlemanly southron at his fireside.</p> - -<p>Among the contributions of original articles for this magazine we -cannot but notice the able historical papers entitled "Sketches of -the history and present condition of Tripoli, with some account of -the other Barbary states." These finely written papers have appeared -in ten consecutive numbers of the Literary Messenger, and, together -with "Extracts from my Mexican Journal," and "Extracts from an -unpublished abridgement of the History of Virginia," furnish a -valuable mass of the most useful information. The poetic writers for -the Messenger, as a whole, are not the favorites of the Muses, and -will no doubt be summoned to give an account of the cruel manner in -which they have distorted the pure English in giving utterance to -the spasmodic emotions of the <i>fytte</i> which they may have imagined -was upon them like an inspiration.</p> - -<p>There is one department which we admire—the editorial criticisms. -Racy, pungent, and reasonable, the editor writes as one disposed to -test the true elements of authorship, and to weigh pretentions with -achievements in the opposite scale. He has gently, yet with almost -too daring a hand, taken apart the poetical attire of two or three -ladies, whose writings have long been ranked among the better -specimens of American poetry. He almost dares to hint that Mrs. -Sigourney has, by forcing her short scraps of poetry into half the -newspapers in the land, gained a wider fame than many a better poet -who may have spent a life in maturing and polishing one poem which -appears to the world, as poems should, in a dignified volume. He -also makes the same charge of the "<i>frequency</i> of her appeals to the -attention of the public" against Miss Gould, and institutes the -following comparison between the productions of the two authors: -'The faults which we have already pointed out, and some others which -we will point out hereafter, are but dust in the balance, when -weighed against her (Mrs. Sigourney's) very many and distinguished -excellences. Among those high qualities which give her beyond doubt, -a title to the sacred name of poet, are an acute sensibility to -natural loveliness—a quick and perfectly just conception of the -moral and physical sublime—a calm and unostentatious vigor of -thought—a mingled delicacy and strength of expression—and above -all, a mind nobly and exquisitely attuned to all the gentle -charities and lofty pieties of life.</p> - -<p>'We have already pointed out the prevailing characteristics of Mrs. -Sigourney. In Miss Gould, we recognize, first, a disposition, like -that of Wordsworth, to seek beauty where it is not usually -sought—in the <i>homeliness</i> (if we may be permitted the word,) and -in the most familiar realities of existence—secondly <i>abandon</i> of -manner—thirdly a phraseology sparkling with antithesis, yet, -strange to say, perfectly simple and unaffected.</p> - -<p>'Without Mrs. Sigourney's high reach of thought, Miss Gould -surpasses her rival in the mere vehicle of thought—expression. -"Words, words, words," are the true secret of her strength. <i>Words</i> -are her kingdom—and in the realm of language she rules with equal -despotism and <i>nonchalance</i>. Yet we do not mean to deny her -abilities of a higher order than any which a mere <i>logomachy</i> can -imply. Her powers of imagination are great, and she has a faculty of -inestimable worth, when considered in relation to effect—the -faculty of holding ordinary ideas in so novel, and sometimes in so -fantastic a light, as to give them all the appearance, and much of -the value of originality. Miss Gould will, of course, be the -favorite with the multitude—Mrs. Sigourney with the few.'</p> - -<p>American prose writers and novelists are led under this keen -critic's knife, as sheep to the slaughter. In the name of literature -we thank Mr. White for his criticisms, that must purify the -literary, as lightning does the natural atmosphere.</p> - -<p>The Southern Literary Messenger is published on the first day of -every month, containing 64 pages in each number, printed on good -paper with a beautiful type. The terms are only <i>five dollars a -year</i>, to be paid in advance.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Raleigh Star.</small></center> - -<p><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—"We have received the first number -of the 2d volume of this valuable periodical. This work has justly -acquired a reputation superior to that of any similar publication in -the country, on account both of its elegant typographical execution, -and the rich, valuable, and highly entertaining matter (mostly -original) it contains. In the neatness and beauty of its -typographical appearance, the number before us surpasses any of its -predecessors; and its contents fully sustain its high literary -character. We have no room at present for a particular notice of the -articles. We hope that every Southron, who feels an interest in that -sort of <i>internal improvement</i> in the South, which respects the -mind, will patronize this work."</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Columbia (Geo.) Times.</small></center> - -<p><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have received, some time since, -and wished to have given an earlier notice to, this really excellent -journal; at whose copiousness, variety and goodness of matter, we -were surprized. In literary execution, we think it fully equal to -any Journal of its class, in all the North; and in quantity of -matter, it far exceeds, we believe, any of them. It is also on a -full equality with them, as to its typography.</p> - -<p>We are struck, in the <i>Messenger</i>, with this good point: the extent -of literary intelligence which it affords, by an unusual number of -critical notices of new publications, is exceedingly well judged. -Its criticisms, too, are in a sounder and more discriminating taste, -than that which infects the Magazines of the North, turning them all -into the mere vehicles of puffery for each man's little set of -associates in scribbling—and partners in literary iniquity. The -Messenger has also this feature, almost indispensable for a -successful Magazine, its Editorial articles are decidedly the best -that it contains. They seem to be almost uniformly good.</p> - -<p>We had intended to give some extracts from the Messenger: but the -claims of more pressing matters compel us to postpone them. It is -published in Richmond (Va.) by Thomas W. White, contains 64 large -pages, in double columns, with small type; and is published monthly, -at $5 per annum.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the National Gazette.</small></center> - -<p>The number of the Southern Literary Messenger for March, has just -made its appearance, having been delayed in order to insert an -excellent address delivered by Professor Dew, of William and Mary -College, upon the influence of the federative republican system of -government upon literature and the developement of character. There -are various articles which may be read with equal pleasure and -profit. A short one upon "Americanisms" alludes to the word <i>avid</i>, -employed by Bulwer in his last production, the hero of which is said -to have been avid of personal power: and, the writer thinks it is -the coinage of the novelist, as he says he can find no authority for -it even in the latest dictionaries, nor in any author of repute. It -does not, however, proceed from Mr. Bulwer's mint. As far as we are -aware, Sir Egerton Brydges—who though not a first rate, is no mean -member of the scribbling confraternity—is the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page345"><small><small>[p. 345]</small></small></a></span> first who has -employed it. His Autobiography, published a few years ago, and which -by the way, ought to have been re-published here as one of the most -interesting and singular works of the time, contains it often enough -to prove some feeling towards it in the author's breast akin to that -of paternal affection.</p> - -<p>As the review of the book which appeared in the Edinburgh Quarterly, -was attributed to Bulwer, it is very probable that he fell in love -with it when engaged in the task of criticism—a moment when, it -ought to be inferred he was particularly alive to the correctness or -incorrectness of any intrusion upon the premises of the King's -English. The word is unquestionably a good and expressive one, and -has quite as much inherent right to be incorporated with our -language as any other Latin excrescence. It is only "Hebrew roots," -we are informed by high authority, that "flourish most in barren -ground." No imputation, therefore, rests upon the soil from which -this sprang. Upon the subject of coining words, as upon so many -others, old Flaccus has spoken best:</p> - -<center>Licuit, semperque licebit,<br> - Signatum presente notâ procudere nomen.</center> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the North Carolina Standard.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have received the March No. -of this valuable monthly. It is as rich in matter, and its pieces -are as varied and interesting as any previous number; and we have -before said, that but few periodicals in the Union, and none <i>South</i> -of the Potomac, are superior to it.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Washington Sun.</small></center> - -<p><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have received the <i>Southern -Literary Messenger</i> for February. Its contents are rich, varied and -interesting. The critiques are particularly good, and evidence a -mind feelingly alive to the literary reputation of our country. The -collection of autographs will be examined with much interest. We can -safely recommend this periodical to the patronage of the public.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Tuscaloosa Flag of the Union.</small></center> - -<p><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have received the last number of -this beautiful and valuable Magazine, and take great pleasure in -expressing the delight with which we have perused its contents. It -is certainly the best Magazine now published in the Union, and is an -honor to Southern literature and talent. The present number like its -predecessors, is replete with 'pearls, and gems, and flowers,' and -fully sustains the elevated character of the work. The Critical -Notices are peculiarly meritorious and sensible. The Messenger is -now under the editorial guidance of Edgar A. Poe, a gentleman highly -distinguished for his literary taste and talent.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Fincastle Democrat.</small></center> - -<p><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have been furnished, by the -worthy publisher, with the February number of this "best of American -periodicals," as it is said to be by a distinguished Northern -contemporary. This number is pronounced, in all of the many notices -which we have seen, to be the best of the fifteen that have been -published; of this we are not competent to decide, not having been -favored with the previous numbers; but, be it as it may, we -cheerfully coincide in the annexed sentiment of the editor of the -Pennsylvanian:—"If it is not well supported by our brethren of the -South, no faith is to be placed in their sectional feeling; <i>it is -vox et præterea nihil</i>."</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the U. S. Gazette.</small></center> - -<p>The Southern Literary Messenger for March, full of good matter, is -at hand—delayed with a view of giving the whole of Professor Dew's -address. We miss the racy and condemnatory criticism that -distinguishes the work, and which has been favorable to the -production of good books. We who publish no volumes, look with -complacency upon severe criticism.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Richmond Compiler.</small></center> - -<p>The writer of the following judicious article, has performed a task -for which he is entitled to our thanks. A want of time and a lack of -the proper talent for criticism, have prevented us from giving our -opinion at length upon the last number of the Messenger; and this -sketch saves us the labor. We accord with most of the writer's -positions, and are pleased with the good sense, moderation and -delicacy with which he has discharged the office of censor. -Criticism, to be useful, must be just and impartial. This is both.</p> - -<blockquote><small>"<i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>."—Virginia has cause of -exultation that her chief literary periodical bearing the above -title, has already attained a respectable rank in the United States, -and has won "golden opinions" from some of the highest dignitaries -in the empire of criticism. Whilst I do not think that the February -number which has just appeared, is superior to all its predecessors, -yet it may be considered a fair specimen of the general ability with -which the work is conducted. Its contents are copious—various in -their style and character, and, in candor be it spoken, of very -unequal merit. Whilst some articles are highly interesting—the -readers of the Messenger would have lost but little, if others had -been omitted. This remark is not made in the spirit of fault -finding; the Messenger has always <i>enough</i> in its pages to admire, -without coveting an indiscriminate and unqualified praise of all -which it contains.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The very first article in the February number, on the importance of -<i>Selection in Reading</i>, though short, contains much matter for grave -reflection. The writer states, and states truly, that if a man has -forty years to employ in reading, and reads fifty pages a day, he -will only be able in that period of time, to accomplish about -<i>sixteen hundred</i> volumes of 500 pages each. Highly favored as such -a man would be, beyond the mass of his fellow creatures, how -insignificant the number of volumes read by him, compared with the -millions which fill the libraries of the world, and the thousands -and tens of thousand that continually drop from the press. How -vastly important is it, therefore, to be well directed in the choice -of books!—and I may add, how great is the responsibility of those -whose province it is so to direct; to whom the task has been -confided of selecting our literary food, and of separating what is -healthful and nutritious from what is poisonous and hurtful. A well -established magazine, or periodical, undoubtedly exercises great -influence on the literary taste, as well as the literary morality of -the circle of its readers. Hence good taste, good feeling—just -discrimination and high rectitude, are essential qualities in the -conduction of such a work. That Mr. Poe, the reputed editor of the -Messenger, is a gentleman of brilliant genius and endowments, is a -truth which I believe, will not be controverted by a large majority -of its readers. For one, however, I confess, that there are -occasionally manifested some errors of judgment—or faults in -taste—or whatever they may be called, which I should be glad to see -corrected. I do not think, for example, that such an article as "the -Duc De L'Omelette," in the number under consideration, ought to have -appeared. That kind of writing, I know, may plead high precedents in -its favor; but that it is calculated to produce effects permanently -injurious to sound morals, I think will not be doubted by those who -reflect seriously upon the subject. Mr. Poe is too fond of the -wild—unnatural and horrible! Why will he not permit his fine genius -to soar into purer, brighter, and happier regions? Why will he not -disenthral himself from the spells of German enchantment and -supernatural imagery? There is room enough for the exercise of the -highest powers, upon the multiform relations of human life, without -descending into the dark mysterious and unutterable creations of -licentious fancy. When Mr. Poe passes from the region of shadows, -into the plain practical dissecting room of criticism, he manifests -great dexterity and power. He exposes the imbecility and rottenness -of our <i>ad captandum</i> popular literature, with the hand of a master. -The public I believe was much delighted with the admirable scalping -of "Norman Leslie," in the December number, and likewise of Mr. -Simms' "Partisan," in the number for January; and it will be no less -pleased at the caustic severity with which the puerile abortion of -"Paul Ulric" is exposed in the present number.—These miserable -attempts at fiction, will bring all fictitious writing into utter -disrepute, unless indeed the stern rebukes which shall come from our -chairs of criticism, shall rectify the public taste, and preserve -the purity of public feeling.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It would be tedious to pronounce upon the merits and demerits of the -several articles in the number under review. Dr. Greenhow's -continuation of the Tripolitan Sketches is worthy of his calm and -philosophical pen. The re-appearance of "Nugator" in the pages of -the Messenger—after a long interval of silence—will be hailed by -its readers with great pleasure; his "Castellanus" is excellent. The -article on "Liberian Literature," will attract much attention. It -presents a very vivid picture of the wonderful progress which that -colony has made in most of the arts, and in many of the refinements -of life. Lionel Granby—the sketch of the lamented Cushing,—and the -sketches of Lake Superior, have each their peculiar merits, and will -be read with interest; of the <i>Critical Notices</i>, the sarcastic -power of the review of Paul Ulric, has been already spoken of. The -Review of "Rienzi," too, the last novel of Bulwer, is written in Mr. -Poe's best style,—but I must be permitted to dissent <i>toto cælo</i> -from his opinion, that the author of that work is unsurpassed as a -novelist by any writer living or dead.—There is no disputing about -tastes, but according to my poor judgment, a single work might be -selected from among the voluminous labors of Walter Scott, worth all -that Bulwer has ever written, or ever will write—and this I -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page346"><small>[p. 346]</small></a></span> -believe will be the impartial verdict of posterity, at least so long -as unaffected simplicity and the true moral sublime, are preferred -to the gaudy and meretricious coloring which perverted genius throws -around its creations. The Eulogy on the great and good Marshall, is -an elaborate and elegant performance. It is a powerful, yet familiar -sketch of the principal features in the life and character of that -incomparable man. The notices of Emilia Harrington; Lieutenant -Slidell's work, the <i>American in England;</i> <i>Conti;</i> the <i>Noble Deeds -of Women;</i> of <i>Roget's Physiology</i>, (one of the Bridgewater -Treatises) and of Mathew Carey's <i>Auto-Biography</i>—are all very -spirited articles, and are greatly superior to papers of the same -description in the very best monthly periodicals of our country. The -last article "Autography" is not exactly to my taste, though there -are doubtless many who would find in it food for merriment. The -writer of "Readings with My Pencil, No. 1,"—contests the generally -received maxim of Horace, that poets are born such; in other words, -he denies that there is an "original, inherent organization" of the -mind which leads to the "high Heaven of invention," or which, -according to the phrenologists, confers the faculty of "ideality." -It would require too much space to prove that Horace was right, and -that his assailant is altogether wrong. Mr. J. F. O. is greatly -behind the philosophy of the age. It is too late in the day to prove -that Shakespeare and Byron were created exactly equal with the -common mass of mankind, and that <i>circumstances</i> made them superior. -Circumstances may excite and <i>develope</i> mental power, but cannot -create it. Napoleon, although not born Emperor of the French, was -originally endowed with that great capacity which fitted him to -tread the paths of military glory and to cut out his way to supreme -power. Ordinary mortals could not have achieved what he did, with -circumstances equally favorable, or with an education far superior.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It is gratifying to learn that the "Messenger" is still extending -the circle of its readers. The wonder is,—supposing that we have -some love of country left on this side of the Potomac,—that its -patronage is not overflowing. It is the only respectable periodical, -I believe, south of that river; and with due encouragement, it might -not only become a potent reformer of literary taste, but the vehicle -of grave and solid instruction upon subjects deeply interesting to -the southern country. That with all our never-ending professions of -patriotism, however, there exists a vast deal more of selfishness -than public spirit, even in our sunny clime, is a lamentable -truth,—nor for one, am I sufficiently sanguine to unite with the -editor of the Messenger, in the answer which he gives to his own -interrogatory in the following eloquent passage, extracted from the -Review of "Conti;"—"How long shall mind succumb to the grossest -materiality? How long shall the veriest vermin of the earth who -crawl around the altar of Mammon be more esteemed of men, than they, -the gifted ministers to those exalted emotions which link us with -the mysteries of Heaven? To our own query we may venture a reply. -Not long—not long will such rank injustice be committed, or -permitted. A spirit is already abroad at war with it. And in every -billow of the unceasing sea of change—and in every breath, however -gentle, of the wide atmosphere of revolution encircling us, is that -spirit steadily, yet irresistibly at work." Alas! for this sea of -change and this atmosphere of revolution which are fast surrounding -us! For my part, I fear that all other distinctions but <i>wealth</i> and -<i>power</i> are about to be annihilated. What do we behold indeed in -society, but one universal struggle to acquire both? Moral and -intellectual worth are but lightly esteemed in comparison with the -possession of that sordid dross, which every brainless upstart or -every corrupt adventurer may acquire.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Though the Muses occupy a small space in the present number of the -Messenger, their claims are not to be disregarded. Miss Draper's -"Lay of Ruin," and Mr. Flint's "Living Alone" have both decided -merit. The "Ballad" is written by one who can evidently write much -better, if he chooses; and there is a deep poetical inspiration -about Mr. Poe's "Valley Nis," which would be more attractive if his -verses were smoother, and his subject matter less obscure and -unintelligible. Mr. Poe will not consent to abide with ordinary -mortals.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Upon the whole, the last number of the Messenger is one of decided -merit.</small></blockquote> -<div align="right"><small>X. Y. Z.</small> - </div> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Richmond Compiler.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>. Our critical correspondent of the -22d, is not borne out, in some of his remarks, by public opinion. We -allude to his observations on the <i>Duc de L'Omelette</i>, and Mr. Poe's -<i>Autography</i>. These articles are eliciting the highest praise from -the highest quarters. Of the Duc de L'Omelette, the Baltimore -American, (a paper of the first authority and hitherto opposed to -Mr. P.) says: "The Duc de L'Omelette, by Edgar A. Poe, is one of -those light, spirited, fantastic inventions, of which we have had -specimens before in the Messenger, betokening a fertility of -imagination, and power of execution, that would, under a sustained -effort, produce creations of an enduring character." The Petersburg -Constellation copies the entire "<i>Autography</i>," with high -commendations, and of the Duc de L'Omelette, says, "of the lighter -contributions, of the diamonds which sparkle beside the more sombre -gems, commend us, thou spirit of eccentricity! to our favorite, -Edgar A. Poe's '<i>Duc de L'Omelette</i>,' the best thing of the kind we -ever have, or ever expect to read." These opinions seem to be -universal. In justice to Mr. Poe, and as an offsett to the remarks -of our correspondent, we extract the following notice of the -February number from the National Intelligencer.</p> - -<center><small>From the National Intelligencer.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>. The February No. of this -beautiful and interesting periodical has reached us, and it gives us -pleasure to learn that it will be distributed to a greater number of -subscribers than any previous one has been. This is creditable to -the taste of the people, to the industry of the proprietor, the -talents of its editor and contributors, and particularly to the -South, to whom Mr. White especially looks for the support of his -enterprise. The following notice of the contents of the present -number is from a friend of literary taste and discrimination:</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The present number is uncommonly rich. It opens with some valuable -hints upon the necessity of selection in reading, a capital -discourse of a column and a half upon the startling text, "if you -have forty years to employ in reading, and can read fifty pages a -day, you will be able in those forty years to accomplish only about -<i>sixteen hundred volumes</i>, of 500 pages each." This consideration, -ably put by the editor, is an antidote, one would think, to -"smattering." The next is No. X. of a very interesting series of -Historical sketches of Barbary States. This number brings the -history of Algiers down to the close of Charles Xth's reign. Taken -together, these papers are very valuable, and will form a useful -reference hereafter. It is such papers as these that make a -periodical worth keeping. The next prose article is amusing. It is a -translation from the French, and gives a most humorous account of "a -Cousin of the Married," a man who acquired that quaint <i>sobriquet</i> -by attending all weddings, where there was a large company assembled -and making himself useful by proposing sentiments, reciting -<i>epithalamia</i>, and singing songs appropriate to those happy -occasions, until he was discovered by an aristocratic groom, and -compelled to vacate the premises. The paper contains a similar -narrative of "a Cousin of the Dead," who, having been advised to -ride for his health, and being too poor, used to go to all funerals -as a mourner, and thus obtained the medicine prescribed by his -physician, with no other cost than a few crocodile tears. Then comes -one of that eccentric writer, <i>Edgar A. Poe's</i>, characteristic -productions, "<i>The Duc de L'Omelette</i>," which is one of the best -things of the kind we have ever read. <i>Mr. Poe</i> has great powers, -and every line <i>tells</i> in all he writes. He is no spinner-out of -long yarns, but chooses his subject, whimsically, perhaps, yet -originally, and treats it in a manner peculiarly his own. "Rustic -Courtship in New England" has not the verisimilitude which is -necessary to entitle it to the only praise that such sketches -usually obtain; unless they were well done, it were always better -that Yankee stories be not done at all. We hate to be over-critical, -but would recommend to the "<i>Octogenarian</i>" to take the veritable -<i>Jack Downing</i> or <i>John Beedle</i>, as his models, before he writes -again. Those inimitable writers have well-nigh, if not quite, -exhausted the subject of New England Courtship, and (we speak "as -one having authority, and not as the scribes," by which we mean the -critics) the writer before us has done but very indifferently what -they have done so well, as to gain universal applause. "Palæstine" -is a useful article, containing geographical, topographical, and -other statistical facts in the history of that interesting county, -well put together, and valuable as a reference.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We were much entertained with "<i>Nugator's</i>" humorous sketches of the -castle-building farmer. No periodical in the country, numbers one -among its contributors more racy than "Nugator." The article on -"Liberian Literature" gives the reader a very flattering idea of the -condition of that colony. The "Biographical Sketch" of <i>President -Cushing</i>, of Hampden Sidney College, we read with much pleasure. We -would recommend a series of similar sketches, from the same hand: -nothing can give a periodical of this kind more solid value than -such tributes to departed worth. Sketches of "Lake -Superior"—beautiful! beautiful! We feel inclined to follow the -track so picturesquely described by <i>Mr. Woolsey</i>, and make a -pilgrimage to the wild and woody scenery of the Great Lake. This is -a continuous series of letters, and we shall hail the coming numbers -with much pleasure. The last prose <i>contribution</i> in the book is -entitled "Readings with my Pencil," being a series of paraphrases of -different passages, taken at random, from various authors. We like -this plan, and think well of the performance thus far. It is to be -continued.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The poetical department is not so rich as that in former numbers. -<i>Miss Draper's</i> "Lay of Ruin" is irregular in the versification, and -shows the fair writer's forte to be in a different style altogether. -We wish she would give us something more like that gem of the -December number of the Messenger, "Halley's Comet in 1760." <i>Mr. -Flint's</i> "Living Alone," capital; and <i>Mr. Poe's</i> "Valley Nis," -characteristically wild, yet sweetly soft and smooth in measure as -in mood. The "Lines" on page 166 do no credit to the Messenger; they -should have been dropped into the fire as soon as the first stanza -was read by the editor; and if he had gotten to the eleventh, he -should have sent the MS. to the Museum as a curiosity. Look! The -Bard addresses the Mississippi!</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem96"> - <tr><td><small>"'Tis not clearness—'tis not brightness<br> - Such as dwell in mountain brooks—<br> - 'Tis thy big, big boiling torrent—<br> - 'Tis thy wild and angry looks."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small>This is altogether too bad. <i>Eliza's</i> Stanzas to "Greece" are very -beautiful. She writes from <i>Maine</i>, and, with care and cultivation, -will, by and by, do something worthy of the name to which she makes -aspiration. So much for the poetry of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page347"><small>[p. 347]</small></a></span> number; which -neither in quantity or quality is equal to the last three or four.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>In the "Editorial" department, we recognise the powerful -discrimination of <i>Mr. Poe</i>. The dissection of "Paul Ulric," though -well deserved, is perfectly savage. <i>Morris Mattson, Esq.</i> will -hardly write again. This article will as surely kill him as one not -half so scalpingly written did poor <i>Keats</i>, in the London -Quarterly. The notice of <i>Lieutenant Slidell's</i> "American in -England" we were glad to see. It is a fair offset to the coxcombical -article (probably written by <i>Norman Leslie Fay</i>) which lately -appeared in the New York Mirror, in reference to our countryman's -really agreeable work. <i>Bulwer's</i> "Rienzi" is ably reviewed, and in -a style to beget in him who reads it a strong desire to possess -himself immediately of the book itself. There is also an interesting -notice of <i>Matthew Carey's</i> Autobiography, and two or three other -works lately published.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Under this head, there is, in the number before us, the best sketch -of the character and life of <i>Chief Justice Marshall</i> we have as yet -seen. This alone would make a volume of the Messenger valuable -beyond the terms of subscription. It purports to be a Review of -<i>Story's</i>, <i>Binney's</i>, and <i>Snowden's</i> Eulogies upon that -distinguished jurist, while, in reality, it is a rich and pregnant -Biography of "The Expounder of the Constitution."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The number closes with a most amusing paper containing twenty-five -admirably executed <i>fac simile</i> autographs of some of the most -distinguished of our literati. The <i>equivoque</i> of <i>Mr. Joseph A. B. -C. D. E. F. G.</i> &c. <i>Miller</i> is admirably kept up, and the whimsical -character of the pretended letters to which the signatures are -attached is well preserved. Of almost all the autographs we can -speak on our own authority, and are able to pronounce them capital.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Upon the whole, the number before us (entirely original) may be set -down as one of the very best that has yet been issued.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Pennsylvanian.</small></center> - -<p>The Southern Literary Messenger, published in Richmond, maintains -its high character. The March number, however, which has just come -to hand, would have been the better had the solid articles been -relieved, as in the previous numbers, by a greater variety of -contributions of a lighter cast. It is comparatively heavy, a fault -which should be carefully avoided in a magazine intended for all -sorts of readers. Sinning in the opposite direction would be much -more excusable.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Georgetown Metropolitan.</small></center> - -<p>We have taken time to go through the last number of the Southern -Literary Messenger, and find it, with some slight exceptions, in the -articles of its correspondents, worthy, in every respect, of the -high reputation of the series. The editorial articles are vigorous -and original, as usual, and there are papers not easily to be -surpassed in any periodical. Such a one is that on the Classics, -which is not the saucy and flippant thing we were half afraid to -find it, but an essay of great wisdom, learning, and strength,—and -what we generally see combined with it,—playfulness of mind.</p> - -<p>Another such article is the splendid address prepared by Professor -Dew, for delivery before the Historical and Philosophical Society of -Virginia. Its eloquence, vast compass, and subtlety of thought, will -amply and richly repay the attention.</p> - -<p>We have time to-day for but a brief notice of the other articles.</p> - -<p>Sketches of the Barbary States,—continues the description of the -French conquest, with the same clearness and ability which we have -before frequently commended.</p> - -<p>"Epimanes" displays a rich, but extravagant fancy.</p> - -<p>"To Helen," is pretty and classic, from the same hand—we will give -it in our next.</p> - -<p>"Change" has many lines in it, of sweet, and what we like best, of -thoughtful poetry; we will publish it in our next.</p> - -<p>"Manual Labor Schools."—Another "address," but practical and -sensible. We suggest, with deference, to the very able editor of the -Southern Literary Messenger, that the less frequently he admits -articles of this description into his columns, the better. Except in -rare circumstances, such for example as Professor Dew's, we think -they are unfit for a magazine,—the subject of the present one, is, -however, of great importance. "Georgia Scenes" makes a capital -article, and has excited, in our mind, a great curiosity to see the -book.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Georgetown Metropolitan.</small></center> - -<p>The Southern Literary Messenger, for the present month, is unusually -rich. The articles evince depth, talent and taste, and there is all -the eastern vigor and maturity of learning, with all the southern -spirit of imagination. It is, in fact, nobly edited and supported, -well worthy of being considered the representative and organ of -Southern talent.</p> - -<p>Of the articles in the present number, the general list as may be -seen by looking at the advertisement in another column, is very -attractive, and a perusal will not "unbeseem the promise." We have -not time to go over each as we would wish; but the historical sketch -of Algiers, which is brought down to the embarkation of the French -expedition, will command attention. "A <i>Lay of Ruin</i>," by Miss -Draper, has some lines of exquisite poetry, and Edgar A. Poe's -Sketch "The Duc de L'Omelette," is the best thing of the kind we -have seen from him yet. "Living Alone" by Timothy Flint, greatly -interested us. That this patriarch of American literature, in his -green and fresh old age, can write verses so full of the amaranthine -vigor of youth, is a delightful picture. We are sorry we cannot find -room for these pleasant verses. Among other attractions of the -number, we come upon a Drinking Song, by Major Noah, in which the -most agreeable and witty of editors, proves himself one of the most -moral and fascinating of lyrists. It is an anacreontic of the right -stamp, and does its author more credit than all the anti-Van Buren -articles he ever penned.</p> - -<p>The Critical Notices are better by far, than those in any other -magazine in the country. Paul Ulric is too small game for the -tremendous demolition he has received—a club of iron has been used -to smash a fly. The article on Judge Marshall is an able and -faithful epitome of that great jurist's character; in fact, the best -which the press has yet given to the public. We agree with all the -other critiques except that of Bulwer's Rienzi. The most -extraordinary article in the book and the one which will excite most -attention, is its tail piece, in which an American edition of -Frazer's celebrated Miller hoax has been played off on the American -Literati with great success—and better than all, an accurate fac -simile of each autograph given along with it.</p> - -<p>This article is extremely amusing, and will excite more attention -than probably any thing of the kind yet published in an American -periodical. It is quite new in this part of the world.</p> - -<p>We commend this excellent magazine to our readers, as in a high -degree deserving of encouragement, and as one which will reward it.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Baltimore American.</small></center> - -<p>The <i>Southern Literary Messenger</i> for February is, we think, the -best of the fifteen numbers that have been published. Most of its -articles, prose and verse, are of good Magazine quality, sprightly -and diversified. The first, on "Selection in Reading," contains in a -brief space a useful lesson in these book-abounding times, when many -people take whatever publishers please to give them, or surrender -their right of selection to the self-complacent and shallow editors -of cheap "Libraries." Of the interesting "Sketches of the History -and present condition of Tripoli, with some account of the other -Barbary States," we have here No. 10, which concludes with the -preparations of the attack on Algiers by the French in 1830. "The -Cousin of the Married" and the "Cousin of the Dead" are two capital -comic pictures from the French. "The Duc de L'Omelette, by Edgar A. -Poe" is one of those light, spirited, fantastic inventions, of which -we have had specimens before in the Messenger, betokening a -fertility of imagination and power of execution, that with -discipline could, under a sustained effort, produce creations of an -enduring character. "Rustic Courtship in New England" is of a class -that should not get higher than the first page of a country -newspaper,—we mean no disrespect to any of our -"cotemporaries,"—for it has no literary capabilities.</p> - -<p>The best and also the largest portion of the present number of the -Messenger is the department of critical notices of books. These are -the work of a vigorous, sportive, keen pen, that, whether you -approve the judgments or not it records, takes captive your -attention by the spirit with which it moves. The number ends with -the amusing Miller correspondence, of which we have already spoken.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Petersburg Constellation.</small></center> - -<p>We briefly announced a few days ago, the receipt of the February -number of the <i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>. It is one of the -richest and raciest numbers of that Journal yet issued from the -Press. The judicious introductory article on the necessity of select -reading; the continuation of the Historical sketches of the Barbary -States; Palæstine; the Biographical notice of the late Professor -Cushing of Hampden Sidney College; the Review of the Eulogies on, -and Reminiscenses of the late Chief Justice Marshall, are among the -solid treasures of the Messenger of this month. Sketches of Lake -Superior in a series of Letters which are "<i>to be continued;</i>" the -Cousin of the Married and the Cousin of the Dead, a translation from -the French; Lionel Granby, Chapter 8; the Castle Builder turned -Farmer, and Rustic Courtship in New England, have each their -beauties, excellences and peculiarities. Of the lighter -contributions, of the diamonds which sparkle beside the more sombre -gems, commend us, thou spirit of eccentricity! forever and a day to -our favorite Edgar A. Poe's <i>Duc de L'Omelette</i>—the best thing of -the kind we ever have or ever expect to read. The idea of "dying of -an Ortolan;" the waking up in the palace of Pluto; of that -mysterious chain of "blood red metal" hung "<i> parmi les nues</i>," at -the nether extremity of which was attached a "cresset," pouring -forth a light more "intense, still and terrible" than "Persia ever -worshipped, Gheber imagined, or Mussulman dreamed of;" the paintings -and statuary of that mysterious hall, whose solitary uncurtained -window looked upon blazing Tartarus, and whose ceiling was lost in a -mass of "fiery-colored clouds;" the <i>nonchalance</i> of the <i>Duc</i> in -challenging "His Majesty" to a <i>pass</i> with the <i>points;</i> his -imperturbable, self-confident assurance during the playing of a game -of <i>ecarté;</i> his adroitness in slipping a card while his Infernal -Highness "took wine" (a trick which won the <i>Duc</i> his game by the -by,) and finally his <i>characteristic</i> compliment to the Deity of the -Place of "que s'il n'etait pas de L'Omelette, il n'aurait point -d'objection d'etre le Diable," are conceptions which for peculiar -eccentricity and graphic quaintness, are perfectly inimitable. Of -the criticisms, the most are good; that on Mr. Morris Mattson's -novel of "Paul Ulric," like a former criticism from the same pen on -Fay's "Norman Leslie" is a literal "flaying alive!" a carving up -into "ten thousand atoms!" a complete literary annihilation! If Mr. -Morris <span class="pagenum"><a name="page348"><small><small>[p. 348]</small></small></a></span> -Mattson is either courageous or wise, he will turn upon -his merciless assailant as Byron turned upon Jeffrey, and prove that -he can not only do better things, but that he deserves more lenient -usage! Last but not by far the least in interest, is Mr. Joseph A. -Q. Z. Miller's "Autography." We copy the whole article as a literary -treat which we should wrong their tastes did we suppose for a moment -would not be as highly appreciated by each and all of our readers, -as it is by ourself.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Baltimore Chronicle.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>. The last number of this -periodical is, perhaps the best that has appeared, and shows that -the favor with which its predecessors have been received has only -added stimulus to the exertions of its enterprising proprietor and -very able Editor. The number consists of 70 pages, all of which are -taken up with original matter. The prose articles are generally of -high merit—but the poetry of the present number is inferior to that -of some of the preceding. The critical notices are written in a -nervous style and with great impartiality and independence. The -Editor seems to have borne in mind the maxim of the greatest of -reviewers—"the judge is condemned when the guilty is acquitted." -The application of this severe rule to all criticism would impart -greater value to just commendation and render the censure of the -press more formidable to brainless pretenders. The public judgment -is constantly deluded and misled by indiscriminate puffing and -unmerited praise. The present Editor of the Messenger is in no -danger of doing violence to his feelings in this respect.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Boston Mercantile Journal.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—This is a periodical which it is -probably well known to many of our readers, was established a little -more than a year since, in Richmond, Va. It is issued in monthly -numbers of about seventy pages each, and is devoted to every -department of Literature and the Fine Arts. Containing much matter -of a brilliant and superior order, evidently the productions of -accomplished scholars and Belles Lettres writers, with able and -discriminating critical notices of the principal publications on -this side the Atlantic, the Southern Literary Messenger is equal in -interest and excellence to any Monthly Periodical in the country, -and we are glad to learn from the February number that it has -already received extensive and solid patronage.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Norfolk Beacon.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i> for February appears in all its -freshness. The sketches of the history of the Barbary States -contained in the present number include the period of the equipment -and departure of the French fleet destined for the attack on -Algiers. The account of the diplomatic movements of England and -France on the subject of the proposed capture is novel and -instructive. The tribute to the memory of Cushing we hail with -pleasure. If it be not a faultless production, it is written in a -right spirit. The review of Paul Ulric is written with great freedom -and unusual severity. The reviewer wields a formidable weapon. The -article on Judge Marshall groups within a small compass much -valuable and interesting intelligence respecting the late Chief -Justice. It is not executed, however in a workmanlike manner. The -ungenerous allusion to Chapman Johnson was wholly gratuitous. There -is also a seasoning of federal politics, not referring to long past -times, that ought to have been spared us. But the article on -Autography is a treat of no common order. We have seen nothing of -the kind before in an American periodical. It must have cost Mr. -White a great deal of labor and expense in its typographical -execution. What has become of the excellent series of essays on the -sexes, ascribed to the pen of a distinguished professor of Wm. & Mary?</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Baltimore American.</small></center> - -<p>The publication of the Southern Literary Messenger, for March, was -delayed beyond the usual time, for the purpose of inserting in it an -Address by Professor Dew, of Wm. and Mary College, prepared to be -delivered before the Virginia Historical and Philosophical Society. -The first copy sent to us having miscarried, we have been further -disappointed in the receipt of this number, which has just now -reached us. As yet we have read but one article in it, but that is -one of such merit on so interesting a subject, that it were nearly -sufficient alone to give value to the number, without the aid of Mr. -Dew's Address, to which we shall hereafter refer, doubting not to -find it of high excellence, as his reputation leads us to -anticipate.</p> - -<p>The article to which we allude is on 'Manual Labor Schools, and -their importance as connected with literary institutions.' The -introduction of manual labor as a regular department of the school -exercises is, we believe, one of the greatest improvements of the -age, in the most important branch of human endeavor—the <i>culture</i> -of man. We make no apology for frequently recurring to this subject. -As reasonable would it be to expect apologies from the municipal -authorities for directing their efforts daily, and with unrelaxed -watchfulness, to the keeping pure and healthy the atmosphere of a -city. The culture or education of human beings is a subject of -unsurpassed moment and of never ceasing interest. The principles -upon which this culture is to be conducted, and the modes of -applying them, involve the well being of communities and nations. We -are glad therefore, to perceive, that in our new and promising race -of literary monthlies, education receives a large share of attention.</p> - -<p>The paper before us in the Messenger, prepared by the Rev. Mr. -Stanton, is peculiarly interesting, because it embodies a quantity -of experience of the results produced by manual labor—results, -which though derived from comparatively few sources, the number of -institutions where the system has been introduced being as yet -small—are of the most emphatic and convincing character. They -already suffice to prove that the connexion of manual labor -establishments with literary institutions, is conducive not only in -the highest degree to health, but to morals, and to intellectual -proficiency. Moreover—and this is a point of incalculable -importance—in some of these institutions, a <i>majority</i> of the -students have by their labor diminished their expenses about one -half; a portion of them have defrayed the whole of their expenses, -and a few have more than defrayed them—enjoying at the same time -better health, and making more rapid advances in knowledge than -usual. The distinct testimony of the pupils as well as -superintendents, is adduced to prove the beneficial effects upon -body and mind, of three hours agricultural or mechanical labor every -day. One of these effects is described in the following language. -"This system is calculated to make men hardy, enterprising, and -independent; and to wake up within them a spirit perseveringly to -do, and endure, and dare."</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the New Yorker.</small></center> - -<p><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The February No. of this -periodical is before us—rich in typographical beauty as ever, but -scarcely so fortunate as in some former instances in the character -of its original contributions. Such at least is our judgment; and -yet of some twenty articles the greater number will be perused with -decided satisfaction. Of these, No. X. of the "<i>Sketches of the -History of Tripoli</i>" and other Barbary States, affords an -interesting account of the series of outrages on the part of the -Algerine Regency which provoked the entire overthrow of that -infamous banditti and the subjugation of the country. [We take -occasion to say here that we trust France will <i>never</i> restore the -Algerine territory to the sway of the barbarian and infidel, but -hold it at the expense, if need be, of a Continental War.]</p> - -<p>"<i>The Cousin of the Married and the Cousin of the Dead</i>" is a most -striking translation, which we propose to copy.</p> - -<p>"<i>Living Alone</i>," by Timothy Flint, forms an exception to the usual -character of the poetry of the Messenger, which we do not greatly -affect. Mr. Flint, however, writes to be read—and is rarely -disappointed or disappoints his readers.</p> - -<p>There are some amusing pictures of Virginia rural life and domestic -economy in the papers entitled "Lionel Granby" and "Castellanus;" -and the biographical sketch of the late President Cushing, of -Hampden Sidney College, indicates a just State pride properly -directed. The "Sketches of Lake Superior" are alike creditable to -the writer and the Magazine. "Greece" forms the inspiration of some -graceful lines. But the 'great feature' of this No. is an Editorial -critique on Mr. Morris Mattson's novel of "Paul Ulric," which is -tomahawked and scalped after the manner of a Winnebago. If any young -gentleman shall find himself irresistibly impelled to perpetrate a -novel, and all milder remedies prove unavailing, we earnestly advise -him to read this criticism. We are not sufficiently hard hearted to -recommend its perusal to any one else.</p> - -<p>The concluding paper will commend itself to the attention of the -rational curious. It embraces the autographs, quaintly introduced -and oddly accompanied, of twenty-four of the most distinguished -literary personages of our country—Mrs. Sigourney, Miss Leslie, -Miss Sedgwick, Messrs. Washington Irving, Fitz Greene Halleck, -Timothy Flint, J. K. Paulding, J. Fenimore Cooper, Robert Walsh, -Edward Everett, J. Q. Adams, Dr. Channing, &c. &c. We note this as -an evidence of the energy no less than the good taste of the -publisher, and as an earnest of his determination to spare no pains -or expense in rendering the work acceptable to its patrons.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the New York Evening Star.</small></center> - -<p>The Southern Literary Messenger, for March, has been received, and a -particularly good number it is. There is one point in which this -Messenger stands pre-eminent, and that point is candor. If there is -any thing disgusting and sickening, it is the fashion of magazine -and newspaper reviewers of the present day of plastering every thing -which is heralded into existence with a tremendous sound of -trumpets—applaud every thing written by the twenty-fifth relation -distant of a really great writer, or the author of one or two -passable snatches of poetry, or every day sketches.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<center><small>From the Natchez Courier.</small></center> - -<p>Last but not least, as the friends of a literature, emphatically -<i>southern</i>, we welcome the February number of the "Southern Literary -Messenger," a work that stands second to none in the country. Its -criticisms we pronounce to be at once the boldest and most generally -correct of any we meet with. True, it is very severe on many of the -current publications of the day; but we think no unprejudiced man -can say it is a whit too much so. The country is deluged from Maine -to Louisiana, with a mass of <i>stuff</i> "done up" into <i>books</i> that -<i>require</i> the most severe handling. The Messenger <i>gives it to -them</i>. It is a work which ought to be in the hand of every literary -<i>southerner</i>, in particular. It is published by <i>T. W. White -Richmond, Va.</i></p> - -<div lang='en' xml:lang='en'> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span lang='' xml:lang=''>THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, VOL. 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