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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..17390d8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68997 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68997) diff --git a/old/68997-0.txt b/old/68997-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 16c4fe5..0000000 --- a/old/68997-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7333 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. -II., No. 6, May, 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. 6, May, 1836 - -Author: Various - -Editor: Edgar Allan Poe - -Release Date: September 16, 2022 [eBook #68997] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Ron Swanson - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUTHERN LITERARY -MESSENGER, VOL. II., NO. 6, MAY, 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. - - -{349} - - -SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. - -VOL. II. RICHMOND, MAY, 1836. NO. VI. - -T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. - - - - -MSS. OF BENJ. FRANKLIN.[1] - -[Footnote 1: These pieces from the pen of Dr. Franklin have never -appeared in any edition of his works, and are from the manuscript book -which contains the Lecture and Essays published in the April number of -the Messenger.] - - -_Mr. Gazetteer_,--I was highly pleased with your last week's paper -upon SCANDAL, as the uncommon doctrine therein preached is agreeable -both to my principles and practice, and as it was published very -seasonably to reprove the impertinence of a writer in the foregoing -Thursday's Mercury, who, at the conclusion of one of his silly -paragraphs, laments forsooth that the fair sex are so peculiarly -guilty of this enormous crime: every blockhead, ancient and modern, -that could handle a pen, has, I think, taken upon him to cant in the -same senseless strain. If to _scandalize_ be really a crime, what do -these puppies mean? They describe it--they dress it up in the most -odious, frightful and detestable colors--they represent it as the -worst of crimes, and then roundly and charitably charge the whole race -of womankind with it. Are not they then guilty of what they condemn, -at the same time that they condemn it? If they accuse us of any other -crime they must necessarily scandalize while they do it; but to -scandalize us with being guilty of scandal, is in itself an egregious -absurdity, and can proceed from nothing but the most consummate -impudence in conjunction with the most profound stupidity. - -This, supposing as they do, that to scandalize is a crime; which you -have convinced all reasonable people is an opinion absolutely -erroneous. Let us leave then, these select mock-moralists, while I -entertain you with some account of my life and manners. - -I am a young girl of about thirty-five, and live at present with my -mother. I have no care upon my head of getting a living, and therefore -find it my duty as well as inclination to exercise my talent at -CENSURE for the good of my country folks. There was, I am told, a -certain generous emperor, who, if a day had passed over his head in -which he had conferred no benefit on any man, used to say to his -friends, in Latin, _Diem perdidi_, that is, it seems, _I have lost a -day_. I believe I should make use of the same expression, if it were -possible for a day to pass in which I had not, or missed, an -opportunity to scandalize somebody: but, thanks be praised, no such -misfortune has befel me these dozen years. - -Yet whatever good I may do, I cannot pretend that I at first entered -into the practice of this virtue from a principle of public spirit; -for I remember that when a child I had a violent inclination to be -ever talking in my own praise, and being continually told that it was -ill-manners and once severely whipped for it, the confined stream -formed itself a new channel, and I began to speak for the future in -the dispraise of others. This I found more agreeable to company and -almost as much so to myself: for what great difference can there be -between putting yourself up or putting your neighbor down? _Scandal_, -like other virtues, is in part its own reward, as it gives us the -satisfaction of making ourselves appear better than others, or others -no better than ourselves. - -My mother, good woman, and I, have heretofore differed upon this -account. She argued that Scandal spoilt all good conversation, and I -insisted that without it there would be no such thing. Our disputes -once rose so high that we parted tea-tables, and I concluded to -entertain my acquaintance in the kitchen. The first day of this -separation we both drank tea at the same time, but she with her -visitors in the parlor. She would not hear of the least objection to -any one's character, but began a new sort of discourse in some such -queer philosophical manner as this: _I am mightily pleased sometimes,_ -says she, _when I observe and consider that the world is not so bad as -people out of humor imagine it to be. There is something amiable, some -good quality or other in every body. If we were only to speak of -people that are least respected, there is such a one is very dutiful -to her father, and methinks has a fine set of teeth; such a one is -very respectful to her husband; such a one is very kind to her poor -neighbors, and besides has a very handsome shape; such a one is always -ready to serve a friend, and in my opinion there is not a woman in -town that has a more agreeable air or gait._ This fine kind of talk, -which lasted near half an hour, she concluded by saying, _I do not -doubt but every one of you has made the like observations, and I -should be glad to have the conversation continued upon this subject._ -Just at this juncture I peeped in at the door, and never in my life -before saw such a set of simple vacant countenances. They looked -somehow neither glad nor sorry, nor angry nor pleased, nor indifferent -nor attentive; but (excuse the simile) like so many images of rye -dough. I, in the kitchen, had already begun a ridiculous story of Mr. -----'s intrigue with his maid, and his wife's behavior on the -discovery; at some of the passages we laughed heartily; and one of the -gravest of mamma's company, without making any answer to her discourse -got up _to go and see what the girls were so merry about_: she was -followed by a second, and shortly by a third, till at last the old -gentlewoman found herself quite alone, and being convinced that her -project was impracticable came herself and finished her tea with us; -ever since which _Saul also has been among the prophets_, and our -disputes lie dormant. - -By industry and application I have made myself the centre of all the -scandal in the province; there is little stirring but I hear of it. I -began the world with this maxim, that no trade can subsist without -returns; and accordingly, whenever I received a good story, I -endeavored to give two or a better in the room of it. My punctuality -in this way of dealing gave such encouragement that it has procured me -an incredible deal of business, which without diligence and good -method it would be impossible for me to go through. For besides the -stock of defamation thus naturally flowing in upon me, I practice an -art by which I can pump {350} scandal out of people that are the least -inclined that way. Shall I discover my secret? Yes; to let it die with -me would be inhuman. If I have never heard ill of some person I always -impute it to defective intelligence; _for there are none without their -faults, no, not one_. If she be a woman, I take the first opportunity -to let all her acquaintance know I have heard that one of the -handsomest or best men in town has said something in praise either of -her beauty, her wit, her virtue, or her good management. If you know -any thing of human nature, you perceive that this naturally introduces -a conversation turning upon all her failings, past, present and to -come. To the same purpose and with the same success I cause every man -of reputation to be praised before his competitors in love, business, -or esteem, on account of any particular qualification. Near the times -of election, if I find it necessary, I commend every candidate before -some of the opposite party, listening attentively to what is said of -him in answer. But commendations in this latter case are not always -necessary and should be used judiciously. Of late years I needed only -observe what they said of one another freely; and having for the help -of memory taken account of all informations and accusations received, -whoever peruses my writings after my death, may happen to think that -during a certain time the people of Pennsylvania chose into all their -offices of honor and trust, the veriest knaves, fools and rascals, in -the whole province. The time of election used to be a busy time with -me, but this year, with concern I speak it, people are grown so good -natured, so intent upon mutual feasting and friendly entertainment, -that I see no prospect of much employment from that quarter. - -I mentioned above that without good method I could not go through my -business. In my father's life time I had some instruction in accounts, -which I now apply with advantage to my own affairs. I keep a regular -set of books and can tell at an hour's warning how it stands between -me and the world. In my _Daybook_ I enter every article of defamation -as it is transacted; for scandals _received in_ I give credit, and -when I pay them out again I make the persons to whom they respectively -relate, _Debtor_. In my _Journal_, I add to each story, by way of -improvement, such probable circumstances as I think it will bear, and -in my _Ledger_ the whole is regularly posted. - -I suppose the reader already condemns me in his heart for this -particular of _adding circumstances_, but I justify this part of my -practice thus. It is a principle with me that none ought to have a -greater share of reputation than they really deserve; if they have, it -is an imposition upon the public. I know it is every one's interest, -and therefore believe they endeavor to conceal all their vices and -follies; and I hold that those people are _extraordinary_ foolish or -careless, who suffer one-fourth of their failings to come to public -knowledge. Taking then the common prudence and imprudence of mankind -in a lump, I suppose none suffer above one-fifth to be discovered; -therefore, when I hear of any person's misdoing, I think I keep within -bounds, if in relating it I only make it three times worse than it is; -and I reserve to myself the privilege of charging them with one fault -in four, which for aught I know they may be entirely innocent of. You -see there are but few so careful of doing justice as myself; what -reason then have mankind to complain of _Scandal_? In a general way -the worst that is said of us is only half what might be said, if all -our faults were seen. - -But alas! two great evils have lately befallen me at the same time; an -extreme cold that I can scarce speak, and a most terrible toothache -that I dare hardly open my mouth. For some days past I have received -ten stories for one I have paid; and I am not able to balance my -accounts without your assistance. I have long thought that if you -would make your paper a vehicle of scandal, you would double the -number of your subscribers. I send you herewith accounts of four -knavish tricks, two * * *, five * * * * *, three drubbed wives, and -four henpecked husbands, all within this fortnight; which you may, as -articles of news, deliver to the public, and if my toothache continues -shall send you more, being in the mean time your constant reader, - -ALICE ADDERTONGUE. - - -I thank my correspondent, Mrs. Addertongue, for her good will, but -desire to be excused inserting the articles of news she has sent me, -such things being in reality no news at all. - - * * * * * - -QUERIES TO BE ASKED THE JUNTO. - -Whence comes the dew that stands on the outside of a tankard that has -cold water in it in the summer time? - -Does the importation of servants increase or advance the wealth of our -country? - -Would not an office of insurance for servants be of service, and what -methods are proper for the erecting such an office? - - * * * * * - -Whence does it proceed that the proselytes to any sect or persuasion, -generally appear more zealous than those that are bred up in it? - -_Answer_. I suppose that people BRED in different persuasions are -nearly zealous alike. Then he that changes his party is either sincere -or not sincere: that is, he either does it for the sake of the -opinions merely, or with a view of interest. If he is sincere and has -no view of interest, and considers before he declares himself how much -ill will he shall have from those he leaves, and that those he is -about to go among will be apt to suspect his sincerity: if he is not -really zealous, he will not declare; and therefore must be zealous if -he does declare. - -If he is not sincere, he is obliged at least to put on an appearance -of great zeal, to convince the better his new friends that he is -heartily in earnest, for his old ones he knows dislike him. And as few -acts of zeal will be more taken notice of than such as are done -against the party he has left, he is inclined to injure or malign them -because he knows they contemn and despise him. Hence one Renegado is -(as the Proverb says) worse than ten Turks. - - * * * * * - -SIR,--It is strange, that among men who are born for society and -mutual solace, there should be any who take pleasure in speaking -disagreeable things to their acquaintance. But such there are I assure -you, and I should be glad if a little public chastisement might be any -means of reforming them. These ill-natured people study a man's -temper, or the circumstances of his life, {351} merely to know what -disgusts him, and what he does not care to hear mentioned; and this -they take care to omit no opportunity of disturbing him with. They -communicate their wonderful discoveries to others, with an ill-natured -satisfaction in their countenances, _say such a thing to such a man -and you cannot mortify him worse_. They delight (to use their own -phrase) in seeing galled horses wince, and like flies, a sore place is -a feast to them. Know, ye wretches, that the meanest insect, the -trifling musqueto, the filthy bug have it in their power to give pain -to men; but to be able to give pleasure to your fellow creatures, -requires good nature and a kind and humane disposition, joined with -talents to which ye seem to have no pretension. - -X. Y. - - * * * * * - -If a sound body and a sound mind, which is as much as to say health -and virtue, are to be preferred before all other -considerations,--Ought not men, in choosing of a business either for -themselves or children, to refuse such as are unwholesome for the -body, and such as make a man too dependant, too much obliged to please -others, and too much subjected to their humors in order to be -recommended and get a livelihood. - - * * * * * - -I am about courting a girl I have had but little acquaintance with; -how shall I come to a knowledge of her faults, and whether she has the -virtues I imagine she has? - -_Answer_. Commend her among her female acquaintance. - - * * * * * - -To the Printer of the Gazette. - -According to the request of your correspondent T. P., I send you my -thoughts on the following case by him proposed, viz: - -A man bargains for the keeping of his horse six months, whilst he is -making a voyage to Barbadoes. The horse strays or is stolen soon after -the keeper has him in possession. When the owner demands the value of -his horse in money, may not the other as justly demand so much -deducted as the keeping of the horse six months amounts to? - -It does not appear that they had any dispute about the value of the -horse, whence we may conclude there was no reason for such dispute, -but it was well known how much he cost, and that he could not honestly -have been sold again for more. But the value of the horse is not -expressed in the case, nor the sum agreed for keeping him six months; -wherefore in order to our more clear apprehension of the thing, let -_ten pounds_ represent the horse's value and three pounds the sum -agreed for his keeping. - -Now the sole foundation on which the keeper can found his demand of a -deduction for keeping a horse he did not keep, is this. _Your horse,_ -he may say, _which I was to restore to you at the end of six months -was worth ten founds; if I now give you ten pounds it is an equivalent -for your horse, and equal to returning the horse itself. Had I -returned your horse (value 10_l._) you would have paid me three pounds -for his keeping, and therefore would have received in fact but seven -pounds clear. You then suffer no injury if I now pay you seven pounds, -and consequently you ought in reason to allow me the remaining three -pounds according to our agreement._ - -But the owner of the horse may possibly insist upon being paid the -whole sum of ten pounds, without allowing any deduction for his -keeping after he was lost, and that for these reasons. - -1. It is always supposed, unless an express agreement be made to the -contrary, when horses are put out to keep, that the keeper is at the -risque of them (unavoidable accidents only excepted, wherein no care -of the keeper can be supposed sufficient to preserve them, such as -their being slain by lightning or the like.) _This you yourself -tacitly allow when you offer to restore me the value of my horse._ -Were it otherwise, people having no security against a keeper's -neglect or mismanagement would never put horses out to keep. - -2. Keepers considering the risque they run, always demand such a price -for keeping horses, that if they were to follow the business twenty -years, they may have a living profit, though they now and then pay for -a horse they have lost; and if they were to be at no risque they might -afford to keep horses for less than they usually have. So that what a -man pays for his horse's keeping, more than the keeper could afford to -take if he ran no risque, is in the nature of a premium for the -insurance of his horse. _If I then pay you for the few days you kept -my horse, you should restore me his full value._ - -3. You acknowledge that my horse eat of your hay and oats but a few -days. It is unjust then to charge me for all the hay and oats that he -only might have eat in the remainder of the six months, and which you -have now still good in your stable. If, as the proverb says, it is -unreasonable to expect a horse should void oats who never eat any, it -is certainly as unreasonable to expect payment for those oats. - -4. If men in such cases as this are to be paid for keeping horses when -they were not kept, then they have a great opportunity of wronging the -owners of horses. For by privately selling my horse for his value (ten -pounds) soon after you had him in possession, and returning me at the -expiration of the time only seven pounds, demanding three pounds as a -deduction agreed for his keeping, you get that 3_l._ clear into your -pocket, besides the use of my money six months for nothing. - -5. But you say, the value of my horse being ten pounds, if you deduct -three for his keeping and return me seven, it is all I would in fact -have received had you returned my horse; therefore as I am no loser I -ought to be satisfied: this argument, were there any weight in it, -might serve to justify a man in selling as above, as many of the -horses he takes to keep as he conveniently can, putting clear into his -own pocket that charge their owner must have been at for their -keeping, for this being no loss to the owners, he may say, _where no -man is a loser why should not I be a gainer_. I need only answer to -this, that I allow the horse cost me but ten pounds, nor could I have -sold him for more, had I been disposed to part with him, but this can -be no reason why you should buy him of me at that price, whether I -will sell him or not. For it is plain I valued him at thirteen pounds, -otherwise I should not have paid ten pounds for him and agreed to give -you three pounds more for his keeping, till I had occasion to use him. -Thus, though you pay me the whole ten pounds which he cost me, -(deducting only for his keeping those few days) I am still a loser; I -lose the charge of those {352} days' keeping; I lose the three pounds -at which I valued him above what he cost me, and I lose the advantage -I might have made of my money in six months, either by the interest or -by joining it to my stock in trade in my voyage to Barbadoes. - -6. Lastly, whenever a horse is put to keep, the agreement naturally -runs thus: The keeper says I will feed your horse six months on good -hay and oats, if at the end of that time you will pay me three pounds. -The owner says, if you will feed my horse six months on good hay and -oats, I will pay you three pounds at the end of that time. Now we may -plainly see, the keeper's performance of his part of the agreement -must be antecedent to that of the owner; and the agreement being -wholly conditional, the owner's part is not in force till the keeper -has performed his. _You then not having fed my horse six months, as -you agreed to do, there lies no obligation on me to pay for so much -feeding._ - -Thus we have heard what can be said on both sides. Upon the whole, I -am of opinion that no deduction should be allowed for the keeping of -the horse after the time of his straying. - -I am yours, &c. - THE CASUIST. - - - - -TO A COQUETTE. - -The Lady was playing the _Penserosa_, and the Bard rallied her. She -suddenly assumed the _Allegra_, and rallied him in turn. Whereupon he -sung as follows: - - - Heave no more that breast of snow, - With sighs of simulated wo, - While Conquest triumphs on thy brow, - And Hope, gay laughing in thine eye, - Cheers the moments gliding by, - Welcomes Joy's voluptuous train, - Welcomes Pleasure's jocund reign, - And whispers thee of transports yet in store, - When fraught with Love's ecstatic pain, - Shooting keen through every vein, - Thy heart shall thrill with bliss unknown before. - - But smile not so divinely bright; - Nor sport before my dazzled sight, - That "prodigality of charms," - That winning air, that wanton grace, - That pliant form, that beauteous face, - Zephyr's step, Aurora's smile; - Nor thus in mimic fondness twine, - About my neck thy snowy arms; - Nor press this faded cheek of mine, - Nor seek, by every witching wile, - My hopes to raise, my heart to gain, - Then laugh my love to scorn, and triumph in my pain. - - I love thee, Julia! Though the flush - Of sprightly youth is flown-- - Though the bright glance, and rose's blush - From eye and cheek and lip are gone-- - Though Fancy's frolic dreams are fled, - Dispelled by sullen care-- - And Time's gray wing its frost has shed - Upon my raven hair-- - Yet warm within my bosom glows, - A heart that recks not winter's snows, - But throbs with hope, and heaves with sighs - For ruby lips and sparkling eyes; - And still--the slave of amorous care-- - Would make that breast, that couch of Love, its lair. - - * * * * * - -TO THE SAME. - - - Shade! O shade those looks of light; - The thrilling sense can bear no more! - Veil those beauties from my sight, - Which to see is to adore. - - That dimpled cheek, whose spotless white, - The rays of Love's first dawning light, - Tinge with Morning's rosy blush, - And cast a warm and glowing flush, - Even on thy breast of snow, - And in thy bright eyes sparkling dance, - And through the waving tresses glance - That shade thy polished brow - Who can behold, nor own thy power? - Who can behold, and not adore? - - But like the wretch, who, doomed to endless pain, - Raises to realms of bliss his aching eyes, - To Heaven uplifts his longing arms in vain - While in his tortured breast new pangs arise-- - Thus while at thy feet I languish, - Stung with Love's voluptuous anguish, - The smile that would my hopes revive, - The witching glance that bids me live - Shed on my heart one fleeting ray, - One gleam of treacherous Hope display; - But soon again in deep Despair I pine: - The dreadful truth returns: "Thou never wilt be mine." - - Then shade! O shade those looks of light; - The thrilling sense can bear no more! - Veil those beauties from my sight, - Which to see is to adore. - - But stay! O yet awhile refrain! - Forbear! And let me gaze again! - Still at thy feet impassioned let me lie, - Tranced by the magic of thy thrilling eye; - Thy soft melodious voice still let me hear, - Pouring its melting music on my ear; - And, while my eager lip, with transport bold, - Presumptuous seeks thy yielded hand to press, - Still on thy charms enraptured let me gaze, - Basking ecstatic in thy beauty's blaze, - Such charms 'twere more than Heaven to possess: - 'Tis Heaven only to behold. - - - - -LIONEL GRANBY. - -CHAPTER X. - - He scanned with curious and prophetic eye - Whate'er of lore tradition could supply - From Gothic tale, or song or fable old-- - Roused him still keen to listen and to pry. - _The Minstrel_. - - -You judge the English character with too much favor Lionel, said Col. -R----. The Englishman is not free! Though vain, arrogant, and -imperious, there is not a more abject slave on earth. His boasting -spirit, his full-mouthed independence and his lordly step quail to -rank, {353} and he is ever crawling amid the purlieus or over the -threshold of that fantastic temple of fashion called "Society." It is -an endless contest between those who are initiated into its mysteries -and those who crowd its avenues. Wealth batters down the door--assumes -a proud niche in the chilling fane, and uniting itself to that silent -yet powerful aristocracy which wields the oracles of the god, its -breath can create you an _exclusive_, or its frown can degrade you to -the vulgar herd. Rank, which is the idol of an Englishman's sleepless -devotion, wealth because it is curiously akin to the former, and some -indistinct conception of the difference between a people and the mob, -render him, in his own conceit, a gentleman and a politician. His -first thought if cast on a desert island would be his rank, and if he -had companions in misfortune, he would ere night arrange the dignity -and etiquette of intercourse. Literature seeks the same degrading -arena, and alas! how few are there who do not deck the golden calf -with the laurels won in the conflicts of genius, and who, stimulated -solely by lucre, shed their momentary light athwart the horizon, even -as the meteor whose radiance is exhaled from the corruption of a fœtid -marsh. But there is a class who, ennobled by letters, are always -independent; and though they be of the race of authors whom Sir Horace -Walpole calls "a troublesome, conceited set of fellows," you will find -them too proud and too honest to palter away the prerogatives of their -station. - -But we are now at the door of Elia; come, let me introduce you to one -of his simple and unaffected suppers! - -I cheerfully assented to this invitation, and following my conductor -up a flight of crooked and dark steps, we entered into a room, over a -brazier's shop. A dull light trembled through the small and narrow -apartment where, shrouded in a close volume of tobacco smoke, sat in -pensive gentility--the kind--the generous--the infant-hearted Charles -Lamb; the man whose elastic genius dwelled among the mouldering ruins -of by-gone days, until it became steeped in beauty and expanded with -philosophy--the wit--the poet--the lingering halo of the sunshine of -antiquity--the phœnix of the mighty past. He was of delicate and -attenuated stature, and as fragilely moulded as a winter's flower, -with a quick and volatile eye, a mind-worn forehead and a countenance -eloquent with thought. Around a small table well covered with glasses -and a capacious bowl, were gathered a laughing group, eyeing the -battalia of the coming supper. Godwin's heavy form and intellectual -face, with the swimming eye of (ες τε σε S. T. C. How quaint was his -fancy!) Coleridge, flanked the margin of the mirth-inspiring bowl. - -Col. R----'s introduction made me at home, and ere my hand had dropped -from the friendly grasp of our host, he exclaimed--And you are truly -from the land of the _great plant_? You have seen the sole cosmopolite -spring from the earth. It is the denizen of the whole world, the -tireless friend of the wretched, the bliss of the happy. You need no -record of the empire of the red man. He has written his fadeless -history on a tobacco leaf. - -At this time Lamb was a clerk in the "India House," a melancholy and -gloomy mansion, with grave courts, heavy pillars, dim cloisters, -stately porticoes, imposing staircases and all the solemn pomp of -elder days. Here for many years he drove the busy quill, and whiled -away his tranquil evenings, in the dalliance of literature. He was an -author belonging to his own exclusive school--a school of simplicity, -grace and beauty. He neither skewered his pen into precise paragraphs, -nor rioted in the verbose rotundity of the day. He picked up the rare -and unpolished jewels which spangled the courts of Elizabeth and -Charles, and they lost beneath his polishing hand neither their lustre -nor value. He was a passionate and single hearted antiquary, ever -laboring to prop up with a puny arm, the column on which was inscribed -the literary glory of his country. He was familiar with the grace of -Heywood, the harmony of Fletcher, the ease of Sir Philip Sydney, the -delicacy and fire of Spenser, the sweetness of Carew, the power and -depth of Marlow, the mighty verse of Shakspeare, the affected fustian -of Euphues (Lilly) "which ran into a vast excess of allusion," and -with the deep and sparkling philosophy of Burton. With all of them he -held a "dulcified" converse, while his memory preserved from utter -forgetfulness, many of those authors who to the eye of the world, had -glittered like the flying fish a moment above the surface, only to -sink deeper in the sea of oblivion. - -Lamb possessed in an eminent degree, what Dryden called a beautiful -turn of words and thoughts in poetry, and the easy swell of cadence -and harmony which characterised his brief writings declared the -generosity of his heart, and the fertility of his genius. He could -sympathise with childhood's frolic, and his heart was full of boyish -dreams, when he gazed on the play-ground of Eton, and exclaimed "what -a pity to think that these fine ingenuous lads in a few years will be -changed into frivolous members of parliament!" He had the rough -magnanimity of the old English vein, mellowed into tenderness and -dashed with a flexible and spinous humor. He was contented to worship -poesy in its classic and antique drapery. With him the fountain of -Hypocrene still gushed up its inspiring wave; and Apollo, attended by -the Muses, the daughters of Memory, and escorted by the Graces, still -haunted the mountains of Helicon, lingered among the hills of Phocis, -or, mounted upon Pegasus, winged his radiant flight to the abode -itself of heaven-born Poesy. These were the fixed principles of his -taste, and he credulously smiled (for contempt found no place in his -bosom) upon the sickly illustrations and naked imagery of modern song. -His learning retained a hue of softness from the gentleness of his -character, for he had gathered the blossoms untouched by the -bitterness of the sciential apple. He extracted like the bee his -honied stores from the wild and neglected flowers which bloomed among -forgotten ruins, yet he was no plagiarist, no imitator, for he had -invaded and lingered amid the dim sepulchres of the shadowy past, -until he became its friend and cotemporary! - -How has he obtained those curiously bound books, I whispered to -Coleridge, as my eye fell on a column of shelves groaning under a mass -of tattered volumes which would have fairly crazed my poor uncle? - -Tell him Lamb! said Coleridge repeating my inquiry, give him the rank -and file of your ragged regiment. - -Slowly, and painfully as a neophyte, did I build the pile, replied -Lamb. Its corner stone was that fine old folio of Beaumont and -Fletcher, which, for a long year had peeped out from a bookseller's -stall directly in my {354} daily path to the India House. It bore the -great price of sixteen shillings, and to me, who had no unsunned heap -of silver, I gazed on it until I had almost violated the decalogue. -Poetry made me an economist, and at the end of two months my garnered -mites amounted to the requisite sum. Vain as a girl with her first -lover, I bore it home in triumph, and that night my sister Bridget -read "The Laws of Candy" while I listened with rapture to that deep -and gurgling torrent of old English, which dashed its music from this -broken cistern. To her is the honor due, her taste has called all -these obsolete wits to my library, for she keenly relished their -fantasies, and smiled at their gauderies. In early life she had been -tumbled into a spacious closet of good old English reading, without -much selection or prohibition and browsed at will upon that fair and -wholesome pasturage. Had I twenty girls they should be brought up in -this fashion. I know not whether their chance in wedlock might not be -diminished by it, but I can answer for it that (if the worst comes to -the worst) it makes most incomparable old maids. - -But there are some fearful gaps in my shelves, Mr. Granby! See! there -a stately and reverend folio, like a huge eye-tooth, was rudely -knocked out by a bold _borrower of books_, one of your smiling -pirates, mutilator of collections, a spoiler of the symmetry of -shelves, and a creator of odd volumes. - -The conversation now became general, and many a little skiff was -launched on the great ocean of commonplace. Lamb most cordially hated -politics which he called "a splutter of hot rhetoric;" and he only -remembered its battles and revolutions when connected with letters. He -had heard of Pharsalia, but it was Lucan's and not Cæsar's; the battle -of Lepanto was cornered in his memory because Cervantes had there lost -an arm. The glorious days of the "Commonwealth" were hallowed by -Milton and Waller, and he always turned with much address from the -angry debates about the execution of Charles I. to the simple inquiry -whether he or Doctor Ganden wrote the "Icon Basilike." - -Godwin in vain essayed to introduce the "conduct of the ministry," and -being repeatedly baffled, he said pettishly to Lamb, And what benefit -is your freehold, if you do not feel interested in government? - -Ah! I had a freehold it is true, the gift of my generous and solemn -god-father, the oil-man in Holborn; I went down and took possession of -my testamentary allotment of three quarters of an acre, and strode -over it with the feeling of an English freeholder, that all betwixt -sky and earth was my own. Alas! it has passed into more prudent hands, -and nothing but an Agrarian can restore it! - -The bowl now danced from hand to hand, and I did not observe its -operation until Lamb and Coleridge commenced an affectionate talk -about Christ's Hospital, the blue coat boys, and all the treasured -anecdotes of school-day friendship. This is the first and happiest -stage of incipient intoxication, and the "willie-draughts" which are -pledged to the memory of boyhood, ever inspire brighter and nobler -sympathies, than are found in the raciest toasts to beauty, or the -deepest libations to our country. - -Do you not remember, said Lamb, poor Allan! whose beautiful -countenance disarmed the wrath of a town-damsel whom he had secretly -pinched, and whose half-formed execration was exchanged, when she, -tigress-like turned round and gave the terrible _bl----_ for a gentler -meaning, _bless thy handsome face!_ And do you not remember when you -used to tug over Homer, discourse Metaphysics, chaunt Anacreon, and -play at foils with the sharp-edged wit of Sir Thomas Browne, how your -eye glistened when you doffed the grotesque blue coat, and the -inspired charity boy (this was uttered in an under tone) walked forth -humanized by a christian garment. Spenser knew the nobility of heart -which a new coat gives when he dressed his butterfly. - - The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie - The silken down with which his back is dight - His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs - His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes. - -Col. R. now motioned to me to retire, and I bid a reluctant goodnight -to the joyous scene, the exclamation "do you not remember!" from -Coleridge, and the cheerful laugh ringing through the whole house and -its dying echo following us to the street. - -Gentle reader! the critics have called Lamb a trifler, the scholars -have called him a twaddler! Read _Elia_, and let your heart answer for -him. - - - - -THE PRAIRIE. - - -This word is pronounced by the common people _pa-ra-re_. I was in the -peninsula of Michigan, and had been for a day or two traversing the -most dreary country imaginable, when I saw for the first time a salt -or wet prairie, which is only a swampy meadow, grown up in a rank, -coarse, sedgy grass. - -Not long after we began to catch glimpses of the upland prairies. -These are either clear prairies, totally destitute of trees, or oak -openings which consist of clear prairie and scattered trees. A clear -prairie--a broad unvaried expanse--presents rather a monotonous -appearance like the sea, but surely the human eye has never rested on -more lovely landscapes than these oak openings present. They answered -my conceptions of lawns, parks and pleasure grounds in England; they -are the lawns, parks and pleasure grounds of nature, laid out and -planted with an inimitable grace, fresh as creation. - -In these charming woodlands are a number of small lakes, the most -picturesque and delightful sheets of water imaginable. The prairies in -the summer are covered with flowers. I am an indifferent botanist, but -in a short walk I gathered twenty four species which I had not seen -before. These flowers and woods and glittering lakes surpass all -former conception of beauty. Each flower, leaf, and blade of grass, -and green twig glistens with pendulous diamonds of dew. The sun pours -his light upon the water and streams through the sloping glades. To a -traveller unaccustomed to such scenes, they are pictures of a mimic -paradise. Sometimes they stretch away far as the eye can reach, soft -as Elysian meadows, then they swell and undulate, voluptuous as the -warm billows of a southern sea. - -In these beautiful scenes we saw numerous flocks of wild turkies, and -now and then a prairie hen, or a deer bounding away through flowers. -Here too is found the prairie wolf which some take to be the Asiatic -jackall. It is so small as not to be dangerous alone. It is said -however, that they hunt in packs like hounds, headed by a grey wolf. -Thus they pursue the deer with a cry {355} not unlike that of hounds, -and have been known to rush by a farm-house in hot pursuit. The -officers of the army stationed at the posts on the Prairies amuse -themselves hunting these little wolves which in some parts are very -numerous. - -C. C. - - - - -RANDOM THOUGHTS. - - -_The Age_.--Its leading fault, to which we of America are especially -obnoxious, is this: in Poetry, in Legislation, in Eloquence, the best, -the divinest even of all the arts, seems to be laid aside more and -more, just in proportion as it every day grows of greater necessity. -It is still, as in Swift's time, who complains as follows: "To say the -truth, no part of knowledge seems to be in fewer hands, than that of -discerning _when to have done_." - -_Dancing_.--The following are sufficiently amusing illustrations of -the fine lines in Byron's Ode, - - "You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; - Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?" - -The French translation of St. John (de Creve-cœur's) _American -Farmer's Letters_--a book once very popular--was adorned with -engravings, to fit it to the European imagination of the Arcadian -state of things in America. The frontispiece presents an allegorical -picture, in which a goddess of those robuster proportions which -designate Wisdom, or Philosophy, leads by the hand an urchin--the -type, no doubt, of this country--with ne'er a shirt upon his back. -More delightfully still, however, in the back ground, is seen, hand in -hand, with knee-breeches and strait-collared coats, a band of -Pennsylvania quaker men, dancing, by themselves, a true old fashioned -six-handed Virginia reel. - -But of the Pyrrhic dance, more particularly: the learned -Scaliger--that terror and delight of the critical world--assures us, -in his _Poetica_, (book i, ch. 9) that he himself, at the command of -his uncle Boniface, was wont often and long to dance it, before the -Emperor Maximilian, while all Germany looked on with amazement. "Hanc -saltationem Pyrrhicam, nos sæpe et diu, jussu Bonifacii patrui, coram -divo Maximiliano, non sine stupore totius Germaniæ, representavimus." - -_Ariosto_.--Has not the following curious testimony in regard to him -escaped all his biographers? Montaigne, in his Essays, (vol. iii, p. -117, Johanneau's edition, in 8vo.) says, "J'eus plus de despit -encores, que de compassion, de le veoir à Ferrare en si piteux estat, -survivant à soy mesme, mecognoissant et soy et ses ouvrages; lesquels, -sans son sςeu, et toutesfois en sa veue, on a mis en lumiere -incorrigez et informes." - -"I was touched even more with vexation than with compassion, to see -him, at Ferrara, in a state so piteous, outliving himself, and -incapable of recognizing either himself or his works; which last, -without his knowledge, though yet before his sight, were given to the -world uncorrected and unfinished." - -_Thin Clothing_.--It would be difficult more skilfully to turn a -reproach into a praise, than Byron has done, as to drapery too -transparent, in his voluptuous description of a Venitian revel. - - --------"The thin robes, - Floating like light clouds 'twixt our gaze and heaven," - -form the very climax of many intoxicating particulars. - -The Greeks seem not to have practised a very rigorous reserve, as to -the concealment of the person. The Lacedemonians, indeed, studiously -suppressed, by their institutions, whatever of sexual modesty was not -absolutely necessary to virtue. Among the Romans, however, the -national austerity of manners made every violation of delicacy in this -matter a great offence. Their Satyrists (as Seneca, Juvenal, and -others) abound in allusions to the license of dress, which grew up, -along with the other corruptions of their original usages. The words -of Seneca, indeed, might almost be taken for a picture of a modern -belle, in her ball-room attire. He says, in his _De Beneficiis_, -"Video Sericas vestes, si vestes vocandæ sint, in quibus nihil est, -quo defendi aut corpus, aut denique pudor, possit: quibus sumtis, -mulier parum liquido, nudam se non esse, jurabit. Hæc, ingenti summa, -ab ignotis etiam ad commercium gentibus, accersuntur, ut matronæ -nostræ ne adulteris quidem plus suis in cubiculo, quam in publico, -ostendant." "I see, too, silken clothing--if clothing that can be -called, which does not protect, nor even conceal the body--apparelled -in which, a woman cannot very truly swear, that she is not naked. Such -tissues are brought to us at enormous cost, from nations so remote -that not even their names can reach us; and by the help of this vast -expense, our matrons are able to exhibit, to their lovers and in their -couches, nothing at which the whole public has not equally gazed." - -_Mythology_.--Bryant and others have puzzled themselves not a little -to give a rational explanation to the story of Ariadne; who, it will -be remembered, was abandoned upon the isle of Naxos by her seducer, -Theseus: but Bacchus chancing to come that way, fell upon the forlorn -damsel, and presently made her his bride. All this may well puzzle a -commentator, for the single reason, that it is perfectly plain and -simple. The whole tale is nothing but a delicate and poetic way of -stating the fact, that Mrs. Ariadne, being deserted by her lover, -sought and found a very common consolation--that is to say, she took -to drink. - -_Naples_.--Its population of Lazzaroni appears, after all, to be but -the legitimate inheritors of ancestral laziness. They were equally -idle in Ovid's time: for he expressly calls that seat of indolence - - ------"in otia natam - Parthenopen." - -_Exhibition of Grief_.--There is a curious instance of the unbending -austerity of Roman manners, in the trait by which Tacitus endeavors to -paint the disorder with which the high-souled Agrippina received the -news of the death of Germanicus. She was, at the moment, sewing in the -midst of her maids; and so totally (says Tacitus) did the intelligence -overthrow her self-command, _that she broke off her work_. - -_Snoring_.--The following story of a death caused by it is entirely -authentic. Erythræus relates that when Cardinal Bentivoglio--a scholar -equally elegant and laborious--was called to sit in the Conclave, for -the election of a successor to Urban VIII, the summons found him much -exhausted by the literary vigils to which he was addicted. Immured in -the sacred palace, (such is the custom while the Pope is not yet -chosen,) his lodging was assigned him along side of a Cardinal, whose -snoring was so incessant and so terrible, that poor Bentivoglio ceased -to be able to obtain even the {356} little sleep which his studies and -his cares usually permitted him. After eleven nights of insomnolence -thus produced, he was thrown into a violent fever. They removed him, -and he slept--but waked no more. - -_Human Usefulness_.--Wilkes has said, that of all the uses to which a -man can be put, there is none so poor as hanging him. I hope that I -may, without offence to any body's taste, add, that of all the -purposes to which a _soul_ can be put, I know of none less useful than -_damning it_. - -_Sneezing_.--It is the Catholics (see father Feyjoo for the fact) who -trace the practice of bidding God bless a man when he sneezes, to a -plague in the time of St. Gregory. He, they say, instituted the -observance, in order to ward off the death of which this spasm had, -till then, been the regular precursor, in the disease. If the story be -true, such a plague had already happened, long before the day of St. -Gregory. In the _Odyssey_, Penelope takes the sneezing of Telemachus -for a good omen; and the army of Xenophon drew a favorable presage, as -to one of his propositions, from a like accident: Aristotle speaks of -the salutation of one sneezing as the common usage of his time. In -Catullus's _Acme and Sempronius_, Cupid ratifies, by an approving -sneeze, the mutual vows of the lovers. Pliny alludes to the practice, -and Petronius in his _Gyton_. In Apuleius's _Golden Ass_, a husband -hears the concealed gallant of his wife sneeze, and blesses her, -taking the sternutation to be her own. - -If there be a marvel or an absurdity, the Rabbins rarely fail to adorn -the fiction or the folly with some trait of their own. Their account -of the matter is, that in patriarchal days, men never died except by -sneezing, which was then the only disease, and always mortal. -Apparently then, the antiquity of the Scotch nation and of rappee -cannot be carried back to the time of Jacob. Be this point of -chronology as it may, however, it is certain that the same sort of -observance, as to sneezing, was found in America at the first -discovery. - -Aristotle is politely of opinion that the salutation was meant as an -acknowledgment to the wind, for choosing an inoffensive mode of -escape. But a stronger consideration is necessary to account for the -joy with which the people of Monopotama celebrate the fact, when their -monarch sneezes. The salutation is spread by loud acclamations, over -the whole city. So, too, when he of Sennaar sneezes, his courtiers all -turn their backs, and slap loudly their right thighs. - -_Honor_.--The source of the following passage in Garth's _Dispensary_, -is so obvious, that it is singular that no one has made the remark. - -In the debate among the Doctors, when war is proposed, one of the -Council speaks as follows. - - Thus he: "'Tis true, when privilege and right - Are once invaded, Honor bids us fight: - But ere we yet engage in Honor's cause, - First know what honor is, and whence its laws. - Scorned by the base, 'tis courted by the brave; - The hero's tyrant, yet the coward's slave: - Born in the noisy camp, it feeds on air, - And both exists by hope and by despair; - Angry whene'er a moment's ease we gain, - And reconciled at our returns of pain. - It lives when in death's arms the hero lies; - But when his safety he consults, it dies. - Bigotted to this idol, we disclaim - Rest, health and ease, for nothing but a name." - -_Implicit Faith_.--I am delighted with the following excellent -contrast of ignorant Orthodoxy with cultivated Doubt. It is from the -learned and pious Le Clerc's Preface to his _Bibliothèque Choisie_, -vol. vii, pp. 5, 6. - -"Il n'y a, comme je crois, personne, qui ne préferât l'état d'une -nation, où il y auroit beaucoup de lumières quoiqu'il y eût quelques -libertins, à celui d'une nation ignorante et qui croiroit tout ce -qu'on lui enseigneroit, ou qui au moins ne donneroit aucunes marques -de douter des sentimens reçus. Les lumières produisent infailliblement -beaucoup de vertu dans l'esprit d'une bonne part de ceux qui les -reçoivent; quoiqu'il y ait des gens qui en abusent. Mais l'Ignorance -ne produit que de la barbarie et des vices dans tous ceux qui vivent -tranquillement dans leurs ténèbres. Il faudroit étre fou, par exemple, -pour préferer ou pour égaler l'état auquel sont les Moscovites et -d'autres nations, à l'égard de la Religion et de la vertu, à celni -auquel sont les Anglois et les Hollandois, sous prétexte qu'il y a -quelques libertins parmi ces deux peuples, et que les Moscovites et -ceux qui leur ressemblent ne doubtent de rien." - -"There is, I think, no one who would prefer the state of a nation, in -which there was much intelligence, but some free thinkers, to that of -a nation ignorant and ready to believe whatever might be taught it, or -which, at least, would show no sign of doubting any of the received -opinions. For knowledge never fails to produce much of virtue, in the -minds of a large part of those who receive it, even though there be -some who make an ill use of it. But Ignorance is never seen to give -birth to any thing but barbarism and vice, in all such as dwell -contentedly under her darkness. It would, for example, be nothing less -than madness, to prefer or to compare the condition in which the -Muscovites and some other nations are, as respects Religion and -Virtue, to that of the English or Hollanders; under the pretext that -there are, among the two latter nations, some free thinkers, and that -the Muscovites and those who resemble them doubt of nothing." - -The whole of this piece, indeed, is excellent, and full of candor, -charity and sense, as to the temper and the principles of those who -are forever striving to send into banishment, or shut up in prisons, -or compel into eternal hypocrisy, all such opinions as have the -misfortune to differ with their own. - -_Friendships_.--There are people whose friendship is very like the -Santee Canal in South Carolina: that is to say, its repairs cost more -than the fee simple is worth. - -_Benefits_.--There are many which must ever be their own reward, great -or small. Others are positively dangerous. That subtle courtier, -Philip de Comines, declares, that it is exceedingly imprudent to do -your prince services for which a fit recompense is not easily -found:[1] and Tacitus avers that obligations too deep are sure to turn -to hatred.[2] Seneca pursues the matter yet further, and insists that -he, whom your excessive services have thus driven to ingratitude, -presently begins to desire to escape the shame of such favors, by -{357} putting out of the world their author.[3] Cicero, too, is -clearly of opinion, that enmity is the sure consequence of kindness -carried to the extreme.[4] - -[Footnote 1: "Il se fault bien garder de faire tant de services à son -maistre, qu'on l'empesche d'en trouver la juste -recompense."--_Memoires_.] - -[Footnote 2: "Beneficia eo usque læta sunt, dum videntur exsolvi -posse: ubi multum antivenere, pro gratiâ odium redditur."] - -[Footnote 3: "Nam qui putat esse turpe non reddere, non vult esse cui -reddat."] - -[Footnote 4: "Qui si non putat satisfacere, amicus esse nullo modo -potest."] - -_Heroes_.--Marshal de Saxe is accustomed to get the credit of a very -clever saying, "that no man seems a hero to his own valet de chambre." -Now, not to speak of the scriptural apothegm, "that a prophet has no -honor in his own country," the following passage from Montaigne will -be found to contain precisely the Marshal's idea. - -"Tel a esté miraculeux au monde, auquel sa femme et son valet n'ont -rien veu seulement de remarquable. Peu d'hommes ont esté admirez par -leurs domestiques: nul n'a esté prophète, non seulement en sa maison, -mais en son pais, diet l'expérience des histoires."--_Essais_, vol. v, -p. 198. - -"Such an one has seemed miraculous to the world, in whom his wife and -his valet could not even perceive any thing remarkable. Few men have -ever been admired by their own servants; none was ever a prophet in -his own country, still less in his own household." - - - - -ODDS AND ENDS. - - -MR. EDITOR,--Many months having passed away since I last addressed -you, I have flattered myself, as most old men are apt to do on such -occasions, that you might very possibly begin to feel some little -inclination to hear from me once more. Know then, my good sir, that I -am still in the land of the living, and have collected several "odds -and ends" of matters and things in general, which you may use or not, -for your "Messenger," as the fancy strikes you. - -Among the rest, I will proceed to give you a new classification of the -Animal Kingdom--at least so far as our own race is concerned; a -classification formed upon principles materially different from those -adopted by the great father of Natural History--Linnæus, who you know, -classed us with whales and bats, under the general term, Mammalia! -Now, I have always thought this too bad--too degrading for the lords -and masters (as we think ourselves) of all other animals on the face -of the earth; and who deserve a distinct class to themselves, divided -too into more orders than any other--nay, into separate orders for the -two sexes. With much study, therefore, and not less labor, I have -digested a system which assumes mental--instead of bodily -distinctions, as much more certain and suitable guides in our -researches. This may be applied without either stripping or partially -exposing the person, as father Linnæus' plan would compel us to do, -whenever we were at a loss to ascertain (no unfrequent occurrence by -the way, in these days) whether the object before us was really one of -the Mammalia class or not: for such are the marvellous, ever-varying -metamorphoses wrought by modern fashions in the exteriors of our race, -that the nicest observers among us would be entirely "at fault" on -many occasions, to tell whether it was fish, flesh, or fowl that they -saw. My plan, therefore, has at least one material advantage over the -other; and it is quite sufficient, I hope, very soon to carry all -votes in its favor. - -With whales and bats we shall no longer be classed!--if your old -friend can possibly help it; and he is not a little confident of his -powers to do so; for he believes he can demonstrate that there is not -a greater difference between the form, size and habits of the bats and -whales themselves, than he can point out between the manners, customs, -pursuits, and bodily and mental endowments of the different orders of -mankind; and, therefore, _ex necessitate rei_, there should be a -classification different from any yet made. The honor of this -discovery, I here beg you to witness, that I claim for myself. - -Before I proceed farther, I will respectfully suggest a new definition -of man himself; as all heretofore attempted have been found defective. -The Greeks, for example, called him "Anthropos"--an animal that turns -his eyes upwards; forgetting (as it would seem) that all domestic -fowls, especially turkeys, ducks and geese, frequently do the same -thing; although it must be admitted, that the act in them is always -accompanied by a certain twist of the head, such as man himself -generally practices when he means to look particularly astute. One of -their greatest philosophers--the illustrious Plato--perceiving the -incorrectness of this definition, attempted another, and defined man -to be "a two legged animal without feathers:" but this very inadequate -description was soon "blown sky high" by the old cynic Diogenes, who, -having picked a cock quite clean of his plumage, threw him into -Plato's school, crying out at the same time, "Behold Plato's man!" -True, this is an old story; but none the worse for that. This was such -"a settler,"--to borrow a pugilistic term--as completely to -discourage, for a long time, all farther attempts to succeed in this -very difficult task; nor indeed, do I recollect, from that day to the -present, any now worth mentioning. "_The grand march of mind_," -however, has become of late years, so astoundingly rapid, and so many -things heretofore pronounced to be _unknowable_, have been made as -plain as the nose on our faces, that Man himself--the great discoverer -of all these wonders, should no longer be suffered (if his own powers -can prevent it) to be consorted, as he has so long been, with a class -of living beings so vastly inferior to himself. To rescue him -therefore from _this_ degradation, shall be my humble task, since it -is one of those attempts wherein--even to fail--must acquire some -small share of glory. - -I will define him then, to be _A self-loving, self-destroying animal_, -and will maintain the correctness and perfectly exclusive character of -the definition, against all impugners or objectors, until some one of -them can point out to me among all the living beings on the face of -the earth, either any beast, bird, fish, reptile, insect, or -animalcula, that is distinguished by these very opposite and directly -contradictory qualities. Man alone possesses--man alone displays them -both; and is consequently distinguished from all the rest of animated -nature in a way that gives him an indisputable right to a class of his -own. - -I will next proceed to enumerate the different orders into which this -most wonderful class is divided. The females, God bless them, being -entitled, by immemorial usage, to the first rank, shall receive the -first notice; {358} and I will rank in the first order all those who -have unquestionable claims to pre-eminence. - -_Order 1st._ The _Loveables_.--This order is very numerous, and forms -by far the most important body in every community, being distinguished -by all the qualities and endowments--both physical and -intellectual--which can render our present state of existence most -desirable--most happy. Their beauties charm--their virtues adorn every -walk of life. All that is endearing in love and affection--either -filial, conjugal, or parental: all that is soothing and consolatory in -affliction; all that can best alleviate distress, cheer poverty, or -mitigate anguish: every thing most disinterested, most enduring, most -self-sacrificing in friendship--most exemplary in the performance of -duty: all which is most delightful in mental intercourse, most -attractive and permanently engaging in domestic life: in short, every -thing that can best contribute to human happiness in this world, must -be ascribed, either directly or indirectly, much more to their -influence than to all other temporal causes put together; and would -the rest of their sex only follow their admirable example, this -wretched world of ours would soon become a secondary heaven. - -_Order 2d._ The _Conclamantes_, which, for the benefit of your more -English readers, I will remark, is a Latin word, meaning--_those who -clamor together_. They possess two qualities or traits in common with -certain birds, such as rooks, crows and blackbirds, that is, they are -_gregarious_ and marvellously _noisy_; for whenever they collect -together, there is such a simultaneous and apparently causeless -chattering in the highest key of their voices, as none could believe -but those who have had the good or ill fortune (I will not say which) -to hear it. But there is this marked characteristic difference. The -latter utter sounds significant of sense, and perfectly intelligible, -often very sprightly and agreeable too, when you can meet them one at -a time; nor is juxta-position at all necessary to their being heard; -for you will always be in ear-shot of them, although separated by the -entire length or breadth of the largest entertaining-room any where to -be found. Their proper element--the one wherein they shine, or rather -sound most--is the atmosphere of a "_sware-ree_" party, or a squeeze: -but as to the particular purpose for which Nature designed them, I -must e'en plead _ignorance_; not, my good sir, that I would have you -for one moment to suppose, that I mean any invidious insinuation by -this excuse. - -_Order 3d._ The _Ineffables_.--I almost despair of finding language to -describe--even the general appearance of this order, much less those -mental peculiarities by which they are to be distinguished from the -rest of their sex. But I must at least strive to redeem my pledge, and -therefore proceed to state, that they rarely ever seem to be more than -half alive: that their countenances always indicate (or are designed -to do so) a languor of body scarcely bearable, and the most -touching--the most exquisite sensibility of soul; that even the most -balmy breezes of spring, should they accidentally find access to them, -would visit them much too roughly: that to speak above a low murmur -would almost be agony, and to eat such gross food as ordinary mortals -feed upon would be certain death. As to their voices, I am utterly -hopeless of giving the faintest idea, unless permitted both to resort -to supposition and to borrow Nic Bottom's most felicitous epithet of -"a sucking dove." You have only to imagine such a thing, (it is no -greater stretch of fancy than writers often call upon us to make) and -then to imagine what kind of tones "a sucking-dove" would elicit; and -you will certainly have quite as good an idea of the voice of an -Ineffable as you could possibly have, without actually hearing it. No -comparison drawn from any familiar sounds can give the faintest idea -of it, for it is unique and _sui generis_. This order serves the -admirable moral purpose of continually teaching, in the best -practicable manner, the virtue of patience to all--who have anything -to do with it. - -_Order 4th._ The _Tongue-tied_, or _Monosyllabic_.--This order can -scarcely be described--unless by negations; for they say little or -nothing themselves, and, therefore, but little or nothing can be said -of them; unless it were in the Yankee mode of _guessing_; which, to -say the least of it, would be rather unbecoming in so scientific a -work as I design mine to be. The famous Logadian Art of extracting -sun-beams from cucumbers would be quite easy in practice compared with -the art of extracting anything from these good souls beyond a "_yes_" -or a "_no_," as all have found to their cost, who ever tried to keep -up the ball of conversation among them; the labor of Sysiphus was -child's play to it. They serve however one highly useful purpose, and -that is, to furnish a perpetual refutation of the base slander which -one of the old English poets has uttered against the whole sex in -these often quoted lines-- - - "I think, quoth Thomas, women's tongues - Of aspen-leaves are made." - -_Order 5th._ In vivid and startling contrast to the preceding order, I -introduce--The hoidening _Tom-Boys_. These are a kind of "Joan -D'Arkies," (if I may coin such a term), female in appearance, but male -in impudence, in action, in general deportment. They set at naught all -customary forms, all public sentiment, all those long established -canons, sanctioned by both sexes, for regulating female conduct; and -they practise, with utter disregard of consequences, all such -masculine feats and reckless pranks, as must _unsex_ them, so far as -behavior can possibly do it. They affect to despise the company of -their own sex; to associate chiefly with ours, but with the most -worthless part of them, provided only, they be young, wild, prodigal -and in common parlance--_fashionable_, and alike regardless of what -may be thought or said of them. The more delicate their figures, the -more apparently frail their constitutions, the greater seems to be -their rage for exhibiting the afflicting contrast between masculine -actions performed with powers fully adequate to achieve them, and -attempted--apparently at the risk of the limbs, if not the lives, of -the rash and nearly frantic female adventurers. Egregiously mistaking -eccentricity for genius--outrages upon public sentiment for -independence of spirit, and actions which should disgrace a man, or -render him perfectly ridiculous, for the best means of catching a -husband, they make themselves the pity of the wise and good, the scorn -and derision of all the other orders of the community, who see through -the flimsy and ridiculous veil of their conduct, the true motives from -which it proceeds. - -_Order 6th._ The _Hydrophobists_.--These are, at all times, such -haters of water--especially if that unsavory {359} article called -_soap_ be mixed with it--that insanity is by no means necessary, as in -the case of animals affected by canine madness, to elicit their -characteristic feeling. Their persons and their houses too, when they -have any, all present ocular proofs of it; proofs, alas! which nothing -but the luckless objects of their hatred can "_expunge_," if I may -borrow a term lately become very fashionable. Whether this antipathy -be natural or superinduced by the dread of catching cold, I can not -pretend to say; but its effects are too notorious, too often matters -of the most common observation, for its existence to be doubted. The -striking contrast, however, which it exhibits to that admirable -quality--_cleanliness_, aids much in teaching others the duty of -acquiring and constantly practising the latter. - -_Order 7th._ The _Bustlers_.--The difference between this order and -the last mentioned is so great, so radical, so constantly forced upon -our notice, that they might almost be ranked in distinct classes: for -the members of the order now under consideration, are such dear lovers -of both the articles which the others hate, as to keep them in almost -ceaseless appliance. At such times, neither the members of their -families, nor their guests, can count, for many minutes together, upon -remaining safe from involuntary sprinklings and ablutions. And -what--with their usual accompaniments of dusters, brooms, mops, and -scrubbing brushes, if you find any secure place either to sit or -stand, you will owe it more to your good luck than to any preconcerted -exemption between the mistresses and their operatives. "_Fiat cleaning -up, ruat cælum,_" is both their law and their practice. After all -however, they are, in general, well meaning, good hearted souls; those -only excepted among them, whose perpetual motion is kept up by a -modicum of the Xantippe blood, which developes its quality in such -outward appliances to the heads, backs and ears of their servants--as -key-handles, sticks, switches, boxings and scoldings. - -_Order 8th._ The _Peace-Sappers_.--These, like the underground -artists, after whom I have ventured in part to name them, always work -_secretly_; but whereas, the sappers employed in war, confine their -humane labors solely to the immediate destruction of walls, -fortifications and houses, with all their inhabitants, thereby putting -the latter out of their misery at once; the _peace-sappers_ make the -excellence of _their art_ to consist in causing the sufferings which -they inflict to be protracted--even to the end of life, be that long -or short. The master spirits of this order view with ineffable scorn -such of their formidable sisterhood as are incapable, from actual -stupidity, of exciting any other kind of family and neighborhood -quarrels, than those plain, common-place matters which soon come to an -explanation, and end in a renewal of friendly intercourse and a -reciprocation of good offices. _They_ despise--utterly despise--such -petty game; and never attempt sapping but with a confident belief--not -only that its authors will escape all suspicion, but that its effects -will be deeply and most painfully felt--probably during the entire -lives of all its devoted victims. Their powers of flattery and skill -in every species of gossipping, gain them an easy admittance, before -they are found out, into most families wherein they have set their -hearts upon becoming visiters. There they are always eager listeners -to every thing that may be said in the careless, innocent hours of -domestic intercourse; and being entirely unsuspected plotters of -mischief, they treasure up as a miser would his gold, every single -word or expression that can possibly be so tortured as to embroil -their confiding hosts with some one or all of their neighbors. If no -word nor expression has been heard during a long intercourse which can -either fairly or falsely be imputed to envy, jealousy or ill-will -towards others; absolute falsehoods will most artfully be fabricated -to attain their never-forgotten, never-neglected purpose: for they -sicken at the very sight of family peace--of neighborhood-harmony; and -"the gall of bitterness," that incessantly rankles in their bosoms can -find no other vent--no other alleviation--than in laboring to destroy -every thing of the kind. Their communications being always conveyed -under the strongest injunctions of secrecy--the most solemn -protestations of particular regard and friendship for the depositaries -of these secrets, it often happens that entire neighborhoods are set -in a flame, and most of the families in it rendered bitter enemies to -each other, without a single one knowing, or even suspecting what has -made them so. - -The Romans had a most useful custom of tying a wisp of hay around the -horns of all their mischievous and dangerous cattle, by way of caveat -to all beholders to keep out of their way: and could some similar -contrivance be adopted for distinguishing the _Peace-Sappers_, as far -off as _they_ could be seen, the inventor thereof would well deserve -the united thanks and blessings of every civilized community. - -_Order 9th._ The _Linguis Bellicosæ_, or _Tongue Warriors_.--The -distinguishing characteristic of this order is, an insatiable passion -for rendering their faculty of speech the greatest possible annoyance -to all of their own race--whether men, women or children, who come in -their way: and few there are who can always keep out of it, however -assiduously they may strive to do so. Most of them are very early -risers, for _the unruly evil_, as St. James calls it, is a great enemy -to sleep. When once on their feet, but a few minutes will elapse -before you hear their tongues ringing the matutinal peal to their -servants and families. But far, very far, different is it from that of -the _church-going bell_, which is a cheering signal of approaching -attempts to do good to the souls of men; whereas the tongue-warrior's -peal is a summons for all concerned to prepare for as much harm being -done to their bodies as external sounds, in their utmost discord, can -possibly inflict. Nothing that is said or done can extort a word even -of approbation much less of applause; for the feeling that would -produce it does not exist; but a cataract is continually poured forth -of personal abuse, invective and objurgation, which, if it be not -quite as loud and overwhelming as that of Niagara, is attributable -more to the want of power, than of the will to make it so. It has been -with much fear and trembling, my good sir, that I have ventured to -give you the foregoing description; nor should I have done it, had I -not confided fully in your determination not to betray me to these -hornets in petticoats. - -Having done with the description of the female orders of our race, as -far as I can, at present recollect their number and distinctive -characters, I now proceed to that of my own sex. - -_Order 1st._ The _Great and Good Operatives_.--Although {360} in -counting this order I will not venture quite as far as the Latin poet -who asserted, that "they were scarce as numerous as the gates of -Thebes, or the mouths of the Nile," it must be admitted that the -number is most deplorably small, compared with that of the other -orders. The _multum in parvo_, however, applies with peculiar force to -the _Great and Good Operatives_. _All the orders_ certainly have -intellects of some kind, which they exercise after fashions of their -own--sometimes beneficially to themselves and others; then again -injuriously, if not destructively to both. But only the individuals of -this order always make the use of their mental powers for which they -were bestowed; and hence it is that I have distinguished them as I -have done. How far this distinction is appropriate, others must -decide, after an impartial examination of the grounds upon which I -mean to assert the justice of its claim to be adopted. Here they are. -It is to _this_ order we must ascribe all which is truly glorious in -war, or morally and politically beneficial in peace: to the exercise -of their talents, their knowledge and their virtues, we are indebted -for every thing beneficent in government or legislation; and by their -agency, either direct or indirect, are all things accomplished which -can most conduce to the good and happiness of mankind; unless it be -that large portion of the god-like work which can better be achieved -by the first order of the other sex. - -_Order 2d._ _Ipomœa Quamoclit_, or the Busy Bodies.--These, like the -little plants after which I have ventured to name them, have a -surprising facility at creeping or running, either under, through, -around, or over any obstacles in their way. Their ruling passion -consists in a most inordinate and unexplainable desire to pry into and -become thoroughly acquainted with every person's private concerns, but -their own; to the slightest care or examination of which, they have -apparently an invincible antipathy. Has any person a quarrel or -misunderstanding with one or more of his neighbors, they will worm -out, by hook or by crook, all the particulars; not with any view, even -the most distant, of reconciling the parties, (for peace-making is no -business of theirs), but for the indescribable pleasure of gaining a -secret, which all their friends, as the whole of their acquaintance -are called, will be invited, as fast as they are found, to aid them in -keeping. Is any man or woman much in debt, the neighboring busy-bodies -will very soon be able to give a better account of the amount than the -debtors themselves; but it will always be communicated with such -earnest injunctions of secrecy from the alleged fear of injuring the -credit of the parties, as to destroy _that_ credit quite as -effectually as a publication of bankruptcy would do. Does the sparse -population of a country neighborhood afford so rare and titillating a -subject as a courtship, it furnishes one of the highest treats a -busy-body can possibly have; and it not unfrequently happens that this -courtship is, at least interrupted, if not entirely broken off, by the -exuberant outpourings and embellishments of his delight at possessing -such a secret, and at the prospect of participating in all the -customary junketings and feastings upon such joyous occasions. The -whole of this order are great carriers and fetchers of every species -of country intelligence; great intimates (according to their account) -of all great people; and above all--great locomotives. But, unlike -their namesakes, the machines so called, they rarely if ever move -straightforward; having a decided preference for that kind of zig-zag, -hither and thither course, which takes them, in a time inconceivably -short, into every inhabited hole and corner within their visiting -circle, which is always large enough to keep them continually on the -pad. - -N.B. There is an order of the other sex so nearly resembling the one -just described, that I am in a great quandary whether I should not -have united them, since the principal difference which I can discover, -after much study is, that the former wears petticoats and the latter -pantaloons. You and your readers must settle it, for Oliver Oldschool -can not. - -_Order 3d._ _Noli me tangere_, or _Touch me not_.--These are so -super-eminently sensitive and irritable, that should you but crook -your finger at them apparently by way of slight, nothing but your -blood can expiate the deadly offence: and whether that blood is to be -extracted by a bout at fisty cuffs or cudgelling, or by the more -genteel instrumentality of dirk, sword or pistol, must depend upon the -relative rank and station of the parties concerned. If you belong not -to that tribe embraced by the very comprehensive but rather equivocal -term--_gentlemen_, you may hope to escape with only a few bruises or -scarifications; but should your luckless destiny have placed you among -_them_, death or decrepitude must be your portion, unless you should -have the fortune to inflict it on your adversary. - -_Order 4th._ The _Gastronomes_.--The description of this order -requires but few words. Their only object in life seems to be--to -tickle their palates, and to provide the ways and means of provoking -and gratifying their gormandizing appetites. They would travel fifty -miles to eat a good dinner, sooner than move fifty inches to do a -benevolent action; and would sacrifice fame, fortune and friends, -rather than forego what they call the pleasures of the table. They -show industry in nothing but catering for their meals; animation in -nothing but discussions on the qualities and cookery of different -dishes; and the only strong passion they ever evince is, that which -reduces them merely to the level of beasts of prey. During the brief -period of their degraded existence, they live despised and scoffed at -by all but their associates, and die victims to dropsy, gout, palsy -and apoplexy. - -_Order 5th._ The _Brain Stealers_.--The chief difference between this -and the preceding order is, that the former steal their own brains by -eating, the latter by drinking. For the idea conveyed by the term -brain-stealers, I acknowledge myself indebted to Cassio in the play of -Othello, where, in a fit of remorse for getting drunk, he is made to -exclaim, "Oh! that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal -away their brains!" This order may well follow its predecessor in -dignity, or rather in _uselessness_, since the greatest optimist ever -born would be puzzled to find out the way in which either can render -any real, essential service to mankind. Although the alleged excuse -for their practice--so long as they retain sense enough to offer -any--is to cheer the spirits--to gladden the heart, the undeniable -effect of that practice is, to depress the one, and to pain the other. -Melancholy expels merriment, and the solitary feeling banishes the -social; for the intolerable shame inspired by the consciousness of the -{361} self-larceny they are continually committing, drives them into -secret places for its perpetration; and into solitude during the short -intervals between their self-destructive acts, to brood over their own -indelible disgrace, the hopeless misery they inflict on all their -friends and relatives, and the damning guilt they incur if there be -any truth in Holy Writ--any such thing as eternal punishment in -another world, for deeds voluntarily perpetrated in our present state -of existence. But these are matters which never for a moment seem to -arrest their desperate course. During the few intervals of sanity -which chance rather than design seems to afford them, the retrospect -is so full of self-condemnation, agonizing remorse, and awful -anticipations of future retribution, of future and eternal punishment, -that they recklessly hasten to drown all feeling--all consciousness of -existence in the deadly draughts which they continually swallow. Thus -they linger out their brief and pitiable lives in a kind of comatose -stupor--a wretched burden and disgrace to themselves and a misery -beyond description to all connected with them. - -_Order 6th._ The _Devilish Good Fellows_.--These possess, in an -eminent degree, the art of concealing much thorough selfishness under -the guise of what are called _companionable qualities_; for although -loud professors of sociality and great company keepers, (except that -of the ladies, which they never voluntarily seek,) they mix in society -rather oftener at other people's expense than their own. Their money -is lavished chiefly on themselves, except the modicum most skilfully -expended in purchasing a character for generosity, and that which in -common parlance is miscalled _good fellowship_. This is easily and -often most profitably done, by giving a few well-timed dinners, -suppers, and card-parties to their select companions and _bosom -friends_, whose money they scruple not to win on such occasions to the -last cent; having first made these dear objects of their disinterested -regard drunk, while they kept sober for the purpose, although -apparently encountering a similar risk of intoxication. All they do is -for effect--for gulling others to their own advantage, rather than for -any particular pleasure which they themselves derive from their own -actions. Thus they become uproarious at the convivial board, not so -much from impulse as design; not to excite themselves but their -companions; and frequently clamor for "pushing the bottle," (for they -are brain stealers) more to stultify others than to exhilirate their -own feelings. They are great depositaries and retailers of all such -anecdotes and stories as are called _good_, but rather on account of -their obscenity than their genuine humor or wit. Now and then they -incontinently perpetrate puns; make practical jokes; and are always -merry in appearance, (whatever the real feelings may be) so far as -antic contortions of the risible muscles can make them so. But they -are utter strangers to that genuine hilarity of heart which imparts -perennial cheerfulness to the countenances of all who are blessed with -it, and which springs from a consciousness--both of good motives and -good actions. Their lives are spent in a feverish course of -sensuality--often of the lowest, the very grossest kind; and they -generally die of a miserable old age, just as truly rational, -temperate and moral people reach the prime of life. - -_Order 7th._ The _Philo-Mammonites_, or _Money Lovers_.--Although this -term would comprehend a most numerous and motley host, if the mere -existence of the passion itself were deemed a sufficient distinction, -yet I mean to apply the designation only to such abortions of our race -as love money for _itself alone_, independently as it would seem, both -of its real and adventitiously exchangeable value. Others burn with -affection for the beloved article, only as a means to attain the ends -which they most passionately desire. These ends are as countless as -the sands; some, for example, make it the grand object of their -temporal existence to buy fine clothes, others fine equipages; others -again fine houses, fine furniture, fine pictures, fine books--in -short, _fine any thing_ which the world calls so, whatever they -themselves may think of it; for, as Dr. Franklin most truly says, -"_other peoples' eyes cost us more than our own_." The exclusive -money-lovers despise what others love; with "the fleshly lusts that -war against the souls" of other men, and _cost money_, they have -nothing to do--no, not they! and even the common necessaries and -comforts of life are all rejected for the sake of making, hoarding, -and contemplating the dear--all-absorbing object of the only affection -they are capable of feeling. In this respect, the money lover differs -entirely, not only from all other human beings, but from every race of -brutes, reptiles, and insects yet discovered. _They_, for instance, -accumulate the food which they love, evidently for _use_, and not -solely to look at, to gloat upon, as the ultimate, the exclusive -source of gratification. _Their accumulation_, therefore, is but the -means of attaining the end--_consumption_, from which all their real -enjoyment seems to be anticipated. The propensity to collect for -future use, which is called instinct in the latter, is identical with -what is deemed the love of money, as it operates upon all the orders -of mankind, except the _Philo Mammonites_. With the former, it is not -the money they love, but something for which they have a passionate -regard, that they know their money can procure: with the latter, the -sole enjoyment (if indeed they may be thought capable of any) seems to -consist in the mere looking at their hoards, and in the consciousness -of being able to exclaim--"all this is _mine_, nothing but the -inexorable tyrant death can take it away. Let others call it pleasure -and happiness to spend money, if they are fools enough to do so; we -deem it the only pleasure and happiness to make and keep it." To such -men, the common feelings of humanity--the ordinary ties that bind -together families and communities, are things utterly -incomprehensible; and consequently neither the sufferings of their -fellow men, nor their utmost miseries are ever permitted, for one -moment, to interfere with that darling object which occupies their -souls, to the exclusion of all others. This they for ever pursue, with -an ardor that no discouragement can check; a recklessness of public -sentiment that defies all shame; and often with a degree of -self-inflicted want, both of food and raiment, which must be witnessed -to be believed. - -_Order 8th._ The _Confiscators_.--In this order must be included -(strange as it may seem) not only all thieves, pickpockets, swindlers, -robbers and professional gamblers, but even many others, who, although -professing most sanctimonious horror at the bare idea of violating the -_letter_ of the laws relative to property, scruple not to disregard -their _spirit_, whenever pelf is to be made by {362} it. To make money -is the great end of their existence; but the means are left to time -and circumstances to suggest--always, however, to be used according to -the law-verbal, in such cases made and provided. The general title -indicates rather the _wills_ than the _deeds_ of the whole order; the -former being permanent, intense, and liable to no change--whereas the -latter terminate, now and then, in such uncomfortable results as loss -of character, imprisonment, and hanging. _Self-appropriation_, without -parting with any equivalent, without incurring any loss that can -possibly be avoided, is the cardinal, the paramount law with every -grade: they differ only in the "_modus operandi_." Some, for example, -work by fraud--others by force; some by superior skill, or exclusive -knowledge--while hosts of others rely for success upon practising on -the passions and vices, or the innocence and gullibility of their -fellow-men. To do this the more effectually, they make much use of the -terms justice, honesty, fair-dealing, in their discourse, but take -special care to exclude them from their practice; for _they_ are to -prosper, even should the Devil take all at whose expense that -prosperity has been achieved, if, indeed, he deemed them worth taking, -after their dear friends, the confiscators, have done with them. - -_Order 9th._ The _Blatterers_.--Although this word is now nearly -obsolete, or degraded to the rank of vulgarisms, in company with many -other good old terms of great force and fitness, once deemed of -sterling value, I venture to use it here, because I know, in our whole -language, no other so perfectly descriptive of this order; nor, -indeed, any other which conveys the same idea. And here (if you will -pardon another digression) I cannot forbear to express my regret at -being compelled, as it were, to take leave of so many old -acquaintances in our mother tongue, who have been expelled from modern -parlance and writing. Our literary tastes and language will require -but very little more sublimation--little more polishing and refining, -to render that tongue scarcely intelligible to persons whose -misfortune it was to be educated some half century ago, unless, -indeed, they will go to school again. To call things by their right -names, is among the "_mala prohibita_" in the canons of modern -criticism; the strength, fitness, and power of old words, must give -way to the indispensable euphony of new ones; and all the qualities -once deemed essential to good style, must now be sacrificed, or, at -least, hold a far inferior rank to mere smoothness, polish, and -harmony of diction. I might give you quite a long catalogue of highly -respectable and significant old words, once the legal currency of -discourse, which have long since been turned out of doors, to make -room for their modern correlatives; but neither my time nor space will -permit me to mention more than the following, out of some hundreds. -For instance, my old acquaintance, and perhaps yours, the word -"breeches," has been dismissed for "_unmentionables_," or -"_inexpressibles_;"--"shifts" and "petticoats" are now yclept "_under -dress_;" and even "hell" itself, according to the authority of a -highly polished Divine, perhaps now living, must hereafter be softened -and amplified into the phrase, "a place which politeness forbids to -mention." But let me return to the description of the Blattering -order. - -To say, as I was very near doing, that their peculiar trait is "_to -have words at will_," would have conveyed a very false notion; for -that phrase is properly applicable only to such persons as can talk or -be silent--can restrain or pour out their discourse at pleasure. But -the Blatterers, although their words are as countless as the sands, -seem to exercise no volition over them whatever, any more than a sieve -can be said to do over the water that may be poured into it. Through -and through the liquid will and must run, be the consequences what -they may; and out of the mouths of the Blatterers must their words -issue, let what will happen. So invariable is this the case, that we -might almost say of their discourse as the Latin poet has so happily -said of the stream of Time: - - "Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum." - -They will unconsciously talk to themselves, if they can find no one -else to talk to; but this soliloquizing they are rarely forced to -perform--for so great are their diligence and tact in hunting up some -unlucky wight or other upon whom to vent their words, that they are -seldom unsuccessful in their search. Horace, in one of his epistles, -has most pathetically described, in his own person, the sufferings of -all those who are so luckless as to be caught by one of these very -benevolent tormentors of their species; and he has hit off, most -admirably, their multiform powers of inflicting annoyance. But many -ways and means, never "dreamt of in his philosophy," have since been -discovered, which it devolves upon others, far his inferiors, to -describe. In regard, for instance, to the choice of subjects, if a -Blatterer may be deemed capable of choosing, our modern logocracies -have opened a field of almost boundless extent, which, in Horace's -day, was a "_terra incognita_." Their loquacity would utterly shame -that ancient braggart, whose boast it was, that he could extemporize -two hundred Latin verses, while standing on one leg; and their -matchless talents for political mistification--for comminuting, and -spreading out all sorts of materials susceptible of being used for -party purposes, were never called forth, and consequently never -developed, until many a century after Horace was in his grave. The -present age--I may say, _the present times_, may justly claim the -distinguished honor not only of furnishing more aliment for the -nurture of the Blattering order than any other age or times--but, on -the political economy principle, that, "_demand will always beget -supply_," to them must be awarded the exclusive merit of furnishing a -much greater number of such patriotic operatives than ever could be -found before, since our father Noah left his ark. In proof of this -assertion, I would ask, where is there now any hole or corner, either -in public or private life, in which Blatterers may not often be heard? -Where is there any electioneering ground--any hustings to hold an -election--any forensic assemblage, or legislative halls, exempt -entirely from these most successful confounders and despisers of all -grammatical and rhetorical rules--of all the plainest dictates of -common sense? As every thing they utter seems the result rather of -chance than design, it might be supposed that the former would -occasionally lead them, (especially when acting as public -functionaries,) at least into some approximation towards argument or -eloquence; but, alas! no such chance ever befalls them. By a kind of -fatality, apparently unsusceptible of change or "shadow of turning," -all their efforts at {363} either eloquence or argument, turn out most -pitiable or ridiculous abortions; for they invariably mistake -assertion for the latter, and empty, bombastic declamation and -gasconading for the former. Vociferation they always mistake for -sense, and personal abuse of every body opposed to them, for the best -means of promoting what they understand by the term, "public -good"--meaning, thereby, the good of whatever party they take under -their special care. - -_Order 10th._ The _Would Be's_, or _Preposterous Imitators_.--This, -probably, is the most numerous of all the orders of our class, -although very far from comprehending the whole human race, as that -witty satyrist Horace would have us believe, with his "_Nemo contentus -vivat_." But it includes all, who by their array and management of -"the outward man," would pass themselves off, upon society, for -something upon which nature has put her irrevocable veto. Some few of -the brute creation have been charged (falsely as I humbly conceive) -with this warring against her absolute decrees; for, as far as we can -judge, they are all perfectly content with their own forms and -conditions, and live out their respective times without apeing, or -manifesting any desire to ape, either the appearance or manners of -their fellow-brutes, as _we_ so often and abortively do those of our -fellow-men. It is true that the monkey, one of the accused parties, -seems to possess no small talent in this way; but if the exercise of -it were fully understood, it appears probable that we should always -find it to be done at our expense, and in derision of those only who -are continually aping something above their powers--as much as to say, -(had they the gift of speech) "Risum teneatis Amici?"--see what fools -ye are, to labor so hard and so vainly, in efforts to do what _we_ can -do better than yourselves! If we consider their tricks and their -travesties in any other point of view, we shall commit the same -ludicrous blunder that one of our Would Be's of the olden time was -said once to have committed at a certain foreign court, "in mistaking -a sarcasm for a compliment," to the great amusement of all who had -cognizance of the fact, except the poor Americans, of whom he was -rather an unlucky sample. - -The poor frog has also been accused of this preposterous mimicry; but -it is only a single case, much at war with our knowledge of this -apparently unambitious quadruped or reptile, (I am not naturalist -enough to know which to call it)--much at war, too, with the chivalric -principles of attacking none incapable of self-defence; and -_moreover_, it is related by a professed inventor of fables, with -whose professional license of fibbing we have all been familiar from -our childhood, and are therefore prepared to estimate at its true -value. I allude, as you must suppose, to our school-boy tale, wherein -it is asserted (believe it who can) that a poor frog, demented by -vanity, burst himself open, and of course perished, in his -impracticable efforts to swell himself to the unattainable size of the -portly ox. Why this far-fetched and incredible story should ever have -been invented for illustrating a matter of frequent occurrence among -ourselves, I never could well understand. The constant puffings and -swellings-out of thousands and tens of thousands of our own class, to -attain dimensions which nothing but gum-elastic minds and bodies, or -something still more expansive, could qualify them to attain, are -quite sufficient, manifest, and ridiculous, to render useless all -resort to the invention of fabulous tales--all appeal to the imagined -follies and gratuitously assumed vices of brute-beasts, reptiles and -insects, for the laudable purpose of proving that man himself is no -better than a brute in many of his propensities and habits. As to his -particular folly of trying to change himself into something which he -never can be, why should fabulists or any others attempt to drag the -poor monkeys, frogs, and other animals into such a co-partnery, -without a solitary authenticated fact to warrant the imputation, when -innumerable facts are daily occurring among ourselves, to satisfy even -the most sceptical, both in regard to the indigenous growth of this -folly, and of man's exclusive right to it. The Would Be's, in fact, -are to be seen almost in every place, and in all the walks of life; -but especially in villages, towns, cities, and at medicinal springs, -for in these the chances of attracting notice being generally -proportioned to the population, there will always be more -notice-seekers--in other words, more Would Be's than elsewhere. - -Streets and public squares constitute the great outdoor theatre for -their multiform exhibitions. The first you meet perhaps, is one who is -enacting the profound thinker, although, probably, if the truth were -known, not three ideas that could lead to any useful result, have ever -crossed his brain, once a year, since he was born. His pace is slow, -but somewhat irregular and zig-zag; his eyes are generally fixed on -the ground, as it were geologizing; the tip of his fore-finger is on -his nose, or his upper lip compressed between that finger and his -thumb; the other hand and arm unconsciously swung behind his back; and -so deep is his abstraction, that, should you be meeting him, you must -step aside, or risk a concussion of bodies, which must end either in a -fight or mutual apologies. - -The next sample, probably, may be in quite a different style, although -equally burlesque and preposterous. This one may be striving to play -the gentleman of high official station, or great celebrity for -talents, learning, or some other attainment which deservedly elevates -him in the estimation of mankind. But mistaking exterior appearances -for sure manifestations of internal qualities and endowments, which he -is incapable of acquiring, he foolishly imagines that by means of the -former he can pass himself off for what he wishes. Thus you will meet -him, strutting and swaggering along, most majestically, with head -erect, elevated chest, and perpendicular body--with a face, the -owl-like solemnity of which nothing but the look of that sapient -animal itself can equal, and a pomposity of air and manner which says, -as far as pantomime can express words--"Who but _I_--_I myself_--_I_; -look at _me_, ye mean and contemptible fellows, one and all!" - -Pass him as soon as you have had your laugh out, and you will not go -far before you will meet some other, probably quite dissimilar to both -the others, although actuated by the same indomitable passion for -conquering nature. The two former moved at a rate such as would suit a -funeral procession; but your next man may be seen hurrying along with -the speed of a courier despatched after an accoucheur, or for a doctor -to one at the point of death. His legs are moving with the utmost -rapidity short of running, and his feet are {364} thrown forward with -a kind of sling, as if he were trying to kick off his shoes; while his -arms, from the shoulder joint to the extremities, are alternately -swung with a force and quickness of motion, as if he expected from -them the same service that a boatman does from his oars. This worthy -gentleman's highest ambition is, to be mistaken for a man nearly -overwhelmed with business so multifarious and important, as scarcely -to allow him time to eat or sleep, when it is very probable that he -either has none at all, or none which would prevent him from moving -quite as slowly as he pleased. - -When tired with contemplating what I will venture to call the -physiognomy of walking, you may betake yourself to some large dinner -party, should your good fortune have furnished you with an invitation. -There you will rarely fail to have an _in-door_ treat quite equal, if -not superior to the former, in witnessing other modes developed by -speech, in which "the Would Be's" betray their ruling passion--a -treat, by the way, which some travesty wag has most maliciously called -"_the feast of reason and the flow of soul_," when all who have ever -tried it, perfectly well know, that in nineteen cases out of twenty, -it is very little more than the flow of good liquor, and the feast of -good viands--not that _I_, Mr. Editor, mean to object to _either_, -when _used in a way_ to heighten all the innocent enjoyments of social -intercourse, without endangering health or shortening life, as they -are too often made to do. But having been always accustomed to deem it -very disgraceful for rational beings to rank either eating or drinking -to excess among these enjoyments, I cannot forbear to enter my protest -against any such misnomer. Might I be permitted here to say what -should be the chief object of all social parties whatever, I would -decide that it should be _mutual improvement_, and that the -individuals who compose them should consider themselves as members of -a kind of joint stock company, met, on such occasions, to perfect each -other in their parts, as performers in the great drama of human -life--that whenever called on _to act_, they might acquit themselves -most naturally, agreeably, and usefully, both to themselves and -others. Few indeed, "and far between," will be the dinner parties -answering this description; for, in general, there are no social -meetings at which you will find a greater assemblage of the Would -Be's. Here you will often find very garrulous and deep critics in -wine, who if the truth were known, would probably vastly prefer a -drink of fourth proof whiskey, gin or brandy, to the choicest products -of the best vineyards in the world. Occasionally you may also see -exquisite amateurs of music, who, would they be candid, must plead -guilty of utter ignorance on the subject, or confess a decided -preference for some such old acquaintance as "Poor Betty Martin tip -toe fine," or "Yankee Doodle," on a jews-harp or hurdy-gurdy, to the -finest compositions of the most celebrated masters, performed by -themselves, in their highest style, on their favorite instruments. A -good assortment too of gormandizers is rarely wanting at such places; -men whose gift of speech is never exercised but in praise of good -cookery--whose mouths seem formed for little else than to eat and -drink, and whose stomachs may truly be called "_omnibuses_," being -depositories for full as great a variety of dead eatable substances, -as the vehicles properly so called are of living bodies. The chief -difference consists in the latter moving on four wheels--the former on -two legs! There, likewise, may sometimes be seen the Virtuoso, "_rara -avis in terris_," at least in our land, whose affected skill in -ancient relics transcends, a sightless distance, that of the renowned -Dr. Cornelius Scriblerus, the antiquary, rendered so famous by -mistaking a barber's old rusty basin for an antique shield of some -long deceased warrior. - -Although science and literature are articles generally in very bad -odor, if not actually contraband in such assemblages, (bodies and not -minds being the thing to be fed,) still both are now and then -introduced, and rare work are made of them by the would be scholars. -To the real scholar--the well educated gentleman, there cannot well be -any more severe trial of his politeness and self-command, than is -afforded by their ridiculous attempts to display their taste and -erudition. But the farce, incomparably the best of the whole, will -usually be enacted by the little party politicians, who almost always -constitute a considerable portion of a dinner party in these times. -With these the settling of their dinners is quite a secondary affair -to the settling of our national affairs, a most important part of -which duty they most patriotically take upon themselves. _Ex -necessitate rei_, their vehement volubility, their ardent zeal, -constantly blazes out with an intensity of heat in full proportion to -the self-imputed share of each in our national concerns. With this -volcanic fire burning in their bosoms, cotemporaneously with so large -a portion of the government of fifteen millions of human beings -pressing on their shoulders--gigantic though they be--it is truly -amazing with what alacrity and perseverance they at the same time -talk, eat, and decide on the most difficult problems in political -science--the most complex and really doubtful measures of national -policy and legislation--when their whole outfit for so arduous a work -consists, in all human probability, of a few hours of weekly reading -in some party newspaper, edited by some man equally conceited, -ignorant, and opinionated with themselves. - -All this while, although the entertainer and a portion of his guests -may be well qualified to sustain conversation both highly improving -and interesting, _fashion_ has vetoed the attempt--and they must -either be silent, or join in the usual frivolous, desultory, and -useless verbosity generally uttered on such occasions. Alas! that man, -made after God's own image, and endowed with the noble gifts of -speech, intellect, judgment, and taste, should so often and so -deplorably abuse them. - -When satiated with the dinner party, should you still wish to see more -of the Would Be's, hasten to the Soirée or the Squeeze, and you will -_there_ find fresh and most titillating food for your _moral_ palate, -if you will pardon the figure. All that is most exquisitely -ridiculous, either in attitude, gesture, or language, may, not -unfrequently, be there witnessed in its most comic, most -laugh-provoking form. There you may often witness nearly every -possible disguise under which vulgarity apes gentility--every -imaginable grimace and gesticulation that can be mistaken for graceful -ease of manner--and every style of conversation or casual remark which -"the Would Be's" may imagine best calculated to substitute their -counterfeit currency for _that_ which is genuine and acceptable to -all. In these motley assemblages {365} you may prepare to behold, -among other sights, the now universally prevalent walk for fashionable -ladies, in its highest style. This consists in a kind of indescribable -twitching of the body, alternately to the right and left, which the -gazing green-horns, not in the secret that _fashion commands it_, -would surely mistake for the annoyance occasioned by certain pins in -their dresses having worked out of place, and would accordingly -commiserate rather than admire the supposed sufferers. - -But to cap the climax of these abortive contests against nature, you -must move about until you come to the _rocking-chairs_, those articles -which, in bygone times, were used only by our decrepid old ladies, or -the nurses of infant children; but which, in our more refined age, are -now deemed indispensable appendages of every room for entertaining -company. When you come to one of these former depositories for nearly -superannuated women and nurses of infants, instead of similar -occupants to those of the olden time, you will find them sometimes -occupied by those of "the woman kind" who are making their first -fishing parties after "_a tang-lang_,"[1] and who have been taught to -believe that a well turned ankle and pretty foot are very pretty -things, the sight of which it would be quite unreasonable and selfish -that the possessor should monopolize. But generally, the operatives in -these quasi-cradles for decrepitude and helpless infancy, will be -found to be youths of the male sex scarcely of age, and surrounded -often by ladies old enough to be their mothers, and wanting seats--but -wanting them in vain. These exquisite young gentlemen will always be -found, when thus self-motive, so entirely absorbed, as to have -forgotten completely not only the established rule, even in our rudest -society, of offering our seat to any standing lady, but almost their -own personal identity, which is frequently any thing but -prepossessing. Rocking away at rail road speed, self-satisfied beyond -the power of language to describe, with head thrown back, and -protruded chin, "bearded like the pard," as much as to say, "Ladies, -did you ever behold so kissable a face?--pray come try it"--they rock -on to the infinite amusement, pity, or contempt of all beholders. - -[Footnote 1: "Tang-lang." For this term and the little story in which -it is introduced, I am indebted to that admirable writer Oliver -Goldsmith; but before I give the tale itself, I must beseech your -readers not for a moment to suspect me of any such treasonable design -against the fair sex, as to represent all young ladies, upon their -first entrance into company, as fishing for tang-langs. My purpose is -merely to supply them with a few very useful moral hints, in the -highly entertaining language of an author, who being "old fashioned," -may probably be little known to many of them. But now for the story. - -"In a winding of the river Amidar, just before it falls into the -Caspian sea, there lies an island unfrequented by the inhabitants of -the continent. In this seclusion, blest with all that wild, -uncultivated nature could bestow, lived a princess and her two -daughters. She had been wrecked upon the coast while her children as -yet were infants, who, of consequence, though grown up, were entirely -unacquainted with man. Yet, inexperienced as the young ladies were in -the opposite sex, both early discovered symptoms, the one of prudery, -the other of being a coquet. The eldest was ever learning maxims of -wisdom and discretion from her mamma, whilst the youngest employed all -her hours in gazing at her own face in a neighboring fountain. - -"Their usual amusement in this solitude was fishing. Their mother had -taught them all the secrets of the art: she showed them which were the -most likely places to throw out the line, what baits were most proper -for the various seasons, and the best manner to draw up the finny -prey, when they had hooked it. In this manner they spent their time, -easy and innocent, till one day the princess being indisposed, desired -them to go and catch her a sturgeon or a shark for supper, which she -fancied might sit easy on her stomach. The daughters obeyed, and -clapping on a goldfish, the usual bait on these occasions, went and -sat upon one of the rocks, letting the gilded hooks glide down the -stream. - -"On the opposite shore, farther down at the mouth of the river lived a -diver for pearls, a youth who, by long habit in his trade, was almost -grown amphibious; so that he could remain whole hours at the bottom of -the water, without ever fetching breath. He happened to be at that -very instant diving, when the ladies were fishing with a gilded hook. -Seeing therefore the bait, which to him had the appearance of real -gold, he was resolved to seize the prize; but both hands being already -filled with pearl-oysters, he found himself obliged to snap at it with -his mouth; the consequence is easily imagined; the hook, before -unperceived, was instantly fastened in his jaw; nor could he, with all -his efforts or his floundering, get free. - -"Sister, cries the youngest princess, I have certainly caught a -monstrous fish; I never perceived anything struggle so at the end of -my line before; come and help me to draw it in. They both now, -therefore, assisted in fishing up the diver on shore; but nothing -could equal their surprize upon seeing him. Bless my eyes! cries the -prude, what have we got here? This is a very odd fish to be sure; I -never saw any thing in my life look so queer; what eyes--what terrible -claws--what a monstrous snout! I have read of this monster somewhere -before, it certainly must be a tang-lang that eats women; let us throw -it back into the sea where we found it. - -"The diver in the mean time stood upon the beach, at the end of the -line, with the hook in his mouth, using every art that he thought -could best excite pity, and particularly looking extremely tender, -which is usual in such circumstances. The coquet, therefore, in some -measure influenced by the innocence of his looks, ventured to -contradict her companion. Upon my word, sister, says she, I see -nothing in the animal so very terrible as you are pleased to -apprehend; I think it may serve well enough for a change. Always -sharks, and sturgeons, and lobsters, and craw-fish, make me quite -sick. I fancy a slice of this nicely grilled, and dressed up with -shrimp sauce would be very pretty eating. I fancy too mamma would like -a bit with pickles above all things in the world; and if it should not -sit easy on her stomach, it will be time enough to discontinue it, -when found disagreeable, you know. Horrid! cries the prude, would the -girl be poisoned? I tell you it is a tang-lang; I have read of it in -twenty places. It is every where described as the most pernicious -animal that ever infested the ocean. I am certain it is the most -insidious, ravenous creature in the world; and is certain destruction, -if taken internally. The youngest sister was now, therefore, obliged -to submit: both assisted in drawing the hook with some violence from -the diver's jaw; and he, finding himself at liberty, bent his breast -against the broad wave, and disappeared in an instant. - -"Just at this juncture, the mother came down to the beach, to know the -cause of her daughters' delay: they told her every circumstance, -describing the monster they had caught. The old lady was one of the -most discreet women in the world; she was called the black-eyed -princess, from two black eyes she had received in her youth, being a -little addicted to boxing in her liquor. Alas! my children, cries she, -what have you done? The fish you caught was a man-fish, one of the -most tame domestic animals in the world. We could have let him run and -play about the garden, and he would have been twenty times more -entertaining than our squirrel or monkey. If that be all, says the -young coquet, we will fish for him again. If that be all, I'll hold -three tooth-picks to one pound of snuff, I catch him whenever I -please. Accordingly they threw in their lines once more, but with all -their gliding, and paddling, and assiduity, they could never after -catch the diver. In this state of solitude and disappointment they -continued for many years, still fishing, but without success; till, at -last, the Genius of the place, in pity to their distress, changed the -prude into a shrimp, and the coquet into an oyster."] - -But in tender mercy to your own patience and that of your readers, -both of which I have so severely taxed, I will conclude for the -present, and remain your friend, - -OLIVER OLDSCHOOL. - - -{366} - - -ON THE DEATH OF CAMILLA. - -BY L. A. WILMER. - - - 'Tis past; the dear delusive dream hath fled, - And with it all that made existence dear; - Not she alone, but all my joys are dead, - For all my joys could live alone with her. - O, if the grave e'er claim'd affection's tear, - Then, loved Camilla, on thy clay-cold bed - Clothed with the verdure of the new-born year, - Where each wild flower its fragrance loves to shed-- - There will I kneel and weep, and wish myself were dead. - - 'Tis not for _her_ I weep--no, she is bless'd; - A favor'd soul enfranchis'd from this sphere: - A selfish sorrow riots in my breast; - I mourn for woes that she can never share. - She sighs no more--no more lets fall the tear, - She who once sympathiz'd with every grief - That tore this bosom, solac'd every care; - She whose sweet presence made all sorrows brief, - Ah, now no more to me can she afford relief. - - Around this world--(a wilderness to me, - Not Petrea's deserts more forlorn or dread) - I cast my eyes, and wish in vain to see - Those rays of hope the skies in mercy shed-- - Each dear memorial of Camilla dead-- - Her image, by the pencil's aid retain'd, - The sainted lock that once adorn'd her head, - These sad mementos of my grief, remain'd - To tell me I have lost what ne'er can be regain'd. - - On these I gaze, on these my soul I bend, - Breathe all my prayers, and offer every sigh; - With these my joys, my hopes, my wishes blend,-- - For these I live--for these I fain would die; - These subject for my every thought supply-- - Her picture smiles, unconscious of my woe, - Benevolence beams from that azure eye, - From mine the tears of bitter anguish flow, - And yet she smiles serene, nor seems my grief to know! - - * * * * * - - Still let imagination view the saint, - The seraph now--Camilla I behold!-- - Such as the pen or pencil may not paint, - In hues which shall not seem austerely cold. - To fancy's eye her beauties still unfold. - What fancy pictures in her wildest mood, - What thought alone, and earth no more can mould - She was; with all to charm mankind endued, - Eve in her perfect state, in her once more renew'd! - - Chang'd is the scene! The coffin and the tomb - Enfold that form where every grace combin'd! - Death draws his veil--envelopes in his gloom - The boast of earth--the wonder of mankind! - She died--without reluctance, and resigned; - Without reluctance, but one tear let fall - In pity for the wretch she left behind, - To curse existence on this earthly ball-- - One thought she gave to him, and then the heavens had all. - - Who that hath seen her but hath felt her worth? - Who praise withholds, and hopes to be forgiven? - Her presence banish'd every thought of earth, - Subdued each wish unfit to dwell in heaven. - From all of earth her hopes and thoughts were riven, - She lived regardful of the skies alone; - A saint, but not by superstition driven, - Not by the vow monastic, to atone - For sins that ne'er were hers,--for sins to her unknown! - - Hers was religion from all dross refin'd, - A soul communing with its parent--God; - Grateful for benefits and aye resigned - To every dispensation of His rod. - Pure and immaculate, life's path she trod-- - Envy grew pale and calumny was dumb! - Till drooping, dying--this floriferous sod, - And this plain marble, point her lowly tomb; - Even here she still inspires a reverential gloom! - - O lost to earth, yet ever bless'd,--farewell! - This poor oblation to thy grave I bring; - O spotless maid, that now in heav'n dost dwell - Where choral saints and radiant angels sing - The eternal praises of the Almighty king; - While this sad cypress and funereal yew - Unite their boughs, their gloom around me fling, - Congenial glooms, that all my own renew; - I still invoke thy shade, still pause to bid adieu! - - - - -SONNET. - - - Science! meet daughter of old Time thou art, - Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes! - Why prey'st thou thus upon the poet's heart, - Vulture! whose wings are dull realities! - How should he love thee, or how deem thee wise, - Who would'st not leave him in his wandering, - To seek for treasure in the jewell'd skies, - Albeit he soar with an undaunted wing? - Hast thou not dragg'd Diana from her car, - And driv'n the Hamadryad from the wood - To seek a shelter in some happier star? - The gentle Naiad from her fountain flood? - The elfin from the green grass? and from me - The summer dream beneath the shrubbery? - -E. A. P. - - - - -THE LAKE. - - On thy fair bosom, silver lake, - The wild swan spreads his snowy sail, - And round his breast the ripples break, - As down he bears before the gale. - _Percival_. - - -The way we travelled along the southern shore of Lake Michigan was -somewhat singular. There being no road, we drove right on the strand, -one wheel running in the water. Thus we travelled thirty miles, at the -rate of two miles an hour. In the lake we saw a great many gulls -rocking on the waves and occasionally flying up into the air, sailing -in circles, and fanning their white plumage in the sunshine. - -While thus slowly winding along the sandy margin of the lake we met a -number of Pottowatimies on horseback in Indian file, men with rifles, -women with papooses, and farther on we passed an Indian -village--wigwams of mats comically shaped. This village stood {367} -right on the shore of the lake; some Indian boys half-naked were -playing in the sand, and an Indian girl of about fourteen was standing -with arms folded looking towards the lake. There was, or I imagined -there was, something in that scene, that attitude, that countenance of -the Indian girl, touching and picturesque in the highest degree--a -study for the painter. - -Alas--these Indians! the dip of their paddle is unheard, the embers of -the council-fire have gone out, and the bark of the Indian dog has -ceased to echo in the forest. Their wigwams are burnt, the cry of the -hunter has died away, the title to their lands is extinguished, the -tribes, scattered like sheep, fade from the map of existence. The -unhappy remnant are driven onward--onward to the ocean of the West. -Such are the reflections that came into my mind, on seeing the -beautiful Pottowatimie of Lake Michigan. - -C. C. - - - - -THE HALL OF INCHOLESE. - -BY J. N. McJILTON. - - Host and guests still lingered there, - But host and guests were dead. - _Old Ballad_. - - -Venice is the very _outrance_--_gloria mundi_ of a place for fashion, -fun and frolic. Does any one dispute it? Let him ask the San Marco, -the Campanile, the iron bound building that borders one end of the -Bridge of Sighs, or the Ducal Palace, that hangs like a wonder on the -other. Let him ask the Arena de Mari, the Fontego de Tedeschi, or if -he please, the moon-struck _Visionaire_, who gazed his sight away from -Ponte de Sospiri, on the Otontala's sparkling fires, and if from each -there be not proof, _plus quam sufficit_--why Vesuvius never -illuminated Naples--that's all. - -Well! Venice is a glorious place for fashion, fun and frolic; so have -witnessed thousands--so witnessed Incholese. - -Incholese was a foreigner--no matter whence, and many a jealous -Venetian hated him to his heart's overflowing; the inimitable Pierre -Bon-bon himself had not more sworn enemies, and no man that ever lived -boasted more pretended friends, than did this celebrated operator on -whiskey-punch and puddings. - -His house fronted the Rialto, and overlooked the most superb and -fashionably frequented streets in Venice. His hall, the famed "Hall of -Incholese," resort of the exquisite, and gambler's heaven, was on the -second floor, circular in shape, forty-five feet in diameter. Windows -front and rear, framed with mirror-plates in place of plain glass, -completed the range on either side, all decorated with damask -hangings, rich and red, bordered with blue and yellow tasselated -fringe, with gilt and bronze supporters. It seemed more like a Senate -hall, or Ducal palace parlor, than a room in the private dwelling of a -gentleman of leisure--of "elegant leisure," as it was termed by the -_politesse_ of the _Republique_. A rich carpet covered the floor, with -a figure in its centre of exactly the dimensions of the rotondo table, -which had so repeatedly suffered under the weight of wine; to say -nothing of the gold and silver lost and won upon its slab, sufficient -to have made insolvent the wealthiest Crœsus in the land--in _any_ -land. Over this table was suspended a chandelier the proud Autocrat of -all the Russias might have coveted; and forming a square from the -centre, were four others, less in size, but equal in brilliancy and -value. Mirrors in metal frames, and paintings of exquisite and costly -execution, filled up the interstices between the windows. -Chairs--splendid chairs, sofas, ottomans, and extra wine tables, made -up the furniture of the Hall of Incholese. This Hall however was not -the sole magnificence of the huge pile it beautified. Other and -splendid apartments, saloons, galleries, etc., filled up the wings, -and contributed to the grandeur of the building. Yet, strange to say, -the proprietor, owner and occupier of this vast establishment, had no -wife, to share with him its elegances--to mingle her sweet voice in -the strains of purchased melody and revel, that made the lofty edifice -often ring to its foundation. He had no wife. And why? Let the sequel -of his history rehearse. - -Thousands flocked to this magnificent Hall--citizens, strangers, -travellers; many drank, gambled, revelled--were ruined. Few left it -but were blasted wrecks, both in health and fortune. Thousands left -it, tottering from their madness, cursing the brilliant revel that -lighted them to doom. - -Millions rolled into the coffers of Incholese; he seemed a way-mark -for fortune--a moving monument of luck. Hundreds of his emissaries -went out in different directions, and through different kingdoms, -supplied with gold, for the purpose of winning more for their wealthy -master. The four cardinals of the compass with all the intermediate -points became his avenues of wealth. - -"Wealth is power"--Archimedes knew it when he experienced the want of -means to make a lever long enough to reach beyond the power of this -little world's attraction; and the ingenious Tippet often felt the -inconvenience and uncomfortableness of the want of it in executing his -admirable plans for perpetual motion. - -Incholese had wealth--he had power--_c'est un dit-on_. The Venetian -Senate resolved on a loan from his ample store, and bowed obsequious, -did every member, to the nod of the patron of the State. The Spanish -minister forgot to consult as his only guide the _Squittinio della -Liberta Veneta_ and was seen whispering with Incholese; and instead of -the Marquis of Bedmar, first minister to Flanders, the _primum mobile_ -received in mistake from Rome the hat of the cardinal. The fingers of -a man of wealth turn every thing they touch to gold. We have said -Incholese was a foreigner--so was the Spanish minister, and they -whispered about more than State affairs and gold, though the gambler -had gone deep into the pockets of the friend of his Catholic majesty. - -The Doge, Antonio Priuli, had a daughter, adopted or otherwise, who -was considered by the most popular _amateurs_ the perfection of -beauty. She had more admirers than all the beauties of the Republic -put together; but the scornful Glorianna looked with disdain upon them -all. She curled her lip most contumeliously at the crowd of waiting -votaries humiliated at her feet. Pride was her prevailing, her only -passion; love and affection were strangers to her haughty nature. She -reigned and ruled, the absolute queen, in thought, word and deed of -the vast throng that followed in her footsteps, and fain would revel -in her smile. Incholese attended in her train, and swore by the -pontiff's mace, that he would give his right ear for a kiss from her -sweet lips; he worried the saints with prayers and the priests with -{368} bribes, to bring the haughty fair one to his arms, but prayers -and bribes proved fruitless--the daughter of the Doge was above them -all, and only smiled to drive her victim mad. - -Incholese was proud and spirited, and so completely was he irritated -at the repeated efforts he made to gain a single hour's social -converse with the lofty Helen of his hopes, that he vowed at last at -the risk of a special nuncio from his Holiness to go the length of his -fortune to bring her upon a level with himself if he remained in the -parallax but fifteen minutes. - -The Spanish minister was married; but a star on the fashionable -horizon higher than the Vesta of his own choice, prompted the proffer -of his help, in the establishment of a medium point of lustre. The -Senate did not assemble oftener to devise ways and means for the -discharge of the public debt and for the safety of the State, than did -Incholese and the minister, to humble the haughty heiress of the rich -possessions of the Doge; and the conspiracy seemed as perilous and -important as the great stratagem of the Duke de Ossumna against the -government of Venice. A thousand plans were proposed, matured and put -in execution, but their repeated failure served only to mortify the -conspirators and make them more intent upon the execution of their -plan. It was to no purpose that the Doge was invited _with his family_ -to spend a social hour, or that in return the invitation was given -from the palace; the uncompromising object of innumerable schemes, and -proud breaker of hearts, still kept aloof--still maintained her -ascendancy. - -While these petty intrigues were going forward, a conspiracy of a more -daring character was in the course of prosecution. It was nothing less -than the conspiracy of the Spaniards against the government of -Venice--a circumstance which at the present time forms no unimportant -portion of Venetian history. - -Every thing by the conspirators had been secretly arranged, and -Bedmar, notwithstanding his being among those who were deepest in the -plot, never once hinted the subject to Incholese, though at the time -they were inseparable companions, and co-workers in establishing a -standard of beauty for the Italian metropolis. This however may be -easily accounted for; he knew the government was debtor to Incholese; -he knew also of the intimacy that existed between the Doge and the -gambler, and he was too familiar with intrigue not to suspect a -discovery when the secret should be in the knowledge of one so -interested; he therefore bit his lip and kept the matter to himself. -Had there been a no less villain than Bedmar in the conspiracy, the -plot might have succeeded and the Spaniards become masters of Venice. -But the heart of Jaffier, one of the heads of the conspiracy, failed -him, and he disclosed to Bartholomew Comino the whole affair. Comino -was secretary to the Council of Ten, which Council he soon assembled -and made known the confession of Jaffier. Comino was young and -handsome, and he took the lead in the discovery of the plot and -bringing the conspirators to justice. His intercourse with the Doge -was dignified and manly, and at such a time with such a man, the proud -Glorianna condescended to converse. She was won to familiarity, and -requested the secretary to call at her apartment and tell her the -history of an affair, in which she, with all the household of the -Doge, were so deeply interested. She insisted particularly that he -should take the earliest opportunities to inform her of the further -procedure of the Council with the faction. The secretary consented, -and every intercourse tended to subdue her haughty spirit, and he was -soon admitted to her friendship as an equal. - -Bedmar was disgraced and sent back to Spain in exchange for Don Louis -Bravo, the newly appointed minister. Incholese followed the fallen -Marquis with his hearty curse, and vowed if so deceived by man again, -the villain's life should appease his hate. The conspirators who were -not screened by office were executed, and peace and tranquillity were -soon restored to the State. The new minister being averse to the -society of gamesters, Incholese and himself could not be friends--a -singular enough circumstance that a titled gentleman from the great -metropolis of Spain should despise the friendship of a gentleman -gambler, highly exalted as was the famous Incholese. Bartholomew -Comino in the discharge of his official functions, was compelled to -visit and exchange civilities with the popular gamester. Incholese had -observed the condescension of the empress of his heart's vanity -towards this individual, and determined to avail himself of his -friendship. He solicited an introduction to the south wing of the -palace of the Doge, and to the scornful Glorianna. The palace of the -Doge he had frequently visited, and as often gazed, till sight grew -dim, upon the celebrated south wing, where, in all the indolence of -luxurious ease, reposed the object of his anxious thoughts. - -The last effort succeeded. Incholese was invited to the south -wing--talked with Glorianna, who seemed another being since her -intimacy with Comino--and resolved on a magnificent entertainment at -his own Hall, where he knew the Doge and the most prominent members of -the Senate would not refuse to give their attendance, and he devoutly -hoped the influence of the secretary would bring the humiliated -heiress. He was not disappointed. All came--all prepared for splendid -revelry. - -Incholese had but one servant whom he admitted to his _sanctum -sanctorum_, the only constant inmate of his house beside himself. -Other servants he had to be sure, but they were employed only when -occasion demanded them. Farragio was the prince of villains, and the -only fit subject in Venice for a servant to the prince of gamesters. -Eleven years he had waited on his table of ruin. His conscience had -rubbed itself entirely away against his ebon heart and left a villain -to the climax. He hated his master--hated his friends--hated the -world--supremely hated mankind, and meditated deeds of blackest crime. -Hell helped him in his malignant resolve, and the fell demon smiled -when he whispered in his ear the sweet madness of revenge. Revenge for -what? "Eleven years," said he, "I have labored in the kitchen of -Incholese and performed his drudgery--eleven years I have been his -messenger of good and evil. I have toiled and panted beneath my -burdens of viands, rare and costly, and I have rested on my way with -wine, and what I have devoured myself I have stolen--stolen and -devoured in secret. I hate--hate--hate the world--and I will be--aye, -_will_ be revenged." He yelled with fiendish exultation at the -thought. - -Three weeks before the time appointed for the great festival in the -Hall, Farragio was alone in his kitchen {369} preparing his own -supper--soliloquizing as usual on his lonely and miserable situation. -He remembered his youthful sports on the banks of the grand canal, and -thought over the time when his mother called him from his little -gondola beneath the Rialto, and sold him to Incholese--sold him for a -slave. Eleven years had brought him to the vigor of manhood, and -strengthened the purpose he had formed in youth of gratifying when he -had the opportunity the only feeling that occupied his heart--revenge. -While occupied in retrospection and smiling with seeming joy in the -thought of executing his purpose, the latch of the yard door raised -and the door itself slowly moved upon its long iron hinges; when about -half opened a little figure in black limped upon the threshold and, -bowing to Farragio, took his station by his side. - -"Pretty warm for the season," said he, as he cast a glance at the fire -where Farragio's supper was cooking. - -"Pretty warm," replied Farragio, raising his head from the fire and -wiping the perspiration from his forehead. He eyed the little -gentleman closely, and from the worn and threadbare appearance of his -coat, began to entertain some doubts in his mind touching his probable -respectability. After surveying the stranger longer than politeness -required, suddenly recollecting himself he removed his eyes from his -dress and asked, - -"Have you travelled far to-day, friend?" - -"Travelled! ha, ha, ha, ha; no, I have been at your elbow for a -month." - -The eyes of the little gentleman flashed fire as he spoke, and -Farragio for the first time in his life felt affrighted. He retreated -a few steps and repeated with a trembling voice--"at my elbow for a -month--fire and misery, how--how can that be? I--I--never saw you -in--in my life before." - -"Well, Farragio," and he pronounced the name with great familiarity, -"whether you ever saw me or not, I have been your constant attendant -for a month past, and I have had a peculiar regard for you ever since -you were born." - -Farragio's astonishment increased, and he gazed for some minutes in -mute wonder upon the little stranger. A little reflection, however, -soon restored his courage, and in an unusually authoritative tone he -demanded the name of his visiter, and the purport of his singular and -unceremonious visit. - -"Oh!" replied the little fellow with a careless shake of his head, -"it's of no importance." - -By this time the supper was ready, and placing his dishes upon the -table, Farragio invited his guest to partake of the fare, which -consisted of ham and chicken, with cheese, hot rolls and tea. - -The little man did not wait for a second invitation, but immediately -took his seat at the table and commenced breaking a roll with his -fingers. - -"Will you take some ham?" asked Farragio in a tone of true -hospitality, and appearing to forget that his guest was an intruder -upon the peace of his kitchen. - -"Ham--no, no, no, I hate ham--hate it with a perfect hatred, and have -hated it since the foun--foundation of the -Chris--Chris--Christian--since the foundation of the world. The -followers of Mahomet are right, and the outlaw Turk, that is outlawed -by re--re--reli--religious dispensations, which are always arbitrary -in the extreme, I say he displays more sound judgment than all the -philosophers that ever lived, that is--I mean those of them who have -ever had any thing to do with ho--ho--ugh--hog." - -Farragio helped himself largely to ham, swearing he was no follower of -Mahomet, and if he was, and held emperorship from Mecca to Jerusalem, -he'd eat ham till he died. - -The little stranger manifested no surprise at this bold speech of -Farragio, but continued to eat his roll in a very business like -manner. - -"Take some chicken," said Farragio after a short pause, which was -permitted for the sake of convenience, "Take some chicken," and -accompanying the request with an action suited to the unrestrained -offering of a generous heart, he threw the west end of a rooster upon -his plate. - -"Chicken--chicken--yes, I like chicken, so did Socrates like it. -Socrates was a favorite of mine. When he was dying he ordered a cock -to be sacrificed to Esculapius--poor fellow, he thought his soul would -ascend through the flame up to the gods, but he was mistaken; his soul -was safe enough in other hands." - -"I understood it sprouted hemlock," said Farragio knowingly. - -"And where?" - -"On the south side of the Temple of Minerva, wherever that was." - -"Who gave you the information?" - -"O, I--I saw--rea--hea--heard my master Incholese talk about once when -he wished to appear like a philosopher before some of his company." - -"Who told him?" - -"Who? Why I've heard him say a thousand times that he was a real -_Mimalone_, whatever that is, and for years had slept on _bindweed_ -and practised the arts of a fellow they call Dic--Dip--Dith--Dithy"-- - -"Dithyrambus I suppose you mean." - -"Aye, that's the fellow." - -"A particular friend of mine, I dined with him twice, and the last -time left him drunk under the table." - -"_His_ soul sprouted grapes I've heard, and was the first cause of -vineyards being planted in Edge e--e--Edge"-- - -"Egypt you mean to say." - -"Yes." - -"That's not exactly correct, but it will answer about as well as any -thing else." - -"Do you like cheese?" - -"I was formerly very fond of it, but I once saw Cleopatra, Mark -Antony's magnet as she was called, faint away at the sight of a -skipper, and since then I've only touched cheese at times, and then -sparingly.--I saw ten million skippers at once fighting over a bit of -cheese not bigger than your thumb in that same Cleopatra's stomach, -and that too on the very night she dissolved her costly ear-bob to -match old Mark's greatness. But I never said any thing about it." - -"You must be pretty old, I guess; I've often heard my master talk of -that Clipatrick, and he said she died several hundred years ago. I've -heard him say she was the very devil, and must have been trans, -trans"-- - -"Transfused. I take the liberty of helping you along." - -"Yes, transfused--her spirit transfused down through {370} mummies and -the like, till it reached the old Doge's daughter, for he swears she's -the very dev"-- - -"Don't take that name in vain too often; a little pleasantry is -admissable, but jokes themselves turn to abuse when repeated too many -times--say Triptolemus, a term quite as significant, and not so much -used." - -"Triptolemus, hey--and who's Triptolemus? I don't mean him. I mean the -old dev--devil himself." Farragio shuddered as he uttered the last -words, for the countenance of his heretofore pleasant and good humored -companion changed to a frown of the darkest hue, and Farragio imagined -he saw a stream of fire issuing from his mouth and nostrils; -terrified, he dropped his knife and fork, and fled trembling into the -farthest corner of his kitchen. - -"Have you any wine?" asked the little gentleman, in a tone of -condescension. - -"Plenty," was the emphatic reply of Farragio, willing to get into -favor again at any price, and away he went in search of wine. It was -with difficulty the article was obtained, and Farragio risked his neck -in the enterprise--the wine vault in the cellar of Incholese was deep, -and the door strongly fastened; he was therefore obliged to climb to -the ceiling of the cellar, crawl between the joists of the building, -and drop himself full ten feet on the inside. He however surmounted -every obstacle, and procured the wine. On his return to the kitchen -with four or five bottles, curiosity prompted him to wait awhile at -the door before he opened it to ascertain what his little visiter was -about. He heard a noise like a draught through a furnace, and thought -he saw fire and smoke pouring through the pannels of the door. It was -some time before he recovered sufficient courage to enter, and then -only, after the door had been opened by the little gentleman. - -"Have you glasses?" said he, surveying the apartment, where none were -to be seen, and Farragio having already commenced pouring the precious -liquid into a cup, he added "I do not like to drink wine from a tea -cup." - -"Glasses--glasses, I--we--no--yes--yes, plenty of them," and off he -started to another apartment for glasses. - -"Now we'll have it," said the little gentleman; "wine is good for soul -and body. I've seen two hundred and sixteen shepherdesses intoxicated -at one time upon a mountain in Arcadia." - -"They enjoyed the luxury of drinking wine to the full, I suppose." - -"O, it's no uncommon thing--women love wine, and they're the best -amateurs of _taste_,--but here's a health to Pythagoras, (turning off -a glass,) a man of more affected modesty than sound judgment, but -withal a tolerably clever sort of a fellow: I used to like him, and -helped him to invent the word _philosopher_--it was a species of -hypocrisy in us both. I never repented it, however, and have found it -of much service to me, in my adventures upon this ugly world." - -"You invented the word philosopher. I thought it was in existence from -the beginning of time; inventor of words, good gracious! what an -employment; now if I may be so bold, what business do you follow?" - -"O, it's no matter. Pythagoras was a pretty good kind of a man, and"-- - -"I never heard of him; who was he any how?" - -"Ha! ha! ha! you've much to learn--Pythagoras was a hypocrite, but he -gained an immortality by it." - -"How?" - -"How? why if you've brains enough to understand, I'll tell you. The -learned before his day were called ΣΟΦΟΣ, that is, _wise_, what they -really were; but professing not to like the appellation, and through -my instrumentality I must confess, for I suggested it, proposed that -they should be called ΦΙΛΟΣ _the friend_, ΣΟΦΙΑΣ _of learning_, hence -the word _philosopher_: but it's no difference; names are arbitrary at -any rate, and I like Pythagoras about as well as any of his -cotemporaries; they were all deceitful, fond of flattery, and as -jealous a set of villains as ever tried to rival each other out of -fame. Did'nt they all imitate each other in some things, and at the -same time swear that they differed, and each was the founder of his -own especial system, which was distinct and separate from the rest, -when the real truth was, they had all only parts of the same system; -and by their rivalry and meanness in keeping the parts distinct, for -fear of losing a little of what they thought was glory, they have -prevented the world from understanding them ever since. I like -hypocrisy, but I like it on a large scale. Your grovelling hypocrite -has'nt a soul big enough to burn. Man is only a half-made creature at -best. If I had the making of him, I'd--but you're asleep," said he, -looking up at Farragio who was nodding over his wine. "My long -discourse has wearied you." - -Farragio started. "No--O! no--not--not asleep. I was thinking -that--thinking how that--I wondered how you liked the wine." - -"Very much, very much; that's good wine--here, try this, it's better -than yours." Farragio drank of the little gentleman's glass, and soon -felt the effects of the draught upon his brain. He fancied himself a -lord: his guest persuaded him he was one, and a far better man than -his master. "Yes," said he, springing upon his feet at the mention of -his master's name--"and I swear by all the horrors of my servitude, -that I will soon convince him of my superiority." The effort was too -much for his relaxed muscles, and he fell full length upon the floor. -The little gentleman very carefully assisted him in rising, and -handing him to a chair, presented another glass to his lips. He -pledged his soul in the bumper, and reeled a second time to the floor. -It was now past midnight, and the little gentleman thought he had -better retire; he did so, during the insensibility of Farragio, and -left him to repose "alone in his glory." - -In the morning Farragio awoke sober, but his head ached violently; the -lamp was still burning, and was the first thing to remind him of his -last night's revel. After his surprise had abated, he examined the -apartment to ascertain if the little gentleman had taken any thing -away with him; he had left many of his master's fine dishes, and some -silver spoons, in the kitchen, and felt anxious for their safety. -Every thing was safe, and he pronounced the little stranger honest. In -looking around he discovered a strange impression upon the floor, the -print of a foot, circular, except at one point, where it branched out -into four distinct toes, all of a size--the foot was about three -inches in diameter. "Hang the rascal," he exclaimed, "I knew he had -one short leg, but had I known he was barefoot I would have given him -lodgings in the sewer."--"_In the sewer_" was {371} audibly echoed, -and Farragio rushed from the room. The bell of his master's chamber -rang. It reminded him that he was still a slave, and he went up -cursing his fate and vowing an eternity of revenge. - -For two or three days the little gentleman kept his distance, and -Farragio bore the wine and its etceteras to his master's table -unmolested, save by the discontented spirit that struggled in his -bosom, and brooded over the deadly purpose it had given birth to. -Farragio felt himself to be the meanest of slaves, but he possessed an -ambition superior to his servitude. His intercourse with his little -mysterious visiter, if it had failed to teach him the meaning of -philosophy, had learned him to philosophize. "If," said he, "I am to -wear the chain that binds me to my master's service, why do the -feelings of my bosom prompt me to despise it? When I was young, I was -happy in the yoke I wore, but years have brought another feeling, and -I despise the yoke, and hate--_hate_ the hand that fixed it on me. My -curses cannot reach the mother that was so heartless as to make -merchandize of her child, but my revenge shall fall on Incholese, my -master--_master_, despicable word--and if it must exist, I'll be -master and Incholese, aye Incholese, shall be my slave; the hand of -death can hold him passive at my feet. Deep and deadly as my hate, -shall be the revenge I seek--and by my soul I swear!"--A voice -repeated "_thy_ soul!" and the little gentleman in black was before -him. Farragio, provoked beyond endurance at his intrusion, bit the -blood from his lip with rage, and attempted to hurl him from his -presence; thrice he essayed to seize him by the throat, but thrice he -eluded the grasp, and the foaming Farragio beat upon the empty air; -wearied with his exertion he sought a moment's respite and sunk upon a -chair. - -"It's my turn now," said the little gentleman, "and your fury, my dear -fellow, will quickly give place to repentance. Go--faithless to thy -oath--wait still upon thy master." For three days and nights the -figure of the little gentleman, perfect in all its parts, kept before -him; it was beside him at his meals, and floated in the wine he -carried to the hall. In every drop that sparkled in the goblet the -little figure swam--his threadbare coat and club foot were outlined in -admirable distinctness, and the contumelious smile that followed the -threat he made in the kitchen, played upon his lips in insupportable -perfection: the figure was shadowed in the tea he drank and seemed -tangible in the empty dish; it clung like vermin to his clothes, was -under his feet at every step, dangled pendulous from his nose and was -snugly stowed away in both its nostrils. Farragio felt him continually -crawling upon the epidermis of his arms and legs, and carried him -between his fingers and his toes. The figure danced in visible shadow -upon the very expressions that fell from his lips, and roosted in -number as an army upon the tester of his bed. Did the bell of his -master summon him to his chamber or the hall, the figure, large as -life, was in the door way to impede his passage; if he went to either -place, it was between him and his master or with whomsoever else he -was engaged. His goings out and his comings in, his lyings down and -his risings up, were all molested by this singular Protean thing, -which, though always the same figure, accommodated itself to any size. -If he laid his hand upon any of the furniture of his kitchen, or felt -in his pocket for his penknife or his toothpick, his fingers were sure -to encounter the elastic contour of his accommodating but most -uncomfortable companion. On the third day his torment was -excruciating, and the poor wretch seemed about to expire in -unsufferable misery. - -"Wretch that I am!" he exclaimed, when alone in his nether -apartment--"Wretch that I am, born to misfortune and tormented while -living by the execrable brood of hell." "_Execrable brood of hell!_" -sang the little gentleman with a most musical sneer, as he rolled from -all parts of the body of his victim and appeared in _propria persona_ -before him. - -"I meant no offence," roared the affrighted Farragio. - -"Nor is it taken as such," replied his polite tormentor, who appeared -to be in a very pleasant humor, accompanying every word with a most -condescending smile. Farragio stammered out "I was--you know -when--sir--you are acquain--that is you--you remember--remember the -advice you gave me on the night when--I sa--you said I ought to be -re--re--rev"-- - -"Revenged." - -"Exactly." - -"To blood." - -"Aye, and more than blood." - -"What! would you touch the soul?" - -"Yes, and punish it forever." - -"Would you have it transformed to millions of animalculæ, each to teem -with life, and sensation the most acute, and continued in pain -throughout eternity?" - -"Aye, and longer, and for such sweet revenge I'd punish my own soul -with his." - -"Meet me to-morrow night, we'll fix it; success is certain." - -Farragio hesitated, he was afraid of his accomplice; more than once he -had suspected the smell of brimstone, and would have given worlds to -be relieved from such acquaintanceship. - -"Meet me to-morrow night," repeated the impatient little gentleman in -a voice of thunder. - -"At what hour?" - -"Nine." - -Farragio was about to offer an excuse, but the threatening aspect of -his companion, and the remembrance of his misery warned him to -acquiesce. He replied "I'll meet you," and the little gentleman -disappeared. - -At nine the confederates met, punctual to their engagement. Farragio -was there through fear, the little stranger to effect some deeply -hidden purpose. They talked of science and the arts, of philosophers, -philosophy and religion. The little gentleman appeared to be perfect -master of every subject, and astonished Farragio with his loquacity. -He drank wine, and was much more familiar than at any previous visit; -he sang, danced and left the impression of his foot as before. -Farragio had prepared for the entertainment of his guest, and for two -hours they rioted in the profusion of sweetmeats and wine, furnished -from the sideboard and cellar of Incholese. At length said the little -gentleman, "Mr. Farragio, I am happy of your acquaintance." - -"Not at all," answered Farragio, whose vanity had been considerably -excited. - -"And you shall be happy of mine." - -"And if my revenge shall be fully and entirely gratified, I'll thank -you from my soul." - -"And _with_ your soul." - -"With all my soul." - -{372} "Then we are friends for ever. Hear me--In a short time -Incholese will hold a magnificent entertainment; nothing like it has -ever happened in Venice since I have been interested for the welfare -of its people. The great hall will be crowded with visiters--the four -splendid chandeliers will be lighted, and without doubt the hall shall -glitter more brilliant than the jewelled cavern of Aladdin. The -beautiful, the young, the gay, will be there, and in the midst of the -merriment old age will forget its infirmities and leap like youth. The -old, however, will get weary and retire. When the Doge and his -attendants have gone, pour the contents of this vial into the wine you -carry up, and the morning will afford your heart a brimming revenge. -Venice is just restored to tranquillity; the plot of the foolish -Bedmar and his more foolish associates has failed, and the reason why -I will tell you--it was, because I was not consulted; the conspirators -relied in their own cunning and strength and were justly disappointed. -The guardian genius of this republic and of all republics can be -overcome, and prostrated by a power not inferior to my own, but times -and seasons and circumstances must be consulted if even I succeed. Our -little plot is of far less import, and with the exception of the Doge -and a few of the high officers we can sweep the hall. Be firm to the -purpose. Give them the contents of the vial in their wine, and in -three nights after I will show you the souls of all, and then you may -roll in vengeance for your wrongs. Farewell, Farragio; remember to -follow strictly my injunctions." It was past midnight, and without -another word the little gentleman took his leave. - -Time rolled heavily along, and nothing but the bustle of preparation -enabled Farragio to endure its tardiness. - -The eventful evening came. The Doge with the members of the Senate and -their wives, and many distinguished citizens and their families, -graced the sumptuous feast. Comino, according to promise, led in the -beautiful Glorianna. The chandeliers blazed like jasper in the -sunbeams, and threw additional charms from their lustre around the -"fairest of the fair." She walked amid their light--proud as the -Egyptian queen whose beauty made slaves of kings and brought -conquerors at her feet. Lightly went the revel on; song and wine -followed each other in quick succession; each guest seemed gayest of -the gay, and gave heart and soul to the bewitching joy. - -The Doge retired, the elder citizens soon followed; one by one they -dropped off till youth alone was left to roll the revel anthem on--and -loud and long it rang, till merry peals broke on the morning's verge. - -Farragio, true to his hellish purpose, mingled the contents of the -vial with the wine. All drank--and as if by the power of enchantment -were hurried on to doom. - -In the morning, smiles were on their marble lips. Incholese sat like -one rapt in ectsacy, and Glorianna's fingers were still upon the harp -whose melody had charmed the host to bliss--a silent throng they -lingered there. - -The little gentleman was also true to his appointment--in three days -he showed to Farragio the souls of his enemies. But his own looked -from its infernal abode upon those--in a place of less torment than -the bottomless abyss that foamed its fury upon him. - - - - -A LEAF FROM MY SCRAP BOOK. - - -My friend Bob for the most part made verses in commendation of the -eyes and cheeks of Betty Manning. After her death, however, he at -times left these to the worm, and wrote upon other matters. - -One thing for which Bob was renowned was his disregard of everything -like accuracy in his literary statements, and in his quotations from -books. I find the following singular note appended to a little poem -which with many others, fell to my care at his death. - -"The flight of the Huma is in so rarified an atmosphere, that blood -oozes from its pores; its plumage is constantly colored with it. The -eyes, too, of this comrade of the clouds, unlike those of the eagle or -hawk, have a sorrowful and lack lustre appearance."--_Spix_. - -Bob must have found this note on the same page with the description of -the "Chowchowtow." But that is no business of mine. - -The verses to which the above note was appended were headed "_The -Huma_." - - Mark how the sun flush dyeth - Earth and sky! - Bravely yon Huma flyeth - Lone and high. - Thine is a flight of glory - Bold bird of the bosom gory, - And mournful eye!--what story - Hath that eye? - What tale of sorrow telleth - That bosom?--Hark! - In yon high bright breast dwelleth - Pain low and dark. - O is it not thus ever - With human bard? - His wings of glory quiver - By no mist marred; - The clouds' high path he shareth, - His breast to heaven he bareth-- - And a regal hue it weareth-- - But--dark reward! - 'Tis blood his breast that staineth-- - His own hot blood. - Over thought's high realm he reigneth - His heart his food. - - - - -THE CORPUS JURIS. - - -The "_Corpus Juris_," which is written in Latin, has never been -translated into any living tongue; yet it is the basis of law in -nearly all Europe and America. It was written by Tribonien, -Theophilus, Dorotheus, and John, and although called The Roman Law, is -in nothing Roman but the name. It is in four parts--Institutes, -Pandects or Digests, The Code, and The Novel Law. This celebrated book -is full of pedantry, and abounds in the most whimsical platitudes. For -example, in the chapter, "De patria potestate," 'The father loses his -authority over the son in many ways, firstly, when the father dies, -secondly, when the son dies,' &c. There is a Greek version of the -Institutes by Angelus Politianus. - - -{373} - - -A LOAN TO THE MESSENGER. - -NO. III. - - -The following is from a poet of no ordinary talent, whose main fault -is indolence. He gave it me for my collection, where I believe it has -slumbered until now, since its conception. I think it a very pretty -song, and hope it will be a favorite with your readers, to whom I lend -it for May. - -J. F. O. - - -TO ---- ----. - - Come, fill the bowl,--'twill win a smile - To glad once more your drooping brow, - Nor scorn the spell that can beguile - One thought from all that wrings you now! - For who, in worlds so sad as this, - Would lose e'en momentary bliss? - - Come,--touch the harp,--its notes will bring - At least a wreck of happier years,-- - The songs our childhood, used to sing,-- - Its artless joys,--its simple tears. - How blessed, if weeping could restore - Those bright glad days that come no more! - - Then touch the harp! and free and fast - The tears I fain would weep shall flow: - And fill the bowl! the last, the last! - Then back to Life's deceitful show! - And waste no more a single tear - On Life, whose joys are sold so dear! - -GEORGE LUNT. - - - - -GERMAN LITERATURE. - -_A Lecture on German Literature, being a Sketch of its history from -its origin to the present day, delivered by request, before the -Athenæum Society of Baltimore, on the 11th of February 1836, by GEORGE -H. CALVERT, Translator of Schiller's Don Carlos: now first published._ - - -A nation's literature is the embodied expression of its mind. That in -a people, there be impulse, depth, individuality enough to give clear -utterance to its thoughts, passions, and aspirations, and that these -have the distinctness and consistency necessary to mould them into -definite forms, denotes a degree of mental endowment and cultivation -traceable in but few of the nations of whose history we have record. -But few have attained to the creation and enjoyment of a literature. -Regions of the globe there are, whole continents indeed of its -surface, hitherto inhabited by races of men, who, like the -cotemporaneous generations of brute animals, have only lived and died, -leaving behind them nought but a tradition of their -existence,--communities, in which the essentially human was too feebly -developed to erect the brain-built structures, which, while they -preserve and refine the spirit whence they arise, from it derive the -indestructible character that perpetuates them, as honorable monuments -of the past, and for the present ever-open temples whither the wise -resort for worship and inspiration. - -Out of the darkness that envelops all else of the primeval ages, the -words of the Jewish writers shine upon the minds of every successive -generation as brightly and fixedly as do the stars from the mysterious -heavens upon the shifting appearances of our shallow earth; and the -books of the Old Testament stand, the sole human relics of eldest -time, as lofty objects of admiration to the literary as they are of -wonder to the religious. Of the architectural and sculptural creations -of the gifted Greeks, embodied in perishable marble, but a few -fragments have been saved from the consuming breath of time; but in -the poet's lines, fresh and perfect, lives the spirit which produced -them. As audible and musical as is to-day the murmur upon the Chian -shore of the same waves to which Homer listened, is still the sound of -Grecian song, imparting through our ears as deep and new a pleasure as -it did to those who fought at Salamis. The conquests Cæsar made with -his sword, a few centuries wiped from the face of the earth, but time -has not touched and cannot touch those of his pen; and, though the -language wherein the imperial chiefs of Rome gave orders to the -prostrate world, has passed from the mouths of men, so long as they -shall value beauty and wisdom, will the cherished lines of Tacitus and -of Virgil be reproduced for their enjoyment. - -Of the many nations of antiquity, these three are the only ones that -possessed enough of mind to have each a distinct literature. - -Within a much shorter space of time than elapsed between the birth of -Moses and the birth of Seneca, have grown up to the maturity needed -for the cultivation of letters, double the number of modern nations, -separately formed out of the deposites of northern hordes, who, -overrunning central and southern Europe, settled upon the mouldering -strata of the Roman Empire, infusing apparently by their mixture with -the conquered people, a new vigor into the inhabitants of these -regions. As the states of modern Europe date their origin from the -confused period of this conquest, so does the literature of each trace -its birth to the same, presenting in its history a bright and -elaborate picture, standing forth on a rude and dark back ground. - -Notable among them, for the depth and nature of its foundations, for -the character of the influences which affected its progress, for the -richness and fullness of its late development, and for its present -power upon the general mind of the human race, is the literature of -Germany. Little more than a sketch of its history is all that I can on -this occasion undertake. - -In order to present to your minds an outline whereby will be rendered -easier the following of its course from its rise to the present day, I -will, in the first place, label three great epochs in its progress, -with the names which made them epochs. Of the first, however, can be -given but the name of the work, that of its author being unknown. I -allude to the _Nibelungenlied_, the Song of the Nibelungen, the great -Epic of the Germans, written about the beginning of the thirteenth -century, more than a hundred years before the birth of Chaucer. Luther -makes the second epoch, and Goethe represents the third. We have here -a period embracing six hundred years. But long before the production -of the _Nibelungenlied_, and the cotemporaneous lyrical poetry, -letters were cultivated in Germany and books written, which, though -containing nothing worthy of preservation, deserve to be considered -and respected as bold forerunners, that fitted the Germans to value -the singers of the Nibelungen period, while for these they cultivated -{374} the language into the degree of flexibility and fullness -required for the medium of poetry. Charlemagne, who in the eighth -century, conquered and converted Germany to Christianity, established -schools in the monasteries, caused to be collected the ancient songs -and laws, ordered the preaching to be in German, and had translations -made from Latin. As the immediate result of this beginning, chronicles -and translations in verse of the Bible, were written by the inmates of -monasteries during the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries. - -The first period of German literature, I have named after the -_Nibelungenlied_, a work which is not only the greatest of its age, -but stands alone and unapproached as a national epic in the literature -of all modern Europe. This period is commonly called the Swabian, from -the influence of the Swabian line of emperors, who commenced to reign -as emperors of Germany in the twelfth century, and who, by their -zealous and judicious encouragement of letters, made the Swabian -dialect prevail over the Franconian, which had hitherto been -predominant. In the Swabian dialect is written the Song of the -Nibelungen, which, like the Iliad--according to the well supported -theory of the great German philologist Wolff--is wrought into a -compact whole out of the traditions, songs and ballads, current at the -time of its composition. The name Nibelungen, is that of a powerful -Burgundian tribe, whose tragic fate is the subject of the poem. -Nibelungen is obviously a name derived from the northern mythology, -and is transferred to the Burgundians, when these get possession of -the fatal Nibelungen hoard of treasure. The time is in the fifth -century, and the scene is on the Rhine and afterwards on the frontier -of Hungary and Austria. - -Chriemhild, a beautiful daughter of a king of the Burgundians, is -wooed and won by Siegfried, a prince of Netherlands, who possesses an -invisible cloak, a sword of magic power, the inexhaustible hoard of -the Nibelungen, and, like Achilles, is invulnerable except in one -spot. Brunhild, a princess, endowed, too, with supernatural qualities, -weds at the same time king Gunther, Chriemhild's brother; having been -won by force by Gunther, aided by Siegfried. Jealousy and discord grow -up between the two princesses, and reach such a pitch, that Brunhild -plots against the life of Siegfried, and has him treacherously -assassinated by the brothers of his wife, who wound him through the -vulnerable spot between his shoulders. After years of grief, during -which she harbors designs of vengeance, Chriemhild accepts, as a means -of avenging her wrongs, the offer of the hand of Etzel, king of the -Huns, the Attila of history, and leaving Gunther's court, accompanies -Etzel to Hungary. Hither, after a time, she invites with his -champions, Gunther, who in the face of dark forebodings, accepts the -invitation, and with a chosen army of Nibelungen, comes to Etzel's -court, where by Chriemhild's contrivance, he and all his band are -enclosed in an immense Minster and therein slain. - -Such is the outline of the story of this poem, which consists of -thirty-nine books, or _Adventures_, as they are called, extending to -nearly ten thousand lines. Over the whole hangs the dark northern -mythology, under whose mysterious influences the action proceeds. The -narrative is full of life and picturesque beauty. The story is -developed with life-like truth and sequence, and with a unity of -design unsurpassed in any poetic work. Naif simplicity and tragic -grandeur unite to give it attraction. - -At the time when the song of the Nibelungen was written, Germany was -richer than any European country in poetic literature. Besides this -great Epic, many poems of an epic character were written, relating, in -addition to national themes, to Charlemagne and his knights, King -Arthur and his round table, and others noted in the times of chivalry. -There too flourished the _Minnesinger_, that is, love-singers, numbers -of them knights and gentlemen, who, in imitation of the Troubadours of -southern France, cultivated poetry and sang of love and war. The -characteristics of the _Minnelieder_, or love songs, are simplicity, -truth, and earnestness of feeling, joined with beautiful descriptions -of nature. The golden age of German romantic poetry, was in the -beginning of the thirteenth century. After the fall of the -Hohenshauffen family from the imperial throne in the middle of this -century, anarchy and civil war prevailed for a time in Germany. The -nobility, given up to petty warfare, soon fell back from the state of -comparative culture to which, by devotion to poetry, they had -ascended, into rudeness and grossness. - -Meanwhile the towns, particularly the imperial cities, which were -directly under the emperor, were growing into importance. In these the -civilization of the age centered. To them too, Poetry fled for -preservation, and, deserted by nobles, took refuge with mechanics. And -in a spirit that cannot be too warmly praised, was she welcomed. -Zealously and earnestly did the worthy shoemakers, and carpenters of -Nüenberg, Augsburg, Strasburg, and other towns betake themselves to -reading poetry, and writing verse,--for with all their good will and -zeal and laborious endeavors, they could produce only a mechanical -imitation of their predecessors. Nevertheless, much good did they do. -For carrying on the business of verse-making, they formed themselves -into guilds or associations, on the principle of those established by -the different trades: hence their name of master-singers, an -apprenticeship being required for admission into the guild. So -respectable and so much respected were these associations, that -knights and priests did not disdain to belong to them. Thus did the -master-singers, though ungifted with the soul of poetry which animated -the Minnesingers, keep alive the love of literature and preserve as it -were its body. Their most prosperous period was in the 15th century, -when several of their number laid the foundation of the German Drama, -and by their writings, particularly the satirical, contributed to -prepare the German mind for the influence of Luther. Especially -distinguished were men with the unmusical names of Hans Folks, Hans -Rosenplüt, and Hans Sacks. The last,--an industrious shoemaker who -still found time to write numberless dramas, not without wit, spirit -and invention,--still holds an honorable place in German Literature. - -During the same period, the result of the tendency to intellectual -developement then manifested throughout Europe,--were first founded in -Germanic Universities. The oldest is that of Prague, established by -Charles IV in 1345. In imitation of it, that of Heidelberg was founded -in 1386; and in the following century they multiplied all over -Germany. Their effects were for a time injurious. By introducing -Latin, they brought {375} contempt upon the native language, and as a -consequence, contempt also upon native poetry. This influence lasted -until within less than a century of the present time. It is only -indeed fifty years since the practice, for a long while universal, of -lecturing in Latin, was entirely disused in the universities of -Germany. As the universities rose, literature sank. Latin usurped the -place of German: scholastic philosophy, theology, jurisprudence, and -medicine with its kindred studies,--for, as yet there was no science, -engrossed these seats of mental labor. But even in the early stage of -their existence, while delving blindly at veins, many of them not -destined ever to yield a precious metal, they have a claim to be -regarded with honor and thankfulness, not only as the sources of so -much after-fertility, but that within their walls was disciplined and -instructed, and stored with the manifold learning which made more -fearful its gigantic powers, that mind whose startling flashes fixed, -in the opening of the 16th century, the gaze of the world it was about -to overspread with a purifying conflagration. In 1503 was first heard -in public, lecturing in the university of Erfurt, on the physics and -ethics of Aristotle, the voice of Martin Luther. - -On the long undulating line of human progression, here and there -appear, at wide distances apart, men, in whom seem to centre, -condensed into tenfold force, the faculties and spirit of humanity, -apparently for the purpose of furthering by almost superhuman effort, -its great interests,--men who, through the union of deep insight with -wisest action, utter words and do deeds, which so touch, as with the -hand of inspiration, the chords of the human heart, that their fellow -men start up as though a new spring were moved in their souls, and, -shaking off the clogging trammels of custom, bound forward on their -career with freer motion and wider aim. High among these gifted few, -stands Luther,--the successful assertor, in the face of deeply founded -and strongly fortified authority, of mental independence. This is not -the occasion to dwell on the keen sagacity, the wise counsel, the -hardy acts, the stern perseverance, the broad labors, wherewith this -mighty German made good his bold position, and, partly the -trumpet-tongued spokesman, and partly the creator of the spirit of his -age, so powerfully affected the world's destiny. I have here to speak -of his influence upon the literature of Germany. That influence was -twofold. First, by the mental enfranchisement--whereof he was the -agent and instrument--of a large mass of the German people, he gave an -impetus to thought and a scope to intellectual activity, and thereby -opened up the deep springs of the German mind; and secondly, by one -great and unsurpassed literary effort, he fixed the language of his -country. The bold spirit of inquiry, of which he set the example with -such immense consequences--and with such immense consequences because -it was congenial to his countrymen,--has been the chief agent in -working out the results that in our age have given to German -literature its elevated rank: while upon the dialect which, two -hundred years after his death, was the pliant medium for the thoughts -of Kant and the creations of Goethe, he exerted such a power, that it -is called Luther's German. - -When Luther began to preach and to write, Latin was the language of -the learned. Towards the end of the 15th century, that is, about the -period of his birth, unsuccessful attempts were made to circulate -translations of the ancient classics. The translations found few -readers and made no impression. Cotemporaneous with Luther, and a -forerunner of the great Reformer in attacking with boldness and skill -the usurpations of the Roman hierarchy, was Ulrich von Hutten, a name -much honored in Germany. But he wrote excellent Latin and wretched -German. The union in one man of the power to fix upon himself, and -hold as by a spell, the minds of his countrymen, with the power of a -language-genius over his native tongue--a union consummated in -Luther--was required, to raise the German language from its degraded, -enfeebled condition, to its due place, as the universal medium of -intercommunication among Germans of all classes. - -About this time, two dialects contended for supremacy--if in a period -of such literary stagnation their rivalry can be termed a contest. -These were, the Low German, prevalent in Westphalia and Lower Saxony, -and the High German, spoken in Upper Saxony. The latter had just -obtained the ascendancy over the former in the Diet and the Courts of -Justice. The High German, therefore, modifying it however, in his use -of it, Luther adopted in his great work; and by the adoption for ever -determined the conflict. This great work was the translation of the -Bible. - -While by speech and deed, writing, preaching, and acting, he fomented -and directed the mighty struggle for liberty, whereto his bold -words--called by his countryman Jean Paul "half-battles"--had roused -the civilized world, Luther took time to labor at the task whose -accomplishment was to forward so immensely his triumph, and which, -executed as it was by him, is an unparalleled literary achievement. At -the end of thirteen years, he finished his translation. "Alone he did -it;" and alone it stands, pre-eminent in the world among -cotemporaneous performances for its spiritual agency, and in Germany -for its influence upon literature. Before him, there scarcely existed -a written German prose. He presented to his country a complete -language. With such a compelling and genial power did he mould into a -compact, fully equipt whole, the crude and fluctuating elements of the -German language of the 15th century, that it may be said, his mother -tongue came from him suddenly perfected. And not only did he, in -vigor, flexibility, precision, and copiousness, vastly excel all who -had written before him, but not even could those who came after him -follow in his footsteps in command over the new language, for a -century. The time when the pliant, well-proportioned body he created -was to indue the spirit of the German people, was postponed to a -distant period: and of this very postponement, was he too the cause; -for the religious and civil wars, the disputes and jealousies, -consequent upon the great schism he produced, so engrossed during a -long period the German mind, that literature languished. In the latter -half of the 16th century, it was poor. In the 17th, through the -impulse given to thought by the Reformation, it would have revived, -but for the outbreaking of the terrible _thirty years' war_, which, -remotely caused by the division between Catholics and Protestants, -commenced in 1618 and lasted till 1648, and which not only during its -continuance desolated and brutalized Germany, but left it -impoverished, disorganized, and, by the protracted internal strife and -foreign {376} participation therein, in spirit to a great degree -denationalized. - -Here in our rapid survey of German literature, it will be well for a -moment to pause, and before entering upon the period in which it -attained its full multiform development, cast a look back upon the -stages through which we have traced its progress. - -We have seen, that in the 12th and 13th centuries, the mind of the -German people manifested its native depth and beauty in the fresh rich -bloom of a poetry, characterised in a rude age by tenderness and -grandeur. Before this, it had evinced its ready capability, in the -production of chronicles and translations in verse from the Bible, the -moment opportunity was given it in the monasteries early founded by -the enlightened spirit of Charlemagne. Afterwards, in the 14th and -15th centuries, in the wars and contests incident to the political -development of Germany, the nobles--to whom, and the clergy, the -knowledge of letters was at first confined--were drawn off by grosser -excitements from the culture and encouragement of poetry. With the -fine instinct that knows, and the aspiring spirit that strives after -the highest, which denote a people of the noblest endowments, -poetry--thrown aside as the plaything of idle hours by warrior -knights--was cherished by peaceful artizans, whose zealous devotion -vindicated their worthiness of the great gift about to be bestowed; by -whose wondrous potency, not only were the hitherto barred portals of -all pre-existing literature thrown down, but a highway was opened to -all who should seek access by letters to the temples of wisdom or -fame. - -The invention of printing preceded the birth of Luther about half a -century. This great event--infinitely the greatest of a most eventful -age--facilitated vastly his labors and made effective his efforts. It -showered over Germany the new language and the new ideas embodied in -his translation of the Bible and his other writings. Thus, through its -means chiefly, the German mind was progressive, notwithstanding the -long period, extending through a century, of internal convulsion, -ending in physical exhaustion, which followed Luther's death. The -language, nervous, copious, homogeneous, as it came from Luther, was -fixedly established,--a standard by which the corruptions and ungerman -words, introduced through the long and intimate intercourse with -foreigners during the _thirty years' war_, could be cast out. - -In the beginning of the 17th century, in the midst of the civil war, -an attempt was made to revive literature by Martin Opitz, a Silesian. -Silesia was then not included in the German empire. The language of -the peasantry was bad Polish; but German had been introduced into the -towns. Silesia suffered little from the _thirty years' war_. Here, -therefore, was made the beginning of the endeavors which, after -various fluctuations, resulted in the rich literary produce of the -18th century. Opitz was a scholar, versed in ancient literature as -well as in that of France and of Holland, which latter had in the age -of Hugo Grotius higher literary pretensions than at present. He -endeavored to introduce a classical spirit into German poetry, and to -create a new poetical language; but he was not a man of high genius, -and therefore, though entitled to praise for his zeal and for having -given to the German mind an impulse towards the path, so long -deserted, neither he nor his feebler followers are now read but by the -literary antiquarian or historian. Through the 17th and first part of -the 18th centuries, writers were not wanting; but their productions -were without force or originality. Though heartily devoted to letters, -they were powerless to revive literature. Their efforts betoken a -craving for that which they could not supply. Vile imitations of -French taste, extravagant romances, exaggerated sentiment, are the -characteristics of the works wherewith it was attempted to supply the -national want of a literature. The authors of these were, however, the -precursors of a class, who, themselves shining luminaries compared to -those who preceded them, were made pale by the brilliant light of the -mighty spirits in whom and through whom the literature of Germany now -stands the object of admiration and of study to the most cultivated -scholars of all nations, and, by general acknowledgment, unsurpassed -by that of any other people for richness, for depth and truth of -thought and sentiment, for beauty in its forms and solidity of -substance, for, in short, multifarious excellence. - -Gottsched, Bodmer, Haller, Gellert, Rabener, Gleim, Kleist, Gessner, -Hagedorn, are names worthy of honor, though their volumes are now -seldom disturbed in their repose on the shelves of public libraries. -They broke the long darkness with a promising streak of light, which -expanded into day in the works of Klopstock, Winkelman, Lessing, -Herder, Wieland, Goethe, Schiller, Richter. - -The two first named of the first class, Gottsched and Bodmer, are -noted in German literature as the chiefs of two rival schools, in the -merging of which into more enlarged views,--whereto their lively -conflict greatly contributed,--appeared the second class. Gottsched -aimed to create a German literature by imitating French models and -introducing the French spirit. Bodmer warmly opposed Gottsched, and by -translations from English authors,--far more congenial to the German -people than French,--endeavored to produce good by English influence. -This was in the first half of the 18th century. They both did service. -Their keen rivalry excited the German mind. The fertile soil was -stirred, and from its depths burst forth in thronging profusion a -mighty progeny, as though the land of Herman and of Luther had been -slow in bringing forth the children that were to make her illustrious, -because they were a brood of giants, whose first cries startled even -the mother that bore them. In one grand symphony ascended their -matured voices, lifting up the minds of their countrymen to loftiest -aspirations, and sounding in the uttermost parts of the earth, -wherever there were ears that could embrace their artful music. - -Accustomed to spiritless imitations, the souls of the deep-minded -Germans were moved with unwonted agitation by the _Messiah_ of -Klopstock, of which the first books were published in the middle of -the 18th century. A voice, free and vigorous, such as since Luther -none had been heard, was eagerly heeded, and with warm acclaim all -over Germany responded to. To literature a new impulse was given, to -swell the which rose other voices, similar in strength and -originality--especially those of Kant in philosophy, and Lessing in -criticism. 'Mid this heaving and healthy excitement, came with -maddening power the first wild outpourings of the master-spirit, not -of Germany only, but of the {377} age. Twenty years after the -_Messiah_, appeared the first works of the then youthful Goethe, whom -in our day, but four years back, we have seen at the age of four score -descend gently to the tomb, having reached the natural end of a life -that was only less productive than that of Shakspeare. Ten years -later, another mighty genius announced himself, the only one who has -been honored with the title of Goethe's rival, and Schiller burst upon -Germany and the world in the _Robbers_. Poets, philosophers, critics, -historians--of highest endowment, genial, profound, of many-sided -culture, world-famous, illustrate this brilliant epoch. - -A brief description of the career and best productions of the most -noted among them, will enable you to understand why, in the latter -half of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th centuries, German -literature suddenly reached so high a stage of perfection. - -Klopstock has the high merit of being the leader of the glorious band, -through whose teeming minds the want of a national literature was so -suddenly and fully satisfied. Klopstock was the first who by example -taught the Germans the lesson they were most apt at learning, that the -French rules of taste are not needed for the production of excellence. -Therefore is he called by Frederick Schlegel the founder of a new -epoch, and the father of the present German literature. Born at -Quedlinburg, a small town of North Germany, he was sent to school to -the Schulpforte, then and now one of the most famous schools in -Germany. As a boy, he was noted for warmth of feeling and patriotic -enthusiasm. A youth under age, he conceived the idea of writing a -national epic, taking for a subject the exploits of Henry I, Emperor -of Germany. This design he however abandoned for that of a religious -epic, and at twenty-one planned and commenced, before he knew of -Milton's poems, his _Messiah_. In his own deep meditative mind, -wrought upon by religious and patriotic zeal, originated and was -matured the bold conception. Klopstock was in his twenty-fourth year -when the first three books of the _Messiah_ appeared. His countrymen, -ever susceptible to religious appeals, and prepared at that period for -the literary revolution, or, more properly, creation, of which the -_Messiah_ was the first great act, received it with an enthusiasm to -which they had long been unused. The people beheld the young poet with -veneration, and princes multiplied upon him honors and pensions. The -remaining books were published gradually, and in the execution of his -lofty work, the German bard felt, as was natural, the influence of the -genius and precedent verse of Milton and of Dante. Like Paradise Lost, -the _Messiah_ has won for its author a reputation with thousands, even -of his countrymen, where it has been read by one. Klopstock also -attempted tragedy; but in this department he failed signally. Indeed, -he had no clear notion of the essential nature of the drama, as may be -inferred from the fact of his choosing as the subject for a tragedy, -the death of Adam. But, as a lyrical poet, he is even greater than as -an epic, and for the excellence of his odes justly has he been styled -the modern Pindar. In these,--distinguished for condensation of -thought, vigor of language, and poetic inspiration,--the Germans first -learned the full capacity of their language in diction and rhythm. - -As to Klopstock is due the praise of being the first to teach the -Germans by great examples, that reliance upon native resources, and -independence of the contracting sway of meager French conventional -rules, were the only paths to the production of original, enduring -literature; to Lessing belongs that of enforcing the wholesome lesson -by precept. Lessing is the father of modern criticism. Born in -Kaments, a small town of Lusatia, in 1729, five years later than -Klopstock, he wrote at the age of twenty-two a criticism of the -_Messiah_. Later, in his maturity, he produced his _Dramaturgie_, or, -theatrical and dramatic criticism, and his _Laocoon_, or, the limits -of poetry and the plastic arts. He sought always for first principles; -and in the search he was guided by a rare philosophic acuteness, -co-operating with strong common sense. His fancy--whereof a good -endowment is indispensable to a critic--is ever subordinate to his -reason; his fine sensibility to the beautiful, supplying materials for -the deduction of principles of taste and composition by his subtle -understanding. Though greater as a critic than as a poet or creator, -he has nevertheless left three different works in the dramatic form, -that are classics in German literature;--_Minna von Barnkelm_, a -comedy; _Amelia Galotti_, a domestic tragedy; and _Nathan the Wise_, a -didactic poem of unique excellence. He himself regarded as his best -work his _Fables_, remarkable for sententiousness, simplicity of -language, and pithy significance. His prose style, concise, -transparent, forcible without dryness, is a model for the literary -student. Not the least of his great services is, that he was the first -to draw attention in Germany to Shakspeare, whose supremacy over all -poets has since been no where more broadly acknowledged, and the -causes of it no where more lucidly developed. - -Cotemporary with Klopstock and Lessing, and, from his works and -influence, deserving of being mentioned next to them, was Wieland, -born in 1733 in Biborach, a town of Swabia. Wieland commenced writing -at the age of seventeen, and finished at that of eighty, during which -extended period he addicted himself to almost every department of -authorship. He is the first German who translated Shakspeare. As the -author of _Oberon_, his name is familiar to English readers. This is -much the best work of Wieland, more remarkable for grace and -sprightliness than force or originality. He drew largely from the -Greeks, Italians, English and French, and though a poet and writer of -high and various merit, but a small portion of the much he has written -is now read. - -Following chronological order in this fertile period, we come after -Wieland to Herder, born at Mohrungen, a small town of Eastern Prussia, -in 1744. Like Wieland, Goethe, and Schiller, Herder was drawn to -Weimar by the munificient spirit of the Duchess Amalia, and her son, -the grand Duke Augustus, illustrious and ever memorable, as -enlightened fosterers of genius--shining examples to sovereigns, -kingly or popular. Herder was appointed in his thirty-second year, -court preacher at Weimar, and there passed the remainder of his life, -in diversified usefulness, simultaneously inspecting schools and -elaborating philosophical essays, learnedly elucidating the Old -Testament, and at the same time reviving and awakening a taste for -national songs. His greatest work, entitled _Ideas for the Philosophy -of History_, is esteemed one of the noblest productions of modern -times. Herder is called by Richter, a Christian Plato. - -And here, next to Herder, and a congenial and profounder spirit, we -will speak of Richter himself, born in {378} 1763. Richter, better -known by his Christian names, Jean Paul, is a fine sample of the -German character. The truthfulness of the Germans, their deep -religious feeling, their earnestness and their playfulness, (far -removed from frivolity) their enthusiasm and their tendency to the -mystical, their warm affections and aptness to sympathy, are all not -only traceable in his works, but prominent in the broad vivid lines of -his erratic pen. In the union of learning with genius, Richter -surpasses Coleridge. His wonderful fictions are out of the reach of -common readers, not more by their learned illustrations and their -subtleties, than by their wild irregularity of form and arbitrary -structure, whereby the world generally is deprived of the enjoyment of -a fund of the most tender pathos, gorgeous description, bold, keen wit -and satire, and the richest humor in modern literature. His two -greatest works are on education, and on the philosophy of criticism. -He was several years in writing each; and storehouses they are of deep -and just thought, of searching analysis, and of great truths, evolved -by the reason of one of the world's profoundest thinkers, and -illuminated by flashes of genius of almost painful intensity. They are -works, each of them, to be studied page by page. Nothing similar to or -approaching them exists in English literature. - -Of the writers who in this remarkable epoch belong to the first class -in the highest department of letters, the poetical or creative, we -have spoken--in the cursory manner necessary in a general sketch--of -all, save the two greatest, Schiller and Goethe. - -Frederick Schiller was born in 1759, at Marbach, a small town of -Wurtemberg. In his mind seem to have been blended, and there -strengthened, elevated, and refined, the qualities of his parents--the -one, a man of clear upright mind; the other, a woman of more than -common intelligence and taste, who both enjoyed the fortune of living -to witness the greatness of their son. Schiller had the benefit of -good early instruction. At the age of fourteen he was placed in a high -school, just founded by the reigning Duke of Wurtemberg, and conducted -with military discipline. Here, while his daily teachers were tasking -him with irksome lessons, first of jurisprudence and afterwards of -medicine, the chained genius, chafing like the lion in his cage, was -brooding over the thoughts, and by stealth feeding with a translation -of Shakspeare the cravings, which nature had implanted in him to -produce one of her noblest works--a great poet. At eighteen he began, -within the walls of the Duke's military school, _The Robbers_, often -feigning sickness, that he might have a light in his room at night to -transfer to paper his daring conception and burning thoughts. He -postponed its publication until after he had finished his college -course and had obtained the post of surgeon in the army, in his -twenty-first year. The appearance of _The Robbers_, as a consequence -of the formal drilling of the self-complacent pedagogues of the Duke -of Wurtemberg, I have elsewhere[1] likened to the explosion of a mass -of gunpowder under the noses of ignorant boys drying it before a fire -to be used as common sand. Schiller himself, in after life, described -it as "a monster, for which by good fortune the world has no original, -and which I would not wish to be immortal, except to perpetuate an -example of the offspring which genius, in its unnatural union with -thraldom, may give to the world." Never did a literary work produce a -stronger impression. With enthusiastic admiration, the world hailed in -it the advent of a mighty poet. - -[Footnote 1: North American Review, for July 1834.] - -That which roused enthusiasm throughout Germany, roused anger in the -sovereign of Wurtemberg; and while all eyes were turned towards the -land whence this piercing voice had been heard, he from whose bosom it -issued was fleeing from his home to avoid a dungeon. For having gone -secretly to Manheim, in a neighboring state, to witness the -performance of _The Robbers_, the Duke had the young poet put under -arrest for a week, and Schiller, learning that for repeating the -transgression a severer punishment awaited him, fled in disguise, -choosing rather to face the appalling reality of sudden -self-dependence than brook the tyranny of mind, which to the soaring -poet was even more grievous than to the high-souled man. He quickly -found friends. Baron Dalberg supplied him with money, while he lived, -for a short time, under the name of Schmidt in a small town of -Franconia, until Madam von Wollzogen invited him to her estate near -Meinungen. Under this lady's roof he gave free scope to his genius, -and produced two more dramas--_Fiesco_, and _Kabal und Liebe_ (Court -Intrigue and Love.) These, with the _Robbers_, constitute the first or -untutored era of Schiller's literary life. With faults as glaring as -their beauties are brilliant, they are now chiefly valued as the broad -first evidence of that power, whose full exertion afterwards gave to -the world _Don Carlos_, _Wallenstein_, and _Tell_, and to Schiller -immortality. Their reputation obtained for him the post of poet to the -Manheim theatre. Thence, after a brief period he went to Leipsic and -to Dresden, developing his noble faculties by study and exercise. In -1789, at the age of thirty, he was appointed by the Grand Duke of -Weimar, at the instigation of Goethe, professor of History in the -university of Jena. Here and at Weimar he passed, in constant literary -labor, the remainder of his too short life. - -Schiller's great reputation rests, and will ever rest, unshaken, on -his dramas. Regarding his first three, which we have named, as -preparatory studies to his dramatic career, he has left six finished -tragedies, viz.--_Don Carlos_, _The Maid of Orleans_, _Wallenstein_ -(in three parts,) _Mary Stuart_, _The Bride of Messina_, and _William -Tell_--works, in whose conception and execution the highest principles -of art control with plastic power the glowing materials of a rich, -deep, fervent mind, ordering and disposing them with such commanding -skill, as to produce dramas, which are not merely effective in -theatrical representation, and soul-stirring to the reader as pictures -of passion, but which, by the rare combination of refined art with -mental fertility and poetic genius, exhibit, each one of them, that -highest result of the exertion of the human faculties--a great poem. -Possessing, in common with other gifted writers, the various -endowments needed in a dramatist and poet of the highest order, the -individual characteristic of Schiller is elevation. The predominant -tendency of his mind is ever upwards. Open his volumes any where, and -in a few moments the reader feels himself lifted up into an ideal -region. The leading characters in his plays, though true to humanity, -have an ideal loftiness. You figure them to yourself as of heroic -stature, such grandeur and nobleness is there in their strain of -sentiment {379} and expression. The same characteristic pervades his -prose and lyrical poetry. Had he never written a drama, his two -volumes of lyrical poetry would suffice to enthrone him among the -first class of poets, so beautiful is it and at the same time of such -depth of meaning, so musical and so thought-pregnant. No where is the -dignity of human nature more nobly asserted than in the works of -Schiller; as pure, and simple, and noble, as a man, as he is powerful -and beautiful as a poet. In the full vigor of his faculties, his mind -matured by experience and severe culture, and teeming with poetic -plans, he died in 1805, having reached only his forty-sixth year. - -Of Schiller's great rival and friend, Goethe, as of Schiller himself, -I can, in the limited space allowed in such a lecture as this, only -give you a rapid sketch. - -John Wolfgang Goethe was born at Frankfort on the Maine in 1749, ten -years before Schiller. "Selectest influences" leagued with nature to -produce this wonderful man. To give its complete development to a -mighty inward power, outward circumstances were most happily -propitious. Upon faculties of the quickest sensibility, and yet of -infinitely elastic power, wide convulsions and world-disturbing -incidents bore with tempestuous force, dilating the congenial energies -of the young genius, who suddenly threw out his fiery voice to swell -the tumult round him, and announce the master spirit of the age. For a -while, the thrilling melody of that voice mingled in concert with the -deep tones of the passionate period whence it drew so much of its -power. Soon, however, was it heard, uttering with calmer inspiration -the words of wisdom, drawn from a source deeper than passion--passion -subdued by the will, and tempered by culture. "It is not the ocean -ruffled," says Jean Paul, "that can mirror the heavens, but the ocean -becalmed." - -Goethe's father was a prosperous honored citizen of Frankfort, -improved by travel and study--a man of sound heart and sharp temper; -his mother, a woman of superior mind and of genial character, to whom -in her old age Madam de Stael paid a visit of homage, and who enjoyed -the pleasure of introducing herself to her distinguished visiter with -the words,--"I am the mother of Goethe." Under the guidance of such -parents was Goethe's boyhood passed in the old free city of Frankfort, -ever a place of various activity, where he witnessed when a child the -coronation of an emperor of Germany, and the stir of a battle, fought -in the neighborhood between Frederick the Great and the French--events -of rare interest to any boy, and of deep import to one in whose -unfolding a great poet was to become manifest. In due season he was -sent to the university of Leipsic, famous then by the lectures of -Gottsched, Gellert, Ernesti, and others. To the young Frankfort -student the admired discourses of these sages of the time were but -lessons in skepticism; their magisterial dicta and hollow dogmas being -quickly dissolved in the fire of a mind, already in its youth -competent to self-defence against error, though with vision too -untried yet to pierce to the truth. From Leipsic he went to Strasburg, -to complete his studies in the law, his father having destined him for -a lawyer. A more imperious parent, however, had laid other commands on -him, and while the words of law-professors were falling upon his -outward ear, the inward mind was revolving the deeds of _Goetz von -Berlichingen_, and shaping the vast fragments of which in after years -was built the wondrous world of _Faust_. - -In his twenty-third year appeared _Goetz von Berlichingen_, the -firstling of a pen, which, in the following sixty years, filled as -many volumes with works of almost every form wherein literature -embodies itself, a series of boundless wealth and unequalled -excellence, to gain access to which, a year were well spent in daily -labor to master the fine language it enriches. Two years later, -appeared _Werter_, an agonizing picture of passion, which, like the -first crude outburst of Schiller's genius, shot a thrill through the -then agitated mind of Germany, and which Goethe afterwards, in the -tranquillity of his purified faculties, looked back upon as a curious -literary phenomenon. This work has never been directly translated into -English (and a good translation of it were no easy achievement,) the -book called "The Sorrows of Werter" being a translation of a French -version, that does not give even the title of the original, which is, -"The Sufferings of the Young Werther." And yet, by this doubly -distorted image of a youthful ebullition, was the Protean giant for a -long while measured in England, and through England, in America. - -Soon after the publication of Werter, Goethe was invited to Weimar, -where, honored and conferring honor, he lived the rest of his long and -fruitful life. Appointed at once a member, he in a few years became -president of the Council of State; and finally, after his return from -Italy, at about the age of forty he was made one of the Grand Duke's -Ministers, a post he for many years held. Directing the establishment -and arrangement of museums, libraries, art-exhibitions, and theatrical -representations, he contributed directly by practical labors, as well -as by the brilliancy which the products of his pen shed upon his place -of abode, to the fame and prosperity of Weimar. - -In the poems of Shakspeare, is disclosed a mind, wherein capaciousness -and subtlety, vigor and grace, clearness and depth, versatility and -justness, combine and co-operate with such shifting ease and -impressive effect, that ordinary human faculties are vainly tasked to -embrace its perfectness and its immensity. Contemplating it, the -keenest intelligence exhausts itself in analysis, and the most refined -admiration ends in wonder. Inferior only to this consummation of human -capabilities is the mind of Goethe, akin to Shakspeare's in the -breadth and variety and subtlety of its powers. In comprehensiveness -of grasp and ideal harmony in conceiving a poetic whole, the German -approaches the mighty Englishman, and displays also in the -delineation, or, more properly, the creation of characters, that -instinctive insight and startling revelation of the human heart, which -in Shakspeare almost at times make us think he were privy to the -mystery of its structure. The same calmness and serene -self-possession--a sign of supreme mental power--are characteristic of -both. Like Shakspeare, Goethe never intrudes his personal -individuality to mar the proportions of a work of art. - -To pour out the wealth of a mind, which ranges over every province of -human thought and action, Goethe adopts all the various forms in which -poetry, according to its mood and object, moulds itself. In his -epigrams, elegies, songs and ballads, he embodies the highest -excellences of the _lyrical_. In _Egmont_, you have a bold {380} -specimen of the romantic _tragedy_; in _Iphygenia_, a beautiful -reproduction of the classical Greek; while _Torquato Tasso_, a drama -of the most exquisite grace and refinement, occupies a middle ground -between the two. To pass from this to _Faust_, is to be suddenly borne -away from a quiet scene of rural beauty to a rugged mountain peak, -whence, through a tempest, you catch glimpses of the distant sunny -earth, and mid the elemental strife, beautiful in its terrors, hear -sounds as though a heaven-strung æolian harp snatched music from the -blast. In _Herman and Dorothea_, executed with matchless felicity, -reigns the pure _epic_ spirit. This one poem were enough to make a -reputation. But the highest exhibition of Goethe's manifold powers is -_Wilhelm Meister_, in which a mixed assemblage of fictitious -personages, each one possessing the vital individuality and yet -generic breadth of Falstaff and of Juliet, bound together in a vast -circle of the most natural and complex relations, presents so truthful -and significant and art-beautified a picture of the struggles and -attainments, the joys and griefs, the labors and recreations, the -capacities and failings of mortal men, that from its study we rise -with strength freshened and feelings purified, and our vision of all -earthly things brightened. Unhesitatingly characterizing this work as -the greatest prose fiction ever produced, I close this brief notice of -its wonderful author. - -The writers I have named are they who have given existence and -character to modern German literature. Yet, to omit all mention of a -number of others, would be not only unjust to them, but an -imperfection even in so rapid a sketch as this. - -By the side of Lessing, I should have placed Winkelman, born in the -beginning of the last century, whose history of ancient art is -esteemed the best of all works in this department of criticism. It had -great influence upon German literature. Among the poets who, next to -the brilliant series already described, hold high places, are, Bürger, -Koerner, (both known to English readers through translations), -Voss--to whom, and to their own copious, flexible language, the -Germans are indebted for the most perfect translations of Homer -possessed by any people--Tieck, Novalis, Grilpazer. Besides these may -be mentioned the Stolbergs, Hoelty, Tidge, Leisewits, Mülner, Collin, -Mathison, Uland. Among a crowd of novelists, distinguished are the -names of Engel, Fouquet, Lafontaine, and Hoffman, and Thummel, whose -satirical novels have a high reputation. Of miscellaneous writers -there is a host, among whom should be particularized, Mendelsohn, -Jacobi, Lichtenberg. In historians Germany is especially rich. Johan -von Müller, Heeren, Niebuhr, Raumer, O. Müller, are writers whose -merits are acknowledged throughout Europe, and acquaintance with whose -works is indispensable to the scholar who would have wide views and -accurate knowledge of the spirit of history. In criticism the two -Schlegels have a European reputation. The "Lectures on the Drama" of -Augustus William Schlegel constitute the finest critical work extant. -Of the well known learning, profoundness, and acuteness of the German -philologists, theologians and metaphysicians, it were superfluous here -to speak. In short, to conclude, the Germans, endowed by nature with -mental capabilities inferior to those of no people of the earth, and -enjoying for the last half century a more general as well as a higher -degree of education than any other, and thus combining talent and -genius with wide learning and laborious culture, possess a vast and -various accumulation of productions, wherein are to be found in every -province of letters works of highest excellence, which to the literary -or scientific student, whatever be his native tongue, are -inexhaustible sources of mental enjoyment and improvement. - - - - -LINES. - -The following lines were composed in January 1830, while passing the -night in the wilderness before a huntsman's fire, in company with a -party of friends engaged in a hunting expedition. - - - Above, the starry dome; - Beneath, the frozen ground; - And the flickering blaze that breaks the gloom, - And my comrades sleeping sound. - - Well may they sleep; their sportive toil - Has found a mirthful close, - And dreams of home, of love's sweet smile, - And prattling childhood void of guile, - Invite them to repose. - - O! never more on me, - Such dear illusions e'en in sleep can fall; - Scared by the frown of stern reality - The forms my yearning spirit would recall. - - The dead! the dead! The ne'er forgotten dead, - In slumber's shadowy realm so vainly sought, - Yet haunt my path, and hover round my bed, - Unseen, unheard, but present still to thought. - - Breathe not their voices in the linnet's strain? - Glow not their beauties in the opening flower? - Fond fantasies of grief! alas! how vain, - While cruel memory tells "they are no more." - - But this spangled roof is their mansion bright, - Though the icy earth is their lowly tomb; - And this mounting flame is their spirit's light, - That seeks its native home. - - And that oak that frowns o'er the desolate waste, - While its withered arms are tossing wide, - As if to screen from the whirling blast - The scattered wreck of its summer pride-- - - 'Tis I: thus left alone on earth, - Thus fixed in my spirit's lonely mood, - Mid the strifes of men, in the halls of mirth, - Or the desart's solitude. - - For never can I stoop - To bandy malice with the base and vile; - And in the grave is quenched the cherished hope, - Kindled and fed by Beauty's favoring smile. - - The grave! the grave! It will not restore - The victims to its hunger given; - And this weary spirit can rest no more, - Till it sleep with them to wake in heaven. - - - - -ALLITERATION. - - -"Pierce Plowman's Vision," by William Langlande, in the reign of -Edward III, is the longest specimen extant of alliterative poetry. It -proceeds in this manner without rhyme, and with few pretensions to -metre-- - - It befell on a Friday two friars I mette - Maisters of the minours, men of great wytte. - - -{381} - - -READINGS WITH MY PENCIL. - -NO. IV. - - Legere sine calamo est dormire.--_Quintilian_. - - -26. "There should always be some foundation of fact for the most airy -fabric: and pure invention is but the talent of a liar."--_Byron, by -Moore_. - -This seems harsh judgment--but is it so, in reality? Ethically, as -well as in a mere worldly view, I think it is. "There is nothing new -under the sun," and he who tells what is not, lies--under a mistake, -or otherwise. All fiction is woven on a web of fact, except the liar's -fiction, which is all woof and no web, and so must soon fall to pieces -from its own want of consistency. _Apropos!_ I saw a play advertised, -within the week, which was announced by the author, as founded neither -in fact, fancy, or imagination! - -27. "The piety implanted in Byron's nature--as it is, deeply, in all -poetic natures," &c.--_Moore's Byron_. - -Devotion arises very naturally from viewing the works of God with -seriousness. If Byron had not some holy stirrings of devotion within -him, when painting his loveliest pictures, I greatly err in my -estimate of human nature. These remained, perhaps, to show him how -much he had lost in his misanthropic musings over the dark and gloomy -past: and had he followed gently those motions, with which, in -thinking of the sublime and beautiful of nature, his mind was visited, -it would have but been a compliance with a call from heaven, guiding -him to true happiness. - -28. "Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth, asleep, - Unconscious lies--effuse your mildest beams! - Ye constellations!--while the angels strike, - Amid the spangled sky, their silver lyres!" - _Thomson_. - -How vividly does this bold but beautiful figure at times come back -upon me, when I have been walking at deep midnight--when the stillness -that pervaded all around me was so deep and intense as to make me, for -very fear of breaking it, restrain my breath: while the fine array of -stars was gloriously marshalled in high heaven: the belted Orion--the -Serpent showing its every fold between the Bears. Lyra had not set, -the Eagle was just on the western edge, and the Dolphin's cluster near -its precursor. The Canès, Major and Minor, were bright in the east; -nearly over head was Capella, and the Gemini as bright as the prince -of the Hyades, Aldebaran. Jupiter lighted his gas-like flame, eastward -of Castor and Pollux, and meteors were flitting in various lines -across the whole western sky. And again, on some still, clear, fair -night--when the blood-red planet, Mars, was high in heaven, and the -brighter and purer Jupiter, and the Dogstar were fading in the -horizon--how have I stood, listening to nothing, while the hum of the -fairies was melting in my ears! For what else can I call that -deception of the fancy, or perhaps that real sound from an unknown -source, which, in the most profound silence, is still sweetly rising -up around us? - -29. "Do not we all know that the whig laureate, _Tom Moore_, actually -published in the Morning Chronicle, the substance of conversations -which had occurred at the royal table itself, to which he had been -incautiously admitted? And that the most pungent and piquant things in -* * the Twopenny Post Bag, and the Fudge Family * * *, are derived -from information picked up in the progress of social intercourse?" - -_Blackwood's Magazine for Nov., 1823_. - -I believe these inuendoes are now beyond all cavil. The excuse of Tom -was, that George deserted his party, and that all's fair in politics. -Whether or not this were reasonable excuse, casuists may settle; but -there is one reflection incident to the anecdote, to which the years -1835-6 has given rise; and this is, how ungracefully looks the Irish -Anacreon, after such a well-authenticated charge, in raising a breeze -against poor Willis, for repeating what himself had said about -O'Connell, as a public speaker merely, at a large dinner party of Lady -Blessington's! The mote and the beam! - -J. F. O. - - - - -AMERICAN SOCIAL ELEVATION. - -The Spartan knew no other stimulus to exertion than the shining -glories of war. From infancy to old age he was ever learning the skill -and daring which belong to the battle field. His every mental -development was martial in its tendency. He saw in every feature of -his country's institutions an appeal to his warrior spirit. Imagine a -band of young ambitious minds circled around some aged patriot, who, -in the all-glowing language of arms, is describing the daring, the -glorious achievement which had immortalized the _Spartan_ character. -Listen to him as he portrays the bravery unrivalled, the death -unequalled, of those who fell at Thermopylæ or Leuctra; as he calls -upon their mighty shades to witness his words--and mark the youth how -intent, how all-intent they grow as he proceeds; their eyes flashing -with fire; their hands clenched; their teeth set. Do this, and you -have a faint idea of that kind of influence which moulded and directed -the mind of the Spartan. Is it wonderful that Sparta became the -military school of antiquity? Thus taught, the highest worship of her -youth was offered on the altars of war. Thus taught, their imagination -was ever picturing the fierce onset, the high conflict, the battle -won, and the laurel immortal which graced the victor's brow. Thus -taught, they were ever ready to seize the sword and shield and rush to -meet the invader. Thus taught, they served well their country and went -to their fancied home in the distant _Elysia_, to join the heroes whom -they had learned to admire, mourned and remembered by their -countrymen. - -We propose to point out those objects which actuate the American mind; -to show their inadequacy to produce the general elevation of society, -and humbly to suggest what should be the controlling stimulus. Need we -ask what are the chief motives which influence our national mind? Need -it be told that our young growing mind is fast becoming a money -making, political mind? The most casual observer has only to glance at -the state of things, to feel sensibly its truth. Observe that man of -quick step and active air, as he moves through the street of the -commercial city; how, all absorbed in himself, he passes heedlessly -on, as if he were the only being in society: his mind is intensely -bent on making a few dollars; and he is but one among the thousands. -Observe the throngs of men who have met to-day on public exchange, to -transact the business of thousands and millions. Mark this one in deep -meditation; that one lively with a face brilliant with joy; here one -telling in whispers some long expected news to one all attention; -there one earnest in persuasion with one {382} feignedly reluctant. -There is a variety of mental exercise, of thought, of emotion; but the -desire of gain, the secret spring of action, is the chief mental -development. Go into the extensive manufactory, and while with -delighted mind you admire the beauties and power of invention, and -believe the veil of the Holy of Holies of Science's temple to be -lifted, and her mysteries revealed, reflect to what end these fruits -of inventive genius are applied. Go upon the hill-top, and looking -down upon the verdant meadow, the rich fields of grain, the orchard -and vine-clad arbors, all in luxuriant growth, ask yourself, why so -much industry in bringing forth the products of the soil. There is but -one answer--the desire of gain. Nor are the manifestations of this -desire seen only in the outward world; it is the deity of the fireside -circle. It moulds the earliest thought, and directs its action. Around -it bow in low submission the powers and affections of mind. For it, -all, all which belongs to the man, mentally and physically, is offered -a willing sacrifice. - -Now, it may be asked, are the fruits of this desire the elevation of -society, the full developments of the mind's faculties, the beautiful, -the active, the useful, the noble? Being the controlling power which -influences every thought and feeling, it becomes the sole arbiter of -every action. Self-emolument being its highest aim, it shapes every -exertion to this end. It requires activity, unrelaxing activity--but -it is not an activity for the promotion of general good. It requires -sleepless attention, even such as belonged to the virgins who tended -the sacred fires of Vesta's temple. But it is a watching which takes -care of self. It requires the exertion of the intellectual powers, but -only so far as to bemean them to its purposes. In fine, it -concentrates the whole soul, its entire thoughts and feelings on a -single point. And whatever attractions there may be around, however -glorious or grand, it never turns from this point. This point is self. - -Now, where in this system is that cultivation of mind, which lifts -society from the depths of barbarism to the mountain heights of power -and civilization? Where those brilliances and glories of intellect, -which die not with nations but live in the admiration of all coming -time? Where that eloquence of the heart which flows from the deep well -of the affections? That eloquence which strengthens and chastens the -social relations; which, silent, unobserved, connects men together by -chains of sympathetic love and benevolence? Or where in this system, -is that love of country, that lofty patriotism, which is the -foundation of national character? What is patriotism? It is a love of -ancestry; a love, the very antithesis of self; a love, which like the -Christian's love, beautifies and elevates society. Can it exist in -this money-getting age? As well might you bid yonder queen river of -the west to roll backwards. Does it exist? Who can doubt that this is -an age of degenerate patriotism? Patriotism! that which holds a nation -up, which forgotten lets her fall into the common sepulchre of -departed empires. Patriotism! alas! that the signs of the times are -ominous that this people are fast bidding you a long, long farewell. - -But the fruits, say the advocates of this money-seeking desire, are -industry and wealth. We grant wealth as its result, and that it is not -an effect of enchantment; but as there must be much labor, chiselling -and hammering, before the edifice can rise in beauty and magnificence, -so in its acquisition there must be inflexible industry. But is it -that kind of industry which unfolds and invigorates the mind, thereby -producing social elevation and refinement? History informs us how some -of the mighty cities of the east, by industry, rose to opulence, but -laments over their low state of society, and as a consequence, their -fall, like Lucifer from the halls of heaven, never to rise again. This -industry, so beloved, so enticing in the view of the many, is directed -to one end--individual gain. Considered in reference to the well-being -of communities as a whole, it is a gilded fatality. It explores the -deep centres of the earth, and brings forth its long buried riches; -covers every river, sea, and lake with commerce; ransacks all nature, -animate and inanimate. But what is all this, without a fully developed -mind to direct, to manage, to enjoy? What would it avail us, though -industry should roof our houses with diamonds, if there was not within -a virtuous feeling, an elevation of thought? Does this money-loving -industry purify and ennoble the social relations--show their nature -and point out how they should be observed?--or, does it lift the mind -to the contemplation of the ineffable glories and majesties of the -eternal King of worlds? - -We have said we grant wealth as the result of this desire, but it is -not general wealth. All may strive, all may labor with intense anxiety -and assiduity, but all will not gain the mountain's summit; a great -majority must ever be at its base. Speculation, which is the mean of -immense fortunes, bankrupts more than it enriches. The follies of -mankind, their diversity of thought and feeling, their ignorance, -their mistaken notions of pride, render it impossible for all to be -alike successful. The result is obvious. The few, the mighty few, are -the wealthy. Now, wealth in the present state of things is power; for -the sicklied conception of the age has thrown around it all that is -great or glorious. And it is a well founded principle that power, -whatever its nature, will govern. Who can picture that state of -society, governed by aristocratic wealth, untempered by the virtues of -the heart and intellect? - -Further; it is not only by the sacrifice of its mind that this age -will acquire its wealth, but by the sacrifice of that of posterity. -One generation stamps a character upon another. Whatever this age -thinks and does, will more or less characterize the thoughts and -actions of the succeeding. - -Nor is this all. This, with coming generations, by their industry, by -the stimulus of an unquenchable thirst for wealth, will, in all -probability, accumulate countless riches--will, if we may speak thus -figuratively, erect in our land immense moneyed houses filled with -gold and silver, the reward of their desire. But these generations, -like all things below, must pass away, and sink into the common tomb -of the dead. Then these moneyed houses, though locked and barred, and -ironed, will be burst open, and their gold and silver, amassed with -miserly care, be made to flow in streams to slake the thirst of a -debased posterity. And the result is beyond the power of human -imagination. Having the wealth of their ancestors in their hands, and -being, as man is, naturally prone to idleness, they will forget the -industry of their fathers, and only think how they may live most -lavishly, most splendidly. The gratification of the senses, attended -{383} by its concomitants, vice and degradation, will be the sole -desire of all human aspiration. Society--its beautiful dependences and -proportions destroyed--will fall into fragments and return to original -anarchy. Mind uncultivated, will shed no illuminations, but, like -"expression's last receding ray," will be lost in the universal -midnight of heart and intellect. For to this idol of their worship, -sensual pleasure, they will bring as daily offerings the lovely and -beautiful in the heart, the noble and sublime in the intellect. But -amid all their dissipation, like the revellers at Belshazzar's feast, -surrounded by the luxuries and glittering splendors of earth, -unsuspecting, the thunderbolt of their destruction will come upon -them--fearfully, suddenly, to their annihilation. - -We have now briefly shown the nature of this money-getting desire, and -its inadequacy, from its total neglect of all mental cultivation, to -promote the general elevation of society. There is another stimulus of -American mind which sometimes combines with the desire of -wealth--occasionally acts alone. It is an aspirancy for political -fame. - -Bear with us while we attempt very concisely to show its nature and -effects. No one who looks abroad upon the present aspect of society -can doubt the existence of such a desire. It is the controlling -stimulus of our young educated mind. It has its origin in our nature, -for man is naturally fond of distinction, fond of wielding the sceptre -of governing power. Our institutions in their high and impartial -wisdom have said, that all men possess equal rights; and upon this -declaration rest the pillars which support the sky-dome of our -national temple. But the mind of this age has perverted its original -intent, and made it the all-stimulating cause of a thirst for -political elevation. The state of society, its love of political -excitement, its seeming willingness to reward political effort, -likewise awaken and nourish this thirst. - -What is its nature? It does not develope the various mental powers. It -does not strengthen the affections or awaken their inborn eloquence. -It does not teach us the nature of that great chain of relations which -holds society in union. Being common to the many, and attainable but -by the few, it creates an ungenerous rivalry among its votaries. All -in fancy gaze upon the shining halo of greatness which encircles the -rulers, and beholding the unbounded adoration paid it by the ruled, -each resolves, in newness of purpose and strength, to gratify his -selfish aim, though at the expense of the best hopes of society. - -What is its effect? All the faculties of mind are applied and made -subservient to one end--individual elevation. A fondness for -excitement is created, and the mind is ever longing and panting for -this excitement. Parties start up, and society is engrossed and -agitated by party dissensions--dissensions which awaken and cherish -old prejudices and sectional feelings, to the smothering of those -which are purer and nobler; dissensions, which combine bad ambition -and immature intellect; dissensions, which elicit cunning and -chicanery, instead of throwing out the brilliant thought or touching -the chord of high affection; dissensions, in which that calm serenity -which chastens the powers, passions, and emotions which unfold the -higher graces and charities of our nature, is unknown; dissensions in -which _patriotism_, which is a love as universal, as it is noble and -inspiriting, is forgotten; dissensions, which terminate in the -elevation of some ambitious leader to the high throne of power; who, -having reached the summit of his wishes, looks down upon the servile -mass, and with the utmost complacency throws upon their bended necks -the yoke of their bondage. Where is here the elevation of society, -pure feeling, pure thoughts? - -The same train of thought may be exemplified by a reference to those -nations of antiquity, where now the "spirit of decay" has its abiding -place. The history of ancient republics is familiar to every one; -their unequalled greatness, their decline and fall are the schoolboy's -tale. And what does this history tell him? That in times of great -political excitement there was less virtue, less elevation of mind, -less real patriotism; that what is noble or excellent in our nature, -was lost amid the whirl of party dissensions; as in the times of the -_Gracchi_ when the first seed was sown which led to the fall of the -"seven-hilled city"--or still later, when the mighty _Cæsar_ rose, and -the elements of old parties were stirred up and new ones created, -until the imperial mistress of the world reeled and fell to the dust. -This history likewise tells him that the same is true of the democracy -of Athens--that in periods of high party contention the excellences -and glories of mind, so congenial to that "bright clime of battle and -of song," were unknown, as in the ages of Aristides and Socrates, or -of Demosthenes and Æschines, when the gold of the Macedonian bought -their purest patriots. - -We come now to the last point which we proposed to set forth. What is -essential to the elevation of society? Before proceeding in its -investigation, we would correct all misapprehensions. We would not -have this age unmindful of the importance of wealth, but would have it -exert due energy in its acquisition. Wealth, in the hands of -enlightened mind, is a powerful mean in the improvement of morals and -intellect, adorns the social structure by its offerings of the -beauties and elegances of _art_ and nature, dispenses far and near the -comforts and blessings of life--and is one of the great levers by -which society is raised to its highest elevation. Nor would we have -this age unmindful of political interests. Politics, from the nature -of the social organization, enter into and necessarily become an -inherent characteristic of all society. There must be a government of -laws; and whether the people or their representatives legislate, it is -necessary that the people understand the nature and effect of -legislation. Without such knowledge, the maxim, that power is ever -stealing from the many to the few, would be too truly, fatally, -verified; for the power-loving nature of man would be enabled, first, -to throw around the mass an illusive gilded snare--afterwards, to -crush it in its iron despotic grasp. There must then be both wealth -and politics. But we would not have either wealth or politics the -controlling desire of the mind; thus considered, they debase and -destroy this mind. We would have them as subordinate instruments to -one grand desire, the elevation of society. We would have them as the -satellites which revolve in glorious harmony around the great _sun_; -and we would not have them take the place of the sun, for then the -system would be broken, the music of the spheres hushed, and all -nature return to primeval chaos. - -The promotion of the general well-being of society by a cultivation of -the heart and intellect, is impliedly required of Americans, from the -nature and structure of {384} our government. It was not reared by the -gold of the conquered, or on the bones of the subject. It rose into -being all glorious, the creation of free minds enlightened by the -reason and experience of centuries. Being the opposite of despotism, -it does not chain down the powers of mind or shrivel away their -existence. Nor does it like Sparta, unchain the mind, only to -stimulate its martial character; for the rainbow of peace is the -circling arch of our national fabric. Founded in morals and intellect, -it appeals to their cultivation as the means of its prosperity and -perpetuity. It says to the mind, be free!--free, to expand in full -bloom and vigor--free, to be noble--free, to rise and soar with the -strength and majesty of the eagle! And it attaches a meaning to -freedom of mind. That mind is free which is not bound to the will of -party; which is not the slave of any imperious passion or desire. That -mind is free which can love and rejoice over the prosperity of the -Union. That mind is free which does not allow the still current of the -soul's affections to be chilled by impure passion or feeling, but -increases its onward flow in warmth and strength. That mind is free -which thinks and acts as becomes the "noblest work" of Deity. That -mind is free which enjoys a full and chaste development of all its -powers, passions and emotions; which knows and observes its relations; -which can concentrate its thoughts on a single point; which, when it -looks abroad upon nature's works, beholds the reflected power and -wisdom of a _God_; or, which, as it gazes upon the azure sky, the -verdant forest, the beautiful river, the sparkling lake, the -storm-rolling ocean, feels inexpressible delight and reverence. Such -is the meaning which our government attaches to the phrase "freedom of -mind." What in the nature of things can be clearer? Does it not -require of this people a general cultivation of mind? - -Consistency then with the objects of our government requires, that the -great pervading desire of society should be its elevation by its -universal mental cultivation. Such a desire is opposed to the selfish -system--is the protecting angel of patriotism. It combines the -excellences of intellect and pure ambition. It lifts the mind from low -and grovelling objects to the contemplation of those which are purer -and higher, delighting in the good, the exalted. In it is concentrated -whatever is noble in morals, whatever is sublime and unanswerable in -truth. - -What is meant by universal mental cultivation? We find it not in the -history of nations. The history of the world is no more than a record -of human usurpations based on human ignorance. A powerful few have -ever moulded and wielded the destinies of mankind. Learning has shone -only to render more brilliant some kingly reign. Unlike the great -luminary of day, which it should resemble, its beams have ever been -confined within the compass of a court or palace. The mountain peaks -only of society have felt its light, while at the base, where the -great mass congregate, there has been utter darkness. True, we are -told of remarkable eras in the history of learning--of the Augustan -age, when all that was beautiful and powerful in thought, all that was -magic in conception or grand in imagery, shone forth in the most -attractive forms; of the reigns of queens Anne and Elizabeth, when the -graces and elegances of English literature were unrivalled, as they -appeared in the majestic imaginings of Shakspeare, the nervous beauty -and simplicity of Addison, and other master minds; of periods in the -learning of Italy, when Dante, Tasso, Petrarch, gave a new name and a -new being to Italian intellect. But was the state of society, as a -whole, refined and elevated in any of these remarkable eras? The -lights were chiefly intellectual, and belonged to the higher grades of -society; besides, they shone but for a short time and departed, -leaving the deeper darkness. Moreover, they were purely literary, and -pure literature never reaches the mass of mind. True, it is perpetual, -and shines down from age to age, as do the lights of those eras which -now illumine in some degree the mind of the present; but it is only a -reflection from eminence to eminence--the people see it, feel it not. -We repeat it, learning has ever been confined to the few; the many -have never known its invigorating influence. - -Now, mind is the moving and guiding principle of all human action. -Mind teaches the nature of the delicate and momentous relations which -unite society, preserves their beauty and uniformity, developes their -power and usefulness. This mind dwells with the mass of mankind. We -would then, that society may be elevated, have the rays of knowledge -penetrate and expand this mind. We would have the genius of learning -courted and wooed from her mountain residence, that literature and -science might come down, and walk radiant with truth and loveliness -through every grade of the community. We would have the bright light -struck out from the mind of the mass, and its illuminations reach the -uttermost boundaries of the land, as extensive as the circling canopy -of the sky. So speaks the voice of humanity, even as the voice of an -angel. - -Again: What is meant by universal mental cultivation? It is not the -expansion of any single mental power or susceptibility. There should -be no brilliancy of intellect unmellowed by the radiancy of moral -feeling--no strength of passion or sentiment uninfluenced by other of -the mind's faculties. There must be a mental balance, which is the -great secret of all education. From the want of such balance, -Ignorance, with her offspring, Superstition and Prejudice, has ever -weighed down the intellectual scale and destroyed the noblest results -of mental effort. That system should be discarded which developes only -the powers of intellect. Variety, the high thought, the virtuous -sentiment, the beautiful and sublime emotion, the chaste passion, all, -in happy union, raise communities to power and happiness. - -Surely, it is not illogical to maintain, that an endowment of -diversified powers and affections of mind, impliedly requires their -cultivation. Why the gift of reason, of memory, of imagination? Why -the gift of moral and religious feeling, of love, of sympathy--or of -any faculty? It would be absurd to say that they are mere trifles, -mere butterfly appendages, to gratify taste or pleasure. Further, this -diversity of mind, entering into, necessarily creates the numerous -individual fibres which are the sources of the vigor and strength of -the social frame. Is it not then evident, that the expansion of any -one mental power to the neglect of all, or of some to the neglect of -others, would take away more or less of this vigor and strength; would -disfigure the social frame and destroy its beauty and harmony of -proportion? Here, the mind suggests {385} an analogical argument. Look -abroad over the material world. Is there sameness? Is there the -exclusive development of any single feature? Is the earth's surface -one barren, limitless plain? or its soil of one kind? or its deep -mines all gold, or silver, or iron? Or do we behold a world of water, -of inconceivable sublimity? No! There is the mountain, bold and -rugged, bleak, or crowned with magnificent foliage, to awaken the -emotions and give wings to the imagination; the valley of varied soil -suited to the production of the comforts of life; the vein of gold, of -silver, of iron, each and all, in happy effect, increasing the -embellishments and blessings of society; and there are the river, the -lake, and still worlds of water. What is there useful or harmonious, -or ornamental, or enlivening, or grand, unseen in this, the Deity's -material creation? Now, observe the mental world. There is reason, -producing the solid and beneficial; memory and imagination, her -handmaids, assisting her vigor and research, and robing her in -loveliness and brightness; the affections, diffusing through all and -throwing over all a glow of love, beauty, and peace; thus, preserving -the necessary relations, and showing their glorious influences when -developed and joined in union in this the _Deity's_ mental creation. -Should you take from the material world one of its parts, you would -destroy its harmony and uniformity. A similar result would follow, -should you take from the mental world one of its parts. Let there, -then, be no single mental development since it destroys the other -powers and their relations, but let there be a full growth of all to -their greatest, their proudest stature. Let the systems of the past be -forgotten, and in contemplation of the future, let us resolve that no -one passion or desire of mind, shall erect its tyrant throne on the -prostration of other nobler powers. For the mind fully cultivated is a -"museum of knowledge," lives forever "serene in youthful beauty." - -The principle of universal mental cultivation being set forth, its -bearing and effect will be seen in its application to the various -classes of society. First, in the professions, that of the law being -the one of our adoption, and therefore most congenial to our thoughts, -we select for illustration. The science of law considered strictly, -only in reference to rules, forms, and the gathered opinions of -centuries, may be styled an isolated system in character, cold and -forbidding. But construed liberally, in all its relations and -bearings, it embraces within its circle all that belongs to human -action. It appeals to, and acts upon the good sense and good feeling -of mankind. It is the protector of morals, and may be the defender of -religion. It is the guardian and dispenser of social rights, and their -invincible champion with power. It combats vice and ignorance, -unravels the cunning and chicanery of men, and brings forth truth all -beautiful and overwhelming. In short, founded in justice and the good -of society, it becomes the conservator of religion, morals, and -intellect. What should be the qualifications of the high priests who -administer around the sacred altars of the judicial temple? They -should sound deep the wells of knowledge, and be familiar with nice -and subtle distinctions. They should know every motive of human -conduct, from that which causes the most delicate to that which causes -the most stupendous movements in society. They should examine well the -passions, their sources and effect upon the mind. They should look -abroad upon society, understand its origin, the nature of its -relations, their beautiful adaptations, their harmonious influences, -and love to increase its glory and happiness by the cultivation of -fresh virtues and excellences. They should, for this end, unlock the -store-houses of wisdom and knowledge for original and sound -principles, for apt illustration. They should be thoroughly -indoctrinated in a spirit of true philosophy--of that philosophy which -teaches the intimate nature of the transactions and interests of -men--of that philosophy which teaches what should characterize every -action whether in the family or in the outward world. They should be -old acquaintances with the master spirits of literature and science, -both in ancient and modern times; that "halo" of mingled character, of -light, grace and magic, which encircles the Muses, should likewise be -to them a fount of inspiration. Now, such a preparation presupposes a -full development of minds--of minds, not only powerful in stern -reason, but rich and dazzling in imagination, and useful in the -exercise of all other powers; of minds, not only great in some one of -the affections, but deeply imbued in all the higher and sympathetic -feelings of the heart. Such being the case, these minds, which we may -call by their prototypes, Marshalls and Wirts, will raise the -profession to the loftiest pinnacle of eminence, will stamp its -character for moral and intellectual power and usefulness. The same -remarks apply to the other professions, and the same train of cause -and effect will raise them to a similar eminence. - -But is the elevation of the professions the elevation of society? So -has thought the world, and generation after generation has passed -away, and others and others have followed, and still it is thus -thought. But it is time that this fatal delusion, which has hung like -an incubus over society, blasting its bloom and vigor, should be -dispelled--that all grades may rise to their rightful station. Never -was suggested to mortal mind a fairer scheme, or one of more moral -grandeur. The mechanic possessing the same mental gifts, enjoying the -same rights, holding the same momentous relations to society as the -professional man, should likewise have his heart and intellect fully -developed. It is not sufficient that he be a mere mechanic. A mere -mechanic is a child in the world of knowledge. It is not sufficient -that he be a good workman, though he be as skilful and precise in the -use of his instrument, as was the Moorish king Saladin, in Scott's -story of the Talisman. In mere workmanship there is no illumination of -intellect, no awakening of emotion, no refinement of passion. The -principles of science are closely interwoven in every piece of -mechanism. He should master well these principles, the effect of their -application, consider them as the solid basis of the comforts and -conveniences of life, and not the least among the means of human power -and enjoyment. He should love his trade because of the science -engrafted in it, because of its usefulness, because of its affording -him an enduring place in Fame's temple. For this purpose, he should go -back to the earliest, feeblest dawn of science, when first Israel's -shepherds gazed upon the star-gemmed firmament, and mark its gradual -but onward progress; how, at one period, it shone all luminous; how, -at another, it went down in universal midnight; how again it revived -under the touch of a few mighty geniuses, and rose {386} clustered -with new principles and discoveries, with the glory and splendor of -the sun itself. The productions of Newton and Franklin, and other -great lights both of the past and present, should be the aliment of -his mind; their thoughts, which when sought, come clear and -inspiriting from the living page, should be familiar to him as -household words; and how they studied and thought, he should learn to -study and think. And like them, whatever is important in the material -world, above or below, he should make the playthings of his inquiring -mind. And like them, he should not be ignorant of whatever is -excellent in religion, useful in philosophy, enrapturing in song, or -thrilling in eloquence. He will thus exhibit a mind not stinted in its -growth, not controlled by any one desire, but a mind, like Milton's -tree of paradise, weighed down with rich and delicious fruits--a mind, -elevated, useful and polished. He will thus exalt his trade, and add -to it new and brighter glories. But the elevation of professions and -mechanical trades is not sufficient to produce the general elevation -of society. They compose no more than half of the great mass of mind. -There are yet the _merchant_ and the _farmer_, who should be raised to -a like eminence. Commerce, viewed in reference to buying and selling, -retards the moral and intellectual improvement of mankind. Thus -viewed, and connected with avarice for money, it would create a nation -of pedlars. But, considered in its widest sense, as influencing the -business and interests of men, and thus acting on thought and feeling, -as entering into every social relation, as drawing on the resources of -the earth, the air, and the water, as connected with foreign climes, -and uniting nations by golden links of sympathy and interest, it is by -far the most comprehensive and important of all life's vocations. The -merchant then should possess a mind sure, deep and searching; nor -should he be a novice in knowledge of any kind. What is peculiar to -variety of soil and climate, what to the habits and feelings of -countries, what to their wants and desires, should be fully known to -him. What are the duties and obligations, arising from the many and -weighty relations which his calling creates, should likewise be fully -known to him. He should therefore be a historian, a philosopher, a -scholar, and a Christian. Commerce will then rise to the highest -degree of perfection and usefulness. - -And is the mind of the farmer, amid all this moral and intellectual -illumination, to remain uncultivated? Is he an isolated being, -unconnected by any relations with society? or has he no obligations to -perform in common with his fellow men? Has he not those varied mental -endowments, which are the glory of his species, which exalt, adorn, -bless, and refine? Or is he incapable of feeling the poetry of the -emotions, delight, beauty, and sublimity? or of that warmth and -exaltedness of sympathetic virtue, which stimulate and invigorate the -spirit of love and benevolence? Is there no knowledge or science in -agriculture? Agriculture is closely allied to commerce, and has a -bearing greater or less on every pursuit in life. It may be called an -unfailing source of national wealth and prosperity, supplying the -wants of man, and imparting new life, and stirring, ceaseless activity -to trade of every kind. Besides, its followers--uninfluenced by the -vanities and vices of the world, so effeminating, so debasing to the -mind--are the repositories of the integrity and patriotism of society. -Indeed, we may say that the farmer is the guardian of government, -rights and laws; the watchman, sleeping neither by day nor by night, -on the outposts of defence. We would then have his mind cultivated -both morally and intellectually, that he may know and observe the -duties imposed upon him by society--by Heaven. We would then have him -conversant with all that is noble or mighty, with all that is -inspiriting or strengthening in literature, science, and philosophy, -both in the ancient and modern world, for then agriculture shall -become a fountain of power and usefulness, and a "wall of fire" around -society. - -And what is the effect of this principle thus applied to the various -classes of society? Heretofore, and at present, to a certain extent, -as we have before remarked, learning has ever belonged to a few, -constituting a single class of society, and of course, the -repositories of all moral and intellectual power and wisdom. And -these, having the power in their own grasp, and standing on lofty -stations and surrounded by a false show of glory and goodness, the -result of admiring ignorance, mould and wield the destinies of -society. To them the mass of mind looks up, as to oracular deities, -with much the same faith and confidence as the ancient pagan, when -consulting the Pytho of the Delphian shrine. Thus, the elevation of -society has ever been characterized by the moral and intellectual -education of a single class; and as this class has been cultivated, -communities have risen or fallen. Thus, the history of society has -ever been, like the waves of a rolling sea, a series of fluctuations. -Now, this principle of universal mental cultivation, as above applied, -destroys this usurping, tyrannizing system. It takes from the few the -power of holding and disposing of the rights of the many, giving to -the many the same mental superiority and knowledge. It presents not an -isolated point, but raises all grades to the same glorious, elevated -level. - -The mind of society is composed, to a greater or less degree, by the -mingling of purity and pollution. As the pure rivers of intellect and -affection flow on, they are met by counter streams deeper and broader, -emanating from the sources of evil and ignorance. Thus, good is -counteracted, and its tendency destroyed by evil; thus, society is -full of bitter animosities and contentions, and kept in a deleterious, -feverish excitement, destructive of all noble effort. By the -introduction of this principle, peace, active and beauteous, will calm -the angry waters, and the countless currents of thought and feeling -which sweep society, will only tend to the magnifying of one grand -current flowing to universal good. Moreover, at the approach of this -light, struck out of the mind of the mass, ignorance, though sitting -upon her throne of centuries, shall find her throne to crumble from -under her, and her reign over mankind to depart forever. Superstition, -too, which has ever chained down the soaring spirit of mind, and -destroyed the harmony and independence of society, shall find her -power vanish--her altars prostrate--"her spell over the minds of men -broken, never to unite again." In their place, whatever is glorious, -noble, and sublime in mind, will reign supreme. And instead of any one -desire giving tone productive of sordid selfishness to the thought and -action of society; or instead of that levelling spirit, originating in -lawless passion, which tramples upon and bids defiance to all law and -good order--which marches {387} through society with the terror and -fatality of a thousand plagues--from a union of the virtues of the -heart and intellect, a spirit of high-mindedness will arise, full of -nobleness and power, to guarantee the force of law, to strengthen the -social ties, and, like the star of the east, which marked the coming -of the Saviour, ensure to the world universal happiness. - -Are the effects of this principle sufficient to create a motive -conducive to the universal cultivation of mind--or is something more -required? As an effect creative of a motive, we would merely refer to -the immortality of mental achievement. It is a fact, known to every -one of common observation, that a virtuous mind dies not with the -clayey tenement, but lives forever in its hallowed results. It is -founded in reason and philosophy. The mind of the past is not -different in its essential characteristics from the mind of the -present; and therefore, the thoughts and feelings of the past are in a -measure congenial with our thoughts and feelings; and from this -kindred sympathy, it is, that the intellect of the remotest antiquity -lives in the intellect of the most distant future. Are Homer, or -Cicero, or any of that galaxy of mind which casts so brilliant, so -undying a lustre over the ancient world, forgotten? Are Milton and -Shakspeare, or Newton and Franklin, or any of the illustrious moderns, -whatever their sphere of action, forgotten? The beautiful fanes and -consecrated groves, where genius was wont to shine in her full power -and brightness; the elegances of art, her towering domes and her -magnificent columns, once the centre of admiration; the luxuries and -splendors of opulence, once affording rich continued -gratification--where are they? They have passed away, like "shadows -over a rock," and are lost in the dust. But the mind which created -them, admired them, enjoyed them, lives, will live, shall live, -forever, forever. - -H. J. G. - -_Cincinnati_. - - - - -DYING MEDITATIONS - -OF A NEW YORK ALDERMAN. - - - Let me review the glories that are past, - And nobly dine, in fancy, to the last; - Since here an end of all my feasts I see, - And death will soon make turtle soup of me! - Full soon the tyrant's jaws will stop my jaw, - A _bonne bouche_ I, for his insatiate maw; - My tongue, whose taste in venison was supreme, - Whose bouncing blunders Gotham's daily theme, - In far less pleasant _fix_ will shortly be - Than when it smack'd the luscious callipee. - Oh would the gourmand his stern claim give o'er, - And bid me eat my way through life once more! - And might (my pray'rs were then not spent in vain,) - A hundred civic feasts roll round again, - As sound experience makes all men more wise, - How great th' improvement from my own would rise! - What matchless flavor I would give each dish, - Whether of venison, soup, or fowl, or fish! - In this more spice--in that more gen'rous wine, - Gods, what ecstatic pleasure would be mine! - But no--ungratified my palate burns, - Departed joy to me no more returns; - And vainly fancy strives my death to sweeten, - With dreams of dinners never to be eaten. - The dawning of my youth gave promise bright - Of vict'ry in the gastronomic fight: - "Turtle!" I cried, when at the nurse's breast, - My cries for turtle broke her midnight rest; - Such pleasure in the darling word I found, - That turtle! turtle! made the house resound. - When, after years of thankless toil and pains, - The pedant spic'd with A B C my brains, - My cranium teem'd, like Peter's heav'nly sheet, - With thoughts of fish and flesh and fowls to eat; - The turtle's natural hist'ry charm'd my sense-- - Adieu, forever, syntax, mood and tense! - And when in zoologic books I read, - That once a turtle liv'd without his head, - To emulate this feat I soon began, - And so became a Gotham Alderman. - A civic soldier, I no dangers fear'd, - Save indigestion or a greasy beard; - _Forced balls_ were shot, I fac'd with hearty thanks, - And in the _attack on Turkey_ led the ranks, - The fork my bayonet--the knife my sword, - And mastication victory secur'd. - Alas! that kill'd and eat'n foes should plague us, - And puke their way back through the œsophagus! - Ye murder'd tribes of earth and air and sea, - Dyspepsia hath reveng'd your deaths on me! - Ah! what is life? A glass of ginger beer, - Racy and sparkling, bubbling, foaming, clear; - But when its carbonated gas is gone, - What matter where the vapid lees are thrown? - In this eternal world to which I go, - I wonder whether people eat or no! - If so, I trust that I shall get a chair, - Since all my life I've striv'n but to prepare. - And holy writ--unless our preachers lie-- - Says, "Eat and drink, to-morrow we must die." - My faith was firm as ardent zeal could wish, - From Noah's ark full down to Jonah's fish. - Then may the pow'rs but give a starving sinner, - A _bid_ to that eternal turtle dinner! - -E. M. - - - - -IRENE. - - - I stand beneath the soaring moon - At midnight in the month of June. - An influence dewy, drowsy, dim, - Is dripping from yon golden rim. - Grey towers are mouldering into rest, - Wrapping the fog around their breast. - Looking like Lethe, see! the lake - A conscious slumber seems to take, - And would not for the world awake. - The rosemary sleeps upon the grave, - The lily lolls upon the wave, - And million cedars to and fro - Are rocking lullabies as they go - To the lone oak that nodding hangs - Above yon cataract of Serangs. - - All Beauty sleeps!--and lo! where lies - With casement open to the skies - Irene with her destinies! - And hark the sounds so low yet clear, - (Like music of another sphere) - Which steal within the slumberer's ear, {388} - Or so appear--or so appear! - "O lady sweet, how camest thou here? - "Strange are thine eyelids! strange thy dress! - "And strange thy glorious length of tress! - "Sure thou art come o'er far off seas - "A wonder to our desert trees! - "Some gentle wind hath thought it right - "To open thy window to the night, - "And wanton airs from the tree-top - "Laughingly through the lattice drop, - "And wave this crimson canopy, - "So fitfully, so fearfully, - "As a banner o'er thy dreaming eye - "That o'er the floor, and down the wall, - "Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall-- - "Then, for thine own all radiant sake, - "Lady, awake! awake! awake! - - The lady sleeps!--oh, may her sleep - As it is lasting, so be deep, - No icy worms about her creep! - I pray to God that she may lie - Forever with as calm an eye-- - That chamber changed for one more holy, - That bed for one more melancholy! - Far in the forest dim and old, - For her may some tall vault unfold, - Against whose sounding door she hath thrown - In childhood many an idle stone-- - Some tomb which oft hath flung its black - And vampire-wing-like pannels back, - Fluttering triumphant o'er the palls - Of her old family funerals. - -E. A. P. - - - - -VERBAL CRITICISMS. - - -_Guessing and Reckoning_. Right merry have the people of England made -themselves at the expense of us their younger brethren of this side of -the Atlantic, for the manner in which we are wont to use the verbs, to -guess and to reckon. But they have unjustly chided us therefor, since -it would not be difficult to find in many of the British Classics of -more than a century's standing, instances of the use of these words -precisely in the American manner. In the perusal of Locke's Essay on -Education a short time since, I noticed the word guess made use of -three times in _our_ way. In section 28 he says, "Once in four and -twenty hours is enough, and no body, _I guess_, will think it too -much;" again, in section 167, "But yet, _I guess_, this is not to be -done with children whilst very young, nor at their entrance upon any -sort of knowledge;" and again, in section 174, "And he whose design it -is to excel in English poetry, would not, _I guess_, think the way to -it was to make his first essay in Latin verses." - -Was John Locke a Yankee? Or have the people of the United States -preserved one of the meanings of the verb _to guess_ which has become -obsolete in England? - -In several passages of the English version of the New Testament the -word _reckon_ is used as the people in many parts of the United States -are in the habit of using it. In the Epistle to the Romans, chapter 8, -verse 18, is an instance, "For _I reckon_ that the sufferings of this -present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall -be revealed to us." - -"_Take and tell_." "If you do so I will _take and tell_ father," such -is the constant language of children. What will they take? Is the -expression a contraction of some obsolete phrase? Who can tell me if -it is to be met with in print? - -_Had have_. I have for some time noticed this corruption in -conversation. It has lately crept into print. Here are instances of -it, "Had I have gone, I should not have met her," "If I had have been -at the sale I would not have bought it at that price." I have a -suspicion that a rapid pronunciation of "would have," "should have," -and "could have," has given rise to this. "I'd have gone," "I'd have -come," and similar phrases have probably introduced it, the -contraction answering as well for _had_ as _would_, _could_, and -_should_. It is very awkward and incorrect. - -_Fully equal_. This is a tautologous expression in constant use. "This -work is _fully equal_ to its predecessor." The writer means to say -that the last work is equal to the first; but what is the use of the -_fully_, unless there can be an equality which is _not full_ and -perfect? - -_Eventuate_. The editor of Coleridge's Table Talk, very justly -denounces this Americanism. He says it is to be met with in Washington -Irving's Tour to the Prairies. If so, so much the worse for the book. -It is a barbarism, "I pray you avoid it." We do not need the word, so -that it cannot be sneaked in, under the plea of necessity. The English -verb, _to result_, means all, I presume, that the fathers of -_eventuate_ design that it shall mean. If we may coin _eventuate_ from -event, why not _processiate_ from process, _contemptiate_ from -contempt, _excessiate_ from excess, and a hundred more, all as useful -and elegant as _eventuate_? - -_Directly_. Many of the English writers of the present day, use this -word in a manner inelegant and unsanctioned, I am convinced, by any -standard author. They appear to think that it has the same meaning as -the phrase "as soon as." For instance: "The troops were dismissed -_directly_ the general had reviewed them." "The House of Lords -adjourned _directly_ this important bill had passed." I am happy to -find that the writers in this country have not fallen into it. - -_Mutual_. When persons speak of an individual's being _a mutual -friend_ of two others, who perhaps may not know each other, they -attach a meaning to the word mutual which does not belong to it. A and -B may be mutual friends, but how C can be the mutual friend of A and B -it is difficult to comprehend. Where is the mutuality in this case? We -should say, C is the _common_ friend of A and B. Several of the -associations for interment which have lately been instituted, have -seized upon the word _mutual_ and used it very absurdly. They style -themselves "Mutual Burial Societies." How can two individuals _bury -each other_? and yet this is implied by the term "_mutual_." - -Is not the familiar phrase, "now-a-days," a corruption of "in our -days?" - -"_If I am not mistaken_." This is evidently wrong. If what I say to -another is misunderstood, I am _mistaken_, but if I misunderstand what -is said to me, I am _mistaking_, and so we should speak and write. - -_Degrees of perfection_. "The army," says president Monroe, in one of -his messages, "has arrived at _a high degree of perfection_." There -can be no degrees of perfection. Any thing which is _perfect_ cannot -become _more_ {389} _perfect_, and any thing which falls short of -perfection is in _a degree of imperfection_. - -"_Is being built_." This form of expression has met with many and -zealous advocates. It is an error almost exclusively confined to -print. In conversation we would say, "the house is _getting_ built," -and no one would be in doubt as to our meaning. _Being built_ is the -past or perfect participle, which according to Lindley Murray, -signifies action perfected or finished. How then can prefixing the -word _is_ or _are_, words in the present tense, before it, convert -this meaning into another signifying the continuation of the building -at this moment? We say, "the house _being built_ the family moved in," -and imply absolute completion by the phrase _being built_, as people -are not in the habit of moving into unfinished houses. To say that the -house is being built, is no more than saying that the house is built, -and by this we understand that the building is completely finished, -not that the work is still going on. - -I do not know that any of Shakspeare's hundred and one commentators -has noticed the pun in Hamlet's address to his father's ghost, "Thou -comest to me in such a _questionable_ shape, that I will _speak_ to -thee." Perhaps the great bard meant to exhibit the coolness of his -hero by placing a jest in his mouth. Hamlet immediately after proceeds -to _question_ the spirit. - - - - -_Editorial_. - - - - -LYNCH'S LAW. - - -Frequent inquiry has been made within the last year as to the origin -of Lynch's law. This subject now possesses historical interest. It -will be perceived from the annexed paper, that the law, so called, -originated in 1780, in Pittsylvania, Virginia. Colonel William Lynch, -of that county, was its author; and we are informed by a resident, who -was a member of a body formed for the purpose of carrying it into -effect, that the efforts of the association were wholly successful. A -trained band of villains, whose operations extended from North to -South, whose well concerted schemes had bidden defiance to the -ordinary laws of the land, and whose success encouraged them to -persevere in depredations upon an unoffending community, was dispersed -and laid prostrate under the infliction of Lynch's law. Of how many -terrible, and deeply to be lamented consequences--of how great an -amount of permanent evil--has the partial and temporary good been -productive! - -"Whereas, many of the inhabitants of the county of Pittsylvania, as -well as elsewhere, have sustained great and intolerable losses by a -set of lawless men who have banded themselves together to deprive -honest men of their just rights and property, by stealing their -horses, counterfeiting, and passing paper currency, and committing -many other species of villainy, too tedious to mention, and that those -vile miscreants do still persist in their diabolical practices, and -have hitherto escaped the civil power with impunity, it being almost -useless and unnecessary to have recourse to our laws to suppress and -punish those freebooters, they having it in their power to extricate -themselves when brought to justice by suborning witnesses who do swear -them clear--we, the subscribers, being determined to put a stop to the -iniquitous practices of those unlawful and abandoned wretches, do -enter into the following association, to wit: that next to our -consciences, soul and body, we hold our rights and property, sacred -and inviolable. We solemnly protest before God and the world, that -(for the future) upon hearing or having sufficient reason to believe, -that any villainy or species of villainy having been committed within -our neighborhood, we will forthwith embody ourselves, and repair -immediately to the person or persons suspected, or those under -suspicious characters, harboring, aiding, or assisting those villains, -and if they will not desist from their evil practices, we will inflict -such corporeal punishment on him or them, as to us shall seem adequate -to the crime committed or the damage sustained; that we will protect -and defend each and every one of us, the subscribers, as well jointly -as severally, from the insults and assaults offered by any other -person in their behalf: and further, we do bind ourselves jointly and -severally, our joint and several heirs &c. to pay or cause to be paid, -all damages that shall or may accrue in consequence of this our -laudable undertaking, and will pay an equal proportion according to -our several abilities; and we, after having a sufficient number of -subscribers to this association, will convene ourselves to some -convenient place, and will make choice of our body five of the best -and most discreet men belonging to our body, to direct and govern the -whole, and we will strictly adhere to their determinations in all -cases whatsoever relative to the above undertaking; and if any of our -body summoned to attend the execution of this our plan, and fail so to -do without a reasonable excuse, they shall forfeit and pay the sum of -one hundred pounds current money of Virginia, to be appropriated -towards defraying the contingent expenses of this our undertaking. In -witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands, this 22d day September -1780." - - - - -CRITICAL NOTICES. - - -SPAIN REVISITED. - -_Spain Revisited. By the author of "A Year in Spain." New York: Harper -and Brothers._ - -Some three months since we had occasion to express our high admiration -of Lieutenant Slidell's _American in England_. The work now before us -presents to the eye of the critical reader many if not all of those -peculiarities which distinguished its predecessor. We find the same -force and freedom. We recognize the same artist-like way of depicting -persons, scenery, or manners, by a succession of minute and -well-managed details. We perceive also the same terseness and -originality of expression. Still we must be pardoned for saying that -many of the same _niaiseries_ are also apparent, and most especially -an abundance of very bad grammar and a superabundance of gross errors -in syntatical arrangement. - -With the _Dedicatory Letter_ prefixed to _Spain Revisited_, we have no -patience whatever. It does great credit to the kind and gentlemanly -feelings of Lieutenant Slidell, but it forms no inconsiderable -drawback upon {390} our previously entertained opinions of his good -taste. We can at no time, and under no circumstances, see either -meaning or delicacy in parading the sacred relations of personal -friendship before the unscrupulous eyes of the public. And even when -these things are well done and briefly done, we do believe them to be -in the estimation of all persons of nice feeling a nuisance and an -abomination. But it very rarely happens that the closest scrutiny can -discover in the least offensive of these dedications any thing better -than extravagance, affectation or incongruity. We are not sure that it -would be impossible, in the present instance, to designate gross -examples of all three. What connection has the name of Lieutenant -Upshur with the present Spanish Adventures of Lieutenant Slidell? -None. Then why insist upon a connection which the world cannot -perceive? The Dedicatory letter, in the present instance, is either a -_bona fide_ epistle actually addressed before publication to -Lieutenant Upshur, intended strictly as a memorial of friendship, and -published because no good reasons could be found for the -non-publication--or its plentiful professions are all hollowness and -falsity, and it was never meant to be any thing more than a very -customary public compliment. - -Our first supposition is negatived by the stiff and highly constrained -character of the _style_, totally distinct from the usual, and we will -suppose the less carefully arranged composition of the author. What -man in his senses ever wrote as follows, from the simple impulses of -gratitude or friendship? - - -In times past, a dedication, paid for by a great literary patron, -furnished the author at once with the means of parading his own -servility, and ascribing to his idol virtues which had no real -existence. Though this custom be condemned by the better taste of the -age in which we live, friendship may yet claim the privilege of -eulogizing virtues which really exist; if so, I might here draw the -portrait of a rare combination of them; I might describe a courage, a -benevolence, a love of justice coupled with an honest indignation at -whatever outrages it, a devotion to others and forgetfulness of self, -such as are not often found blended in one character, were I not -deterred by the consideration that when I should have completed my -task, the eulogy, which would seem feeble to those who knew the -original, might be condemned as extravagant by those who do not. - - -Can there be any thing more palpably artificial than all this? The -writer commences by informing his bosom friend that whereas in times -past men were given up to fulsome flattery in their dedications, not -scrupling to endow their patrons with virtues they never possessed, -he, the Lieutenant, intends to be especially delicate and original in -his own peculiar method of applying the panegyrical plaster, and to -confine himself to qualities which have a real existence. Now this is -the very sentiment, if sentiment it may be called, with which all the -toad-eaters since the flood have introduced their dedicatory letters. -What immediately follows is in the same vein, and is worthy of the -ingenious Don Puffando himself. All the good qualities in the world -are first enumerated--Lieutenant Upshur is then informed, by the most -approved rules of circumbendibus, that he possesses them, one and -each, in the highest degree, but that his friend the author of "_Spain -Revisited_" is too much of a man of tact to tell him any thing about -it. - -If on the other hand it is admitted that the whole epistle is a mere -matter of form, and intended simply as a public compliment to a -personal friend, we feel, at once, a degree of righteous indignation -at the profanation to so hollow a purpose, of the most sacred epithets -and phrases of friendship--a degree, too, of serious doubt whether the -gentleman panegyrized will receive as a compliment, or rather resent -as an insult, the being taxed to his teeth, and in the face of the -whole community, with nothing less than all the possible -accomplishments and graces, together with the entire stock of cardinal -and other virtues. - -_Spain Revisited_, although we cannot think it at all equal to the -_American in England_ for picturesque and vigorous description (which -we suppose to be the forte of Lieutenant Slidell) yet greatly -surpasses in this respect most of the books of modern travels with -which we now usually meet. A moderate interest is sustained -throughout--aided no doubt by our feelings of indignation at the -tyranny which would debar so accomplished a traveller as our -countryman from visiting at his leisure and in full security a region -so well worth visiting as Spain. It appears that Ferdinand on the 20th -August, 1832, taking it into his head that the Lieutenant's former -work "A Year in Spain" (esta indigesta produccion) esta llena de -falsedades y de groceras calumnias contra el Rey N. S. y su augusta -familia, thought proper to issue a royal order in which the book -called _un ano en Espana_ was doomed to seizure wherever it might be -found, and the clever author himself, under the appellation of the -Signor Ridell, to a dismissal from the nearest frontier in the event -of his anticipated return to the country. Notwithstanding this order, -the Lieutenant, as he himself informs us, did not hesitate to -undertake the journey, knowing that, subsequently to the edict in -question, the whole machinery of the government had undergone a -change, having passed into liberal hands. But although the danger of -actual arrest on the above-mentioned grounds was thus rendered -comparatively trivial, there were many other serious difficulties to -be apprehended. In the Basque Provinces and in Navarre the civil war -was at its height. The diligences, as a necessary consequence, had -ceased to run; and the insurgents rendered the means of progressing -through the country exceedingly precarious, by their endeavors to cut -off all communications through which the government could be informed -of their manœuvres. The post-horses had been seized by the Carlist -cavalry to supply their deficiencies, "and only a few mules remained -at some of the post-houses between Bayonne and Vitoria." - -The following sketch of an ass-market at Tordesillas seems to embody -in a small compass specimens of nearly all the excellences as well as -nearly all the faults of the author. - - -By far the most curious part of the fair, however, was the ass-market, -held by a gay fraternity of gipsies. There were about a dozen of -these, for the most part of middle stature, beautifully formed, with -very regular features of an Asiatic cast, and having a copper tinge; -their hands were very small, as of a race long unaccustomed to severe -toil, with quantities of silver rings strung on the fingers. They had -very white and regular teeth, and their black eyes were uncommonly -large, round-orbed, projecting, and expressive; habitually languid and -melancholy in moments of listlessness, they kindled into wonderful -brightness when engaged in commending their asses, or in bartering -with a purchaser. Their jet-black hair hung in long curls down their -back, and they were nearly all dressed in velvet, as Andalusian majos, -with quantities of buttons made from pesetas and half {391} pesetas -covering their jackets and breeches, as many as three or four hanging -frequently from the same eyelet-hole. Some of them wore the Andalusian -leggjn and shoe of brown leather, others the footless stocking and -sandal of Valencia; in general their dress, which had nothing in -common with the country they were then in, seemed calculated to unite -ease of movement and freedom from embarrassment to jauntiness of -effect. All of them had a profusion of trinkets and amulets, intended -to testily their devotion to that religion which, according to the -popular belief, they were suspected of doubting, and one of them -displayed his excessive zeal in wearing conspicuously from his neck a -silver case, twice the size of a dollar, containing a picture of the -Virgin Mary holding the infant Saviour in her arms. - -Four or five females accompanied this party, and came and went from -the square and back, with baskets and other trifles, as if engaged at -their separate branch of trade. They had beautiful oval faces, with -fine eyes and teeth, and rich olive complexions. Their costume was -different from any other I had seen in Spain, its greatest peculiarity -consisting in a coarse outer petticoat, which was drawn over the head -at pleasure instead of the mantilla, and which reminded me of the -manta of Peru, concealing, as it did, the whole of the face, except -only a single eye. - -I asked a dozen people where these strange beings were from, not -liking to speer the question at themselves; but not one could tell me, -and all seemed to treat the question as no less difficult of solution -than one which might concern the origin of the wind. One person, -indeed, barely hinted the possibility of their being from Zamora, -where one of the faubourgs has a colony of these vermin, for so they -are esteemed. He added, moreover, that a late law required that every -gipsy in Spain should have a fixed domicil, but that they still -managed, in the face of it, to gratify their hereditary taste for an -unsettled and wandering life. He spoke of them as a pack of gay rogues -and petty robbers, yet did not seem to hold them in any particular -horror. The asses which they were selling they had probably collected -in the pueblos with a view to this fair, trading from place to place -as they journeyed, and not a few they had perhaps kidnapped and coaxed -away, taking care, by shaving and other embellishments, to modify and -render them unknown. - -I was greatly amused in observing the ingenious mode in which they -kept their beasts together in the midst of such a crowd and so much -confusion, or separated them for the purpose of making a sale. They -were strung at the side of the parapet wall, overlooking the river, -with their heads towards it and pressing against it, as if anxious to -push it over, but in reality out of sedulousness to avoid the frequent -showers of blows which were distributed from time to time, without -motive or warning, on their unoffending hinder parts, and withdraw -them as far as possible from the direction whence they were inflicted. -As they were very much crowded together, there was quite scuffling -work for an ass to get in when brought back from an unsuccessful -effort to trade, or when newly bought, for these fellows, in the true -spirit of barter, were equally ready to buy or sell. The gipsy's -staff, distributing blows on the rumps of two adjoining beasts, would -throw open a slight aperture, into which the nose of the intruding ass -would be made to enter, when a plentiful encouragement of blows would -force him in, like a wedge into a riven tree. The mode of extracting -an ass was equally ingenious, and, if any thing, more singular; -continually pressing their heads against the wall with all their -energy, it would have required immense strength, with the chance of -pulling off the tail if it were not a strong one, to drag them -forcibly out; a gipsy, taking the tail of the required animal in one -hand, would stretch his staff forward so as to tap him on the nose, -and, thus encouraged, gently draw him out. - -The ingenuity of these gipsies in getting up a bargain, trusting to be -able to turn it to their own account, was marvellous. Mingling among -the farmers, and engaging them in conversation on indifferent -subjects, they would at length bring them back to the favorite theme -of asses, and eventually persuade them to take a look at theirs. "Here -is one," measuring the height of an individual with his staff, "which -will just suit you;--what will you give for him? Come, you shall have -him for half his worth, for one hundred reals--only five dollars for -an ass like this," looking at him with the admiration of a connoisseur -in the presence of the Apollo; "truly, an animal of much merit and the -greatest promise--_de mucho merito y encarecimiento_--he has the -shoulders and breast of an ox; let me show you the richness of his -paces," said the gipsy, his whole figure and attitude partaking of his -earnestness, and his eye dilating and glowing with excitement. He had -brought the unwary and bewildered countryman, like a charmed bird, to -the same point as the eloquent shopkeeper does his doubting customer -when he craves permission to take down his wares, and does not wait to -be denied. Vaulting to the back of the animal, he flourished his staff -about its head, and rode it up and down furiously, to the terror of -the by-standers' toes, pricking it on the spine with his iron-pointed -staff to make it frisky, and pronouncing the while, in the midst of -frantic gesticulations an eloquent eulogium on its performances and -character, giving it credit, among other things, for sobriety, -moderation, long suffering, and the most un-asslike qualification of -chastity. To add to the picturesque oddity of the scene, an old monk -stood hard by, an interested spectator of some chaffering between a -young woman and a seller of charms and trinkets stationed beneath an -awning, and no accessory was wanting to render the quaint little -picture complete. - - -In our notice of the _American in England_, we found much fault with -the _style_--that is to say, with the mere English of Lieutenant -Slidell. We are not sure whether the volumes now before us were -written previously or subsequently to that very excellent work--but -certain it is that they are much less abundant than it, in simple -errors of grammar and ambiguities of construction. We must be -pardoned, however, for thinking that even now the English of our -traveller is more obviously defective than is becoming in any well -educated American--more especially in any well educated American who -is an aspirant for the honors of authorship. To quote individual -sentences in support of an assertion of this nature, might bear with -it an air of injustice--since there are few of the best writers of any -language in whose works single faulty passages may not readily be -discovered. We will therefore take the liberty of commenting in detail -upon the English of an entire page of _Spain Revisited_.--See page -188, vol. i. - - -Carts and wagons, caravans of mules, and files of humbler asses came -pouring, by various roads, into the great vomitory by which we were -entering, laden with the various commodities, the luxuries as well as -the necessaries of life, brought from foreign countries or from remote -provinces, to sustain the unnatural existence of a capital which is so -remote from all its resources, and which produces scarce any thing -that it consumes. - - -This sentence, although it would not be too long, if properly managed, -is too long as it stands. The ear repeatedly seeks, and expects the -conclusion, and is repeatedly disappointed. It expects the close at -the word "_entering_"--at the word "_life_"--at the word -"_provinces_"--and at the word "_resources_." Each additional portion -of the sentence after each of the words just designated by inverted -commas, has the air of an after-thought engrafted upon the original -idea. The use of the word "_vomitory_" in the present instance is -injudicious. Strictly speaking, a road which serves as a vomitory, or -means of egress, for a population, serves also as a means of ingress. -A good writer, however, will consider not only whether, in all -strictness, his words will admit of the meaning he attaches to them, -but whether in their implied, their original, or other collateral -meanings, they may not be at variance with some portion of his -sentence. When we hear of "a _vomitory_ by which we were _entering_," -not all the rigor of the most exact construction will reconcile us to -the phrase--since we are accustomed to connect with the word -_vomitory_, notions precisely the reverse of those allied to the -subsequent word "_entering_." Between the participle "_laden_" and the -nouns to which it refers (carts, {392} wagons, caravans and asses) two -other nouns and one pronoun are suffered to intervene--a grammatical -arrangement which when admitted in any degree, never fails to -introduce more or less obscurity in every sentence where it is so -admitted. Strict syntatical order would require (the pronoun "we" -being followed immediately by "laden") that--not the asses--but -Lieutenant Slidell and his companions should be laden with the various -commodities. - - -And now, too, we began to see horsemen jantily dressed in slouched -hat, embroidered jacket, and worked spatterdashes, reining fiery -Andalusian coursers, each having the Moorish carbine hung at hand -beside him. - - -Were horsemen, in this instance, a _generic_ term--that is, did the -word allude to horsemen generally, the use of the "_slouched hat_" and -"_embroidered jacket_" in the singular, would be justifiable--but it -is not so in speaking of individual horsemen, where the plural is -required. The participle "_reining_" properly refers to -"_spatterdashes_," although of course intended to agree with -"_horsemen_." The word "_each_," also meant to refer to the -"_horsemen_," belongs, strictly speaking, to the "_coursers_." The -whole, if construed by the rigid rules of grammar, would imply that -the horsemen were dressed in spatterdashes--which spatterdashes reined -the coursers--and which coursers had each a carbine. - - -Perhaps these were farmers of the better order; but they had not the -air of men accustomed to labor; they were rather, perhaps, Andalusian -horse-dealers, or, maybe, robbers, of those who so greatly abound -about the capital, who for the moment, had laid aside their -professional character. - - -This is an exceedingly awkward sentence. The word "_maybe_" is, we -think, objectionable. The repetition of the relative "_who_" in the -phrases "_who so greatly abound_" and "_who for the moment had laid -aside_," is the less to be justified, as each "_who_" has a different -antecedent--the one referring to "_those_" (the robbers, generally, -who abound about the capital) and the other to the suspected -"_robbers_" then present. But the whole is exceeding ambiguous, and -leaves a doubt of the author's true meaning. For, the words -"_Andalusian horse-dealers, or, maybe, robbers of those who abound -about the capital_," may either imply that the men in question were -some of a class of robbers who abounded, &c. or that they were men who -robbed (that is, robbers of) the Andalusian horse-dealers who -abounded, &c. or that they were either Andalusian horse-dealers, or -robbers of those who abound about the capital--i.e. of the inhabitants -of the suburbs. Whether the last "_who_" has reference to _the -robbers_, or to _those who abound_, it is impossible to learn from any -thing in the sentence itself--which, taken altogether, is unworthy of -the merest tyro in the rules of composition. - - -At the inn of the Holy Ghost, was drawn up a highly gilded carriage, -hung very low, and drawn by five gaily decorated mules, while two -Andalusians sat on the large wooden platform, planted, without the -intervention of springs, upon the fore-wheels, which served for a -coach-box. - - -This sentence is intelligible enough, but still badly constructed. -There is by far too great an interval between the antecedent -"_platform_" and its relative "_which_," and upon a cursory perusal -any reader would be led to suppose (what indeed the whole actually -implies) that the coach-box in question consisted not of the platform, -but actually of the fore-wheels of the carriage. Altogether, it may -safely be asserted, that an entire page containing as many grammatical -errors and inaccuracies of arrangement as the one we have just -examined, will with difficulty be discovered in any English or -American writer of even moderate reputation. These things, however, -can hardly be considered as more than inadvertences, and will be -avoided by Lieutenant Slidell as soon as he shall feel convinced -(through his own experience or through the suggestions of his friends) -how absolutely necessary to final success in any undertaking is a -scrupulous attention to even the merest _minutiæ_ of the task. - - -ANTHON'S SALLUST. - -_Sallust's Jugurthine War, and Conspiracy of Catiline, with an English -Commentary, and Historical Indexes. By Charles Anthon, L.L.D. -Jay-Professor of Ancient Literature in Columbia College, and Rector of -the Grammar School. Sixth edition, corrected and enlarged. New York: -Harper and Brothers._ - -In respect to external appearance this is an exceedingly beautiful -book, whether we look to the quality of its paper, the clearness, -uniform color, and great accuracy of its typography,[1] or the -neatness and durability of its covering. In this latter point -especially the Harpers and other publishers would do well, we think, -to follow up the style of the present edition of Sallust--dropping at -once and forever that flimsy and unsatisfactory method of binding so -universally prevalent just now, and whose sole recommendation is its -cheapness--if indeed it be cheaper at all. These are things of which -we seldom speak--but venture to mention them in the present instance -with a view of seizing a good opportunity. No man of taste--certainly -no lover of books and owner of a library--would hesitate at paying -twice as much for a book worth preservation, and which there is some -possibility of preserving, as for one of these fragile ephemera which -it is now the fashion to do up in muslin. We think in short the -interest of publishers as well as the taste of the public would be -consulted to some purpose in paying more attention to the mechanics of -book making. - -[Footnote 1: In the course of a very attentive perusal we have -observed only one typographical error. On page 130, near the top, we -see _Fatigatus a fatre_ in place of _fratre_.] - -That Mr. Anthon has done more for our classical literature than any -man in the country will hardly be denied. His Lempriere, to speak of -nothing else, is a monument of talent, erudition, indefatigable -research, and well organized method, of which we have the greatest -reason to be proud, but which is perhaps more fully and more properly -appreciated in any other climate than our own. Of a former edition of -his Sallust, two separate reprints, by different editors, total -strangers to the author, have appeared in England, without any effort -on his part, as we are very willing to believe, for procuring a -republication of his labors. The correct and truly beautiful edition -now before us, leaves nothing to be desired. The most striking -emendation is the placing the narrative of the Jugurthine war before -the conspiracy of Catiline. This arrangement, however, as Mr. Anthon -we believe admits, has the merit of novelty in America alone. At least -we understand him to make this admission in saying that the order he -has {393} observed is no novelty on the continent of Europe, as may be -discovered from the works of the President De Brosses, the Abbé -Cassagne, and M. Du Rozoir. At all events we have repeatedly seen in -England editions of Sallust, (and we suppose them to have been English -editions,) in which the Jugurthine war preceded the Conspiracy. Of the -propriety of this order there can be no doubt whatever, and it is -quite certain to meet with the approbation of all who give themselves -even a moment's reflection on the subject. There is an obvious -anachronism in the usual arrangement--for the rebellion of Catiline -was nearly fifty years subsequent to the war with Jugurtha. "The -impression produced, therefore, on the mind of the student," (we here -use the words of our author,) "must necessarily be a confused one when -he is required to read the two works in an inverted order. In the -account of Catiline's conspiracy, for example, he will find frequent -allusions to the calamitous consequences of Sylla's strife with -Marius; and will see many of the profligate partizans of the former -rallying around the standard of Catiline; while in the history of the -Jugurthine war, if he be made to peruse it after the other, in the -ordinary routine of school reading, he will be introduced to the same -Sylla just entering on a public career, and standing high in the favor -and confidence of Marius. How too will he be able to appreciate, in -their full force, the remarks of Sallust relative to the successive -changes in the Roman form of government, and the alternate ascendency -of the aristocratic and popular parties, if he be called upon to -direct his attention to results before he is made acquainted with the -causes that produced them?" - -The only reason assigned for the usual arrangement is founded upon the -order of composition--Sallust having written the narrative of the -Conspiracy before the account of the Jugurthine war. All the MS.S. -too, have followed this order. Mr. Anthon, however, justly remarks -that such an argument should weigh but little when positive utility is -placed in the opposite scale. - -An enlarged commentary on the Jugurthine War, is another improvement -in the present edition. There can be no doubt that the notes usually -appended to this portion of Sallust were insufficient for the younger, -if not for all classes of pupils, and when this deficiency is -remedied, as in the present instance, by the labors of a man not only -of sound scholarship, but of great critical and general acumen, we -know how to value the services thus rendered to the student and to the -classical public at large. We subjoin one or two specimens of the -additional notes. - - -Page 122. "_Ingenii egregia facinora_." "_The splendid exertions of -intellect._" _Facinus_ denotes a bold or daring action, and unless it -be joined with a favorable epithet, or the action be previously -described as commendable, the term is always to be understood in a -vituperative sense. In the present passage, the epithet _egregius_ -marks the character of the action as praiseworthy. - -Page 122. "_Quippe probitatem, &c._" "Since it (i.e. fortune) can -neither give, nor take away integrity, activity, nor other -praiseworthy qualities." _Industria_ here means an active exercise of -our abilities. - - -We might add (with deference) to this note of Professor Anthon's, that -_industria_, generally, has a more variable meaning than is usually -given it, and that the word, in a great multiplicity of instances, -where ambiguities in translation have arisen, has allusion to mental -rather than to physical exertion. We have frequently, moreover, -remarked its connection with that idea which the moderns attach to the -term _genius_. _Incredibili industriâ_, _industriâ singulari_, are -phrases almost invariably used in the sense we speak of, and refer to -great mental power. Apropos, to this subject--it is remarkable that -both Buffon and Hogarth directly assert that "genius is nothing but -labor and diligence." - - -Page 133. "_Vos in mea injuria_," _&c._ "_You are treated with -contempt in the injustice which is done me._" _Despicere_ always -implies that the person despising thinks meanly of the person -despised, as compared with himself. _Contemnere_ denotes the absolute -vileness of an object. - - -We may here observe that we have no English equivalent to _despicere_. - - -Page 135. "_Quod utinam_," _&c._ "_But would that I may see._" The use -of _quod_ before many conjunctions, &c. merely as a copulative, -appears to have arisen from the fondness of the Latin writers for the -connexion by means of relatives. - -Page 135. "_Emori_." "_A speedy death_." The infinitive here supplies -the place of a noun, or more correctly speaking, is employed in its -true character. For this mood, partaking of the nature of a noun, has -been called by grammarians "the verb's noun" (_ονομα ρηματος_.) The -reason of this appellation is more apparent, however, in Greek, from -its taking the prepositive article before it in all cases; as _το -γραφειν_, _τον γραφειν_, _τω γραφειν_. The same construction is not -unknown in English. Thus Spencer-- - - For not to have been dipped in Lethe lake, - Could save the son of Thetis from to die. - - -Besides the new arrangement of matter, and the additional notes on the -Jugurthine war, the principal changes in the present edition are to be -found in two convenient Indexes--the one Geographical, the other -Historical. We are told by Mr. Anthon that his object in preparing -them was to relieve the Annotations from what might have proved too -heavy a pressure of materials, and have deterred from, rather than -have invited, a perusal. The geographical and historical matter is now -made to stand by itself. - -The account of Sallust himself, and especially the critical -examination of his writings, which appeared in the ordinary way in -previous editions, is now resolved into the form of a dialogue, and -has gained by the change much force and vivacity, without being at all -deteriorated in other respects. Upon the whole, any farther real -improvement in the manner of editing, printing, or publishing a -Sallust would seem to be an impossibility. - - -PARIS AND THE PARISIANS. - -_Paris and the Parisians in 1835. By Frances Trollope, Author of -"Domestic Manners of the Americans," "The Refugee in America," &c. New -York: Published by Harper and Brothers._ - -We have no patience with that atra-bilious set of hyper-patriots, who -find fault with Mrs. Trollope's book of _flumflummery_ about the good -people of the Union. We can neither tolerate nor comprehend them. The -work appeared to us (we speak in all candor, and in sober earnest) an -unusually well-written performance, in which, upon a basis of -downright and positive truth, was erected, after the fashion of a -porcelain pagoda, a very brilliant, although a very brittle fabric of -mingled banter, philosophy, and spleen. Her mere political {394} -opinions are, we suppose, of very little consequence to any person -other than Mrs. Trollope; and being especially sure that they are of -no consequence to ourselves we shall have nothing farther to do with -them. We do not hesitate to say, however, that she ridiculed our -innumerable moral, physical, and social absurdities with equal -impartiality, true humor and discrimination, and that the old joke -about her _Domestic Manners of the Americans_ being nothing more than -the _Manners of the American Domestics_, is like most other very good -jokes, excessively untrue. - -That our national soreness of feeling prevented us, in the case of her -work on America, from appreciating the real merits of the book, will -be rendered evident by the high praise we find no difficulty in -bestowing upon her _Paris and the Parisians_--a production, in -whatever light we regard it, precisely similar to the one with which -we were so irreparably offended. It has every characteristic of the -_Domestic Manners of the Americans_--from the spirit of which work, if -it differs at all, the difference lies in the inferior quantity of the -fine wit she has thought proper to throw away upon our Parisian -friends. - -The volume now issued by the Harpers, is a large octavo of 410 pages, -and is embellished with eleven most admirable copperplate engravings, -exclusive of the frontispiece. These designs are drawn by A. Hervieu, -and engraved by S. H. Gimber. We will give a brief account of them -all, as the most effectual method of imparting to our readers (those -who have not seen the work and for whom this notice is especially -intended) a just conception of the work itself. - -Plate 1 is the "_Louvre_." A picture gallery is seen crowded with a -motley assemblage of all classes, in every description of French -costume. The occasion is an exhibition of living artists, as the world -chooses to call the exhibition of their works. Poussin, (consequently) -Raphael, Titian, Correggio and Rubens, are hidden beneath the efforts -of more modern pencils. In the habiliments of the company who lounge -through the gallery, the result of newly acquired rights is -ludicrously visible. One of the most remarkable of these, says our -authoress, is the privilege enjoyed by the rabble of presenting -themselves dirty instead of clean before the eyes of the magnates. -Accordingly, the plate shows, among a variety of pretty _toques_, -_cauchoises_, _chaussures_, and other more imperial equipments, a -sprinkling of round-eared caps, awkward _casquettes_, filthy -_blouses_, and dingy and ragged jackets. - -Plate 2 is "_Morning at the Tuileries_." It represents that portion of -the garden of "trim alleys" which lies in front of the group of Petus -and Aria. In the distance are seen various figures. In the foreground -we descry three singular-looking personages, who may be best described -in the words of Mrs. Trollope herself. - - -It was the hour when all the newspapers are in the greatest -requisition; and we had the satisfaction of watching the studies of -three individuals, each of whom might have sat as a model for an -artist who wished to give an idea of their several peculiarities. We -saw, in short, beyond the possibility of doubt, a royalist, a -doctrinaire, and a republican, during the half hour we remained there, -all soothing their feelings by indulging in two sous' worth of -politics, each in his own line. - -A stiff but gentlemanlike old man first came, and having taken a -journal from the little octagon stand--which journal we felt quite -sure, was either 'La France' or 'La Quotidienne'--he established -himself at no great distance from us. Why it was that we all felt so -certain of his being a legitimatist I can hardly tell you, but not one -of the party had the least doubt about it. There was a quiet, -half-proud, half-melancholy air of keeping himself apart; an -aristocratical cast of features; a pale, care-worn complexion; and a -style of dress which no vulgar man ever wore, but which no rich one -would be likely to wear to-day. This is all I can record of him: but -there was something pervading his whole person too essentially loyal -to be misunderstood, yet too delicate in its tone to be coarsely -painted. Such as it was, however, we felt it quite enough to make the -matter sure; and if I could find out that old gentleman to be either -doctrinaire or republican, I never would look on a human countenance -again, in order to discover what was passing within. - -The next who approached us we were equally sure was a republican: but -here the discovery did little honor to our discernment; for these -gentry choose to leave no doubt upon the subject of their _clique_, -but contrive that every article contributing to the appearance of the -outward man shall become a symbol and a sign, a token and a stigma of -the madness that possesses them. He too held a paper in his hand, and -without venturing to approach too nearly to so alarming a personage, -we scrupled not to assure each other, that the journal he was so -assiduously perusing was 'Le Réformateur.' - -Just as we had decided what manner of man it was who was stalking so -majestically past us, a comfortable looking citizen approached in the -uniform of the National Guard, who sat himself down to his daily -allowance of politics with the air of a person expecting to be well -pleased with what he finds, but, nevertheless, too well contented with -himself and all things about him to care overmuch about it. Every line -of this man's jocund face, every curve of his portly figure, spoke -contentment and well being. He was probably one of that very new race -in France, a tradesman making a rapid fortune. Was it possible to -doubt that the paper in his hand was 'Le Journal des Debats?' Was it -possible to believe that this man was other than a prosperous -doctrinaire? - - -Plate 3 is "_Pro patria_"--and represents two uniformed soldiers in a -guard-room of the National Guard. - -Plate 4 is entitled "'_Ce soir, à la Porte St. Martin_'--'_J'y -serâi_,'" and is full of humor. Two conspirator-like republicans stand -in the gardens of the Luxembourg, with short staffs, conical hats, -dark bushy eyebrows, fierce mustaches, and countenances full of fate. -The hand of the one is clasped in the hand of the other with a -vice-like impressiveness and energy, while the taller, looking -furtively around him, lays his hand upon the shoulder of his -associate, and is whispering some most momentous intelligence in his -ear. This plate is explained thus in the words of Mrs. T. - - -It seems, that ever since the trials began, the chief duty of the -gendarmes (I beg pardon, I should say of La Garde de Paris) has been -to prevent any assembling together of the people in knots for -conversation and gossippings in the courts and gardens of the -Luxembourg. No sooner are two or three persons observed standing -together, than a policeman approaches, and with a tone of command -pronounces "Circulez Messieurs!--circulez s'il vous plaît." The reason -for this precaution is, that nightly at the Porte St. Martin a few -score of _jeunes gens_ assemble to make a very idle and unmeaning -noise, the echo of which regularly runs from street to street, till -the reiterated report amounts to the announcement of an _émeute_. We -are all now so used to these harmless little _émeutes_ at the Porte -St. Martin, that we mind them no more than General Lobau himself: -nevertheless it is deemed proper, trumpery {395} as the cause may be, -to prevent any thing like a gathering together of the mob in the -vicinity of the Luxembourg, lest the same hundred-tongued lady, who -constantly magnifies the hootings of a few idle mechanics into an -_émeute_, should spread a report throughout France that the Luxembourg -was beseiged by the people. The noise which had disturbed us was -occasioned by the gathering together of about a dozen persons; but a -policeman was in the midst of the group, and we heard rumors of an -_arrestation_. In less than five minutes, however, every thing was -quiet again: but we marked two figures so picturesque in their -republicanism, that we resumed our seats while a sketch was made from -them, and amused ourselves the while in fancying what the ominous -words could be that were so cautiously exchanged between them. M. de -L---- said there could be no doubt they ran thus: - - 'Ce soir à la Porte St. Martin!' - _Answer_--'J'y serai!' - - -Plate 5 is the "_Tuileries Gardens on Sunday_," in which the prominent -and characteristic group is a "_chère maman_" in half toilet, and -seated beneath a tree reading, or attempting to read, while her -children, attended by their _bonne_, are frolicking about her knees. - -Plate 6 is "_Porte St. Martin_," and commemorative of one of the -thousand and one little _émeutes_ which have now become too much a -matter of course at Paris to excite very serious attention, and which -are frequently (so we are assured by Mrs. Trollope) quieted by no more -effective artillery than that of a slight shower of rain. The -prominent figures in the plate, are two gentlemen of the National -Guard, who are vehemently struggling to secure a desperate and -mustached republican, equipped _cap à pie_ à la Robespierre, and whose -countenance is indicative of deadly resolve, while a little urchin in -a striped jacket, not having before his eyes the horrors of an -_arrestation_, and being probably body squire to the republican, -shoulders manfully a banner somewhat larger than himself, and, -standing upon tiptoe, amuses himself with bellowing _Vive la -République!_ - -Plate 7 is a "_Soiree_," in which the peculiarities of Parisian -sociability are humorously sketched. All the countenances are -especially French. The prominent group is that of two little -awkward-looking specimens of imperial noblesse who are making love -upon a _chaise-longue_. The opinions of Mrs. Trollope are quite -orthodox in the matter of hereditary grace. Some of her good things -upon this topic we must be allowed to quote, for the sake of their -point, without being responsible for their philosophy. - - -I have heard that it requires three generations to make a gentleman. -Those created by Napoleon have not yet fairly reached a second; and -with all respect for talent, industry, and valor, be it spoken, the -necessity of the slow process very frequently forces itself upon one's -conviction at Paris. - -It is probable that the great refinement of the post-imperial -aristocracy of France may be one reason why the deficiences of those -now often found mixed up with them is so remarkable. It would be -difficult to imagine a contrast in manner more striking than that of a -lady who would be a fair specimen of the old Bourbon _noblesse_, and a -bouncing _marechale_ of imperial creation. It seems as if every -particle of the whole material of which each is formed, gave evidence -of the different birth of the spirit that dwells within. The sound of -the voice is a contrast; the glance of the eye is a contrast; the step -is a contrast. Were every feature of a _dame de l'Empire_ and a _femme -noble_ formed precisely in the same mould, I am quite sure that the -two would look no more alike than Queen Constance and Nell Gwyn. - -Nor is there at all less difference in the two races of gentlemen. I -speak not of the men of science or of art; their rank is of another -kind: but there are still left here and there specimens of decorated -greatness, which look as if they must have been dragged out of the -guard-room by main force; huge mustached militaries, who look, at -every slight rebuff, as if they were ready to exclaim, 'Sacré nom de -D----! Je suis un héros, moi! vive l'Empereur!' - -And again. My parvenue duchess _is_ very remarkable indeed. She steps -out like a corporal carrying a message. Her voice is the first, the -last, and almost the only thing heard in the salon that she honors -with her presence--except it chance indeed, that she lower her tone -occasionally to favor with a whisper some gallant _décoré_ military, -scientific, or artistic, of the same standing as herself; and, -moreover, she promenades her eyes over the company as if she had a -right to bring them all to roll-call. - -Notwithstanding all this, the lady is certainly a person of talent; -and had she happily remained in the station in which both herself and -her husband were born, she might not, perhaps, have thought it -necessary to speak quite so loud, and her _bons mots_ would have -produced infinitely greater effect. But she is so thoroughly out of -place in the grade to which she has been unkindly elevated, that it -seems as if Napoleon had decided on her fate in a humor as spiteful as -that of Monsieur Jourdain, when he said--'Your daughter shall be a -Marchioness in spite of all the world; and if you provoke me I'll make -her a Duchess.' - - -Plate 8 is "_Le roi citoyen_." He is represented as a well-looking, -portly, middle-aged man, of somewhat dignified appearance. His dress -differs from that of any common citizen only by a small tri-colored -cockade in the hat, and he walks quite at his leisure with one hand -clenching a rough-looking stick, and the other thrust in his -breeches-pocket. A republican, habited in full Robespierrian costume, -is advancing towards him with a very deliberate air, and eyeing him -nonchalantly through a _lorgnon_. - -Plate 9 is entitled "_Prêtres de la Jeune France_." The flowing curls, -the simple round hat, the pantaloons, &c. give them the appearance of -a race of men as unlike as possible to their stiff and primitive -predecessors. They look flourishing, and well pleased with themselves -and the world about them: but little of mortification or abstinence -can be traced on their countenances; and if they do fast for some -portion of every week, they may certainly say with Father Philip, that -'what they take prospers with them marvellously.' - -Plate 10 is the "_Boulevard des Italiens_," with a view of -_Tortoni's_. The main group is "a very pretty woman and a very pretty -man," who are seated on two chairs close together and flirting much to -their own satisfaction, as well as to the utter amazement and -admiration of a young urchin of a Savoyard, or professor of the _gaie -science_, who, forgetting the use of his mandoline, gazes with open -mouth and eyes at the enamored pair. To the right is seen an exquisite -of the first water promenading with an air of ineffable grace, and -deliberately occupied in combing his luxuriant tresses. - -Plate 11 is called "_V'la les restes de notre revolution de Juillet!_" -and like all the other engravings in the volume is admirable in its -design, and especially in its expression. In the back ground are seen -the monuments erected at the _Marché des Innocens_ over some -revolutionary heroes, who fell here and were buried near the {396} -fountain, on the 29th July 1830. A mechanic leans against a rail and -is haranguing with great energy a young girl and a little boy, who -listen to him with profound attention. His theme is evidently the -treatment of the prisoners at the Luxembourg. We cannot too highly -praise the exquisite piquancy of the whole of these designs. - -In conclusion, we recommend _Paris and the Parisians_ to all lovers of -fine writing, and vivacious humor. It is impossible not to be highly -amused with the book--and there is by no means any necessity for -giving a second thought to the _political_ philosophies of Madame -Trollope. - - -PAULDING'S WASHINGTON. - -_A Life of Washington. By James K. Paulding. New York: Harper and -Brothers._ - -We have read Mr. Paulding's Life of Washington with a degree of -interest seldom excited in us by the perusal of any book whatever. We -are convinced by a deliberate examination of the design, manner, and -rich material of the work, that, as it grows in age, it will grow in -the estimation of our countrymen, and, finally, will not fail to take -a deeper hold upon the public mind, and upon the public affections, -than any work upon the same subject, or of a similar nature, which has -been yet written--or, possibly, which may be written hereafter. -Indeed, we cannot perceive the necessity of any thing farther upon the -great theme of Washington. Mr. Paulding has completely and most -beautifully filled the _vacuum_ which the works of Marshall and Sparks -have left open. He has painted the boy, the man, the husband, and the -Christian. He has introduced us to the private affections, -aspirations, and charities of that hero whose affections of all -affections were the most serene, whose aspirations the most God-like, -and whose charities the most gentle and pure. He has taken us abroad -with the patriot-farmer in his rambles about his homestead. He has -seated us in his study and shown us the warrior-Christian in -unobtrusive communion with his God. He has done all this too, and -more, in a simple and quiet manner, in a manner peculiarly his own, -and which mainly because it is his own, cannot fail to be exceedingly -effective. Yet it is very possible that the public may, for many years -to come, overlook the rare merits of a work whose want of arrogant -assumption is so little in keeping with the usages of the day, and -whose striking simplicity and _naiveté_ of manner give, to a cursory -examination, so little evidence of the labor of composition. We have -no fears, however, for the future. Such books as these before us, go -down to posterity like rich wines, with a certainty of being more -valued as they go. They force themselves with the gradual but rapidly -accumulating power of strong wedges into the hearts and understandings -of a community. - -From the preface we learn, that shortly after the conclusion of the -late war, Mr. Paulding resided for several years in the city of -Washington, and that his situation bringing him into familiar -intercourse with "many respectable and some distinguished persons" who -had been associated with the Father of his Country, the idea was then -first conceived of writing a Life of that great man which should more -directly appeal to the popular feeling of the land, than any one -previously attempted. With this intent, he lost no opportunity of -acquiring information, from all authentic sources within his reach, of -the private life, habits and peculiarities of his subject. We learn -too that the work thus early proposed was never banished from the mind -of the author. The original intention, however, was subsequently -modified, with a view of adapting the book to the use of schools, and -"generally to that class of readers who have neither the means of -purchasing, nor the leisure to read a larger and more expensive -publication." Much of the information concerning the domestic life of -Washington was derived immediately from his cotemporaries, and from -the "present most estimable lady who is now in possession of Mount -Vernon." In detailing the events of the Revolution, the author has -principally consulted the public and private letters of Washington. - -The rich abundance of those delightful anecdotes and memorials of the -private man which render a book of this nature invaluable--an -abundance which has hardly more delighted than astonished us--is the -prevailing feature of Mr. Paulding's Washington. We proceed, without -apology, to copy for the benefit of our readers such as most -immediately present themselves. - - -Although it is of little consequence who were the distant ancestors of -a man who, by common consent, is hailed as the Father of his Country, -yet any particulars concerning his family cannot but be a subject of -curiosity. In all my general reading I have only chanced to meet with -the name of Washington three or four times in the early history and -literature of England. In the diary of Elias Ashmole, founder of the -Ashmolean Museum, are the following entries:-- - -"_June 12th, 1645_. I entered on my command as comptroller of the -ordnance." - -"_June 18th_. I received my commission from Colonel Washington." - -Hume, in his account of the siege of Bristol, has the following -passage:--"One party led by Lord Grandison was beaten off and its -commander himself mortally wounded. Another, conducted by Colonel -Bellasis, met with a like fate. But Washington, with a less party, -finding a place in the curtain weaker than the rest, broke in, and -quickly made room for the horse to follow." This was in 1643. Five -years afterwards, that deluded monarch, Charles I., suffered the just -consequences of his offences against the majesty of the people of -England, and from that time the cause of royalty appeared desperate. -The more distinguished and obnoxious adherents of the Stuarts exiled -themselves in foreign lands, and the date of the supposed arrival of -the first Washington in Virginia, accords well with the supposition -that he may have been the same person mentioned by Ashmole and Hume. -In an old collection of poetry, by Sir John Menzies[2] and others, -there is a fine copy of verses to the memory of Mr. Washington, page -to the king, who died in Spain. In the year 1640, William Legge, Earl -of Dartmouth, married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Washington. -But the name and family of Washington are now extinct in the land of -our forefathers. When General Washington was about making his will, he -caused inquiries to be instituted, being desirous to leave some -memorial to all his relations. The result was a conviction that none -of the family existed in that country. But the topic is rather curious -than important. The subject of this biography could receive little -additional dignity through a descent from the most illustrious -families of Christendom. He stands alone in the pure atmosphere of his -own glory. He derived no title to honors from his ancestry, and left -no child but his country to inherit his fame. - -[Footnote 2: Perhaps _Mennes_--Ed.] - -The house in which Washington was born stood about half a mile from -the junction of Pope's Creek with the Potomac, and was either burned -or pulled down long previous to the revolution. A few scanty relics -alone remain to mark the spot which will ever be sacred in the eyes of -posterity. A clump of old decayed {397} fig trees, probably coeval -with the mansion, yet exists; a number of vines, and shrubs, and -flowers still reproduce themselves every year as if to mark its site, -and flourish among the hallowed ruins; and a stone, placed there by -Mr. George Washington Custis, bears the simple inscription, "Here, on -the 11th of February," (O.S.) "1732, George Washington was born." - -The spot is of the deepest interest, not only from its associations, -but its natural beauties. It commands a view of the Maryland shore of -the Potomac, one of the most majestic of rivers, and of its course for -many miles towards Chesapeake Bay. An aged gentleman, still living in -the neighborhood, remembers the house in which Washington was born. It -was a low pitched, single-storied, frame building, with four rooms on -the first floor and an enormous chimney at each end on the outside. -This was the style of the better sort of houses in those days, and -they are still occasionally seen in the old settlements of Virginia. - - -On page 106, vol. i., we find the following interesting particulars: - - -It has been related to me by one whose authority I cannot doubt, that -the first meeting of Colonel Washington with his future wife was -entirely accidental, and took place at the house of Mr. Chamberlayne, -who resided on the Pamunkey, one of the branches of York River. -Washington was on his way to Williamsburg, on somewhat pressing -business, when he met Mr. Chamberlayne, who, according to the good old -Virginia custom, which forbids a traveller to pass the door without -doing homage at the fireside of hospitality, insisted on his stopping -an hour or two at his mansion. Washington complied unwillingly, for -his business was urgent. But it is said that he was in no haste to -depart, for he had met the lady of his fate in the person of Mrs. -Martha Custis, of the White House, county of New Kent, in Virginia. - -I have now before me a copy of an original picture of this lady, taken -about the time of which I am treating, when she captivated the -affections of Washington. It represents a figure rather below the -middle size, with hazel eyes, and hair of the same colour, finely -rounded arms, a beautiful chest and taper waist, dressed in a blue -silk robe of the fashion of the times, and altogether furnishing a -very sufficient apology to a young gentleman of seven and twenty for -delaying his journey, and perhaps forgetting his errand for a time. -The sun went down and rose again before Washington departed for -Williamsburg, leaving his heart behind him, and, perhaps, carrying -another away in exchange. Having completed his business at the seat of -government, he soon after visited the White House, and being -accustomed, as my informant says, to energetic and persevering action, -won the lady and carried her off from a crowd of rivals. - -The marriage look place in the winter of 1759, but at what precise -date is not to be found in any record, nor is it, I believe, within -the recollection of any person living. I have in my possession a -manuscript containing the particulars of various conversations with -old Jeremy, Washington's black servant, who was with him at Braddock's -defeat, and accompanied him on his wedding expedition to the White -House. Old Jeremy is still living while I am now writing, and in full -possession of his faculties. His memory is most especially preserved, -and, as might be expected, he delights to talk of Massa George. The -whole series of conversations was taken down verbatim, in the peculiar -phraseology of the old man, and it is quite impossible to read the -record of this living chronicle of the early days of Washington, -without receiving the full conviction of its perfect truth. - - -The following account of his last illness is copied, we are told, from -a memorandum in the handwriting of Tobias Lear, his private secretary -and confidential friend, who attended him from first to last. - - -On Thursday, Dec. 12, the general rode out to his farms at about ten -o'clock, and did not return home till past three. Soon after he went -out the weather became very bad; rain, hail, and snow falling -alternately, with a cold wind. When he came in, I carried some letters -to him to frank, intending to send them to the post-office. He franked -the letters, but said the weather was too bad to send a servant to the -office that evening. I observed to him that I was afraid he had got -wet; he said, no; his great coat had kept him dry: but his neck -appeared to be wet--the snow was hanging on his hair. - -He came to dinner without changing his dress. In the evening he -appeared as well as usual. A heavy fall of snow took place on Friday, -which prevented the general from riding out as usual. He had taken -cold (undoubtedly from being so much exposed the day before,) and -complained of having a sore throat; he had a hoarseness, which -increased in the evening, but he made light of it, as he would never -take any thing to carry off a cold,--always observing, 'Let it go as -it came.' In the evening, the papers having come from the post office, -he sat in the room with Mrs. Washington and myself, reading them till -about nine o'clock; and when he met with any thing which he thought -diverting or interesting, he would read it aloud. He desired me to -read to him the debates of the Virginia Assembly on the election of a -senator and governor, which I did. On his retiring to bed he appeared -to be in perfect health, except the cold, which he considered as -trifling--he had been remarkably cheerful all the evening. - -About two or three o'clock on Saturday morning he awoke Mrs. -Washington, and informed her that he felt very unwell, and had an -ague. She observed that he could scarcely speak, and breathed with -difficulty, and she wished to get up and call a servant; but the -general would not permit her, lest she should take cold. As soon as -the day appeared, the woman Caroline went into the room to make a -fire, and the general desired that Mr. Rawlins, one of the overseers, -who was used to bleeding the people, might be sent for to bleed him -before the doctor could arrive. I was sent for--went to the general's -chamber, where Mrs. Washington was up, and related to me his being -taken ill between two and three o'clock, as before stated. I found him -breathing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word -intelligibly. I went out instantly, and wrote a line to Dr. Plask, and -sent it with all speed. Immediately I returned to the general's -chamber, where I found him in the same situation I had left him. A -mixture of molasses, vinegar, and butter was prepared, but he could -not swallow a drop; whenever he attempted he was distressed, -convulsed, and almost suffocated. - -Mr. Rawlins came in soon after sunrise and prepared to bleed him; when -the arm was ready, the general, observing Rawlins appeared agitated, -said, with difficulty, 'Don't be afraid;' and after the incision was -made, he observed the orifice was not large enough: however, the blood -ran pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not knowing whether bleeding was -proper in the general's situation, begged that much might not be taken -from him, and desired me to stop it. When I was about to untie the -string, the general put up his hand to prevent it, and, as soon as he -could speak, said, 'More.' - -Mrs. Washington still uneasy lest too much blood should be drawn, it -was stopped after about half a pint had been taken. Finding that no -relief was obtained from bleeding, and that nothing could be -swallowed, I proposed bathing the throat externally with sal volatile, -which was done; a piece of flannel was then put round his neck. His -feet were also soaked in warm water, but this gave no relief. By Mrs. -Washington's request, I despatched a messenger for Doctor Brown at -Port Tobacco. About nine o'clock, Dr. Craik arrived, and put a blister -of cantharides on the throat of the general, and took more blood, and -had some vinegar and hot water set in a teapot, for him to draw in the -stream from the spout. - -He also had sage-tea and vinegar mixed and used as a gargle, but when -he held back his head to let it run down, it almost produced -suffocation. When the mixture came out of his mouth some phlegm -followed it, and he would attempt to cough, which the doctor -encouraged, but without effect. About eleven o'clock, Dr. Dick was -sent for. Dr. Craik bled the general again; no effect was produced, -and he continued in the same state, unable to swallow any thing. Dr. -Dick came in about three o'clock, and Dr. Brown arrived soon after; -when, after consultation, the general was bled again: the blood ran -slowly, appeared very thick, and did not produce any symptoms of -fainting. At four o'clock the general could swallow a little. Calomel -and tartar emetic were administered without effect. About half past -four o'clock he requested me to ask Mrs. Washington to come to his -bedside, when he desired her to go down to his room, and take from his -desk two wills which she would find there, and bring them to him, -which she did. Upon looking at one, which he observed was useless, he -desired her to burn it, which she did; and then took the other and put -it away. After this was done, I returned again to his bedside and took -his hand. He said to me, 'I find I am going--my breath cannot continue -long--I believed from the first attack it would be fatal. Do you -arrange and {398} record all my military letters and papers; arrange -my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than any -one else; and let Mr. Rawlins finish recording my other letters, which -he has begun.' He asked when Mr. Lewis and Washington would return? I -told him that I believed about the twentieth of the month. He made no -reply. - -The physicians arrived between five and six o'clock, and when they -came to his bedside, Dr. Craik asked him if he would sit up in the -bed: he held out his hand to me and was raised up, when he said to the -physician--'I feel myself going; you had better not take any more -trouble about me, but let me go off quietly; I cannot last long.' They -found what had been done was without effect; he laid down again, and -they retired, excepting Dr. Craik. He then said to him--'Doctor, I die -hard, but I am not afraid to go; I believed from my first attack I -should not survive it; my breath cannot last long.' The doctor pressed -his hand, but could not utter a word; he retired from the bedside and -sat by the fire, absorbed in grief. About eight o'clock, the -physicians again came into the room, and applied blisters to his legs, -but went out without a ray of hope. From this time he appeared to -breathe with less difficulty than he had done, but was very restless, -continually changing his position, to endeavor to get ease. I aided -him all in my power, and was gratified in believing he felt it, for he -would look upon me with eyes speaking gratitude, but unable to utter a -word without great distress. About ten o'clock he made several -attempts to speak to me before he could effect it; at length he said, -'I am just going. Have me decently buried; and do not let my body be -put into the vault in less than two days after I am dead.' I bowed -assent. He looked at me again and said, 'Do you understand me?' I -replied, 'Yes, sir.' ''Tis well,' said he. About ten minutes before he -expired, his breathing became much easier: he lay quietly: he withdrew -his hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. I spoke to Dr. Craik, who -sat by the fire; he came to the bedside. The general's hand fell from -his wrist; I took it in mine, and placed it on my breast. Dr. Craik -placed his hands over his eyes; and he expired without a struggle or a -sigh. - - -We proceed with some farther extracts of a like kind taken at random -from the book. - - -His manly disinterestedness appeared, not only in thus divesting -himself of the means of acquiring glory, perhaps of the power of -avoiding defeat and disgrace, but in a private act which deserves -equally to be remembered. While the British fleet was lying in the -Potomac, in the vicinity of Mount Vernon, a message was sent to the -overseer, demanding a supply of fresh provisions. The usual penalty of -a refusal was setting fire to the house and barns of the owner. To -prevent this destruction of property, the overseer, on receipt of the -message, gathered a supply of provisions, and went himself on board -with a flag, accompanying the present with a request that the property -of the general might be spared. - -Washington was exceedingly indignant at this proceeding, as will -appear by the following extract of a letter to his overseer. - -"It would," he writes, "have been a less painful circumstance to me to -have heard that, in consequence of your noncompliance with the request -of the British, they had burned my house, and laid my plantation in -ruins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative, and -should have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the -enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshment to them with a view -to prevent a conflagration." - - * * * * * - -And here I will take what seems to me a proper opportunity of refuting -a false insinuation. In the edition of Plutarch's Lives, translated by -John and William Langhorne, and revised by the Reverend Francis -Wrangham, M.A., F.R.S., there is the following note appended to the -biography of Cato the Censor, whose kindness is said to have extended -to his cattle and sheep: "_Yet Washington, the Tertius Cato of these -latter times, is said to have sold his old charger!_" - -On first seeing this insinuation of a calumny founded on hearsay, I -applied to Colonel Lear, who resided at Mount Vernon, and acted as the -private secretary of Washington at the time of his death, and many -years previously, to learn whether there was any foundation for the -report. His denial was positive and unequivocal. The horse of -Washington, sold, not by him, but one of his heirs, after his death, -was that which he was accustomed to ride about his plantation after -his retirement from public life. The aged war-horse was placed under -the special care of the old black servant who had served the same -campaigns with him; was never rode after the conclusion of the war, -and died long before his illustrious master. - - * * * * * - -As illustrating his character and affording an example of his great -self-command, the following anecdote is appropriate to my purpose. It -is derived from Judge Breckenridge[3] himself, who used often to tell -the story. The judge was an inimitable humorist, and, on a particular -occasion, fell in with Washington at a public house. They supped at -the same table, and Mr. Breckenridge essayed all his powers of humor -to divert the general; but in vain. He seemed aware of his purpose, -and listened without a smile. However, it so happened that the -chambers of Washington and Breckenridge adjoined, and were only -separated from each other by a thin partition of pine boards. The -general had retired first, and when the judge entered his own room, he -was delighted to hear Washington, who was already in bed, laughing to -himself with infinite glee, no doubt at the recollection of his -stories. - -[Footnote 3: Author of Modern Chivalry.] - - * * * * * - -He was accustomed sometimes to tell the following story:--On one -occasion, during a visit he paid to Mount Vernon while president, he -had invited the company of two distinguished lawyers, each of whom -afterwards attained to the highest judicial situations in this -country. They came on horseback, and, for convenience, or some other -purpose, had bestowed their wardrobe in the same pair of saddle-bags, -each one occupying his side. On their arrival, wet to the skin by a -shower of rain, they were shown into a chamber to change their -garments. One unlocked his side of the bag, and the first thing he -drew forth was a black bottle of whiskey. He insisted that this was -his companion's repository; but on unlocking the other, there was -found a huge twist of tobacco, a few pieces of corn-bread, and the -complete equipment of a wagoner's pack-saddle. They had exchanged -saddle-bags with some traveller on the way, and finally made their -appearance in borrowed clothes that fitted them most ludicrously. The -general was highly diverted, and amused himself with anticipating the -dismay of the wagoner when he discovered this oversight of the men of -law. It was during this visit that Washington prevailed on one of his -guests to enter into public life, and thus secured to his country the -services of one of the most distinguished magistrates of this or any -other age. - -Another anecdote of a more touching character is derived from a source -which, if I were permitted to mention, would not only vouch for its -truth, but give it additional value and interest. When Washington -retired from public life, his name and fame excited in the hearts of -the people at large, and most especially the more youthful portion, a -degree of reverence which, by checking their vivacity or awing them -into silence, often gave him great pain. Being once on a visit to -Colonel Blackburn, ancestor to the exemplary matron who now possesses -Mount Vernon, a large company of young people were assembled to -welcome his arrival, or on some other festive occasion. The general -was unusually cheerful and animated, but he observed that whenever he -made his appearance, the dance lost its vivacity, the little -gossipings in corners ceased, and a solemn silence prevailed, as at -the presence of one they either feared or reverenced too much to -permit them to enjoy themselves. He strove to remove this restraint by -mixing familiarly among them and chatting with unaffected hilarity. -But it was all in vain; there was a spell on the little circle, and he -retired among the elders in an adjoining room, appearing to be much -pained at the restraint his presence inspired. When, however the young -people had again become animated, he arose cautiously from his seat, -walked on tiptoe to the door, which was ajar, and stood contemplating -the scene for nearly a quarter of an hour, with a look of genuine and -benevolent pleasure that went to the very hearts of the parents who -were observing him. - - -In regard to the style of Mr. Paulding's Washington, it would scarcely -be doing it justice to speak of it merely as well adapted to its -subject, and to its immediate design. Perhaps a rigorous examination -would detect an occasional want of euphony, and some inaccuracies of -syntatical arrangement. But nothing could be more out {399} of place -than any such examination in respect to a book whose forcible, rich, -vivid, and comprehensive English, might advantageously be held up, as -a model for the young writers of the land. There is no better literary -manner than the manner of Mr. Paulding. Certainly no American, and -possibly no living writer of England, has more of those numerous -peculiarities which go to the formation of a happy style. It is -questionable, we think, whether any writer of any country combines as -many of these peculiarities with as much of that essential negative -virtue, the absence of affectation. We repeat, as our confident -opinion, that it would be difficult, even with great care and labor, -to improve upon the general manner of the volumes now before us, and -that they contain many long individual passages of a force and beauty -not to be surpassed by the finest passages of the finest writers in -any time or country. It is this striking character in the _Washington_ -of Mr. Paulding--striking and peculiar indeed at a season when we are -so culpably inattentive to all matters of this nature, as to mistake -for style the fine airs at second hand of the silliest romancers--it -is this character we say, which should insure the fulfilment of the -writer's principal design, in the immediate introduction of his book -into every respectable academy in the land. - - -WALSH'S DIDACTICS. - -_Didactics--Social, Literary, and Political. By Robert Walsh. -Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard._ - -Having read these volumes with much attention and pleasure, we are -prepared to admit that their author is one of the finest writers, one -of the most accomplished scholars, and when not in too great a hurry, -one of the most accurate thinkers in the country. Yet had we never -seen this collection of _Didactics_, we should never have entertained -these opinions. Mr. Walsh has been peculiarly an anonymous writer, and -has thus been instrumental in cheating himself of a great portion of -that literary renown which is most unequivocally his due. We have been -not unfrequently astonished in the perusal of the book now before us, -at meeting with a variety of well known and highly esteemed -acquaintances, for whose paternity we had been accustomed to give -credit where we now find it should not have been given. Among these we -may mention in especial the very excellent Essay on the acting of -Kean, entitled "_Notices of Kean's principal performances during his -first season in Philadelphia_," to be found at page 146, volume i. We -have often thought of the unknown author of this Essay, as of one to -whom we might speak, if occasion should at any time be granted us, -with a perfect certainty of being understood. We have looked to the -article itself as to a fair oasis in the general blankness and -futility of our customary theatrical notices. We read it with that -thrill of pleasure with which we always welcome our own long-cherished -opinions, when we meet them unexpectedly in the language of another. -How absolute is the necessity now daily growing, of rescuing our stage -criticism from the control of illiterate mountebanks, and placing it -in the hands of gentlemen and scholars! - -The paper on _Collegiate Education_, beginning at page 165, volume ii, -is much more than a sufficient reply to that Essay in the _Old -Bachelor_ of Mr. Wirt, in which the attempt is made to argue down -colleges as seminaries for the young. Mr. Walsh's article does not -uphold Mr. Barlow's plan of a National University--a plan which is -assailed by the Attorney General--but comments upon some errors in -point of fact, and enters into a brief but comprehensive examination -of the general subject. He maintains with undeniable truth, that it is -illogical to deduce arguments against universities which are to exist -at the present day, from the inconveniences found to be connected with -institutions formed in the dark ages--institutions similar to our own -in but few respects, modelled upon the principles and prejudices of -the times, organized with a view to particular ecclesiastical -purposes, and confined in their operations by an infinity of Gothic -and perplexing regulations. He thinks, (and we believe he thinks with -a great majority of our well educated fellow citizens) that in the -case either of a great national institute or of State universities, -nearly all the difficulties so much insisted upon will prove a series -of mere chimeras--that the evils apprehended might be readily -obviated, and the acknowledged benefits uninterruptedly secured. He -denies, very justly, the assertion of the _Old Bachelor_--that, in the -progress of society, funds for collegiate establishments will no doubt -be accumulated, independently of government, when their benefits are -evident, and a necessity for them felt--and that the rich who have -funds will, whenever strongly impressed with the necessity of so -doing, provide, either by associations or otherwise, proper seminaries -for the education of their children. He shows that these assertions -are contradictory to experience, and more particularly to the -experience of the State of Virginia, where, notwithstanding the extent -of private opulence, and the disadvantages under which the community -so long labored from a want of regular and systematic instruction, it -was the government which was finally compelled, and not private -societies which were induced, to provide establishments for effecting -the great end. He says (and therein we must all fully agree with him) -that Virginia may consider herself fortunate in following the example -of all the enlightened nations of modern times rather than in -hearkening to the counsels of the Old Bachelor. He dissents (and who -would not?) from the allegation, that "the most eminent men in Europe, -particularly in England, have received their education neither at -public schools or universities," and shows that the very reverse may -be affirmed--that on the continent of Europe by far the greater number -of its great names have been attached to the rolls of its -universities--and that in England a vast majority of those minds which -we have reverenced so long--the Bacons, the Newtons, the Barrows, the -Clarkes, the Spencers, the Miltons, the Drydens, the Addisons, the -Temples, the Hales, the Clarendons, the Mansfields, Chatham, Pitt, -Fox, Wyndham, &c. were educated among the venerable cloisters of -Oxford or of Cambridge. He cites the Oxford Prize Essays, so well -known even in America, as direct evidence of the energetic ardor in -acquiring knowledge brought about through the means of British -Universities, and maintains that "when attention is given to the -subsequent public stations and labors of most of the writers of these -Essays, it will be found that they prove also the ultimate practical -utility of the literary discipline of the {400} colleges for the -students and the nation." He argues, that were it even true that the -greatest men have not been educated in public schools, the fact would -have little to do with the question of their efficacy in the -instruction of the mass of mankind. Great men cannot be _created_--and -are usually independent of all particular schemes of education. Public -seminaries are best adapted to the generality of cases. He concludes -with observing that the course of study pursued at English -Universities, is more liberal by far than we are willing to suppose -it--that it is, demonstrably, the best, inasmuch as regards the -preference given to classical and mathematical knowledge--and that -upon the whole it would be an easy matter, in transferring to America -the general principles of those institutions, to leave them their -obvious errors, while we avail ourselves as we best may, of their -still more obvious virtues and advantages. - -We must take the liberty of copying an interesting paper on the -subject of Oxford. - - -The impression made on my mind by the first aspect of Paris was -scarcely more lively or profound, than that which I experienced on -entering Oxford. Great towns were already familiar to my eye, but a -whole city sacred to the cultivation of science, composed of edifices -no less venerable for their antiquity than magnificent in their -structure, was a novelty which at once delighted and overpowered my -imagination. The entire population is in some degree appended and -ministerial to the colleges. They comprise nearly the whole town, and -are so noble and imposing, although entirely Gothic, that I was -inclined to apply to the architecture of Oxford what has been said of -the schools of Athens; - - "The Muse alone unequal dealt her rage, - And graced with noblest pomp her earliest stage." - -Spacious gardens laid out with taste and skill are annexed to each -college, and appropriated to the exercises and meditations of the -students. The adjacent country is in the highest state of cultivation, -and watered by a beautiful stream, which bears the name of Isis, the -divinity of the Nile and the Ceres of the Egyptians. To you who know -my attachment to letters, and my veneration for the great men whom -this university has produced, it will not appear affectation, when I -say that I was most powerfully affected by this scene, that my eyes -filled with tears, that all the enthusiasm of a student burst forth. - -After resting, I delivered next morning, my letter of introduction to -one of the professors, Mr. V----, and who undertook to serve as my -_cicerone_ through the university. The whole day was consumed in -wandering over the various colleges and their libraries, in -discoursing on their organization, and in admiring the Gothic chapels, -the splendid prospects from their domes, the collection of books, of -paintings, and of statuary, and the portraits of the great men who -were nursed in this seat of learning. Both here and at Cambridge, -accurate likenesses of such as have by their political or literary -elevation, ennobled their _alma mater_, are hung up in the great -halls, in order to excite the emulation of their successors, and -perpetuate the fame of the institution. I do not wish to fatigue you -by making you the associate of all my wanderings and reflections, but -only beg you to follow me rapidly through the picture-gallery attached -to the celebrated Bodleian library. It is long indeed, and covered -with a multitude of original portraits, but from them I shall merely -select a few, in which your knowledge of history will lead you to take -a lively interest. - -I was struck with the face of Martin Luther the reformer. It was not -necessary to have studied Lavater to collect from it, the character of -his mind. His features were excessively harsh though regular, his eye -intelligent but sullen and scowling, and the whole expression of his -countenance, that of a sour, intemperate, overbearing -controversialist. Near him were placed likenesses of Locke, Butler, -and Charles II., painted by Sir Peter Lely; with the countenance of -Locke you are well acquainted, that of Butler has nothing sportive in -it--does not betray a particle of humor, but is, on the contrary, -grave, solemn, and didactic in the extreme, and must have been taken -in one of his splenetic moods, when brooding over the neglect of -Charles, rather than in one of those moments of inspiration, as they -may be styled, in which he narrated the achievements of Hudibras. The -physiognomy of Charles is, I presume, familiar to you, lively but not -"spiritual." Lord North is among the number of heads, and I was caught -by his strong resemblance to the present king; so strong as to remind -one of the scandalous chronicles of times past. - -The face of Mary queen of Scots next attracted my notice. It was taken -in her own time, and amply justifies what historians have written, or -poets have sung, concerning her incomparable beauty. If ever there was -a countenance meriting the epithet of lovely in its most comprehensive -signification, it was this, which truly "vindicated the veracity of -Fame," and in which I needed not the aid of imagination to trace the -virtues of her heart. In reading Hume and Whitaker I have often wept -over her misfortunes, and now turned with increased disgust from an -original portrait of Elizabeth, her rival and assassin, which was -placed immediately above, and contributed to heighten the captivations -of the other by the effect of contrast. The features of Elizabeth are -harsh and irregular, her eye severe, her complexion bad, her whole -face, in short, just such as you would naturally attach to such a -mind. - -Among the curiosities of the gallery may be ranked a likeness of Sir -Phillip Sydney, done with _a red hot poker_, on wood, by a person of -the name of Griffith, belonging to one of the colleges. It is really a -monument of human patience and ingenuity, and has the appearance of a -good painting. I cannot describe to you without admiration another -most extraordinary _freak_ of genius exhibited here, and altogether -_unique_ in its kind. It is a portrait of Isaac Tuller, a celebrated -painter in the reign of Charles II., executed by _himself when drunk_. -Tradition represents it as an admirable likeness, and of inebriety in -the abstract, there never was a more faithful or perfect delineation. -This anecdote is authentic, and must amuse the fancy, if we picture to -ourselves the artist completely intoxicated, inspecting his own -features in a mirror, and hitting off, with complete success, not only -the general character, but the peculiar stamp, which such a state must -have impressed upon them. His conception was as full of humor as of -originality, and well adapted to the system of manners which the -reigning monarch introduced and patronized. As I am on the subject of -portraits, permit me to mention three to which my attention was -particularly called on my visit to the University of Dublin. They were -those of Burke, Swift, and Bishop Berkeley, done by the ablest -masters. The latter must have had one of the most impressive -physiognomies ever given to man, "_the human face divine_." That of -Burke is far inferior, but strongly marked by an indignant smile; a -proper expression for the feelings by which his mind was constantly -agitated towards the close of his life. The face of Swift from which -you would expect every thing, is dull, heavy and unmeaning. - -Portrait painting is the _forte_, as it has always been the passion of -this country. Happily for the inquisitive stranger, every rich man has -all his progenitors and relatives on canvass. The walls of every -public institution are crowded with benefactors and pupils, and no -town hall is left without the heads of the corporation, or the -representatives of the borough. The same impulse that prompts us to -gaze with avidity on the persons of our cotemporaries, if there be any -thing prominent in their character, or peculiar in their history, -leads us to turn a curious and attentive eye on the likenesses of the -{401} "mighty dead," whose souls as well as faces are thus in some -degree transmitted to posterity. Next to my association with the -living men of genius who render illustrious the names of Englishmen, -no more sensible gratification has accrued to me from my residence in -this country, than that of studying the countenances of their -predecessors; no employment has tended more efficaciously to improve -my acquaintance with the history of the nation, to animate research, -and to quicken the spirit of competition. - -I quitted Oxford with a fervent wish that such an establishment might -one day grace our own country. I have uttered an ejaculation to the -same effect whenever the great monuments of industry and refinement -which Europe displays exclusively, have fallen under my observation. -We have indeed just grounds to hope that we shall one day eclipse the -old world. - - "Each rising art by just gradation moves, - Toil builds on toil, and age on age improves." - - -The only paper in the _Didactics_, to which we have any decided -objection, is a tolerably long article on the subject of _Phrenology_, -entitled "Memorial of the Phrenological Society of ---- to the -Honorable the Congress of ---- sitting at ----." Considered as a -specimen of mere burlesque the _Memorial_ is well enough--but we are -sorry to see the energies of a scholar and an editor (who should be, -if he be not, a man of metaphysical science) so wickedly employed as -in any attempt to throw ridicule upon a question, (however much -maligned, or however apparently ridiculous) whose merits he has never -examined, and of whose very nature, history, and assumptions, he is -most evidently ignorant. Mr. Walsh is either ashamed of this article -now, or he will have plentiful reason to be ashamed of it hereafter. - - -COOPER'S SWITZERLAND. - -_Sketches of Switzerland. By an American. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea and -Blanchard._ - -These very interesting sketches are merely selections from a work of -much larger extent, originally intended for publication, but which, as -a whole, is, for private reasons, suppressed. There is consequently on -this account, and on some others, several _vacuums_ in the narrative. -Mr. Cooper commenced the year 1828 in Paris, whence, after a short -stay, he paid a visit to England. In June he returned to France by the -way of Holland and Belgium. The narrative embraced in vol. i commences -at Paris after his return from England, and terminates at Milan. The -remainder of the year 1828, and the years 1829, 1830, and 1831, with -part of 1832, were passed between Italy, Germany, France and Belgium. -Volume ii recommences at Paris, and a great portion of it is occupied -with matters relating to other countries than that which gives a title -to the book. - -We either see, or fancy we see, in these volumes, and more -particularly in the Preface affixed to them, a degree of splenetic ill -humor with both himself and his countrymen, quite different from the -usual manner of the novelist, and evincing something akin to -resentment for real or imaginary ill usage. He frankly tells us among -other things, that had the whole of his intended publication seen the -light, it is probable their writer would not have escaped some -imputations on his patriotism--for in making the comparisons that -naturally arose from his subject, he has spoken in favor of American -principles much oftener than in favor of American things. He then -proceeds with a sneer at a "numerous class of native critics," and -expresses a hope that he may be permitted at least to assert, that "a -mountain fifteen thousand feet high is more lofty than one of fifteen -hundred, and that Mont Blanc is a more sublime object than Butter -Hill." We quote a specimen of the general tone of this Preface. - - -The writer does not expect much favor for the political opinions that -occasionally appear in these letters. He has the misfortune to belong -to neither of the two great parties that divide the country, and -which, though so bitterly hostile and distrustful of each other, will -admit of no neutrality. It is a menacing symptom that there is a -disposition to seek for a base motive, whenever a citizen may not -choose to plunge into the extremes that characterize the movements of -political factions. This besetting vice is accompanied by another -feeling, that is so singularly opposed to that which every body is -ready to affirm is the governing principle of the institutions, that -it may do no harm slightly to advert to it. Any one who may choose to -set up a semi-official organ of public opinion, called a newspaper, -however illiterate, base, flagrantly corrupt, and absolutely destitute -of the confidence and respect of every man in the community, may daily -pour out upon the public his falsehoods, his contradictions, his -ignorance, and his corruption, treating the national interests as -familiarly as "household terms," and all because he is acting in an -admitted vocation; the public servant, commissioned to execute the -public will, may even turn upon his masters, and tell them not only in -what light they are to view him and his conduct, but in what light -they are also to view the conduct of his associates in trust; in -short, tell them how to make up their judgments on himself and others; -and all because he is a public servant, and the public is his master: -but the private citizen, who merely forms a part of that public, is -denounced for his presumption, should he dare to speak of matters of -general concernment, except under such high sanction, or as the organ -of party. - -It may be well to say at once, that this peculiar feeling has not been -permitted to influence the tone of these letters, which have been -written, in all respects, as if the republic did not contain one of -those privileged persons, honored as "patriots" and "godlikes," but as -if both classes were as actually unknown to the country as they are -certainly unknown to the spirit and letter of its institutions. - - -The spirit of these observations seems to be carried out (we cannot -say with what degree of justice,) in many other portions of the book. -On page 71, vol. i, we observe what follows. - - -Among other books, I have laid my hands, by accident, on the work of a -recent French traveller in the United States. We read little other -than English books at home, and are much given to declaiming against -English travellers for their unfairness; but, judging from this -specimen of Gallic opinion, our ancient allies rate us quite as low as -our quondam fellow subjects. A perusal of the work in question has led -me to inquire further into the matter, and I am now studying one or -two German writers on the same interesting subject. I must say that -thus far, I find little to feed national vanity, and I begin to fear -(what I have suspected ever since the first six months in Europe) that -we are under an awkward delusion respecting the manner in which the -rest of Christendom regards that civilization touching which we are so -sensitive. It is some time since I have made the discovery, that 'the -name of an American is not a passport all over Europe,' but on the -other hand, that where it conveys any very distinct notions at all, it -usually conveys such as are any thing but flattering or agreeable.... -I shall pursue the _trail_ on which I have fallen, and you will -probably hear more of this, before these letters are brought to a -close. - - -{402} At page 113 of the same volume we have something of the same -nature, and which we confess astonished us in no little degree. - - -We have just had a visit from two old acquaintances--Manhattanese. -They tell me a good many of our people are wandering among the -mountains, though they are the first we have seen. There is a list of -arrivals published daily in Berne; and in one of them I found the name -of Captain C----, of the Navy; and that of Mr. O., an old and intimate -friend, whom it was vexatious to miss in a strange land. Mr. and Mrs. -G----, of New York, are also somewhere in the cantons. Our numbers -increase, and with them our abuse; for it is not an uncommon thing to -see, written in English in the travellers' books kept by law at all -the inns, pasquinades on America, opposite the American names. What a -state of feeling it betrays, when a traveller cannot write his name, -in compliance with a law of the country in which he happens to be, -without calling down upon himself anathemas of this kind! I have a -register of twenty-three of these gratuitous injuries. What renders -them less excusable, is the fact, that they who are guilty of the -impropriety would probably think twice before they performed the act -in the presence of the party wronged. These intended insults are, -consequently, so many registers of their own meanness. Let the truth -be said; I have never seen one, unless in the case of an American, or -one that was not written in English! Straws show which way the wind -blows. This disposition, in our kinsmen, to deride and abuse America, -is observed and freely commented on by the people of the continent, -who are far from holding us themselves in the highest respect. - - -And again, on page 327, vol. ii. - - -I have made this comparison as the last means I know of to arouse you -from your American complacency on the subject of the adjectives -_grand_, _majestic_, _elegant_ and _splendid_, in connection with our -architecture. The latter word, in particular, is coming to be used -like a household term; while there is not, probably, a single work of -art, from Georgia to Maine, to which it can with propriety be applied. -I do not know a single edifice in the Union that can be considered -more than third rate by its size and ornaments, nor more than one or -two that ought to be ranked even so high. When it comes to capitals, -and the use of the adjectives I have just quoted, it may be well to -remember, that there is no city in the Republic that has not decidedly -the air and the habits of a provincial town, and this too, usually -without possessing the works of art that are quite commonly found in -this hemisphere, even in places of that rank, or a single public -building to which the term _magnificent_ can with any fitness be -adjudged. - - -We can only say, that if the suppressed portions of Mr. Cooper's -intended publication embraced any thing more likely than these -assertions and opinions to prove unacceptable to American readers at -large, it is perhaps better, both for his own reputation, and for the -interest of his publishers, that he finally decided upon the -suppression. Yet Mr. Cooper may be right, and not having the fear of -punishment sufficiently before our eyes, we, for ourselves, frankly -confess that we believe him to be right. The passages which remain of -a similar nature to those we have quoted, will only serve we hope, to -give additional piquancy to these admirable Sketches. As a work -affording extensive and valuable information on the subject of -Switzerland, we have seen nothing in any shape, at all equal to the -volumes before us. - -The extract we now subjoin, will prove beyond doubt, that the fine -descriptive powers of the author of the Prairie, are in as full vigor -as ever. - - -It is at all times a very difficult thing to convey vivid and, at the -same time, accurate impressions of grand scenery by the use of words. -When the person to whom the communication is made has seen objects -that have a general similarity to those described, the task certainly -becomes less difficult, for he who speaks or writes may illustrate his -meaning by familiar comparisons; but who in America, that has never -left America, can have a just idea of the scenery of this region? A -Swiss would readily comprehend a description of vast masses of granite -capped with eternal snow, for such objects are constantly before his -eyes; but to those who have never looked upon such a magnificent -spectacle, written accounts, when they come near their climax, fall as -much short of the intention, as words are less substantial than -things. With a full consciousness of this deficiency in my craft, I -shall attempt to give you some notion of the two grandest aspects that -the Alps, when seen from this place, assume; for it seems a species of -poetical treason to write of Switzerland and be silent on what are -certainly two of its most decided sublimities. - -One of these appearances is often alluded to, but I do not remember to -have ever heard the other mentioned. The first is produced by the -setting sun, whose rays of a cloudless evening, are the parents of -hues and changes of a singularly lovely character. For many minutes -the lustre of the glacier slowly retires, and is gradually succeeded -by a tint of rose color, which, falling on so luminous a body, -produces a sort of "roseate light;" the whole of the vast range -becoming mellowed and subdued to indescribable softness. This -appearance gradually increases in intensity, varying on different -evenings, however, according to the state of the atmosphere. At the -very moment, perhaps, when the eye is resting most eagerly on this -extraordinary view, the light vanishes. No scenic change is more -sudden than that which follows. All the forms remain unaltered, but so -varied in hue, as to look like the ghosts of mountains. You see the -same vast range of eternal snow, but you see it ghastly and spectral. -You fancy that the spirits of the Alps are ranging themselves before -you. Watching the peaks for a few minutes longer, the light slowly -departs. The spectres, like the magnified images of the -phantasmagoria, grow more and more faint, less and less material, -until swallowed in the firmament. What renders all this more -thrillingly exquisite is, the circumstance that these changes do not -occur until after evening has fallen on the lower world, giving to the -whole the air of nature sporting in the upper regions, with some of -her spare and detached materials. - -This sight is far from uncommon. It is seen during the summer, at -least, in greater or less perfection, as often as twice or thrice a -week. The other is much less frequent; for, though a constant -spectator when the atmosphere was favorable, it was never my fortune -to witness it but twice; and even on these occasions, only one of them -is entitled to come within the description I am about to attempt. - -It is necessary to tell you that the Aar flows toward Berne in a -north-west direction, through a valley of some width, and several -leagues in length. To this fact the Bernese are indebted for their -view of the Oberland Alps, which stretch themselves exactly across the -mouth of the gorge, at the distance of forty miles in an air line. -These giants are supported by a row of outposts, any one of which, of -itself, would be a spectacle in another country. One in particular, is -distinguished by its form, which is that of a cone. It is nearly in a -line with the Jung Frau,[4] the virgin queen of the Oberland. This -mountain is called the Niesen. It stands some eight or ten miles in -advance of the mighty range, though to the eye, at Berne, all these -accessories appear to be tumbled without order at the very feet of -their principals. The height of the Niesen is given by Ebel at 5584 -French, or nearly 6000 English feet, above the {403} lake of Thun, on -whose margin it stands; and at 7340 French, or nearly 8000 English -feet above the sea. In short, it is rather higher than the highest -peak of our own White Mountains. The Jung Frau rises directly behind -this mass, rather more than a mile nearer to heaven. - -[Footnote 4: Jung Frau, or the virgin; (pronounced Yoong Frow.) The -mountain is thus called, because it has never been scaled.] - -The day, on the occasion to which I allude, was clouded, and as a -great deal of mist was clinging to all the smaller mountains, the -lower atmosphere was much charged with vapor. The cap of the Niesen -was quite hid, and a wide streak of watery clouds lay along the whole -of the summits of the nearer range, leaving, however, their brown -sides misty but visible. In short the Niesen and its immediate -neighbors looked like any other range of noble mountains, whose heads -were hid in the clouds. I think the vapor must have caused a good deal -of refraction, for above these clouds rose the whole of the Oberland -Alps to an altitude which certainly seemed even greater than usual. -Every peak and all the majestic formation was perfectly visible, -though the whole range appeared to be severed from the earth, and to -float in air. The line of communication was veiled, and while all -below was watery, or enfeebled by mist, the glaciers threw back the -fierce light of the sun with powerful splendor. The separation from -the lower world was made the more complete, from the contrast between -the sombre hues beneath and the calm but bright magnificence above. -One had some difficulty in imagining that the two could be parts of -the same orb. The effect of the whole was to create a picture of which -I can give no other idea, than by saying it resembled a glimpse, -through the windows of heaven, at such a gorgeous but chastened -grandeur, as the imagination might conceive to suit the place. There -were moments when the spectral aspect just mentioned, dimmed the -lustre of the snows, without injuring their forms, and no language can -do justice to the sublimity of the effect. It was impossible to look -at them without religious awe; and, irreverent though it may seem, I -could hardly persuade myself I was not gazing at some of the sublime -mysteries that lie beyond the grave. - -A fortnight passed in contemplating such spectacles at the distance of -sixteen leagues, has increased the desire to penetrate nearer to the -wonders; and it has been determined that as many of our party who are -of an age to enjoy the excursion, shall quit this place in a day or -two for the Oberland. - - -MELLEN'S POEMS.[5] - -[Footnote 5: We have received this notice of Mellen's Poems from a -personal friend, in whose judgment we have implicit reliance--of -course we cannot deviate from our rules by adopting the criticism as -Editorial.] - -_The Martyr's Triumph; Buried Valley; and other Poems. By Grenville -Mellen. Boston, 300 pp._ - -We took up this book with the conviction that we should be pleased -with its contents, and our highly wrought expectations have not in any -degree been disappointed. It is as high praise as we are able to -bestow upon it, that we have read most of its contents with the very -associations around us, which are required for the perfect production -of the impressions intended to be produced by the poet--and that we -have, in each and all, still found those impressions strengthening and -deepening upon our minds, as we perused the pages before us. "The -Buried Valley," in which is portrayed the well remembered tragedy of -the avalanche, which, in 1826, buried a peaceful cottage situated at -the foot of the White Mountains, with all its inhabitants, at -midnight, is not perhaps the best, though a most deeply interesting -part of the volume. It is too unequal in its style, and at times too -highly wrought, perhaps, as a picture. But the idea which it gives the -reader of the wild and magnificent spot upon which this terrible -catastrophe occurred is perfect, and the description of the -circumstances and incidents of the scene most faithful. - -The Scenery of the White Mountains of New Hampshire forms the -inspiration of another poem also in this collection, which we boldly -place beside any emanation from the most gifted of our poets. We -allude to "Lines on an Eagle," on pp. 130 and 131. We must be chary of -our space, and can therefore give but a single stanza, in -corroboration of our opinion. - - Sail on, thou lone imperial bird, - Of quenchless eye and tireless wing; - How is thy distant coming heard, - As the night-breezes round thee ring! - Thy course was 'gainst the burning sun, - In his extremest glory--how! - Is thy unequall'd daring done, - Thou stoop'st to earth so lowly now! - -The "Martyr's Triumph" is a most splendid poem, and deserves all the -praise it has received from reader and critic. What can be more -beautiful than the exordium? - - Voice of the viewless spirit! that hast rung - Through the still chambers of the human heart, - Since our first parents in sweet Eden sung - Their low lament in tears--thou voice, that art - Around us and above us, sounding on - With a perpetual echo, 'tis on thee, - The ministry sublime to wake and warn!-- - Full of that high and wondrous Deity, - That call'd existence out from Chaos' lonely sea! - -And what more purely inspired than the following? - - Thou wast from God when the green earth was young, - And man enchanted rov'd amid its flowers, - When faultless woman to his bosom clung, - Or led him through her paradise of bowers; - Where love's low whispers from the Garden rose, - And both amid its bloom and beauty bent, - In the long luxury of their first repose! - When the whole earth was incense, and there went - Perpetual praise from altars to the firmament. - -And these are but single "bricks from Babel." Specimens, only, of the -beauty and grace with which the poem abounds. - -Were we looking for faults, doubtless we should be able to find them, -for who is faultless? But that is not our aim. Yet would we suggest to -the author that the use of the word _dulce_ in stanza six, is somewhat -forced,--and though a sweet word in itself, is yet "like sweet bells -jangled, harsh, and out of tune," on account of its rarity, which -induces the reader to note its strangeness rather than to admire its -application. The whole book abounds with proofs of _Mellen's_ fine -musical ear, and therefore does it seem to us a fault that he should -have suffered the compositor to do him the injustice of printing such -a line as this. - - "Before ill-starr'd Dunsinane's waving wood!" - -But it is for the minor, or shorter pieces which the volume contains, -that it is most highly to be valued. _Mellen_ is delightful in his -"occasional poems." Take the following, addressed to one of the -sweetest singers, whose strains, like angel-harmonies from heaven, -ever floated upon the rapt ear of the poet, as a proof. - -TO HELEN. - - Music came down from Heaven to thee, - A spirit of repose-- - A fine, mysterious melody, {404} - That ceaseless round thee flows; - Should Joy's fast waves dash o'er thy soul, - In free and reckless throng, - What Music answers from the whole, - In thy resistless song! - - Oh! Music came a boon to thee, - From yon harmonious spheres; - An influence from eternity, - To charm us from our tears! - Should Grief's dim phantoms then conspire - To tread thy heart along, - Thou shalt but seize thy wavy lyre, - And whelm them all in song! - - Yes, thine's a blest inheritance, - Since to thy lips 'tis given, - To lure from its long sorrows hence - The spirit pall'd and riven! - Go, unto none on earth but thee - Such angel tones belong; - For thou wert born of melody, - Thy soul was bath'd in song! - -There are many such, as, for instance, "To Sub Rosa," "Death of -Julia," "The Eagle," "The Bugle," "_To Gabriella R----, of Richmond_," -&c. &c. - -Mellen is distinguished for his lyric powers. His Odes are all very -fine. That "To Music," in the volume before us, is deserving of -particular mention, as indeed are those "To Shakspeare," "To Byron," -"To Lafayette," and others, written on several public occasions. - -The volume has but one general fault, and that is, its deficiency in -the lighter and gayer strain, in which we have private proofs that -Mellen certainly excels. It were to be regretted that the poet did not -throw into his collection some touches of that delicate and graceful -humor, which none can more happily hit off than himself. The general -tone of the volume is grave, if not indeed severe--though relieved by -many exquisite verses like those already alluded to, and of which the -following may serve as another specimen. - -TO SUB ROSA. - - Lady, if while that chord of thine, - So beautifully strung - To music that seem'd just divine, - Still sweetly round me rung, - I should essay a higher song - Than humblest minstrel may, - Shame o'er my lyre would breathe the wrong, - And lure my hand away. - - Forgive me then if I forbear, - Where thou hast done so well, - Nor o'er my harp strings idly dare - What I should feebly tell. - 'Tis woman that alone can breathe - These holier fancies free-- - Ah, then, be thine the fadeless wreath - I proudly yield to thee. - -O. - - -We may add to the critique of our friend O. that in looking over -cursorily the poems of Mellen, we have been especially taken with the -following spirited lyric. - -STANZAS, - -_Sung at Plymouth, on the Anniversary of the landing of our Fathers, -22d Dec. 1820._ - - Wake your harp's music!--louder--higher, - And pour your strains along, - And smite again each quiv'ring wire, - In all the pride of Song! - Shout like those godlike men of old, - Who daring storm and foe, - On this bless'd soil their anthem roll'd, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - From native shores by tempests driven, - They sought a purer sky, - And found beneath a wilder heaven, - The home of liberty! - An altar rose--and prayers--a ray - Broke on their night of wo-- - The harbinger of Freedom's day, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - They clung around that symbol too, - Their refuge and their all; - And swore while skies and waves were blue, - That altar should not fall. - They stood upon the red man's sod, - 'Neath heaven's unpillar'd bow, - With home--a country--and a God, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - Oh! 'twas a hard unyielding fate - That drove them to the seas, - And Persecution strove with Hate, - To darken her decrees: - But safe above each coral grave, - Each booming ship did go-- - A God was on the western wave, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - They knelt them on the desert sand, - By waters cold and rude, - Alone upon the dreary strand - Of Ocean'd solitude! - They look'd upon the high blue air, - And felt their spirits glow, - Resolved to live or perish there, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - The Warrior's red right arm was bar'd, - His eye flash'd deep and wild; - Was there a foreign footstep dar'd - To seek his home and child? - The dark chiefs yell'd alarm--and swore - The white man's blood should flow, - And his hewn bones should bleach their shore, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - But lo! the warrior's eye grew dim, - His arm was left alone; - The still black wilds which shelter'd him, - No longer were his own! - Time fled--and on this hallow'd ground - His highest pine lies low, - And cities swell where forests frown'd, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - Oh! stay not to recount the tale, - Twas bloody--and 'tis past; - The firmest cheek might well grow pale, - To hear it to the last. - The God of Heaven, who prospers us, - Could bid a nation grow, - And shield us from the red man's curse, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - Come then great shades of glorious men, - From your still glorious grave; - Look on your own proud land again, - Oh! bravest of the brave! - We call ye from each mould'ring tomb, - And each blue wave below, - To bless the world ye snatch'd from doom, - _Two hundred years ago!_ - - Then to your harps--yet louder--higher-- - And pour your strains along, - And smite again each quiv'ring wire, - In all the pride of song! - Shout _for_ those godlike men of old, - Who daring storm and foe, - On this bless'd soil their anthem roll'd, - TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO! - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUTHERN LITERARY -MESSENGER, VOL. 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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/68997-0.zip b/old/68997-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 070133b..0000000 --- a/old/68997-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68997-h.zip b/old/68997-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e32f4a9..0000000 --- a/old/68997-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/68997-h/68997-h.htm b/old/68997-h/68997-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 073e961..0000000 --- a/old/68997-h/68997-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7581 +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. 6, May 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. 6, May, 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. 6, May, 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: September 16, 2022 [eBook #68997]</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. 6, MAY, 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 6</h3> - -<p><a href="#sect01">MSS. <small>OF</small> B<small>ENJ</small>. F<small>RANKLIN</small>.</a><br> - <a href="#sect02">L<small>ETTER FROM</small> A<small>LICE</small> A<small>DDERTONGUE</small>.</a><br> - <a href="#sect03">Q<small>UERIES TO BE ASKED THE</small> J<small>UNTO</small>.</a><br> - <a href="#sect04">L<small>ETTER FROM THE</small> C<small>ASUIST</small>.</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect05">T<small>O A</small> C<small>OQUETTE</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect06">T<small>O THE</small> S<small>AME</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect07">L<small>IONEL</small> G<small>RANBY</small></a>, Chapter X: by Theta</p> - -<p><a href="#sect08">T<small>HE</small> P<small>RAIRIE</small></a>: by C. C.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect09">R<small>ANDOM</small> T<small>HOUGHTS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect10">O<small>DDS AND</small> E<small>NDS</small></a>: by Oliver Oldschool</p> - -<p><a href="#sect11">O<small>N THE</small> D<small>EATH OF</small> C<small>AMILLA</small></a>: -by L. A. Wilmer</p> - -<p><a href="#sect12">S<small>ONNET</small></a>: by E. A. P.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect13">T<small>HE</small> L<small>AKE</small></a>: by C. C.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect14">T<small>HE</small> H<small>ALL OF</small> I<small>NCHOLESE</small></a>: by J. N. McJilton</p> - -<p><a href="#sect15">A L<small>EAF FROM MY</small> S<small>CRAP</small> B<small>OOK</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect16">T<small>HE</small> C<small>ORPUS</small> J<small>URIS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect17">A L<small>OAN TO THE</small> M<small>ESSENGER</small></a> No. III: by J. F. O.<br> - <a href="#sect18">T<small>O</small> —— ——</a>: by George Lunt</p> - -<p><a href="#sect19">G<small>ERMAN</small> L<small>ITERATURE</small></a>: by George H. Calvert</p> - -<p><a href="#sect20">L<small>INES</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect21">A<small>LLITERATION</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect22">R<small>EADINGS WITH MY</small> P<small>ENCIL</small></a>, No. IV: by J. F. O.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect23">A<small>MERICAN</small> S<small>OCIAL</small> E<small>LEVATION</small></a>: -by H. J. G.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect24">D<small>YING</small> M<small>EDITATIONS</small></a> of a New York Alderman: -by E. M.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect25">I<small>RENE</small></a>: by E. A. P.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect26">V<small>ERBAL</small> C<small>RITICISMS</small></a></p> - -<p>E<small>DITORIAL</small><br> - <a href="#sect27">L<small>YNCH'S</small> L<small>AW</small></a></p> - -<p>C<small>RITICAL</small> N<small>OTICES</small><br> - <a href="#sect28">S<small>PAIN</small> R<small>EVISITED</small></a>: by Lieutenant Slidell<br> - <a href="#sect29">S<small>ALLUST'S</small> J<small>UGURTHINE</small> -W<small>AR, AND</small> C<small>ONSPIRACY OF</small> C<small>ATILINE</small></a>: by Charles Anthon<br> - <a href="#sect30">P<small>ARIS AND THE</small> P<small>ARISIANS IN</small> -1835</a>: by Frances Trollope<br> - <a href="#sect31">A L<small>IFE OF</small> W<small>ASHINGTON</small></a>: -by James K. Paulding<br> - <a href="#sect32">D<small>IDACTICS</small>—S<small>OCIAL</small>, -L<small>ITERARY</small>, <small>AND</small> P<small>OLITICAL</small></a>: by Robert Walsh<br> - <a href="#sect33">S<small>KETCHES OF</small> S<small>WITZERLAND</small></a>: -by an American<br> - <a href="#sect34">T<small>HE</small> M<small>ARTYR'S</small> -T<small>RIUMPH</small>; B<small>URIED</small> V<small>ALLEY</small>; <small>AND OTHER</small> -P<small>OEMS</small></a>: by Grenville Mellen</p> - -<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page349"><small><small>[p. 349]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<hr> -<h3>SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.</h3> -<hr> -<center>V<small>OL</small>. II. RICHMOND, MAY, -1836. N<small>O</small>. VI.</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> These pieces from the pen of Dr. Franklin have never -appeared in any edition of his works, and are from the manuscript book -which contains the Lecture and Essays published in the April number of -the Messenger.</small></blockquote> -<a name="sect02"></a> -<br> -<p><i>Mr. Gazetteer</i>,—I was highly pleased with your last week's paper -upon S<small>CANDAL</small>, as the uncommon doctrine therein preached is agreeable -both to my principles and practice, and as it was published very -seasonably to reprove the impertinence of a writer in the foregoing -Thursday's Mercury, who, at the conclusion of one of his silly -paragraphs, laments forsooth that the fair sex are so peculiarly -guilty of this enormous crime: every blockhead, ancient and modern, -that could handle a pen, has, I think, taken upon him to cant in the -same senseless strain. If to <i>scandalize</i> be really a crime, what do -these puppies mean? They describe it—they dress it up in the most -odious, frightful and detestable colors—they represent it as the -worst of crimes, and then roundly and charitably charge the whole race -of womankind with it. Are not they then guilty of what they condemn, -at the same time that they condemn it? If they accuse us of any other -crime they must necessarily scandalize while they do it; but to -scandalize us with being guilty of scandal, is in itself an egregious -absurdity, and can proceed from nothing but the most consummate -impudence in conjunction with the most profound stupidity.</p> - -<p>This, supposing as they do, that to scandalize is a crime; which you -have convinced all reasonable people is an opinion absolutely -erroneous. Let us leave then, these select mock-moralists, while I -entertain you with some account of my life and manners.</p> - -<p>I am a young girl of about thirty-five, and live at present with my -mother. I have no care upon my head of getting a living, and therefore -find it my duty as well as inclination to exercise my talent at -<small>CENSURE</small> for the good of my country folks. There was, I am told, a -certain generous emperor, who, if a day had passed over his head in -which he had conferred no benefit on any man, used to say to his -friends, in Latin, <i>Diem perdidi</i>, that is, it seems, <i>I have lost a -day</i>. I believe I should make use of the same expression, if it were -possible for a day to pass in which I had not, or missed, an -opportunity to scandalize somebody: but, thanks be praised, no such -misfortune has befel me these dozen years.</p> - -<p>Yet whatever good I may do, I cannot pretend that I at first entered -into the practice of this virtue from a principle of public spirit; -for I remember that when a child I had a violent inclination to be -ever talking in my own praise, and being continually told that it was -ill-manners and once severely whipped for it, the confined stream -formed itself a new channel, and I began to speak for the future in -the dispraise of others. This I found more agreeable to company and -almost as much so to myself: for what great difference can there be -between putting yourself up or putting your neighbor down? <i>Scandal</i>, -like other virtues, is in part its own reward, as it gives us the -satisfaction of making ourselves appear better than others, or others -no better than ourselves.</p> - -<p>My mother, good woman, and I, have heretofore differed upon this -account. She argued that Scandal spoilt all good conversation, and I -insisted that without it there would be no such thing. Our disputes -once rose so high that we parted tea-tables, and I concluded to -entertain my acquaintance in the kitchen. The first day of this -separation we both drank tea at the same time, but she with her -visitors in the parlor. She would not hear of the least objection to -any one's character, but began a new sort of discourse in some such -queer philosophical manner as this: <i>I am mightily pleased sometimes,</i> -says she, <i>when I observe and consider that the world is not so bad as -people out of humor imagine it to be. There is something amiable, some -good quality or other in every body. If we were only to speak of -people that are least respected, there is such a one is very dutiful -to her father, and methinks has a fine set of teeth; such a one is -very respectful to her husband; such a one is very kind to her poor -neighbors, and besides has a very handsome shape; such a one is always -ready to serve a friend, and in my opinion there is not a woman in -town that has a more agreeable air or gait.</i> This fine kind of talk, -which lasted near half an hour, she concluded by saying, <i>I do not -doubt but every one of you has made the like observations, and I -should be glad to have the conversation continued upon this subject.</i> -Just at this juncture I peeped in at the door, and never in my life -before saw such a set of simple vacant countenances. They looked -somehow neither glad nor sorry, nor angry nor pleased, nor indifferent -nor attentive; but (excuse the simile) like so many images of rye -dough. I, in the kitchen, had already begun a ridiculous story of Mr. -——'s intrigue with his maid, and his wife's behavior on the -discovery; at some of the passages we laughed heartily; and one of the -gravest of mamma's company, without making any answer to her discourse -got up <i>to go and see what the girls were so merry about:</i> she was -followed by a second, and shortly by a third, till at last the old -gentlewoman found herself quite alone, and being convinced that her -project was impracticable came herself and finished her tea with us; -ever since which <i>Saul also has been among the prophets</i>, and our -disputes lie dormant.</p> - -<p>By industry and application I have made myself the centre of all the -scandal in the province; there is little stirring but I hear of it. I -began the world with this maxim, that no trade can subsist without -returns; and accordingly, whenever I received a good story, I -endeavored to give two or a better in the room of it. My punctuality -in this way of dealing gave such encouragement that it has procured me -an incredible deal of business, which without diligence and good -method it would be impossible for me to go through. For besides the -stock of defamation thus naturally flowing in upon me, I practice an -art by which I can pump <span class="pagenum"><a name="page350"><small><small>[p. 350]</small></small></a></span> -scandal out of people that are the least -inclined that way. Shall I discover my secret? Yes; to let it die with -me would be inhuman. If I have never heard ill of some person I always -impute it to defective intelligence; <i>for there are none without their -faults, no, not one</i>. If she be a woman, I take the first opportunity -to let all her acquaintance know I have heard that one of the -handsomest or best men in town has said something in praise either of -her beauty, her wit, her virtue, or her good management. If you know -any thing of human nature, you perceive that this naturally introduces -a conversation turning upon all her failings, past, present and to -come. To the same purpose and with the same success I cause every man -of reputation to be praised before his competitors in love, business, -or esteem, on account of any particular qualification. Near the times -of election, if I find it necessary, I commend every candidate before -some of the opposite party, listening attentively to what is said of -him in answer. But commendations in this latter case are not always -necessary and should be used judiciously. Of late years I needed only -observe what they said of one another freely; and having for the help -of memory taken account of all informations and accusations received, -whoever peruses my writings after my death, may happen to think that -during a certain time the people of Pennsylvania chose into all their -offices of honor and trust, the veriest knaves, fools and rascals, in -the whole province. The time of election used to be a busy time with -me, but this year, with concern I speak it, people are grown so good -natured, so intent upon mutual feasting and friendly entertainment, -that I see no prospect of much employment from that quarter.</p> - -<p>I mentioned above that without good method I could not go through my -business. In my father's life time I had some instruction in accounts, -which I now apply with advantage to my own affairs. I keep a regular -set of books and can tell at an hour's warning how it stands between -me and the world. In my <i>Daybook</i> I enter every article of defamation -as it is transacted; for scandals <i>received in</i> I give credit, and -when I pay them out again I make the persons to whom they respectively -relate, <i>Debtor</i>. In my <i>Journal</i>, I add to each story, by way of -improvement, such probable circumstances as I think it will bear, and -in my <i>Ledger</i> the whole is regularly posted.</p> - -<p>I suppose the reader already condemns me in his heart for this -particular of <i>adding circumstances</i>, but I justify this part of my -practice thus. It is a principle with me that none ought to have a -greater share of reputation than they really deserve; if they have, it -is an imposition upon the public. I know it is every one's interest, -and therefore believe they endeavor to conceal all their vices and -follies; and I hold that those people are <i>extraordinary</i> foolish or -careless, who suffer one-fourth of their failings to come to public -knowledge. Taking then the common prudence and imprudence of mankind -in a lump, I suppose none suffer above one-fifth to be discovered; -therefore, when I hear of any person's misdoing, I think I keep within -bounds, if in relating it I only make it three times worse than it is; -and I reserve to myself the privilege of charging them with one fault -in four, which for aught I know they may be entirely innocent of. You -see there are but few so careful of doing justice as myself; what -reason then have mankind to complain of <i>Scandal?</i> In a general way -the worst that is said of us is only half what might be said, if all -our faults were seen.</p> - -<p>But alas! two great evils have lately befallen me at the same time; an -extreme cold that I can scarce speak, and a most terrible toothache -that I dare hardly open my mouth. For some days past I have received -ten stories for one I have paid; and I am not able to balance my -accounts without your assistance. I have long thought that if you -would make your paper a vehicle of scandal, you would double the -number of your subscribers. I send you herewith accounts of four -knavish tricks, two * * *, five * * * * *, three drubbed wives, and -four henpecked husbands, all within this fortnight; which you may, as -articles of news, deliver to the public, and if my toothache continues -shall send you more, being in the mean time your constant reader,</p> - -<div align="right"><small>ALICE ADDERTONGUE</small>. </div> -<br> -<p>I thank my correspondent, Mrs. Addertongue, for her good will, but -desire to be excused inserting the articles of news she has sent me, -such things being in reality no news at all.</p> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect03"></a> -<br> -<h5>QUERIES TO BE ASKED THE JUNTO.</h5> - -<p>Whence comes the dew that stands on the outside of a tankard that has -cold water in it in the summer time?</p> - -<p>Does the importation of servants increase or advance the wealth of our -country?</p> - -<p>Would not an office of insurance for servants be of service, and what -methods are proper for the erecting such an office?</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<p>Whence does it proceed that the proselytes to any sect or persuasion, -generally appear more zealous than those that are bred up in it?</p> - -<p><i>Answer</i>. I suppose that people <small>BRED</small> in different persuasions are -nearly zealous alike. Then he that changes his party is either sincere -or not sincere: that is, he either does it for the sake of the -opinions merely, or with a view of interest. If he is sincere and has -no view of interest, and considers before he declares himself how much -ill will he shall have from those he leaves, and that those he is -about to go among will be apt to suspect his sincerity: if he is not -really zealous, he will not declare; and therefore must be zealous if -he does declare.</p> - -<p>If he is not sincere, he is obliged at least to put on an appearance -of great zeal, to convince the better his new friends that he is -heartily in earnest, for his old ones he knows dislike him. And as few -acts of zeal will be more taken notice of than such as are done -against the party he has left, he is inclined to injure or malign them -because he knows they contemn and despise him. Hence one Renegado is -(as the Proverb says) worse than ten Turks.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<p>S<small>IR</small>,—It is strange, that among men who are born for society and -mutual solace, there should be any who take pleasure in speaking -disagreeable things to their acquaintance. But such there are I assure -you, and I should be glad if a little public chastisement might be any -means of reforming them. These ill-natured people study a man's -temper, or the circumstances of his life, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page351"><small><small>[p. 351]</small></small></a></span> merely to know what -disgusts him, and what he does not care to hear mentioned; and this -they take care to omit no opportunity of disturbing him with. They -communicate their wonderful discoveries to others, with an ill-natured -satisfaction in their countenances, <i>say such a thing to such a man -and you cannot mortify him worse</i>. They delight (to use their own -phrase) in seeing galled horses wince, and like flies, a sore place is -a feast to them. Know, ye wretches, that the meanest insect, the -trifling musqueto, the filthy bug have it in their power to give pain -to men; but to be able to give pleasure to your fellow creatures, -requires good nature and a kind and humane disposition, joined with -talents to which ye seem to have no pretension.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>X. Y.</small> </div> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<p>If a sound body and a sound mind, which is as much as to say health -and virtue, are to be preferred before all other -considerations,—Ought not men, in choosing of a business either for -themselves or children, to refuse such as are unwholesome for the -body, and such as make a man too dependant, too much obliged to please -others, and too much subjected to their humors in order to be -recommended and get a livelihood.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> - -<p>I am about courting a girl I have had but little acquaintance with; -how shall I come to a knowledge of her faults, and whether she has the -virtues I imagine she has?</p> - -<p><i>Answer</i>. Commend her among her female acquaintance.</p> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect04"></a> -<br> -<center><small>To the Printer of the Gazette.</small></center> - -<p>According to the request of your correspondent T. P., I send you my -thoughts on the following case by him proposed, viz:</p> - -<p>A man bargains for the keeping of his horse six months, whilst he is -making a voyage to Barbadoes. The horse strays or is stolen soon after -the keeper has him in possession. When the owner demands the value of -his horse in money, may not the other as justly demand so much -deducted as the keeping of the horse six months amounts to?</p> - -<p>It does not appear that they had any dispute about the value of the -horse, whence we may conclude there was no reason for such dispute, -but it was well known how much he cost, and that he could not honestly -have been sold again for more. But the value of the horse is not -expressed in the case, nor the sum agreed for keeping him six months; -wherefore in order to our more clear apprehension of the thing, let -<i>ten pounds</i> represent the horse's value and three pounds the sum -agreed for his keeping.</p> - -<p>Now the sole foundation on which the keeper can found his demand of a -deduction for keeping a horse he did not keep, is this. <i>Your horse,</i> -he may say, <i>which I was to restore to you at the end of six months -was worth ten founds; if I now give you ten pounds it is an equivalent -for your horse, and equal to returning the horse itself. Had I -returned your horse (value 10</i>l.<i>) you would have paid me three pounds -for his keeping, and therefore would have received in fact but seven -pounds clear. You then suffer no injury if I now pay you seven pounds, -and consequently you ought in reason to allow me the remaining three -pounds according to our agreement.</i></p> - -<p>But the owner of the horse may possibly insist upon being paid the -whole sum of ten pounds, without allowing any deduction for his -keeping after he was lost, and that for these reasons.</p> - -<p>1. It is always supposed, unless an express agreement be made to the -contrary, when horses are put out to keep, that the keeper is at the -risque of them (unavoidable accidents only excepted, wherein no care -of the keeper can be supposed sufficient to preserve them, such as -their being slain by lightning or the like.) <i>This you yourself -tacitly allow when you offer to restore me the value of my horse.</i> -Were it otherwise, people having no security against a keeper's -neglect or mismanagement would never put horses out to keep.</p> - -<p>2. Keepers considering the risque they run, always demand such a price -for keeping horses, that if they were to follow the business twenty -years, they may have a living profit, though they now and then pay for -a horse they have lost; and if they were to be at no risque they might -afford to keep horses for less than they usually have. So that what a -man pays for his horse's keeping, more than the keeper could afford to -take if he ran no risque, is in the nature of a premium for the -insurance of his horse. <i>If I then pay you for the few days you kept -my horse, you should restore me his full value.</i></p> - -<p>3. You acknowledge that my horse eat of your hay and oats but a few -days. It is unjust then to charge me for all the hay and oats that he -only might have eat in the remainder of the six months, and which you -have now still good in your stable. If, as the proverb says, it is -unreasonable to expect a horse should void oats who never eat any, it -is certainly as unreasonable to expect payment for those oats.</p> - -<p>4. If men in such cases as this are to be paid for keeping horses when -they were not kept, then they have a great opportunity of wronging the -owners of horses. For by privately selling my horse for his value (ten -pounds) soon after you had him in possession, and returning me at the -expiration of the time only seven pounds, demanding three pounds as a -deduction agreed for his keeping, you get that 3<i>l.</i> clear into your -pocket, besides the use of my money six months for nothing.</p> - -<p>5. But you say, the value of my horse being ten pounds, if you deduct -three for his keeping and return me seven, it is all I would in fact -have received had you returned my horse; therefore as I am no loser I -ought to be satisfied: this argument, were there any weight in it, -might serve to justify a man in selling as above, as many of the -horses he takes to keep as he conveniently can, putting clear into his -own pocket that charge their owner must have been at for their -keeping, for this being no loss to the owners, he may say, <i>where no -man is a loser why should not I be a gainer</i>. I need only answer to -this, that I allow the horse cost me but ten pounds, nor could I have -sold him for more, had I been disposed to part with him, but this can -be no reason why you should buy him of me at that price, whether I -will sell him or not. For it is plain I valued him at thirteen pounds, -otherwise I should not have paid ten pounds for him and agreed to give -you three pounds more for his keeping, till I had occasion to use him. -Thus, though you pay me the whole ten pounds which he cost me, -(deducting only for his keeping those few days) I am still a loser; I -lose the charge of those -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page352"><small><small>[p. 352]</small></small></a></span> days' keeping; I lose the three pounds -at which I valued him above what he cost me, and I lose the advantage -I might have made of my money in six months, either by the interest or -by joining it to my stock in trade in my voyage to Barbadoes.</p> - -<p>6. Lastly, whenever a horse is put to keep, the agreement naturally -runs thus: The keeper says I will feed your horse six months on good -hay and oats, if at the end of that time you will pay me three pounds. -The owner says, if you will feed my horse six months on good hay and -oats, I will pay you three pounds at the end of that time. Now we may -plainly see, the keeper's performance of his part of the agreement -must be antecedent to that of the owner; and the agreement being -wholly conditional, the owner's part is not in force till the keeper -has performed his. <i>You then not having fed my horse six months, as -you agreed to do, there lies no obligation on me to pay for so much -feeding.</i></p> - -<p>Thus we have heard what can be said on both sides. Upon the whole, I -am of opinion that no deduction should be allowed for the keeping of -the horse after the time of his straying.</p> - -<div align="right">I am yours, &c. - <br> -<small>THE CASUIST</small>. </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect05"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>TO A COQUETTE.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>The Lady was playing the <i>Penserosa</i>, and the Bard rallied her. She -suddenly assumed the <i>Allegra</i>, and rallied him in turn. Whereupon he -sung as follows:</small></blockquote> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem2"> - <tr><td> Heave no more that breast of snow,<br> - With sighs of simulated wo,<br> - While Conquest triumphs on thy brow,<br> - And Hope, gay laughing in thine eye,<br> - Cheers the moments gliding by,<br> - Welcomes Joy's voluptuous train,<br> - Welcomes Pleasure's jocund reign,<br> - And whispers thee of transports yet in store,<br> - When fraught with Love's ecstatic pain,<br> - Shooting keen through every vein,<br> - Thy heart shall thrill with bliss unknown before.<br> -<br> - But smile not so divinely bright;<br> - Nor sport before my dazzled sight,<br> - That "prodigality of charms,"<br> - That winning air, that wanton grace,<br> - That pliant form, that beauteous face,<br> - Zephyr's step, Aurora's smile;<br> - Nor thus in mimic fondness twine,<br> - About my neck thy snowy arms;<br> - Nor press this faded cheek of mine,<br> - Nor seek, by every witching wile,<br> - My hopes to raise, my heart to gain,<br> - Then laugh my love to scorn, and triumph in my pain.<br> -<br> - I love thee, Julia! Though the flush<br> - Of sprightly youth is flown—<br> - Though the bright glance, and rose's blush<br> - From eye and cheek and lip are gone—<br> - Though Fancy's frolic dreams are fled,<br> - Dispelled by sullen care—<br> - And Time's gray wing its frost has shed<br> - Upon my raven hair—<br> - Yet warm within my bosom glows,<br> - A heart that recks not winter's snows,<br> - But throbs with hope, and heaves with sighs<br> - For ruby lips and sparkling eyes;<br> - And still—the slave of amorous care—<br> - Would make that breast, that couch of Love, its lair.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect06"></a> -<h4>TO THE SAME.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem3"> - <tr><td>Shade! O shade those looks of light;<br> - The thrilling sense can bear no more!<br> - Veil those beauties from my sight,<br> - Which to see is to adore.<br> -<br> - That dimpled cheek, whose spotless white,<br> - The rays of Love's first dawning light,<br> - Tinge with Morning's rosy blush,<br> - And cast a warm and glowing flush,<br> - Even on thy breast of snow,<br> - And in thy bright eyes sparkling dance,<br> - And through the waving tresses glance<br> - That shade thy polished brow<br> - Who can behold, nor own thy power?<br> - Who can behold, and not adore?<br> -<br> - But like the wretch, who, doomed to endless pain,<br> - Raises to realms of bliss his aching eyes,<br> - To Heaven uplifts his longing arms in vain<br> - While in his tortured breast new pangs arise—<br> - Thus while at thy feet I languish,<br> - Stung with Love's voluptuous anguish,<br> - The smile that would my hopes revive,<br> - The witching glance that bids me live<br> - Shed on my heart one fleeting ray,<br> - One gleam of treacherous Hope display;<br> - But soon again in deep Despair I pine:<br> - The dreadful truth returns: "Thou never wilt be mine."<br> -<br> - Then shade! O shade those looks of light;<br> - The thrilling sense can bear no more!<br> - Veil those beauties from my sight,<br> - Which to see is to adore.<br> -<br> - But stay! O yet awhile refrain!<br> - Forbear! And let me gaze again!<br> - Still at thy feet impassioned let me lie,<br> - Tranced by the magic of thy thrilling eye;<br> - Thy soft melodious voice still let me hear,<br> - Pouring its melting music on my ear;<br> - And, while my eager lip, with transport bold,<br> - Presumptuous seeks thy yielded hand to press,<br> - Still on thy charms enraptured let me gaze,<br> - Basking ecstatic in thy beauty's blaze,<br> - Such charms 'twere more than Heaven to possess:<br> - 'Tis Heaven only to behold.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect07"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LIONEL GRANBY.</h4> -<center>CHAP. X.</center> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem4"> - <tr><td><small>He scanned with curious and prophetic eye<br> - Whate'er of lore tradition could supply<br> - From Gothic tale, or song or fable old—<br> - Roused him still keen to listen and to pry.<br> - - - - <i>The Minstrel</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> - -<p>You judge the English character with too much favor Lionel, said Col. -R——. The Englishman is not free! Though vain, arrogant, and -imperious, there is not a more abject slave on earth. His boasting -spirit, his full-mouthed independence and his lordly step quail to -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page353"><small><small>[p. 353]</small></small></a></span> -and he is ever crawling amid the purlieus or over the -threshold of that fantastic temple of fashion called "Society." It is -an endless contest between those who are initiated into its mysteries -and those who crowd its avenues. Wealth batters down the door—assumes -a proud niche in the chilling fane, and uniting itself to that silent -yet powerful aristocracy which wields the oracles of the god, its -breath can create you an <i>exclusive</i>, or its frown can degrade you to -the vulgar herd. Rank, which is the idol of an Englishman's sleepless -devotion, wealth because it is curiously akin to the former, and some -indistinct conception of the difference between a people and the mob, -render him, in his own conceit, a gentleman and a politician. His -first thought if cast on a desert island would be his rank, and if he -had companions in misfortune, he would ere night arrange the dignity -and etiquette of intercourse. Literature seeks the same degrading -arena, and alas! how few are there who do not deck the golden calf -with the laurels won in the conflicts of genius, and who, stimulated -solely by lucre, shed their momentary light athwart the horizon, even -as the meteor whose radiance is exhaled from the corruption of a -fœtid marsh. But there is a class who, ennobled by letters, are -always independent; and though they be of the race of authors whom Sir -Horace Walpole calls "a troublesome, conceited set of fellows," you -will find them too proud and too honest to palter away the -prerogatives of their station.</p> - -<p>But we are now at the door of Elia; come, let me introduce you to one -of his simple and unaffected suppers!</p> - -<p>I cheerfully assented to this invitation, and following my conductor -up a flight of crooked and dark steps, we entered into a room, over a -brazier's shop. A dull light trembled through the small and narrow -apartment where, shrouded in a close volume of tobacco smoke, sat in -pensive gentility—the kind—the generous—the infant-hearted Charles -Lamb; the man whose elastic genius dwelled among the mouldering ruins -of by-gone days, until it became steeped in beauty and expanded with -philosophy—the wit—the poet—the lingering halo of the sunshine of -antiquity—the phœnix of the mighty past. He was of delicate and -attenuated stature, and as fragilely moulded as a winter's flower, -with a quick and volatile eye, a mind-worn forehead and a countenance -eloquent with thought. Around a small table well covered with glasses -and a capacious bowl, were gathered a laughing group, eyeing the -battalia of the coming supper. Godwin's heavy form and intellectual -face, with the swimming eye of (ες τε σε S. T. C. How quaint -was his fancy!) Coleridge, flanked the margin of the mirth-inspiring bowl.</p> - -<p>Col. R——'s introduction made me at home, and ere my hand had dropped -from the friendly grasp of our host, he exclaimed—And you are truly -from the land of the <i>great plant?</i> You have seen the sole cosmopolite -spring from the earth. It is the denizen of the whole world, the -tireless friend of the wretched, the bliss of the happy. You need no -record of the empire of the red man. He has written his fadeless -history on a tobacco leaf.</p> - -<p>At this time Lamb was a clerk in the "India House," a melancholy and -gloomy mansion, with grave courts, heavy pillars, dim cloisters, -stately porticoes, imposing staircases and all the solemn pomp of -elder days. Here for many years he drove the busy quill, and whiled -away his tranquil evenings, in the dalliance of literature. He was an -author belonging to his own exclusive school—a school of simplicity, -grace and beauty. He neither skewered his pen into precise paragraphs, -nor rioted in the verbose rotundity of the day. He picked up the rare -and unpolished jewels which spangled the courts of Elizabeth and -Charles, and they lost beneath his polishing hand neither their lustre -nor value. He was a passionate and single hearted antiquary, ever -laboring to prop up with a puny arm, the column on which was inscribed -the literary glory of his country. He was familiar with the grace of -Heywood, the harmony of Fletcher, the ease of Sir Philip Sydney, the -delicacy and fire of Spenser, the sweetness of Carew, the power and -depth of Marlow, the mighty verse of Shakspeare, the affected fustian -of Euphues (Lilly) "which ran into a vast excess of allusion," and -with the deep and sparkling philosophy of Burton. With all of them he -held a "dulcified" converse, while his memory preserved from utter -forgetfulness, many of those authors who to the eye of the world, had -glittered like the flying fish a moment above the surface, only to -sink deeper in the sea of oblivion.</p> - -<p>Lamb possessed in an eminent degree, what Dryden called a beautiful -turn of words and thoughts in poetry, and the easy swell of cadence -and harmony which characterised his brief writings declared the -generosity of his heart, and the fertility of his genius. He could -sympathise with childhood's frolic, and his heart was full of boyish -dreams, when he gazed on the play-ground of Eton, and exclaimed "what -a pity to think that these fine ingenuous lads in a few years will be -changed into frivolous members of parliament!" He had the rough -magnanimity of the old English vein, mellowed into tenderness and -dashed with a flexible and spinous humor. He was contented to worship -poesy in its classic and antique drapery. With him the fountain of -Hypocrene still gushed up its inspiring wave; and Apollo, attended by -the Muses, the daughters of Memory, and escorted by the Graces, still -haunted the mountains of Helicon, lingered among the hills of Phocis, -or, mounted upon Pegasus, winged his radiant flight to the abode -itself of heaven-born Poesy. These were the fixed principles of his -taste, and he credulously smiled (for contempt found no place in his -bosom) upon the sickly illustrations and naked imagery of modern song. -His learning retained a hue of softness from the gentleness of his -character, for he had gathered the blossoms untouched by the -bitterness of the sciential apple. He extracted like the bee his -honied stores from the wild and neglected flowers which bloomed among -forgotten ruins, yet he was no plagiarist, no imitator, for he had -invaded and lingered amid the dim sepulchres of the shadowy past, -until he became its friend and cotemporary!</p> - -<p>How has he obtained those curiously bound books, I whispered to -Coleridge, as my eye fell on a column of shelves groaning under a mass -of tattered volumes which would have fairly crazed my poor uncle?</p> - -<p>Tell him Lamb! said Coleridge repeating my inquiry, give him the rank -and file of your ragged regiment.</p> - -<p>Slowly, and painfully as a neophyte, did I build the pile, replied -Lamb. Its corner stone was that fine old folio of Beaumont and -Fletcher, which, for a long year had peeped out from a bookseller's -stall directly in my <span class="pagenum"><a name="page354"><small><small>[p. 354]</small></small></a></span> -daily path to the India House. It bore the -great price of sixteen shillings, and to me, who had no unsunned heap -of silver, I gazed on it until I had almost violated the decalogue. -Poetry made me an economist, and at the end of two months my garnered -mites amounted to the requisite sum. Vain as a girl with her first -lover, I bore it home in triumph, and that night my sister Bridget -read "The Laws of Candy" while I listened with rapture to that deep -and gurgling torrent of old English, which dashed its music from this -broken cistern. To her is the honor due, her taste has called all -these obsolete wits to my library, for she keenly relished their -fantasies, and smiled at their gauderies. In early life she had been -tumbled into a spacious closet of good old English reading, without -much selection or prohibition and browsed at will upon that fair and -wholesome pasturage. Had I twenty girls they should be brought up in -this fashion. I know not whether their chance in wedlock might not be -diminished by it, but I can answer for it that (if the worst comes to -the worst) it makes most incomparable old maids.</p> - -<p>But there are some fearful gaps in my shelves, Mr. Granby! See! there -a stately and reverend folio, like a huge eye-tooth, was rudely -knocked out by a bold <i>borrower of books</i>, one of your smiling -pirates, mutilator of collections, a spoiler of the symmetry of -shelves, and a creator of odd volumes.</p> - -<p>The conversation now became general, and many a little skiff was -launched on the great ocean of commonplace. Lamb most cordially hated -politics which he called "a splutter of hot rhetoric;" and he only -remembered its battles and revolutions when connected with letters. He -had heard of Pharsalia, but it was Lucan's and not Cæsar's; the battle -of Lepanto was cornered in his memory because Cervantes had there lost -an arm. The glorious days of the "Commonwealth" were hallowed by -Milton and Waller, and he always turned with much address from the -angry debates about the execution of Charles I. to the simple inquiry -whether he or Doctor Ganden wrote the "Icon Basilike."</p> - -<p>Godwin in vain essayed to introduce the "conduct of the ministry," and -being repeatedly baffled, he said pettishly to Lamb, And what benefit -is your freehold, if you do not feel interested in government?</p> - -<p>Ah! I had a freehold it is true, the gift of my generous and solemn -god-father, the oil-man in Holborn; I went down and took possession of -my testamentary allotment of three quarters of an acre, and strode -over it with the feeling of an English freeholder, that all betwixt -sky and earth was my own. Alas! it has passed into more prudent hands, -and nothing but an Agrarian can restore it!</p> - -<p>The bowl now danced from hand to hand, and I did not observe its -operation until Lamb and Coleridge commenced an affectionate talk -about Christ's Hospital, the blue coat boys, and all the treasured -anecdotes of school-day friendship. This is the first and happiest -stage of incipient intoxication, and the "willie-draughts" which are -pledged to the memory of boyhood, ever inspire brighter and nobler -sympathies, than are found in the raciest toasts to beauty, or the -deepest libations to our country.</p> - -<p>Do you not remember, said Lamb, poor Allan! whose beautiful -countenance disarmed the wrath of a town-damsel whom he had secretly -pinched, and whose half-formed execration was exchanged, when she, -tigress-like turned round and gave the terrible <i>bl——</i> for a gentler -meaning, <i>bless thy handsome face!</i> And do you not remember when you -used to tug over Homer, discourse Metaphysics, chaunt Anacreon, and -play at foils with the sharp-edged wit of Sir Thomas Browne, how your -eye glistened when you doffed the grotesque blue coat, and the -inspired charity boy (this was uttered in an under tone) walked forth -humanized by a christian garment. Spenser knew the nobility of heart -which a new coat gives when he dressed his butterfly.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem5"> - <tr><td><small>The velvet nap which on his wings doth lie<br> - The silken down with which his back is dight<br> - His broad outstretched horns, his hairy thighs<br> - His glorious colors, and his glistening eyes.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Col. R. now motioned to me to retire, and I bid a reluctant goodnight -to the joyous scene, the exclamation "do you not remember!" from -Coleridge, and the cheerful laugh ringing through the whole house and -its dying echo following us to the street.</p> - -<p>Gentle reader! the critics have called Lamb a trifler, the scholars -have called him a twaddler! Read <i>Elia</i>, and let your heart answer for him.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect08"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE PRAIRIE.</h4> -<br> -<p>This word is pronounced by the common people <i>pa-ra-re</i>. I was in the -peninsula of Michigan, and had been for a day or two traversing the -most dreary country imaginable, when I saw for the first time a salt -or wet prairie, which is only a swampy meadow, grown up in a rank, -coarse, sedgy grass.</p> - -<p>Not long after we began to catch glimpses of the upland prairies. -These are either clear prairies, totally destitute of trees, or oak -openings which consist of clear prairie and scattered trees. A clear -prairie—a broad unvaried expanse—presents rather a monotonous -appearance like the sea, but surely the human eye has never rested on -more lovely landscapes than these oak openings present. They answered -my conceptions of lawns, parks and pleasure grounds in England; they -are the lawns, parks and pleasure grounds of nature, laid out and -planted with an inimitable grace, fresh as creation.</p> - -<p>In these charming woodlands are a number of small lakes, the most -picturesque and delightful sheets of water imaginable. The prairies in -the summer are covered with flowers. I am an indifferent botanist, but -in a short walk I gathered twenty four species which I had not seen -before. These flowers and woods and glittering lakes surpass all -former conception of beauty. Each flower, leaf, and blade of grass, -and green twig glistens with pendulous diamonds of dew. The sun pours -his light upon the water and streams through the sloping glades. To a -traveller unaccustomed to such scenes, they are pictures of a mimic -paradise. Sometimes they stretch away far as the eye can reach, soft -as Elysian meadows, then they swell and undulate, voluptuous as the -warm billows of a southern sea.</p> - -<p>In these beautiful scenes we saw numerous flocks of wild turkies, and -now and then a prairie hen, or a deer bounding away through flowers. -Here too is found the prairie wolf which some take to be the Asiatic -jackall. It is so small as not to be dangerous alone. It is said -however, that they hunt in packs like hounds, headed by a grey wolf. -Thus they pursue the deer with a cry -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page355"><small><small>[p. 355]</small></small></a></span> not unlike that of hounds, -and have been known to rush by a farm-house in hot pursuit. The -officers of the army stationed at the posts on the Prairies amuse -themselves hunting these little wolves which in some parts are very numerous.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>C. C.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect09"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>RANDOM THOUGHTS.</h4> -<br> -<p><i>The Age</i>.—Its leading fault, to which we of America are especially -obnoxious, is this: in Poetry, in Legislation, in Eloquence, the best, -the divinest even of all the arts, seems to be laid aside more and -more, just in proportion as it every day grows of greater necessity. -It is still, as in Swift's time, who complains as follows: "To say the -truth, no part of knowledge seems to be in fewer hands, than that of -discerning <i>when to have done</i>."</p> - -<p><i>Dancing</i>.—The following are sufficiently amusing illustrations of -the fine lines in Byron's Ode,</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem6"> - <tr><td><small>"You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet;<br> - Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?"</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The French translation of St. John (de Creve cœur's) <i>American -Farmer's Letters</i>—a book once very popular—was adorned with -engravings, to fit it to the European imagination of the Arcadian -state of things in America. The frontispiece presents an allegorical -picture, in which a goddess of those robuster proportions which -designate Wisdom, or Philosophy, leads by the hand an urchin—the -type, no doubt, of this country—with ne'er a shirt upon his back. -More delightfully still, however, in the back ground, is seen, hand in -hand, with knee-breeches and strait-collared coats, a band of -Pennsylvania quaker men, dancing, by themselves, a true old fashioned -six-handed Virginia reel.</p> - -<p>But of the Pyrrhic dance, more particularly: the learned -Scaliger—that terror and delight of the critical world—assures us, -in his <i>Poetica</i>, (book i, ch. 9) that he himself, at the command of -his uncle Boniface, was wont often and long to dance it, before the -Emperor Maximilian, while all Germany looked on with amazement. "Hanc -saltationem Pyrrhicam, nos sæpe et diu, jussu Bonifacii patrui, coram -divo Maximiliano, non sine stupore totius Germaniæ, representavimus."</p> - -<p><i>Ariosto</i>.—Has not the following curious testimony in regard to him -escaped all his biographers? Montaigne, in his Essays, (vol. iii, p. -117, Johanneau's edition, in 8vo.) says, "J'eus plus de despit -encores, que de compassion, de le veoir à Ferrare en si piteux estat, -survivant à soy mesme, mecognoissant et soy et ses ouvrages; lesquels, -sans son sςeu, et toutesfois en sa veue, on a mis en lumiere -incorrigez et informes."</p> - -<p>"I was touched even more with vexation than with compassion, to see -him, at Ferrara, in a state so piteous, outliving himself, and -incapable of recognizing either himself or his works; which last, -without his knowledge, though yet before his sight, were given to the -world uncorrected and unfinished."</p> - -<p><i>Thin Clothing</i>.—It would be difficult more skilfully to turn a -reproach into a praise, than Byron has done, as to drapery too -transparent, in his voluptuous description of a Venitian revel.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem7"> - <tr><td><small> - -————"The thin robes,<br> - Floating like light clouds 'twixt our gaze and heaven,"</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>form the very climax of many intoxicating particulars.</p> - -<p>The Greeks seem not to have practised a very rigorous reserve, as to -the concealment of the person. The Lacedemonians, indeed, studiously -suppressed, by their institutions, whatever of sexual modesty was not -absolutely necessary to virtue. Among the Romans, however, the -national austerity of manners made every violation of delicacy in this -matter a great offence. Their Satyrists (as Seneca, Juvenal, and -others) abound in allusions to the license of dress, which grew up, -along with the other corruptions of their original usages. The words -of Seneca, indeed, might almost be taken for a picture of a modern -belle, in her ball-room attire. He says, in his <i>De Beneficiis</i>, -"Video Sericas vestes, si vestes vocandæ sint, in quibus nihil est, -quo defendi aut corpus, aut denique pudor, possit: quibus sumtis, -mulier parum liquido, nudam se non esse, jurabit. Hæc, ingenti summa, -ab ignotis etiam ad commercium gentibus, accersuntur, ut matronæ -nostræ ne adulteris quidem plus suis in cubiculo, quam in publico, -ostendant." "I see, too, silken clothing—if clothing that can be -called, which does not protect, nor even conceal the body—apparelled -in which, a woman cannot very truly swear, that she is not naked. Such -tissues are brought to us at enormous cost, from nations so remote -that not even their names can reach us; and by the help of this vast -expense, our matrons are able to exhibit, to their lovers and in their -couches, nothing at which the whole public has not equally gazed."</p> - -<p><i>Mythology</i>.—Bryant and others have puzzled themselves not a little -to give a rational explanation to the story of Ariadne; who, it will -be remembered, was abandoned upon the isle of Naxos by her seducer, -Theseus: but Bacchus chancing to come that way, fell upon the forlorn -damsel, and presently made her his bride. All this may well puzzle a -commentator, for the single reason, that it is perfectly plain and -simple. The whole tale is nothing but a delicate and poetic way of -stating the fact, that Mrs. Ariadne, being deserted by her lover, -sought and found a very common consolation—that is to say, she took -to drink.</p> - -<p><i>Naples</i>.—Its population of Lazzaroni appears, after all, to be but -the legitimate inheritors of ancestral laziness. They were equally -idle in Ovid's time: for he expressly calls that seat of indolence</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem8"> - <tr><td><small> - -———"in otia natam<br> - Parthenopen."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Exhibition of Grief</i>.—There is a curious instance of the unbending -austerity of Roman manners, in the trait by which Tacitus endeavors to -paint the disorder with which the high-souled Agrippina received the -news of the death of Germanicus. She was, at the moment, sewing in the -midst of her maids; and so totally (says Tacitus) did the intelligence -overthrow her self-command, <i>that she broke off her work</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Snoring</i>.—The following story of a death caused by it is entirely -authentic. Erythræus relates that when Cardinal Bentivoglio—a scholar -equally elegant and laborious—was called to sit in the Conclave, for -the election of a successor to Urban VIII, the summons found him much -exhausted by the literary vigils to which he was addicted. Immured in -the sacred palace, (such is the custom while the Pope is not yet -chosen,) his lodging was assigned him along side of a Cardinal, whose -snoring was so incessant and so terrible, that poor Bentivoglio ceased -to be able to obtain even the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page356"><small><small>[p. 356]</small></small></a></span> -little sleep which his studies and -his cares usually permitted him. After eleven nights of insomnolence -thus produced, he was thrown into a violent fever. They removed him, -and he slept—but waked no more.</p> - -<p><i>Human Usefulness</i>.—Wilkes has said, that of all the uses to which a -man can be put, there is none so poor as hanging him. I hope that I -may, without offence to any body's taste, add, that of all the -purposes to which a <i>soul</i> can be put, I know of none less useful than -<i>damning it</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Sneezing</i>.—It is the Catholics (see father Feyjoo for the fact) who -trace the practice of bidding God bless a man when he sneezes, to a -plague in the time of St. Gregory. He, they say, instituted the -observance, in order to ward off the death of which this spasm had, -till then, been the regular precursor, in the disease. If the story be -true, such a plague had already happened, long before the day of St. -Gregory. In the <i>Odyssey</i>, Penelope takes the sneezing of Telemachus -for a good omen; and the army of Xenophon drew a favorable presage, as -to one of his propositions, from a like accident: Aristotle speaks of -the salutation of one sneezing as the common usage of his time. In -Catullus's <i>Acme and Sempronius</i>, Cupid ratifies, by an approving -sneeze, the mutual vows of the lovers. Pliny alludes to the practice, -and Petronius in his <i>Gyton</i>. In Apuleius's <i>Golden Ass</i>, a husband -hears the concealed gallant of his wife sneeze, and blesses her, -taking the sternutation to be her own.</p> - -<p>If there be a marvel or an absurdity, the Rabbins rarely fail to adorn -the fiction or the folly with some trait of their own. Their account -of the matter is, that in patriarchal days, men never died except by -sneezing, which was then the only disease, and always mortal. -Apparently then, the antiquity of the Scotch nation and of rappee -cannot be carried back to the time of Jacob. Be this point of -chronology as it may, however, it is certain that the same sort of -observance, as to sneezing, was found in America at the first -discovery.</p> - -<p>Aristotle is politely of opinion that the salutation was meant as an -acknowledgment to the wind, for choosing an inoffensive mode of -escape. But a stronger consideration is necessary to account for the -joy with which the people of Monopotama celebrate the fact, when their -monarch sneezes. The salutation is spread by loud acclamations, over -the whole city. So, too, when he of Sennaar sneezes, his courtiers all -turn their backs, and slap loudly their right thighs.</p> - -<p><i>Honor</i>.—The source of the following passage in Garth's <i>Dispensary</i>, -is so obvious, that it is singular that no one has made the remark.</p> - -<p>In the debate among the Doctors, when war is proposed, one of the -Council speaks as follows.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem9"> - <tr><td><small>Thus he: "'Tis true, when privilege and right<br> - Are once invaded, Honor bids us fight:<br> - But ere we yet engage in Honor's cause,<br> - First know what honor is, and whence its laws.<br> - Scorned by the base, 'tis courted by the brave;<br> - The hero's tyrant, yet the coward's slave:<br> - Born in the noisy camp, it feeds on air,<br> - And both exists by hope and by despair;<br> - Angry whene'er a moment's ease we gain,<br> - And reconciled at our returns of pain.<br> - It lives when in death's arms the hero lies;<br> - But when his safety he consults, it dies.<br> - Bigotted to this idol, we disclaim<br> - Rest, health and ease, for nothing but a name."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Implicit Faith</i>.—I am delighted with the following excellent -contrast of ignorant Orthodoxy with cultivated Doubt. It is from the -learned and pious Le Clerc's Preface to his <i>Bibliothèque Choisie</i>, -vol. vii, pp. 5, 6.</p> - -<p>"Il n'y a, comme je crois, personne, qui ne préferât l'état d'une -nation, où il y auroit beaucoup de lumières quoiqu'il y eût quelques -libertins, à celui d'une nation ignorante et qui croiroit tout ce -qu'on lui enseigneroit, ou qui au moins ne donneroit aucunes marques -de douter des sentimens reçus. Les lumières produisent infailliblement -beaucoup de vertu dans l'esprit d'une bonne part de ceux qui les -reçoivent; quoiqu'il y ait des gens qui en abusent. Mais l'Ignorance -ne produit que de la barbarie et des vices dans tous ceux qui vivent -tranquillement dans leurs ténèbres. Il faudroit étre fou, par exemple, -pour préferer ou pour égaler l'état auquel sont les Moscovites et -d'autres nations, à l'égard de la Religion et de la vertu, à celni -auquel sont les Anglois et les Hollandois, sous prétexte qu'il y a -quelques libertins parmi ces deux peuples, et que les Moscovites et -ceux qui leur ressemblent ne doubtent de rien."</p> - -<p>"There is, I think, no one who would prefer the state of a nation, in -which there was much intelligence, but some free thinkers, to that of -a nation ignorant and ready to believe whatever might be taught it, or -which, at least, would show no sign of doubting any of the received -opinions. For knowledge never fails to produce much of virtue, in the -minds of a large part of those who receive it, even though there be -some who make an ill use of it. But Ignorance is never seen to give -birth to any thing but barbarism and vice, in all such as dwell -contentedly under her darkness. It would, for example, be nothing less -than madness, to prefer or to compare the condition in which the -Muscovites and some other nations are, as respects Religion and -Virtue, to that of the English or Hollanders; under the pretext that -there are, among the two latter nations, some free thinkers, and that -the Muscovites and those who resemble them doubt of nothing."</p> - -<p>The whole of this piece, indeed, is excellent, and full of candor, -charity and sense, as to the temper and the principles of those who -are forever striving to send into banishment, or shut up in prisons, -or compel into eternal hypocrisy, all such opinions as have the -misfortune to differ with their own.</p> - -<p><i>Friendships</i>.—There are people whose friendship is very like the -Santee Canal in South Carolina: that is to say, its repairs cost more -than the fee simple is worth.</p> - -<p><i>Benefits</i>.—There are many which must ever be their own reward, great -or small. Others are positively dangerous. That subtle courtier, -Philip de Comines, declares, that it is exceedingly imprudent to do -your prince services for which a fit recompense is not easily -found:<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> and Tacitus avers that obligations too deep are sure to turn -to hatred.<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> Seneca pursues the matter yet further, and insists that -he, whom your excessive services have thus driven to ingratitude, -presently begins to desire to escape the shame of such favors, by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page357"><small><small>[p. 357]</small></small></a></span> -putting out of the world their author.<small><small><sup>3</sup></small></small> Cicero, too, is -clearly of opinion, that enmity is the sure consequence of kindness -carried to the extreme.<small><small><sup>4</sup></small></small></p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> "Il se fault bien garder de faire tant de services à son -maistre, qu'on l'empesche d'en trouver la juste -recompense."—<i>Memoires</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> "Beneficia eo usque læta sunt, dum videntur exsolvi -posse: ubi multum antivenere, pro gratiâ odium redditur."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>3</sup></small> "Nam qui putat esse turpe non reddere, non vult esse cui -reddat."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>4</sup></small> "Qui si non putat satisfacere, amicus esse nullo modo -potest."</small></blockquote> - -<p><i>Heroes</i>.—Marshal de Saxe is accustomed to get the credit of a very -clever saying, "that no man seems a hero to his own valet de chambre." -Now, not to speak of the scriptural apothegm, "that a prophet has no -honor in his own country," the following passage from Montaigne will -be found to contain precisely the Marshal's idea.</p> - -<p>"Tel a esté miraculeux au monde, auquel sa femme et son valet n'ont -rien veu seulement de remarquable. Peu d'hommes ont esté admirez par -leurs domestiques: nul n'a esté prophète, non seulement en sa maison, -mais en son pais, diet l'expérience des histoires."—<i>Essais</i>, vol. v, -p. 198.</p> - -<p>"Such an one has seemed miraculous to the world, in whom his wife and -his valet could not even perceive any thing remarkable. Few men have -ever been admired by their own servants; none was ever a prophet in -his own country, still less in his own household."</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect10"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>ODDS AND ENDS.</h4> -<br> -<p>M<small>R</small>. E<small>DITOR</small>,—Many months having passed away since I last addressed -you, I have flattered myself, as most old men are apt to do on such -occasions, that you might very possibly begin to feel some little -inclination to hear from me once more. Know then, my good sir, that I -am still in the land of the living, and have collected several "odds -and ends" of matters and things in general, which you may use or not, -for your "Messenger," as the fancy strikes you.</p> - -<p>Among the rest, I will proceed to give you a new classification of the -Animal Kingdom—at least so far as our own race is concerned; a -classification formed upon principles materially different from those -adopted by the great father of Natural History—Linnæus, who you know, -classed us with whales and bats, under the general term, Mammalia! -Now, I have always thought this too bad—too degrading for the lords -and masters (as we think ourselves) of all other animals on the face -of the earth; and who deserve a distinct class to themselves, divided -too into more orders than any other—nay, into separate orders for the -two sexes. With much study, therefore, and not less labor, I have -digested a system which assumes mental—instead of bodily -distinctions, as much more certain and suitable guides in our -researches. This may be applied without either stripping or partially -exposing the person, as father Linnæus' plan would compel us to do, -whenever we were at a loss to ascertain (no unfrequent occurrence by -the way, in these days) whether the object before us was really one of -the Mammalia class or not: for such are the marvellous, ever-varying -metamorphoses wrought by modern fashions in the exteriors of our race, -that the nicest observers among us would be entirely "at fault" on -many occasions, to tell whether it was fish, flesh, or fowl that they -saw. My plan, therefore, has at least one material advantage over the -other; and it is quite sufficient, I hope, very soon to carry all -votes in its favor.</p> - -<p>With whales and bats we shall no longer be classed!—if your old -friend can possibly help it; and he is not a little confident of his -powers to do so; for he believes he can demonstrate that there is not -a greater difference between the form, size and habits of the bats and -whales themselves, than he can point out between the manners, customs, -pursuits, and bodily and mental endowments of the different orders of -mankind; and, therefore, <i>ex necessitate rei</i>, there should be a -classification different from any yet made. The honor of this -discovery, I here beg you to witness, that I claim for myself.</p> - -<p>Before I proceed farther, I will respectfully suggest a new definition -of man himself; as all heretofore attempted have been found defective. -The Greeks, for example, called him "Anthropos"—an animal that turns -his eyes upwards; forgetting (as it would seem) that all domestic -fowls, especially turkeys, ducks and geese, frequently do the same -thing; although it must be admitted, that the act in them is always -accompanied by a certain twist of the head, such as man himself -generally practices when he means to look particularly astute. One of -their greatest philosophers—the illustrious Plato—perceiving the -incorrectness of this definition, attempted another, and defined man -to be "a two legged animal without feathers:" but this very inadequate -description was soon "blown sky high" by the old cynic Diogenes, who, -having picked a cock quite clean of his plumage, threw him into -Plato's school, crying out at the same time, "Behold Plato's man!" -True, this is an old story; but none the worse for that. This was such -"a settler,"—to borrow a pugilistic term—as completely to -discourage, for a long time, all farther attempts to succeed in this -very difficult task; nor indeed, do I recollect, from that day to the -present, any now worth mentioning. "<i>The grand march of mind</i>," -however, has become of late years, so astoundingly rapid, and so many -things heretofore pronounced to be <i>unknowable</i>, have been made as -plain as the nose on our faces, that Man himself—the great discoverer -of all these wonders, should no longer be suffered (if his own powers -can prevent it) to be consorted, as he has so long been, with a class -of living beings so vastly inferior to himself. To rescue him -therefore from <i>this</i> degradation, shall be my humble task, since it -is one of those attempts wherein—even to fail—must acquire some -small share of glory.</p> - -<p>I will define him then, to be <i>A self-loving, self-destroying animal</i>, -and will maintain the correctness and perfectly exclusive character of -the definition, against all impugners or objectors, until some one of -them can point out to me among all the living beings on the face of -the earth, either any beast, bird, fish, reptile, insect, or -animalcula, that is distinguished by these very opposite and directly -contradictory qualities. Man alone possesses—man alone displays them -both; and is consequently distinguished from all the rest of animated -nature in a way that gives him an indisputable right to a class of his own.</p> - -<p>I will next proceed to enumerate the different orders into which this -most wonderful class is divided. The females, God bless them, being -entitled, by immemorial usage, to the first rank, shall receive the -first notice; <span class="pagenum"><a name="page358"><small><small>[p. 358]</small></small></a></span> -and I will rank in the first order all those who -have unquestionable claims to pre-eminence.</p> - -<p><i>Order 1st.</i> The <i>Loveables</i>.—This order is very numerous, and forms -by far the most important body in every community, being distinguished -by all the qualities and endowments—both physical and -intellectual—which can render our present state of existence most -desirable—most happy. Their beauties charm—their virtues adorn every -walk of life. All that is endearing in love and affection—either -filial, conjugal, or parental: all that is soothing and consolatory in -affliction; all that can best alleviate distress, cheer poverty, or -mitigate anguish: every thing most disinterested, most enduring, most -self-sacrificing in friendship—most exemplary in the performance of -duty: all which is most delightful in mental intercourse, most -attractive and permanently engaging in domestic life: in short, every -thing that can best contribute to human happiness in this world, must -be ascribed, either directly or indirectly, much more to their -influence than to all other temporal causes put together; and would -the rest of their sex only follow their admirable example, this -wretched world of ours would soon become a secondary heaven.</p> - -<p><i>Order 2d.</i> The <i>Conclamantes</i>, which, for the benefit of your more -English readers, I will remark, is a Latin word, meaning—<i>those who -clamor together</i>. They possess two qualities or traits in common with -certain birds, such as rooks, crows and blackbirds, that is, they are -<i>gregarious</i> and marvellously <i>noisy;</i> for whenever they collect -together, there is such a simultaneous and apparently causeless -chattering in the highest key of their voices, as none could believe -but those who have had the good or ill fortune (I will not say which) -to hear it. But there is this marked characteristic difference. The -latter utter sounds significant of sense, and perfectly intelligible, -often very sprightly and agreeable too, when you can meet them one at -a time; nor is juxta-position at all necessary to their being heard; -for you will always be in ear-shot of them, although separated by the -entire length or breadth of the largest entertaining-room any where to -be found. Their proper element—the one wherein they shine, or rather -sound most—is the atmosphere of a "<i>sware-ree</i>" party, or a squeeze: -but as to the particular purpose for which Nature designed them, I -must e'en plead <i>ignorance;</i> not, my good sir, that I would have you -for one moment to suppose, that I mean any invidious insinuation by -this excuse.</p> - -<p><i>Order 3d.</i> The <i>Ineffables</i>.—I almost despair of finding language to -describe—even the general appearance of this order, much less those -mental peculiarities by which they are to be distinguished from the -rest of their sex. But I must at least strive to redeem my pledge, and -therefore proceed to state, that they rarely ever seem to be more than -half alive: that their countenances always indicate (or are designed -to do so) a languor of body scarcely bearable, and the most -touching—the most exquisite sensibility of soul; that even the most -balmy breezes of spring, should they accidentally find access to them, -would visit them much too roughly: that to speak above a low murmur -would almost be agony, and to eat such gross food as ordinary mortals -feed upon would be certain death. As to their voices, I am utterly -hopeless of giving the faintest idea, unless permitted both to resort -to supposition and to borrow Nic Bottom's most felicitous epithet of -"a sucking dove." You have only to imagine such a thing, (it is no -greater stretch of fancy than writers often call upon us to make) and -then to imagine what kind of tones "a sucking-dove" would elicit; and -you will certainly have quite as good an idea of the voice of an -Ineffable as you could possibly have, without actually hearing it. No -comparison drawn from any familiar sounds can give the faintest idea -of it, for it is unique and <i>sui generis</i>. This order serves the -admirable moral purpose of continually teaching, in the best -practicable manner, the virtue of patience to all—who have anything -to do with it.</p> - -<p><i>Order 4th.</i> The <i>Tongue-tied</i>, or <i>Monosyllabic</i>.—This order can -scarcely be described—unless by negations; for they say little or -nothing themselves, and, therefore, but little or nothing can be said -of them; unless it were in the Yankee mode of <i>guessing;</i> which, to -say the least of it, would be rather unbecoming in so scientific a -work as I design mine to be. The famous Logadian Art of extracting -sun-beams from cucumbers would be quite easy in practice compared with -the art of extracting anything from these good souls beyond a "<i>yes</i>" -or a "<i>no</i>," as all have found to their cost, who ever tried to keep -up the ball of conversation among them; the labor of Sysiphus was -child's play to it. They serve however one highly useful purpose, and -that is, to furnish a perpetual refutation of the base slander which -one of the old English poets has uttered against the whole sex in -these often quoted lines—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem10"> - <tr><td><small>"I think, quoth Thomas, women's tongues<br> - Of aspen-leaves are made."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><i>Order 5th.</i> In vivid and startling contrast to the preceding order, I -introduce—The hoidening <i>Tom-Boys</i>. These are a kind of "Joan -D'Arkies," (if I may coin such a term), female in appearance, but male -in impudence, in action, in general deportment. They set at naught all -customary forms, all public sentiment, all those long established -canons, sanctioned by both sexes, for regulating female conduct; and -they practise, with utter disregard of consequences, all such -masculine feats and reckless pranks, as must <i>unsex</i> them, so far as -behavior can possibly do it. They affect to despise the company of -their own sex; to associate chiefly with ours, but with the most -worthless part of them, provided only, they be young, wild, prodigal -and in common parlance—<i>fashionable</i>, and alike regardless of what -may be thought or said of them. The more delicate their figures, the -more apparently frail their constitutions, the greater seems to be -their rage for exhibiting the afflicting contrast between masculine -actions performed with powers fully adequate to achieve them, and -attempted—apparently at the risk of the limbs, if not the lives, of -the rash and nearly frantic female adventurers. Egregiously mistaking -eccentricity for genius—outrages upon public sentiment for -independence of spirit, and actions which should disgrace a man, or -render him perfectly ridiculous, for the best means of catching a -husband, they make themselves the pity of the wise and good, the scorn -and derision of all the other orders of the community, who see through -the flimsy and ridiculous veil of their conduct, the true motives from -which it proceeds.</p> - -<p><i>Order 6th.</i> The <i>Hydrophobists</i>.—These are, at all times, such -haters of water—especially if that unsavory -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page359"><small><small>[p. 359]</small></small></a></span> article called -<i>soap</i> be mixed with it—that insanity is by no means necessary, as in -the case of animals affected by canine madness, to elicit their -characteristic feeling. Their persons and their houses too, when they -have any, all present ocular proofs of it; proofs, alas! which nothing -but the luckless objects of their hatred can "<i>expunge</i>," if I may -borrow a term lately become very fashionable. Whether this antipathy -be natural or superinduced by the dread of catching cold, I can not -pretend to say; but its effects are too notorious, too often matters -of the most common observation, for its existence to be doubted. The -striking contrast, however, which it exhibits to that admirable -quality—<i>cleanliness</i>, aids much in teaching others the duty of -acquiring and constantly practising the latter.</p> - -<p><i>Order 7th.</i> The <i>Bustlers</i>.—The difference between this order and -the last mentioned is so great, so radical, so constantly forced upon -our notice, that they might almost be ranked in distinct classes: for -the members of the order now under consideration, are such dear lovers -of both the articles which the others hate, as to keep them in almost -ceaseless appliance. At such times, neither the members of their -families, nor their guests, can count, for many minutes together, upon -remaining safe from involuntary sprinklings and ablutions. And -what—with their usual accompaniments of dusters, brooms, mops, and -scrubbing brushes, if you find any secure place either to sit or -stand, you will owe it more to your good luck than to any preconcerted -exemption between the mistresses and their operatives. "<i>Fiat cleaning -up, ruat cælum,</i>" is both their law and their practice. After all -however, they are, in general, well meaning, good hearted souls; those -only excepted among them, whose perpetual motion is kept up by a -modicum of the Xantippe blood, which developes its quality in such -outward appliances to the heads, backs and ears of their servants—as -key-handles, sticks, switches, boxings and scoldings.</p> - -<p><i>Order 8th.</i> The <i>Peace-Sappers</i>.—These, like the underground -artists, after whom I have ventured in part to name them, always work -<i>secretly;</i> but whereas, the sappers employed in war, confine their -humane labors solely to the immediate destruction of walls, -fortifications and houses, with all their inhabitants, thereby putting -the latter out of their misery at once; the <i>peace-sappers</i> make the -excellence of <i>their art</i> to consist in causing the sufferings which -they inflict to be protracted—even to the end of life, be that long -or short. The master spirits of this order view with ineffable scorn -such of their formidable sisterhood as are incapable, from actual -stupidity, of exciting any other kind of family and neighborhood -quarrels, than those plain, common-place matters which soon come to an -explanation, and end in a renewal of friendly intercourse and a -reciprocation of good offices. <i>They</i> despise—utterly despise—such -petty game; and never attempt sapping but with a confident belief—not -only that its authors will escape all suspicion, but that its effects -will be deeply and most painfully felt—probably during the entire -lives of all its devoted victims. Their powers of flattery and skill -in every species of gossipping, gain them an easy admittance, before -they are found out, into most families wherein they have set their -hearts upon becoming visiters. There they are always eager listeners -to every thing that may be said in the careless, innocent hours of -domestic intercourse; and being entirely unsuspected plotters of -mischief, they treasure up as a miser would his gold, every single -word or expression that can possibly be so tortured as to embroil -their confiding hosts with some one or all of their neighbors. If no -word nor expression has been heard during a long intercourse which can -either fairly or falsely be imputed to envy, jealousy or ill-will -towards others; absolute falsehoods will most artfully be fabricated -to attain their never-forgotten, never-neglected purpose: for they -sicken at the very sight of family peace—of neighborhood-harmony; and -"the gall of bitterness," that incessantly rankles in their bosoms can -find no other vent—no other alleviation—than in laboring to destroy -every thing of the kind. Their communications being always conveyed -under the strongest injunctions of secrecy—the most solemn -protestations of particular regard and friendship for the depositaries -of these secrets, it often happens that entire neighborhoods are set -in a flame, and most of the families in it rendered bitter enemies to -each other, without a single one knowing, or even suspecting what has -made them so.</p> - -<p>The Romans had a most useful custom of tying a wisp of hay around the -horns of all their mischievous and dangerous cattle, by way of caveat -to all beholders to keep out of their way: and could some similar -contrivance be adopted for distinguishing the <i>Peace-Sappers</i>, as far -off as <i>they</i> could be seen, the inventor thereof would well deserve -the united thanks and blessings of every civilized community.</p> - -<p><i>Order 9th.</i> The <i>Linguis Bellicosæ</i>, or <i>Tongue Warriors</i>.—The -distinguishing characteristic of this order is, an insatiable passion -for rendering their faculty of speech the greatest possible annoyance -to all of their own race—whether men, women or children, who come in -their way: and few there are who can always keep out of it, however -assiduously they may strive to do so. Most of them are very early -risers, for <i>the unruly evil</i>, as St. James calls it, is a great enemy -to sleep. When once on their feet, but a few minutes will elapse -before you hear their tongues ringing the matutinal peal to their -servants and families. But far, very far, different is it from that of -the <i>church-going bell</i>, which is a cheering signal of approaching -attempts to do good to the souls of men; whereas the tongue-warrior's -peal is a summons for all concerned to prepare for as much harm being -done to their bodies as external sounds, in their utmost discord, can -possibly inflict. Nothing that is said or done can extort a word even -of approbation much less of applause; for the feeling that would -produce it does not exist; but a cataract is continually poured forth -of personal abuse, invective and objurgation, which, if it be not -quite as loud and overwhelming as that of Niagara, is attributable -more to the want of power, than of the will to make it so. It has been -with much fear and trembling, my good sir, that I have ventured to -give you the foregoing description; nor should I have done it, had I -not confided fully in your determination not to betray me to these -hornets in petticoats.</p> - -<p>Having done with the description of the female orders of our race, as -far as I can, at present recollect their number and distinctive -characters, I now proceed to that of my own sex.</p> - -<p><i>Order 1st.</i> The <i>Great and Good Operatives</i>.—Although -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page360"><small><small>[p. 360]</small></small></a></span> in -counting this order I will not venture quite as far as the Latin poet -who asserted, that "they were scarce as numerous as the gates of -Thebes, or the mouths of the Nile," it must be admitted that the -number is most deplorably small, compared with that of the other -orders. The <i>multum in parvo</i>, however, applies with peculiar force to -the <i>Great and Good Operatives</i>. <i>All the orders</i> certainly have -intellects of some kind, which they exercise after fashions of their -own—sometimes beneficially to themselves and others; then again -injuriously, if not destructively to both. But only the individuals of -this order always make the use of their mental powers for which they -were bestowed; and hence it is that I have distinguished them as I -have done. How far this distinction is appropriate, others must -decide, after an impartial examination of the grounds upon which I -mean to assert the justice of its claim to be adopted. Here they are. -It is to <i>this</i> order we must ascribe all which is truly glorious in -war, or morally and politically beneficial in peace: to the exercise -of their talents, their knowledge and their virtues, we are indebted -for every thing beneficent in government or legislation; and by their -agency, either direct or indirect, are all things accomplished which -can most conduce to the good and happiness of mankind; unless it be -that large portion of the god-like work which can better be achieved -by the first order of the other sex.</p> - -<p><i>Order 2d.</i> <i>Ipomœa Quamoclit</i>, or the Busy Bodies.—These, like the -little plants after which I have ventured to name them, have a -surprising facility at creeping or running, either under, through, -around, or over any obstacles in their way. Their ruling passion -consists in a most inordinate and unexplainable desire to pry into and -become thoroughly acquainted with every person's private concerns, but -their own; to the slightest care or examination of which, they have -apparently an invincible antipathy. Has any person a quarrel or -misunderstanding with one or more of his neighbors, they will worm -out, by hook or by crook, all the particulars; not with any view, even -the most distant, of reconciling the parties, (for peace-making is no -business of theirs), but for the indescribable pleasure of gaining a -secret, which all their friends, as the whole of their acquaintance -are called, will be invited, as fast as they are found, to aid them in -keeping. Is any man or woman much in debt, the neighboring busy-bodies -will very soon be able to give a better account of the amount than the -debtors themselves; but it will always be communicated with such -earnest injunctions of secrecy from the alleged fear of injuring the -credit of the parties, as to destroy <i>that</i> credit quite as -effectually as a publication of bankruptcy would do. Does the sparse -population of a country neighborhood afford so rare and titillating a -subject as a courtship, it furnishes one of the highest treats a -busy-body can possibly have; and it not unfrequently happens that this -courtship is, at least interrupted, if not entirely broken off, by the -exuberant outpourings and embellishments of his delight at possessing -such a secret, and at the prospect of participating in all the -customary junketings and feastings upon such joyous occasions. The -whole of this order are great carriers and fetchers of every species -of country intelligence; great intimates (according to their account) -of all great people; and above all—great locomotives. But, unlike -their namesakes, the machines so called, they rarely if ever move -straightforward; having a decided preference for that kind of zig-zag, -hither and thither course, which takes them, in a time inconceivably -short, into every inhabited hole and corner within their visiting -circle, which is always large enough to keep them continually on the pad.</p> - -<p>N.B. There is an order of the other sex so nearly resembling the one -just described, that I am in a great quandary whether I should not -have united them, since the principal difference which I can discover, -after much study is, that the former wears petticoats and the latter -pantaloons. You and your readers must settle it, for Oliver Oldschool -can not.</p> - -<p><i>Order 3d.</i> <i>Noli me tangere</i>, or <i>Touch me not</i>.—These are so -super-eminently sensitive and irritable, that should you but crook -your finger at them apparently by way of slight, nothing but your -blood can expiate the deadly offence: and whether that blood is to be -extracted by a bout at fisty cuffs or cudgelling, or by the more -genteel instrumentality of dirk, sword or pistol, must depend upon the -relative rank and station of the parties concerned. If you belong not -to that tribe embraced by the very comprehensive but rather equivocal -term—<i>gentlemen</i>, you may hope to escape with only a few bruises or -scarifications; but should your luckless destiny have placed you among -<i>them</i>, death or decrepitude must be your portion, unless you should -have the fortune to inflict it on your adversary.</p> - -<p><i>Order 4th.</i> The <i>Gastronomes</i>.—The description of this order -requires but few words. Their only object in life seems to be—to -tickle their palates, and to provide the ways and means of provoking -and gratifying their gormandizing appetites. They would travel fifty -miles to eat a good dinner, sooner than move fifty inches to do a -benevolent action; and would sacrifice fame, fortune and friends, -rather than forego what they call the pleasures of the table. They -show industry in nothing but catering for their meals; animation in -nothing but discussions on the qualities and cookery of different -dishes; and the only strong passion they ever evince is, that which -reduces them merely to the level of beasts of prey. During the brief -period of their degraded existence, they live despised and scoffed at -by all but their associates, and die victims to dropsy, gout, palsy -and apoplexy.</p> - -<p><i>Order 5th.</i> The <i>Brain Stealers</i>.—The chief difference between this -and the preceding order is, that the former steal their own brains by -eating, the latter by drinking. For the idea conveyed by the term -brain-stealers, I acknowledge myself indebted to Cassio in the play of -Othello, where, in a fit of remorse for getting drunk, he is made to -exclaim, "Oh! that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal -away their brains!" This order may well follow its predecessor in -dignity, or rather in <i>uselessness</i>, since the greatest optimist ever -born would be puzzled to find out the way in which either can render -any real, essential service to mankind. Although the alleged excuse -for their practice—so long as they retain sense enough to offer -any—is to cheer the spirits—to gladden the heart, the undeniable -effect of that practice is, to depress the one, and to pain the other. -Melancholy expels merriment, and the solitary feeling banishes the -social; for the intolerable shame inspired by the consciousness of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page361"><small><small>[p. 361]</small></small></a></span> -self-larceny they are continually committing, drives them into -secret places for its perpetration; and into solitude during the short -intervals between their self-destructive acts, to brood over their own -indelible disgrace, the hopeless misery they inflict on all their -friends and relatives, and the damning guilt they incur if there be -any truth in Holy Writ—any such thing as eternal punishment in -another world, for deeds voluntarily perpetrated in our present state -of existence. But these are matters which never for a moment seem to -arrest their desperate course. During the few intervals of sanity -which chance rather than design seems to afford them, the retrospect -is so full of self-condemnation, agonizing remorse, and awful -anticipations of future retribution, of future and eternal punishment, -that they recklessly hasten to drown all feeling—all consciousness of -existence in the deadly draughts which they continually swallow. Thus -they linger out their brief and pitiable lives in a kind of comatose -stupor—a wretched burden and disgrace to themselves and a misery -beyond description to all connected with them.</p> - -<p><i>Order 6th.</i> The <i>Devilish Good Fellows</i>.—These possess, in an -eminent degree, the art of concealing much thorough selfishness under -the guise of what are called <i>companionable qualities;</i> for although -loud professors of sociality and great company keepers, (except that -of the ladies, which they never voluntarily seek,) they mix in society -rather oftener at other people's expense than their own. Their money -is lavished chiefly on themselves, except the modicum most skilfully -expended in purchasing a character for generosity, and that which in -common parlance is miscalled <i>good fellowship</i>. This is easily and -often most profitably done, by giving a few well-timed dinners, -suppers, and card-parties to their select companions and <i>bosom -friends</i>, whose money they scruple not to win on such occasions to the -last cent; having first made these dear objects of their disinterested -regard drunk, while they kept sober for the purpose, although -apparently encountering a similar risk of intoxication. All they do is -for effect—for gulling others to their own advantage, rather than for -any particular pleasure which they themselves derive from their own -actions. Thus they become uproarious at the convivial board, not so -much from impulse as design; not to excite themselves but their -companions; and frequently clamor for "pushing the bottle," (for they -are brain stealers) more to stultify others than to exhilirate their -own feelings. They are great depositaries and retailers of all such -anecdotes and stories as are called <i>good</i>, but rather on account of -their obscenity than their genuine humor or wit. Now and then they -incontinently perpetrate puns; make practical jokes; and are always -merry in appearance, (whatever the real feelings may be) so far as -antic contortions of the risible muscles can make them so. But they -are utter strangers to that genuine hilarity of heart which imparts -perennial cheerfulness to the countenances of all who are blessed with -it, and which springs from a consciousness—both of good motives and -good actions. Their lives are spent in a feverish course of -sensuality—often of the lowest, the very grossest kind; and they -generally die of a miserable old age, just as truly rational, -temperate and moral people reach the prime of life.</p> - -<p><i>Order 7th.</i> The <i>Philo-Mammonites</i>, or <i>Money Lovers</i>.—Although this -term would comprehend a most numerous and motley host, if the mere -existence of the passion itself were deemed a sufficient distinction, -yet I mean to apply the designation only to such abortions of our race -as love money for <i>itself alone</i>, independently as it would seem, both -of its real and adventitiously exchangeable value. Others burn with -affection for the beloved article, only as a means to attain the ends -which they most passionately desire. These ends are as countless as -the sands; some, for example, make it the grand object of their -temporal existence to buy fine clothes, others fine equipages; others -again fine houses, fine furniture, fine pictures, fine books—in -short, <i>fine any thing</i> which the world calls so, whatever they -themselves may think of it; for, as Dr. Franklin most truly says, -"<i>other peoples' eyes cost us more than our own</i>." The exclusive -money-lovers despise what others love; with "the fleshly lusts that -war against the souls" of other men, and <i>cost money</i>, they have -nothing to do—no, not they! and even the common necessaries and -comforts of life are all rejected for the sake of making, hoarding, -and contemplating the dear—all-absorbing object of the only affection -they are capable of feeling. In this respect, the money lover differs -entirely, not only from all other human beings, but from every race of -brutes, reptiles, and insects yet discovered. <i>They</i>, for instance, -accumulate the food which they love, evidently for <i>use</i>, and not solely -to look at, to gloat upon, as the ultimate, the exclusive source of -gratification. <i>Their accumulation</i>, therefore, is but the means of -attaining the end—<i>consumption</i>, from which all their real enjoyment -seems to be anticipated. The propensity to collect for future use, -which is called instinct in the latter, is identical with what is -deemed the love of money, as it operates upon all the orders of -mankind, except the <i>Philo Mammonites</i>. With the former, it is not the -money they love, but something for which they have a passionate -regard, that they know their money can procure: with the latter, the -sole enjoyment (if indeed they may be thought capable of any) seems to -consist in the mere looking at their hoards, and in the consciousness -of being able to exclaim—"all this is <i>mine</i>, nothing but the -inexorable tyrant death can take it away. Let others call it pleasure -and happiness to spend money, if they are fools enough to do so; we -deem it the only pleasure and happiness to make and keep it." To such -men, the common feelings of humanity—the ordinary ties that bind -together families and communities, are things utterly -incomprehensible; and consequently neither the sufferings of their -fellow men, nor their utmost miseries are ever permitted, for one -moment, to interfere with that darling object which occupies their -souls, to the exclusion of all others. This they for ever pursue, with -an ardor that no discouragement can check; a recklessness of public -sentiment that defies all shame; and often with a degree of -self-inflicted want, both of food and raiment, which must be witnessed -to be believed.</p> - -<p><i>Order 8th.</i> The <i>Confiscators</i>.—In this order must be included -(strange as it may seem) not only all thieves, pickpockets, swindlers, -robbers and professional gamblers, but even many others, who, although -professing most sanctimonious horror at the bare idea of violating the -<i>letter</i> of the laws relative to property, scruple not to disregard -their <i>spirit</i>, whenever pelf is to be made by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page362"><small><small>[p. 362]</small></small></a></span> it. To make money -is the great end of their existence; but the means are left to time -and circumstances to suggest—always, however, to be used according to -the law-verbal, in such cases made and provided. The general title -indicates rather the <i>wills</i> than the <i>deeds</i> of the whole order; the -former being permanent, intense, and liable to no change—whereas the -latter terminate, now and then, in such uncomfortable results as loss -of character, imprisonment, and hanging. <i>Self-appropriation</i>, without -parting with any equivalent, without incurring any loss that can -possibly be avoided, is the cardinal, the paramount law with every -grade: they differ only in the "<i>modus operandi</i>." Some, for example, -work by fraud—others by force; some by superior skill, or exclusive -knowledge—while hosts of others rely for success upon practising on -the passions and vices, or the innocence and gullibility of their -fellow-men. To do this the more effectually, they make much use of the -terms justice, honesty, fair-dealing, in their discourse, but take -special care to exclude them from their practice; for <i>they</i> are to -prosper, even should the Devil take all at whose expense that -prosperity has been achieved, if, indeed, he deemed them worth taking, -after their dear friends, the confiscators, have done with them.</p> - -<p><i>Order 9th.</i> The <i>Blatterers</i>.—Although this word is now nearly -obsolete, or degraded to the rank of vulgarisms, in company with many -other good old terms of great force and fitness, once deemed of -sterling value, I venture to use it here, because I know, in our whole -language, no other so perfectly descriptive of this order; nor, -indeed, any other which conveys the same idea. And here (if you will -pardon another digression) I cannot forbear to express my regret at -being compelled, as it were, to take leave of so many old -acquaintances in our mother tongue, who have been expelled from modern -parlance and writing. Our literary tastes and language will require -but very little more sublimation—little more polishing and refining, -to render that tongue scarcely intelligible to persons whose -misfortune it was to be educated some half century ago, unless, -indeed, they will go to school again. To call things by their right -names, is among the "<i>mala prohibita</i>" in the canons of modern -criticism; the strength, fitness, and power of old words, must give -way to the indispensable euphony of new ones; and all the qualities -once deemed essential to good style, must now be sacrificed, or, at -least, hold a far inferior rank to mere smoothness, polish, and -harmony of diction. I might give you quite a long catalogue of highly -respectable and significant old words, once the legal currency of -discourse, which have long since been turned out of doors, to make -room for their modern correlatives; but neither my time nor space will -permit me to mention more than the following, out of some hundreds. -For instance, my old acquaintance, and perhaps yours, the word -"breeches," has been dismissed for "<i>unmentionables</i>," or -"<i>inexpressibles;</i>"—"shifts" and "petticoats" are now yclept "<i>under -dress;</i>" and even "hell" itself, according to the authority of a -highly polished Divine, perhaps now living, must hereafter be softened -and amplified into the phrase, "a place which politeness forbids to -mention." But let me return to the description of the Blattering order.</p> - -<p>To say, as I was very near doing, that their peculiar trait is "<i>to -have words at will</i>," would have conveyed a very false notion; for -that phrase is properly applicable only to such persons as can talk or -be silent—can restrain or pour out their discourse at pleasure. But -the Blatterers, although their words are as countless as the sands, -seem to exercise no volition over them whatever, any more than a sieve -can be said to do over the water that may be poured into it. Through -and through the liquid will and must run, be the consequences what -they may; and out of the mouths of the Blatterers must their words -issue, let what will happen. So invariable is this the case, that we -might almost say of their discourse as the Latin poet has so happily -said of the stream of Time:</p> - -<center><small>"Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum."</small></center> - -<p>They will unconsciously talk to themselves, if they can find no one -else to talk to; but this soliloquizing they are rarely forced to -perform—for so great are their diligence and tact in hunting up some -unlucky wight or other upon whom to vent their words, that they are -seldom unsuccessful in their search. Horace, in one of his epistles, -has most pathetically described, in his own person, the sufferings of -all those who are so luckless as to be caught by one of these very -benevolent tormentors of their species; and he has hit off, most -admirably, their multiform powers of inflicting annoyance. But many -ways and means, never "dreamt of in his philosophy," have since been -discovered, which it devolves upon others, far his inferiors, to -describe. In regard, for instance, to the choice of subjects, if a -Blatterer may be deemed capable of choosing, our modern logocracies -have opened a field of almost boundless extent, which, in Horace's -day, was a "<i>terra incognita</i>." Their loquacity would utterly shame -that ancient braggart, whose boast it was, that he could extemporize -two hundred Latin verses, while standing on one leg; and their -matchless talents for political mistification—for comminuting, and -spreading out all sorts of materials susceptible of being used for -party purposes, were never called forth, and consequently never -developed, until many a century after Horace was in his grave. The -present age—I may say, <i>the present times</i>, may justly claim the -distinguished honor not only of furnishing more aliment for the -nurture of the Blattering order than any other age or times—but, on -the political economy principle, that, "<i>demand will always beget -supply</i>," to them must be awarded the exclusive merit of furnishing a -much greater number of such patriotic operatives than ever could be -found before, since our father Noah left his ark. In proof of this -assertion, I would ask, where is there now any hole or corner, either -in public or private life, in which Blatterers may not often be heard? -Where is there any electioneering ground—any hustings to hold an -election—any forensic assemblage, or legislative halls, exempt -entirely from these most successful confounders and despisers of all -grammatical and rhetorical rules—of all the plainest dictates of -common sense? As every thing they utter seems the result rather of -chance than design, it might be supposed that the former would -occasionally lead them, (especially when acting as public -functionaries,) at least into some approximation towards argument or -eloquence; but, alas! no such chance ever befalls them. By a kind of -fatality, apparently unsusceptible of change or "shadow of turning," -all their efforts at <span class="pagenum"><a name="page363"><small><small>[p. 363]</small></small></a></span> -either eloquence or argument, turn out most -pitiable or ridiculous abortions; for they invariably mistake -assertion for the latter, and empty, bombastic declamation and -gasconading for the former. Vociferation they always mistake for -sense, and personal abuse of every body opposed to them, for the best -means of promoting what they understand by the term, "public -good"—meaning, thereby, the good of whatever party they take under -their special care.</p> - -<p><i>Order 10th.</i> The <i>Would Be's</i>, or <i>Preposterous Imitators</i>.—This, -probably, is the most numerous of all the orders of our class, -although very far from comprehending the whole human race, as that -witty satyrist Horace would have us believe, with his "<i>Nemo contentus -vivat</i>." But it includes all, who by their array and management of -"the outward man," would pass themselves off, upon society, for -something upon which nature has put her irrevocable veto. Some few of -the brute creation have been charged (falsely as I humbly conceive) -with this warring against her absolute decrees; for, as far as we can -judge, they are all perfectly content with their own forms and -conditions, and live out their respective times without apeing, or -manifesting any desire to ape, either the appearance or manners of -their fellow-brutes, as <i>we</i> so often and abortively do those of our -fellow-men. It is true that the monkey, one of the accused parties, -seems to possess no small talent in this way; but if the exercise of -it were fully understood, it appears probable that we should always -find it to be done at our expense, and in derision of those only who -are continually aping something above their powers—as much as to say, -(had they the gift of speech) "Risum teneatis Amici?"—see what fools -ye are, to labor so hard and so vainly, in efforts to do what <i>we</i> can -do better than yourselves! If we consider their tricks and their -travesties in any other point of view, we shall commit the same -ludicrous blunder that one of our Would Be's of the olden time was -said once to have committed at a certain foreign court, "in mistaking -a sarcasm for a compliment," to the great amusement of all who had -cognizance of the fact, except the poor Americans, of whom he was -rather an unlucky sample.</p> - -<p>The poor frog has also been accused of this preposterous mimicry; but -it is only a single case, much at war with our knowledge of this -apparently unambitious quadruped or reptile, (I am not naturalist -enough to know which to call it)—much at war, too, with the chivalric -principles of attacking none incapable of self-defence; and -<i>moreover</i>, it is related by a professed inventor of fables, with -whose professional license of fibbing we have all been familiar from -our childhood, and are therefore prepared to estimate at its true -value. I allude, as you must suppose, to our school-boy tale, wherein -it is asserted (believe it who can) that a poor frog, demented by -vanity, burst himself open, and of course perished, in his -impracticable efforts to swell himself to the unattainable size of the -portly ox. Why this far-fetched and incredible story should ever have -been invented for illustrating a matter of frequent occurrence among -ourselves, I never could well understand. The constant puffings and -swellings-out of thousands and tens of thousands of our own class, to -attain dimensions which nothing but gum-elastic minds and bodies, or -something still more expansive, could qualify them to attain, are -quite sufficient, manifest, and ridiculous, to render useless all -resort to the invention of fabulous tales—all appeal to the imagined -follies and gratuitously assumed vices of brute-beasts, reptiles and -insects, for the laudable purpose of proving that man himself is no -better than a brute in many of his propensities and habits. As to his -particular folly of trying to change himself into something which he -never can be, why should fabulists or any others attempt to drag the -poor monkeys, frogs, and other animals into such a co-partnery, -without a solitary authenticated fact to warrant the imputation, when -innumerable facts are daily occurring among ourselves, to satisfy even -the most sceptical, both in regard to the indigenous growth of this -folly, and of man's exclusive right to it. The Would Be's, in fact, -are to be seen almost in every place, and in all the walks of life; -but especially in villages, towns, cities, and at medicinal springs, -for in these the chances of attracting notice being generally -proportioned to the population, there will always be more -notice-seekers—in other words, more Would Be's than elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Streets and public squares constitute the great outdoor theatre for -their multiform exhibitions. The first you meet perhaps, is one who is -enacting the profound thinker, although, probably, if the truth were -known, not three ideas that could lead to any useful result, have ever -crossed his brain, once a year, since he was born. His pace is slow, -but somewhat irregular and zig-zag; his eyes are generally fixed on -the ground, as it were geologizing; the tip of his fore-finger is on -his nose, or his upper lip compressed between that finger and his -thumb; the other hand and arm unconsciously swung behind his back; and -so deep is his abstraction, that, should you be meeting him, you must -step aside, or risk a concussion of bodies, which must end either in a -fight or mutual apologies.</p> - -<p>The next sample, probably, may be in quite a different style, although -equally burlesque and preposterous. This one may be striving to play -the gentleman of high official station, or great celebrity for -talents, learning, or some other attainment which deservedly elevates -him in the estimation of mankind. But mistaking exterior appearances -for sure manifestations of internal qualities and endowments, which he -is incapable of acquiring, he foolishly imagines that by means of the -former he can pass himself off for what he wishes. Thus you will meet -him, strutting and swaggering along, most majestically, with head -erect, elevated chest, and perpendicular body—with a face, the -owl-like solemnity of which nothing but the look of that sapient -animal itself can equal, and a pomposity of air and manner which says, -as far as pantomime can express words—"Who but <i>I</i>—<i>I myself</i>—<i>I</i>; -look at <i>me</i>, ye mean and contemptible fellows, one and all!"</p> - -<p>Pass him as soon as you have had your laugh out, and you will not go -far before you will meet some other, probably quite dissimilar to both -the others, although actuated by the same indomitable passion for -conquering nature. The two former moved at a rate such as would suit a -funeral procession; but your next man may be seen hurrying along with -the speed of a courier despatched after an accoucheur, or for a doctor -to one at the point of death. His legs are moving with the utmost -rapidity short of running, and his feet are -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page364"><small><small>[p. 364]</small></small></a></span> thrown forward with -a kind of sling, as if he were trying to kick off his shoes; while his -arms, from the shoulder joint to the extremities, are alternately -swung with a force and quickness of motion, as if he expected from -them the same service that a boatman does from his oars. This worthy -gentleman's highest ambition is, to be mistaken for a man nearly -overwhelmed with business so multifarious and important, as scarcely -to allow him time to eat or sleep, when it is very probable that he -either has none at all, or none which would prevent him from moving -quite as slowly as he pleased.</p> - -<p>When tired with contemplating what I will venture to call the -physiognomy of walking, you may betake yourself to some large dinner -party, should your good fortune have furnished you with an invitation. -There you will rarely fail to have an <i>in-door</i> treat quite equal, if -not superior to the former, in witnessing other modes developed by -speech, in which "the Would Be's" betray their ruling passion—a -treat, by the way, which some travesty wag has most maliciously called -"<i>the feast of reason and the flow of soul</i>," when all who have ever -tried it, perfectly well know, that in nineteen cases out of twenty, -it is very little more than the flow of good liquor, and the feast of -good viands—not that <i>I</i>, Mr. Editor, mean to object to <i>either</i>, -when <i>used in a way</i> to heighten all the innocent enjoyments of social -intercourse, without endangering health or shortening life, as they -are too often made to do. But having been always accustomed to deem it -very disgraceful for rational beings to rank either eating or drinking -to excess among these enjoyments, I cannot forbear to enter my protest -against any such misnomer. Might I be permitted here to say what -should be the chief object of all social parties whatever, I would -decide that it should be <i>mutual improvement</i>, and that the -individuals who compose them should consider themselves as members of -a kind of joint stock company, met, on such occasions, to perfect each -other in their parts, as performers in the great drama of human -life—that whenever called on <i>to act</i>, they might acquit themselves -most naturally, agreeably, and usefully, both to themselves and -others. Few indeed, "and far between," will be the dinner parties -answering this description; for, in general, there are no social -meetings at which you will find a greater assemblage of the Would -Be's. Here you will often find very garrulous and deep critics in -wine, who if the truth were known, would probably vastly prefer a -drink of fourth proof whiskey, gin or brandy, to the choicest products -of the best vineyards in the world. Occasionally you may also see -exquisite amateurs of music, who, would they be candid, must plead -guilty of utter ignorance on the subject, or confess a decided -preference for some such old acquaintance as "Poor Betty Martin tip -toe fine," or "Yankee Doodle," on a jews-harp or hurdy-gurdy, to the -finest compositions of the most celebrated masters, performed by -themselves, in their highest style, on their favorite instruments. A -good assortment too of gormandizers is rarely wanting at such places; -men whose gift of speech is never exercised but in praise of good -cookery—whose mouths seem formed for little else than to eat and -drink, and whose stomachs may truly be called "<i>omnibuses</i>," being -depositories for full as great a variety of dead eatable substances, -as the vehicles properly so called are of living bodies. The chief -difference consists in the latter moving on four wheels—the former on -two legs! There, likewise, may sometimes be seen the Virtuoso, "<i>rara -avis in terris</i>," at least in our land, whose affected skill in -ancient relics transcends, a sightless distance, that of the renowned -Dr. Cornelius Scriblerus, the antiquary, rendered so famous by -mistaking a barber's old rusty basin for an antique shield of some -long deceased warrior.</p> - -<p>Although science and literature are articles generally in very bad -odor, if not actually contraband in such assemblages, (bodies and not -minds being the thing to be fed,) still both are now and then -introduced, and rare work are made of them by the would be scholars. -To the real scholar—the well educated gentleman, there cannot well be -any more severe trial of his politeness and self-command, than is -afforded by their ridiculous attempts to display their taste and -erudition. But the farce, incomparably the best of the whole, will -usually be enacted by the little party politicians, who almost always -constitute a considerable portion of a dinner party in these times. -With these the settling of their dinners is quite a secondary affair -to the settling of our national affairs, a most important part of -which duty they most patriotically take upon themselves. <i>Ex -necessitate rei</i>, their vehement volubility, their ardent zeal, -constantly blazes out with an intensity of heat in full proportion to -the self-imputed share of each in our national concerns. With this -volcanic fire burning in their bosoms, cotemporaneously with so large -a portion of the government of fifteen millions of human beings -pressing on their shoulders—gigantic though they be—it is truly -amazing with what alacrity and perseverance they at the same time -talk, eat, and decide on the most difficult problems in political -science—the most complex and really doubtful measures of national -policy and legislation—when their whole outfit for so arduous a work -consists, in all human probability, of a few hours of weekly reading -in some party newspaper, edited by some man equally conceited, -ignorant, and opinionated with themselves.</p> - -<p>All this while, although the entertainer and a portion of his guests -may be well qualified to sustain conversation both highly improving -and interesting, <i>fashion</i> has vetoed the attempt—and they must -either be silent, or join in the usual frivolous, desultory, and -useless verbosity generally uttered on such occasions. Alas! that man, -made after God's own image, and endowed with the noble gifts of -speech, intellect, judgment, and taste, should so often and so -deplorably abuse them.</p> - -<p>When satiated with the dinner party, should you still wish to see more -of the Would Be's, hasten to the Soirée or the Squeeze, and you will -<i>there</i> find fresh and most titillating food for your <i>moral</i> palate, -if you will pardon the figure. All that is most exquisitely -ridiculous, either in attitude, gesture, or language, may, not -unfrequently, be there witnessed in its most comic, most -laugh-provoking form. There you may often witness nearly every -possible disguise under which vulgarity apes gentility—every -imaginable grimace and gesticulation that can be mistaken for graceful -ease of manner—and every style of conversation or casual remark which -"the Would Be's" may imagine best calculated to substitute their -counterfeit currency for <i>that</i> which is genuine and acceptable to -all. In these motley assemblages -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page365"><small><small>[p. 365]</small></small></a></span> you may prepare to behold, -among other sights, the now universally prevalent walk for fashionable -ladies, in its highest style. This consists in a kind of indescribable -twitching of the body, alternately to the right and left, which the -gazing green-horns, not in the secret that <i>fashion commands it</i>, -would surely mistake for the annoyance occasioned by certain pins in -their dresses having worked out of place, and would accordingly -commiserate rather than admire the supposed sufferers.</p> - -<p>But to cap the climax of these abortive contests against nature, you -must move about until you come to the <i>rocking-chairs</i>, those articles -which, in bygone times, were used only by our decrepid old ladies, or -the nurses of infant children; but which, in our more refined age, are -now deemed indispensable appendages of every room for entertaining -company. When you come to one of these former depositories for nearly -superannuated women and nurses of infants, instead of similar -occupants to those of the olden time, you will find them sometimes -occupied by those of "the woman kind" who are making their first -fishing parties after "<i>a tang-lang</i>,"<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> and who have been taught to -believe that a well turned ankle and pretty foot are very pretty -things, the sight of which it would be quite unreasonable and selfish -that the possessor should monopolize. But generally, the operatives in -these quasi-cradles for decrepitude and helpless infancy, will be -found to be youths of the male sex scarcely of age, and surrounded -often by ladies old enough to be their mothers, and wanting seats—but -wanting them in vain. These exquisite young gentlemen will always be -found, when thus self-motive, so entirely absorbed, as to have -forgotten completely not only the established rule, even in our rudest -society, of offering our seat to any standing lady, but almost their -own personal identity, which is frequently any thing but -prepossessing. Rocking away at rail road speed, self-satisfied beyond -the power of language to describe, with head thrown back, and -protruded chin, "bearded like the pard," as much as to say, "Ladies, -did you ever behold so kissable a face?—pray come try it"—they rock -on to the infinite amusement, pity, or contempt of all beholders.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> "Tang-lang." For this term and the little story in which -it is introduced, I am indebted to that admirable writer Oliver -Goldsmith; but before I give the tale itself, I must beseech your -readers not for a moment to suspect me of any such treasonable design -against the fair sex, as to represent all young ladies, upon their -first entrance into company, as fishing for tang-langs. My purpose is -merely to supply them with a few very useful moral hints, in the -highly entertaining language of an author, who being "old fashioned," -may probably be little known to many of them. But now for the story.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"In a winding of the river Amidar, just before it falls into the -Caspian sea, there lies an island unfrequented by the inhabitants of -the continent. In this seclusion, blest with all that wild, -uncultivated nature could bestow, lived a princess and her two -daughters. She had been wrecked upon the coast while her children as -yet were infants, who, of consequence, though grown up, were entirely -unacquainted with man. Yet, inexperienced as the young ladies were in -the opposite sex, both early discovered symptoms, the one of prudery, -the other of being a coquet. The eldest was ever learning maxims of -wisdom and discretion from her mamma, whilst the youngest employed all -her hours in gazing at her own face in a neighboring fountain.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"Their usual amusement in this solitude was fishing. Their mother had -taught them all the secrets of the art: she showed them which were the -most likely places to throw out the line, what baits were most proper -for the various seasons, and the best manner to draw up the finny -prey, when they had hooked it. In this manner they spent their time, -easy and innocent, till one day the princess being indisposed, desired -them to go and catch her a sturgeon or a shark for supper, which she -fancied might sit easy on her stomach. The daughters obeyed, and -clapping on a goldfish, the usual bait on these occasions, went and -sat upon one of the rocks, letting the gilded hooks glide down the -stream.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"On the opposite shore, farther down at the mouth of the river lived a -diver for pearls, a youth who, by long habit in his trade, was almost -grown amphibious; so that he could remain whole hours at the bottom of -the water, without ever fetching breath. He happened to be at that -very instant diving, when the ladies were fishing with a gilded hook. -Seeing therefore the bait, which to him had the appearance of real -gold, he was resolved to seize the prize; but both hands being already -filled with pearl-oysters, he found himself obliged to snap at it with -his mouth; the consequence is easily imagined; the hook, before -unperceived, was instantly fastened in his jaw; nor could he, with all -his efforts or his floundering, get free.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"Sister, cries the youngest princess, I have certainly caught a -monstrous fish; I never perceived anything struggle so at the end of -my line before; come and help me to draw it in. They both now, -therefore, assisted in fishing up the diver on shore; but nothing -could equal their surprize upon seeing him. Bless my eyes! cries the -prude, what have we got here? This is a very odd fish to be sure; I -never saw any thing in my life look so queer; what eyes—what terrible -claws—what a monstrous snout! I have read of this monster somewhere -before, it certainly must be a tang-lang that eats women; let us throw -it back into the sea where we found it.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"The diver in the mean time stood upon the beach, at the end of the -line, with the hook in his mouth, using every art that he thought -could best excite pity, and particularly looking extremely tender, -which is usual in such circumstances. The coquet, therefore, in some -measure influenced by the innocence of his looks, ventured to -contradict her companion. Upon my word, sister, says she, I see -nothing in the animal so very terrible as you are pleased to -apprehend; I think it may serve well enough for a change. Always -sharks, and sturgeons, and lobsters, and craw-fish, make me quite -sick. I fancy a slice of this nicely grilled, and dressed up with -shrimp sauce would be very pretty eating. I fancy too mamma would like -a bit with pickles above all things in the world; and if it should not -sit easy on her stomach, it will be time enough to discontinue it, -when found disagreeable, you know. Horrid! cries the prude, would the -girl be poisoned? I tell you it is a tang-lang; I have read of it in -twenty places. It is every where described as the most pernicious -animal that ever infested the ocean. I am certain it is the most -insidious, ravenous creature in the world; and is certain destruction, -if taken internally. The youngest sister was now, therefore, obliged -to submit: both assisted in drawing the hook with some violence from -the diver's jaw; and he, finding himself at liberty, bent his breast -against the broad wave, and disappeared in an instant.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"Just at this juncture, the mother came down to the beach, to know the -cause of her daughters' delay: they told her every circumstance, -describing the monster they had caught. The old lady was one of the -most discreet women in the world; she was called the black-eyed -princess, from two black eyes she had received in her youth, being a -little addicted to boxing in her liquor. Alas! my children, cries she, -what have you done? The fish you caught was a man-fish, one of the -most tame domestic animals in the world. We could have let him run and -play about the garden, and he would have been twenty times more -entertaining than our squirrel or monkey. If that be all, says the -young coquet, we will fish for him again. If that be all, I'll hold -three tooth-picks to one pound of snuff, I catch him whenever I -please. Accordingly they threw in their lines once more, but with all -their gliding, and paddling, and assiduity, they could never after -catch the diver. In this state of solitude and disappointment they -continued for many years, still fishing, but without success; till, at -last, the Genius of the place, in pity to their distress, changed the -prude into a shrimp, and the coquet into an oyster."</small></blockquote> - -<p>But in tender mercy to your own patience and that of your readers, -both of which I have so severely taxed, I will conclude for the -present, and remain your friend,</p> - -<div align="right"><small>OLIVER OLDSCHOOL</small>. </div> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page366"><small><small>[p. 366]</small></small></a></span> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect11"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>ON THE DEATH OF CAMILLA.</h4> -<center>BY L. A. WILMER.</center> -<br> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem11"> - <tr><td> 'Tis past; the dear delusive dream hath fled,<br> - And with it all that made existence dear;<br> - Not she alone, but all my joys are dead,<br> - For all my joys could live alone with her.<br> - O, if the grave e'er claim'd affection's tear,<br> - Then, loved Camilla, on thy clay-cold bed<br> - Clothed with the verdure of the new-born year,<br> - Where each wild flower its fragrance loves to shed—<br> - There will I kneel and weep, and wish myself were dead.<br> -<br> - 'Tis not for <i>her</i> I weep—no, she is bless'd;<br> - A favor'd soul enfranchis'd from this sphere:<br> - A selfish sorrow riots in my breast;<br> - I mourn for woes that she can never share.<br> - She sighs no more—no more lets fall the tear,<br> - She who once sympathiz'd with every grief<br> - That tore this bosom, solac'd every care;<br> - She whose sweet presence made all sorrows brief,<br> - Ah, now no more to me can she afford relief.<br> -<br> - Around this world—(a wilderness to me,<br> - Not Petrea's deserts more forlorn or dread)<br> - I cast my eyes, and wish in vain to see<br> - Those rays of hope the skies in mercy shed—<br> - Each dear memorial of Camilla dead—<br> - Her image, by the pencil's aid retain'd,<br> - The sainted lock that once adorn'd her head,<br> - These sad mementos of my grief, remain'd<br> - To tell me I have lost what ne'er can be regain'd.<br> -<br> - On these I gaze, on these my soul I bend,<br> - Breathe all my prayers, and offer every sigh;<br> - With these my joys, my hopes, my wishes blend,—<br> - For these I live—for these I fain would die;<br> - These subject for my every thought supply—<br> - Her picture smiles, unconscious of my woe,<br> - Benevolence beams from that azure eye,<br> - From mine the tears of bitter anguish flow,<br> - And yet she smiles serene, nor seems my grief to know!<br> -<br> - * - * - * - * - *<br> -<br> - Still let imagination view the saint,<br> - The seraph now—Camilla I behold!—<br> - Such as the pen or pencil may not paint,<br> - In hues which shall not seem austerely cold.<br> - To fancy's eye her beauties still unfold.<br> - What fancy pictures in her wildest mood,<br> - What thought alone, and earth no more can mould<br> - She was; with all to charm mankind endued,<br> - Eve in her perfect state, in her once more renew'd!<br> -<br> - Chang'd is the scene! The coffin and the tomb<br> - Enfold that form where every grace combin'd!<br> - Death draws his veil—envelopes in his gloom<br> - The boast of earth—the wonder of mankind!<br> - She died—without reluctance, and resigned;<br> - Without reluctance, but one tear let fall<br> - In pity for the wretch she left behind,<br> - To curse existence on this earthly ball—<br> - One thought she gave to him, and then the heavens had all.<br> -<br> - Who that hath seen her but hath felt her worth?<br> - Who praise withholds, and hopes to be forgiven?<br> - Her presence banish'd every thought of earth,<br> - Subdued each wish unfit to dwell in heaven.<br> - From all of earth her hopes and thoughts were riven,<br> - She lived regardful of the skies alone;<br> - A saint, but not by superstition driven,<br> - Not by the vow monastic, to atone<br> - For sins that ne'er were hers,—for sins to her unknown!<br> -<br> - Hers was religion from all dross refin'd,<br> - A soul communing with its parent—God;<br> - Grateful for benefits and aye resigned<br> - To every dispensation of His rod.<br> - Pure and immaculate, life's path she trod—<br> - Envy grew pale and calumny was dumb!<br> - Till drooping, dying—this floriferous sod,<br> - And this plain marble, point her lowly tomb;<br> - Even here she still inspires a reverential gloom!<br> -<br> - O lost to earth, yet ever bless'd,—farewell!<br> - This poor oblation to thy grave I bring;<br> - O spotless maid, that now in heav'n dost dwell<br> - Where choral saints and radiant angels sing<br> - The eternal praises of the Almighty king;<br> - While this sad cypress and funereal yew<br> - Unite their boughs, their gloom around me fling,<br> - Congenial glooms, that all my own renew;<br> - I still invoke thy shade, still pause to bid adieu!</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect12"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>SONNET.</h4> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem12"> - <tr><td>Science! meet daughter of old Time thou art,<br> - Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes!<br> - Why prey'st thou thus upon the poet's heart,<br> - Vulture! whose wings are dull realities!<br> - How should he love thee, or how deem thee wise,<br> - Who would'st not leave him in his wandering,<br> - To seek for treasure in the jewell'd skies,<br> - Albeit he soar with an undaunted wing?<br> - Hast thou not dragg'd Diana from her car,<br> - And driv'n the Hamadryad from the wood<br> - To seek a shelter in some happier star?<br> - The gentle Naiad from her fountain flood?<br> - The elfin from the green grass? and from me<br> - The summer dream beneath the shrubbery?</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>E. A. P.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect13"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE LAKE.</h4> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem13"> - <tr><td><small>On thy fair bosom, silver lake,<br> - The wild swan spreads his snowy sail,<br> - And round his breast the ripples break,<br> - As down he bears before the gale.<br> - - - - - <i>Percival</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> - -<p>The way we travelled along the southern shore of Lake Michigan was -somewhat singular. There being no road, we drove right on the strand, -one wheel running in the water. Thus we travelled thirty miles, at the -rate of two miles an hour. In the lake we saw a great many gulls -rocking on the waves and occasionally flying up into the air, sailing -in circles, and fanning their white plumage in the sunshine.</p> - -<p>While thus slowly winding along the sandy margin of the lake we met a -number of Pottowatimies on horseback in Indian file, men with rifles, -women with papooses, and farther on we passed an Indian -village—wigwams of mats comically shaped. This village stood -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page367"><small><small>[p. 367]</small></small></a></span> -right on the shore of the lake; some Indian boys half-naked were -playing in the sand, and an Indian girl of about fourteen was standing -with arms folded looking towards the lake. There was, or I imagined -there was, something in that scene, that attitude, that countenance of -the Indian girl, touching and picturesque in the highest degree—a -study for the painter.</p> - -<p>Alas—these Indians! the dip of their paddle is unheard, the embers of -the council-fire have gone out, and the bark of the Indian dog has -ceased to echo in the forest. Their wigwams are burnt, the cry of the -hunter has died away, the title to their lands is extinguished, the -tribes, scattered like sheep, fade from the map of existence. The -unhappy remnant are driven onward—onward to the ocean of the West. -Such are the reflections that came into my mind, on seeing the -beautiful Pottowatimie of Lake Michigan.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>C. C.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect14"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE HALL OF INCHOLESE.</h4> -<center>BY J. N. McJILTON.</center> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem14"> - <tr><td><small>Host and guests still lingered there,<br> - But host and guests were dead.<br> - - - - <i>Old Ballad</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> - -<p>Venice is the very <i>outrance</i>—<i>gloria mundi</i> of a place for fashion, -fun and frolic. Does any one dispute it? Let him ask the San Marco, -the Campanile, the iron bound building that borders one end of the -Bridge of Sighs, or the Ducal Palace, that hangs like a wonder on the -other. Let him ask the Arena de Mari, the Fontego de Tedeschi, or if -he please, the moon-struck <i>Visionaire</i>, who gazed his sight away from -Ponte de Sospiri, on the Otontala's sparkling fires, and if from each -there be not proof, <i>plus quam sufficit</i>—why Vesuvius never -illuminated Naples—that's all.</p> - -<p>Well! Venice is a glorious place for fashion, fun and frolic; so have -witnessed thousands—so witnessed Incholese.</p> - -<p>Incholese was a foreigner—no matter whence, and many a jealous -Venetian hated him to his heart's overflowing; the inimitable Pierre -Bon-bon himself had not more sworn enemies, and no man that ever lived -boasted more pretended friends, than did this celebrated operator on -whiskey-punch and puddings.</p> - -<p>His house fronted the Rialto, and overlooked the most superb and -fashionably frequented streets in Venice. His hall, the famed "Hall of -Incholese," resort of the exquisite, and gambler's heaven, was on the -second floor, circular in shape, forty-five feet in diameter. Windows -front and rear, framed with mirror-plates in place of plain glass, -completed the range on either side, all decorated with damask -hangings, rich and red, bordered with blue and yellow tasselated -fringe, with gilt and bronze supporters. It seemed more like a Senate -hall, or Ducal palace parlor, than a room in the private dwelling of a -gentleman of leisure—of "elegant leisure," as it was termed by the -<i>politesse</i> of the <i>Republique</i>. A rich carpet covered the floor, with -a figure in its centre of exactly the dimensions of the rotondo table, -which had so repeatedly suffered under the weight of wine; to say -nothing of the gold and silver lost and won upon its slab, sufficient -to have made insolvent the wealthiest Crœsus in the land—in <i>any</i> -land. Over this table was suspended a chandelier the proud Autocrat of -all the Russias might have coveted; and forming a square from the -centre, were four others, less in size, but equal in brilliancy and -value. Mirrors in metal frames, and paintings of exquisite and costly -execution, filled up the interstices between the windows. -Chairs—splendid chairs, sofas, ottomans, and extra wine tables, made -up the furniture of the Hall of Incholese. This Hall however was not -the sole magnificence of the huge pile it beautified. Other and -splendid apartments, saloons, galleries, etc., filled up the wings, -and contributed to the grandeur of the building. Yet, strange to say, -the proprietor, owner and occupier of this vast establishment, had no -wife, to share with him its elegances—to mingle her sweet voice in -the strains of purchased melody and revel, that made the lofty edifice -often ring to its foundation. He had no wife. And why? Let the sequel -of his history rehearse.</p> - -<p>Thousands flocked to this magnificent Hall—citizens, strangers, -travellers; many drank, gambled, revelled—were ruined. Few left it -but were blasted wrecks, both in health and fortune. Thousands left -it, tottering from their madness, cursing the brilliant revel that -lighted them to doom.</p> - -<p>Millions rolled into the coffers of Incholese; he seemed a way-mark -for fortune—a moving monument of luck. Hundreds of his emissaries -went out in different directions, and through different kingdoms, -supplied with gold, for the purpose of winning more for their wealthy -master. The four cardinals of the compass with all the intermediate -points became his avenues of wealth.</p> - -<p>"Wealth is power"—Archimedes knew it when he experienced the want of -means to make a lever long enough to reach beyond the power of this -little world's attraction; and the ingenious Tippet often felt the -inconvenience and uncomfortableness of the want of it in executing his -admirable plans for perpetual motion.</p> - -<p>Incholese had wealth—he had power—<i>c'est un dit-on</i>. The Venetian -Senate resolved on a loan from his ample store, and bowed obsequious, -did every member, to the nod of the patron of the State. The Spanish -minister forgot to consult as his only guide the <i>Squittinio della -Liberta Veneta</i> and was seen whispering with Incholese; and instead of -the Marquis of Bedmar, first minister to Flanders, the <i>primum mobile</i> -received in mistake from Rome the hat of the cardinal. The fingers of -a man of wealth turn every thing they touch to gold. We have said -Incholese was a foreigner—so was the Spanish minister, and they -whispered about more than State affairs and gold, though the gambler -had gone deep into the pockets of the friend of his Catholic majesty.</p> - -<p>The Doge, Antonio Priuli, had a daughter, adopted or otherwise, who -was considered by the most popular <i>amateurs</i> the perfection of -beauty. She had more admirers than all the beauties of the Republic -put together; but the scornful Glorianna looked with disdain upon them -all. She curled her lip most contumeliously at the crowd of waiting -votaries humiliated at her feet. Pride was her prevailing, her only -passion; love and affection were strangers to her haughty nature. She -reigned and ruled, the absolute queen, in thought, word and deed of -the vast throng that followed in her footsteps, and fain would revel -in her smile. Incholese attended in her train, and swore by the -pontiff's mace, that he would give his right ear for a kiss from her -sweet lips; he worried the saints with prayers and the priests with -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page368"><small><small>[p. 368]</small></small></a></span> -bribes, to bring the haughty fair one to his arms, but prayers -and bribes proved fruitless—the daughter of the Doge was above them -all, and only smiled to drive her victim mad.</p> - -<p>Incholese was proud and spirited, and so completely was he irritated -at the repeated efforts he made to gain a single hour's social -converse with the lofty Helen of his hopes, that he vowed at last at -the risk of a special nuncio from his Holiness to go the length of his -fortune to bring her upon a level with himself if he remained in the -parallax but fifteen minutes.</p> - -<p>The Spanish minister was married; but a star on the fashionable -horizon higher than the Vesta of his own choice, prompted the proffer -of his help, in the establishment of a medium point of lustre. The -Senate did not assemble oftener to devise ways and means for the -discharge of the public debt and for the safety of the State, than did -Incholese and the minister, to humble the haughty heiress of the rich -possessions of the Doge; and the conspiracy seemed as perilous and -important as the great stratagem of the Duke de Ossumna against the -government of Venice. A thousand plans were proposed, matured and put -in execution, but their repeated failure served only to mortify the -conspirators and make them more intent upon the execution of their -plan. It was to no purpose that the Doge was invited <i>with his family</i> -to spend a social hour, or that in return the invitation was given -from the palace; the uncompromising object of innumerable schemes, and -proud breaker of hearts, still kept aloof—still maintained her -ascendancy.</p> - -<p>While these petty intrigues were going forward, a conspiracy of a more -daring character was in the course of prosecution. It was nothing less -than the conspiracy of the Spaniards against the government of -Venice—a circumstance which at the present time forms no unimportant -portion of Venetian history.</p> - -<p>Every thing by the conspirators had been secretly arranged, and -Bedmar, notwithstanding his being among those who were deepest in the -plot, never once hinted the subject to Incholese, though at the time -they were inseparable companions, and co-workers in establishing a -standard of beauty for the Italian metropolis. This however may be -easily accounted for; he knew the government was debtor to Incholese; -he knew also of the intimacy that existed between the Doge and the -gambler, and he was too familiar with intrigue not to suspect a -discovery when the secret should be in the knowledge of one so -interested; he therefore bit his lip and kept the matter to himself. -Had there been a no less villain than Bedmar in the conspiracy, the -plot might have succeeded and the Spaniards become masters of Venice. -But the heart of Jaffier, one of the heads of the conspiracy, failed -him, and he disclosed to Bartholomew Comino the whole affair. Comino -was secretary to the Council of Ten, which Council he soon assembled -and made known the confession of Jaffier. Comino was young and -handsome, and he took the lead in the discovery of the plot and -bringing the conspirators to justice. His intercourse with the Doge -was dignified and manly, and at such a time with such a man, the proud -Glorianna condescended to converse. She was won to familiarity, and -requested the secretary to call at her apartment and tell her the -history of an affair, in which she, with all the household of the -Doge, were so deeply interested. She insisted particularly that he -should take the earliest opportunities to inform her of the further -procedure of the Council with the faction. The secretary consented, -and every intercourse tended to subdue her haughty spirit, and he was -soon admitted to her friendship as an equal.</p> - -<p>Bedmar was disgraced and sent back to Spain in exchange for Don Louis -Bravo, the newly appointed minister. Incholese followed the fallen -Marquis with his hearty curse, and vowed if so deceived by man again, -the villain's life should appease his hate. The conspirators who were -not screened by office were executed, and peace and tranquillity were -soon restored to the State. The new minister being averse to the -society of gamesters, Incholese and himself could not be friends—a -singular enough circumstance that a titled gentleman from the great -metropolis of Spain should despise the friendship of a gentleman -gambler, highly exalted as was the famous Incholese. Bartholomew -Comino in the discharge of his official functions, was compelled to -visit and exchange civilities with the popular gamester. Incholese had -observed the condescension of the empress of his heart's vanity -towards this individual, and determined to avail himself of his -friendship. He solicited an introduction to the south wing of the -palace of the Doge, and to the scornful Glorianna. The palace of the -Doge he had frequently visited, and as often gazed, till sight grew -dim, upon the celebrated south wing, where, in all the indolence of -luxurious ease, reposed the object of his anxious thoughts.</p> - -<p>The last effort succeeded. Incholese was invited to the south -wing—talked with Glorianna, who seemed another being since her -intimacy with Comino—and resolved on a magnificent entertainment at -his own Hall, where he knew the Doge and the most prominent members of -the Senate would not refuse to give their attendance, and he devoutly -hoped the influence of the secretary would bring the humiliated -heiress. He was not disappointed. All came—all prepared for splendid revelry.</p> - -<p>Incholese had but one servant whom he admitted to his <i>sanctum -sanctorum</i>, the only constant inmate of his house beside himself. -Other servants he had to be sure, but they were employed only when -occasion demanded them. Farragio was the prince of villains, and the -only fit subject in Venice for a servant to the prince of gamesters. -Eleven years he had waited on his table of ruin. His conscience had -rubbed itself entirely away against his ebon heart and left a villain -to the climax. He hated his master—hated his friends—hated the -world—supremely hated mankind, and meditated deeds of blackest crime. -Hell helped him in his malignant resolve, and the fell demon smiled -when he whispered in his ear the sweet madness of revenge. Revenge for -what? "Eleven years," said he, "I have labored in the kitchen of -Incholese and performed his drudgery—eleven years I have been his -messenger of good and evil. I have toiled and panted beneath my -burdens of viands, rare and costly, and I have rested on my way with -wine, and what I have devoured myself I have stolen—stolen and -devoured in secret. I hate—hate—hate the world—and I will be—aye, -<i>will</i> be revenged." He yelled with fiendish exultation at the thought.</p> - -<p>Three weeks before the time appointed for the great festival in the -Hall, Farragio was alone in his kitchen -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page369"><small><small>[p. 369]</small></small></a></span> preparing his own -supper—soliloquizing as usual on his lonely and miserable situation. -He remembered his youthful sports on the banks of the grand canal, and -thought over the time when his mother called him from his little -gondola beneath the Rialto, and sold him to Incholese—sold him for a -slave. Eleven years had brought him to the vigor of manhood, and -strengthened the purpose he had formed in youth of gratifying when he -had the opportunity the only feeling that occupied his heart—revenge. -While occupied in retrospection and smiling with seeming joy in the -thought of executing his purpose, the latch of the yard door raised -and the door itself slowly moved upon its long iron hinges; when about -half opened a little figure in black limped upon the threshold and, -bowing to Farragio, took his station by his side.</p> - -<p>"Pretty warm for the season," said he, as he cast a glance at the fire -where Farragio's supper was cooking.</p> - -<p>"Pretty warm," replied Farragio, raising his head from the fire and -wiping the perspiration from his forehead. He eyed the little -gentleman closely, and from the worn and threadbare appearance of his -coat, began to entertain some doubts in his mind touching his probable -respectability. After surveying the stranger longer than politeness -required, suddenly recollecting himself he removed his eyes from his -dress and asked,</p> - -<p>"Have you travelled far to-day, friend?"</p> - -<p>"Travelled! ha, ha, ha, ha; no, I have been at your elbow for a month."</p> - -<p>The eyes of the little gentleman flashed fire as he spoke, and -Farragio for the first time in his life felt affrighted. He retreated -a few steps and repeated with a trembling voice—"at my elbow for a -month—fire and misery, how—how can that be? I—I—never saw you -in—in my life before."</p> - -<p>"Well, Farragio," and he pronounced the name with great familiarity, -"whether you ever saw me or not, I have been your constant attendant -for a month past, and I have had a peculiar regard for you ever since -you were born."</p> - -<p>Farragio's astonishment increased, and he gazed for some minutes in -mute wonder upon the little stranger. A little reflection, however, -soon restored his courage, and in an unusually authoritative tone he -demanded the name of his visiter, and the purport of his singular and -unceremonious visit.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" replied the little fellow with a careless shake of his head, -"it's of no importance."</p> - -<p>By this time the supper was ready, and placing his dishes upon the -table, Farragio invited his guest to partake of the fare, which -consisted of ham and chicken, with cheese, hot rolls and tea.</p> - -<p>The little man did not wait for a second invitation, but immediately -took his seat at the table and commenced breaking a roll with his fingers.</p> - -<p>"Will you take some ham?" asked Farragio in a tone of true -hospitality, and appearing to forget that his guest was an intruder -upon the peace of his kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Ham—no, no, no, I hate ham—hate it with a perfect hatred, and have -hated it since the foun—foundation of the -Chris—Chris—Christian—since the foundation of the world. The -followers of Mahomet are right, and the outlaw Turk, that is outlawed -by re—re—reli—religious dispensations, which are always arbitrary -in the extreme, I say he displays more sound judgment than all the -philosophers that ever lived, that is—I mean those of them who have -ever had any thing to do with ho—ho—ugh—hog."</p> - -<p>Farragio helped himself largely to ham, swearing he was no follower of -Mahomet, and if he was, and held emperorship from Mecca to Jerusalem, -he'd eat ham till he died.</p> - -<p>The little stranger manifested no surprise at this bold speech of -Farragio, but continued to eat his roll in a very business like manner.</p> - -<p>"Take some chicken," said Farragio after a short pause, which was -permitted for the sake of convenience, "Take some chicken," and -accompanying the request with an action suited to the unrestrained -offering of a generous heart, he threw the west end of a rooster upon -his plate.</p> - -<p>"Chicken—chicken—yes, I like chicken, so did Socrates like it. -Socrates was a favorite of mine. When he was dying he ordered a cock -to be sacrificed to Esculapius—poor fellow, he thought his soul would -ascend through the flame up to the gods, but he was mistaken; his soul -was safe enough in other hands."</p> - -<p>"I understood it sprouted hemlock," said Farragio knowingly.</p> - -<p>"And where?"</p> - -<p>"On the south side of the Temple of Minerva, wherever that was."</p> - -<p>"Who gave you the information?"</p> - -<p>"O, I—I saw—rea—hea—heard my master Incholese talk about once when -he wished to appear like a philosopher before some of his company."</p> - -<p>"Who told him?"</p> - -<p>"Who? Why I've heard him say a thousand times that he was a real -<i>Mimalone</i>, whatever that is, and for years had slept on <i>bindweed</i> -and practised the arts of a fellow they call Dic—Dip—Dith—Dithy"—</p> - -<p>"Dithyrambus I suppose you mean."</p> - -<p>"Aye, that's the fellow."</p> - -<p>"A particular friend of mine, I dined with him twice, and the last -time left him drunk under the table."</p> - -<p>"<i>His</i> soul sprouted grapes I've heard, and was the first cause of -vineyards being planted in Edge e—e—Edge"—</p> - -<p>"Egypt you mean to say."</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"That's not exactly correct, but it will answer about as well as any -thing else."</p> - -<p>"Do you like cheese?"</p> - -<p>"I was formerly very fond of it, but I once saw Cleopatra, Mark -Antony's magnet as she was called, faint away at the sight of a -skipper, and since then I've only touched cheese at times, and then -sparingly.—I saw ten million skippers at once fighting over a bit of -cheese not bigger than your thumb in that same Cleopatra's stomach, -and that too on the very night she dissolved her costly ear-bob to -match old Mark's greatness. But I never said any thing about it."</p> - -<p>"You must be pretty old, I guess; I've often heard my master talk of -that Clipatrick, and he said she died several hundred years ago. I've -heard him say she was the very devil, and must have been trans, -trans"—</p> - -<p>"Transfused. I take the liberty of helping you along."</p> - -<p>"Yes, transfused—her spirit transfused down through -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page370"><small><small>[p. 370]</small></small></a></span> mummies and -the like, till it reached the old Doge's daughter, for he swears she's -the very dev"—</p> - -<p>"Don't take that name in vain too often; a little pleasantry is -admissable, but jokes themselves turn to abuse when repeated too many -times—say Triptolemus, a term quite as significant, and not so much used."</p> - -<p>"Triptolemus, hey—and who's Triptolemus? I don't mean him. I mean the -old dev—devil himself." Farragio shuddered as he uttered the last -words, for the countenance of his heretofore pleasant and good humored -companion changed to a frown of the darkest hue, and Farragio imagined -he saw a stream of fire issuing from his mouth and nostrils; -terrified, he dropped his knife and fork, and fled trembling into the -farthest corner of his kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Have you any wine?" asked the little gentleman, in a tone of -condescension.</p> - -<p>"Plenty," was the emphatic reply of Farragio, willing to get into -favor again at any price, and away he went in search of wine. It was -with difficulty the article was obtained, and Farragio risked his neck -in the enterprise—the wine vault in the cellar of Incholese was deep, -and the door strongly fastened; he was therefore obliged to climb to -the ceiling of the cellar, crawl between the joists of the building, -and drop himself full ten feet on the inside. He however surmounted -every obstacle, and procured the wine. On his return to the kitchen -with four or five bottles, curiosity prompted him to wait awhile at -the door before he opened it to ascertain what his little visiter was -about. He heard a noise like a draught through a furnace, and thought -he saw fire and smoke pouring through the pannels of the door. It was -some time before he recovered sufficient courage to enter, and then -only, after the door had been opened by the little gentleman.</p> - -<p>"Have you glasses?" said he, surveying the apartment, where none were -to be seen, and Farragio having already commenced pouring the precious -liquid into a cup, he added "I do not like to drink wine from a tea cup."</p> - -<p>"Glasses—glasses, I—we—no—yes—yes, plenty of them," and off he -started to another apartment for glasses.</p> - -<p>"Now we'll have it," said the little gentleman; "wine is good for soul -and body. I've seen two hundred and sixteen shepherdesses intoxicated -at one time upon a mountain in Arcadia."</p> - -<p>"They enjoyed the luxury of drinking wine to the full, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"O, it's no uncommon thing—women love wine, and they're the best -amateurs of <i>taste</i>,—but here's a health to Pythagoras, (turning off -a glass,) a man of more affected modesty than sound judgment, but -withal a tolerably clever sort of a fellow: I used to like him, and -helped him to invent the word <i>philosopher</i>—it was a species of -hypocrisy in us both. I never repented it, however, and have found it -of much service to me, in my adventures upon this ugly world."</p> - -<p>"You invented the word philosopher. I thought it was in existence from -the beginning of time; inventor of words, good gracious! what an -employment; now if I may be so bold, what business do you follow?"</p> - -<p>"O, it's no matter. Pythagoras was a pretty good kind of a man, and"—</p> - -<p>"I never heard of him; who was he any how?"</p> - -<p>"Ha! ha! ha! you've much to learn—Pythagoras was a hypocrite, but he -gained an immortality by it."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"How? why if you've brains enough to understand, I'll tell you. The -learned before his day were called ΣΟΦΟΣ, that is, <i>wise</i>, -what they really were; but professing not to like the appellation, and -through my instrumentality I must confess, for I suggested it, -proposed that they should be called ΦΙΛΟΣ <i>the friend</i>, -ΣΟΦΙΑΣ <i>of learning</i>, hence the word <i>philosopher:</i> but it's -no difference; names are arbitrary at any rate, and I like Pythagoras -about as well as any of his cotemporaries; they were all deceitful, -fond of flattery, and as jealous a set of villains as ever tried to -rival each other out of fame. Did'nt they all imitate each other in -some things, and at the same time swear that they differed, and each -was the founder of his own especial system, which was distinct and -separate from the rest, when the real truth was, they had all only -parts of the same system; and by their rivalry and meanness in keeping -the parts distinct, for fear of losing a little of what they thought -was glory, they have prevented the world from understanding them ever -since. I like hypocrisy, but I like it on a large scale. Your -grovelling hypocrite has'nt a soul big enough to burn. Man is only a -half-made creature at best. If I had the making of him, I'd—but -you're asleep," said he, looking up at Farragio who was nodding over -his wine. "My long discourse has wearied you."</p> - -<p>Farragio started. "No—O! no—not—not asleep. I was thinking -that—thinking how that—I wondered how you liked the wine."</p> - -<p>"Very much, very much; that's good wine—here, try this, it's better -than yours." Farragio drank of the little gentleman's glass, and soon -felt the effects of the draught upon his brain. He fancied himself a -lord: his guest persuaded him he was one, and a far better man than -his master. "Yes," said he, springing upon his feet at the mention of -his master's name—"and I swear by all the horrors of my servitude, -that I will soon convince him of my superiority." The effort was too -much for his relaxed muscles, and he fell full length upon the floor. -The little gentleman very carefully assisted him in rising, and -handing him to a chair, presented another glass to his lips. He -pledged his soul in the bumper, and reeled a second time to the floor. -It was now past midnight, and the little gentleman thought he had -better retire; he did so, during the insensibility of Farragio, and -left him to repose "alone in his glory."</p> - -<p>In the morning Farragio awoke sober, but his head ached violently; the -lamp was still burning, and was the first thing to remind him of his -last night's revel. After his surprise had abated, he examined the -apartment to ascertain if the little gentleman had taken any thing -away with him; he had left many of his master's fine dishes, and some -silver spoons, in the kitchen, and felt anxious for their safety. -Every thing was safe, and he pronounced the little stranger honest. In -looking around he discovered a strange impression upon the floor, the -print of a foot, circular, except at one point, where it branched out -into four distinct toes, all of a size—the foot was about three -inches in diameter. "Hang the rascal," he exclaimed, "I knew he had -one short leg, but had I known he was barefoot I would have given him -lodgings in the sewer."—"<i>In the sewer</i>" was -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page371"><small><small>[p. 371]</small></small></a></span> audibly echoed, -and Farragio rushed from the room. The bell of his master's chamber -rang. It reminded him that he was still a slave, and he went up -cursing his fate and vowing an eternity of revenge.</p> - -<p>For two or three days the little gentleman kept his distance, and -Farragio bore the wine and its etceteras to his master's table -unmolested, save by the discontented spirit that struggled in his -bosom, and brooded over the deadly purpose it had given birth to. -Farragio felt himself to be the meanest of slaves, but he possessed an -ambition superior to his servitude. His intercourse with his little -mysterious visiter, if it had failed to teach him the meaning of -philosophy, had learned him to philosophize. "If," said he, "I am to -wear the chain that binds me to my master's service, why do the -feelings of my bosom prompt me to despise it? When I was young, I was -happy in the yoke I wore, but years have brought another feeling, and -I despise the yoke, and hate—<i>hate</i> the hand that fixed it on me. My -curses cannot reach the mother that was so heartless as to make -merchandize of her child, but my revenge shall fall on Incholese, my -master—<i>master</i>, despicable word—and if it must exist, I'll be -master and Incholese, aye Incholese, shall be my slave; the hand of -death can hold him passive at my feet. Deep and deadly as my hate, -shall be the revenge I seek—and by my soul I swear!"—A voice -repeated "<i>thy</i> soul!" and the little gentleman in black was before -him. Farragio, provoked beyond endurance at his intrusion, bit the -blood from his lip with rage, and attempted to hurl him from his -presence; thrice he essayed to seize him by the throat, but thrice he -eluded the grasp, and the foaming Farragio beat upon the empty air; -wearied with his exertion he sought a moment's respite and sunk upon a chair.</p> - -<p>"It's my turn now," said the little gentleman, "and your fury, my dear -fellow, will quickly give place to repentance. Go—faithless to thy -oath—wait still upon thy master." For three days and nights the -figure of the little gentleman, perfect in all its parts, kept before -him; it was beside him at his meals, and floated in the wine he -carried to the hall. In every drop that sparkled in the goblet the -little figure swam—his threadbare coat and club foot were outlined in -admirable distinctness, and the contumelious smile that followed the -threat he made in the kitchen, played upon his lips in insupportable -perfection: the figure was shadowed in the tea he drank and seemed -tangible in the empty dish; it clung like vermin to his clothes, was -under his feet at every step, dangled pendulous from his nose and was -snugly stowed away in both its nostrils. Farragio felt him continually -crawling upon the epidermis of his arms and legs, and carried him -between his fingers and his toes. The figure danced in visible shadow -upon the very expressions that fell from his lips, and roosted in -number as an army upon the tester of his bed. Did the bell of his -master summon him to his chamber or the hall, the figure, large as -life, was in the door way to impede his passage; if he went to either -place, it was between him and his master or with whomsoever else he -was engaged. His goings out and his comings in, his lyings down and -his risings up, were all molested by this singular Protean thing, -which, though always the same figure, accommodated itself to any size. -If he laid his hand upon any of the furniture of his kitchen, or felt -in his pocket for his penknife or his toothpick, his fingers were sure -to encounter the elastic contour of his accommodating but most -uncomfortable companion. On the third day his torment was -excruciating, and the poor wretch seemed about to expire in -unsufferable misery.</p> - -<p>"Wretch that I am!" he exclaimed, when alone in his nether -apartment—"Wretch that I am, born to misfortune and tormented while -living by the execrable brood of hell." "<i>Execrable brood of hell!</i>" -sang the little gentleman with a most musical sneer, as he rolled from -all parts of the body of his victim and appeared in <i>propria persona</i> -before him.</p> - -<p>"I meant no offence," roared the affrighted Farragio.</p> - -<p>"Nor is it taken as such," replied his polite tormentor, who appeared -to be in a very pleasant humor, accompanying every word with a most -condescending smile. Farragio stammered out "I was—you know -when—sir—you are acquain—that is you—you remember—remember the -advice you gave me on the night when—I sa—you said I ought to be -re—re—rev"—</p> - -<p>"Revenged."</p> - -<p>"Exactly."</p> - -<p>"To blood."</p> - -<p>"Aye, and more than blood."</p> - -<p>"What! would you touch the soul?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and punish it forever."</p> - -<p>"Would you have it transformed to millions of animalculæ, each to teem -with life, and sensation the most acute, and continued in pain -throughout eternity?"</p> - -<p>"Aye, and longer, and for such sweet revenge I'd punish my own soul -with his."</p> - -<p>"Meet me to-morrow night, we'll fix it; success is certain."</p> - -<p>Farragio hesitated, he was afraid of his accomplice; more than once he -had suspected the smell of brimstone, and would have given worlds to -be relieved from such acquaintanceship.</p> - -<p>"Meet me to-morrow night," repeated the impatient little gentleman in -a voice of thunder.</p> - -<p>"At what hour?"</p> - -<p>"Nine."</p> - -<p>Farragio was about to offer an excuse, but the threatening aspect of -his companion, and the remembrance of his misery warned him to -acquiesce. He replied "I'll meet you," and the little gentleman -disappeared.</p> - -<p>At nine the confederates met, punctual to their engagement. Farragio -was there through fear, the little stranger to effect some deeply -hidden purpose. They talked of science and the arts, of philosophers, -philosophy and religion. The little gentleman appeared to be perfect -master of every subject, and astonished Farragio with his loquacity. -He drank wine, and was much more familiar than at any previous visit; -he sang, danced and left the impression of his foot as before. -Farragio had prepared for the entertainment of his guest, and for two -hours they rioted in the profusion of sweetmeats and wine, furnished -from the sideboard and cellar of Incholese. At length said the little -gentleman, "Mr. Farragio, I am happy of your acquaintance."</p> - -<p>"Not at all," answered Farragio, whose vanity had been considerably excited.</p> - -<p>"And you shall be happy of mine."</p> - -<p>"And if my revenge shall be fully and entirely gratified, I'll thank -you from my soul."</p> - -<p>"And <i>with</i> your soul."</p> - -<p>"With all my soul."</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page372"><small><small>[p. 372]</small></small></a></span> -<p>"Then we are friends for ever. Hear me—In a short time -Incholese will hold a magnificent entertainment; nothing like it has -ever happened in Venice since I have been interested for the welfare -of its people. The great hall will be crowded with visiters—the four -splendid chandeliers will be lighted, and without doubt the hall shall -glitter more brilliant than the jewelled cavern of Aladdin. The -beautiful, the young, the gay, will be there, and in the midst of the -merriment old age will forget its infirmities and leap like youth. The -old, however, will get weary and retire. When the Doge and his -attendants have gone, pour the contents of this vial into the wine you -carry up, and the morning will afford your heart a brimming revenge. -Venice is just restored to tranquillity; the plot of the foolish -Bedmar and his more foolish associates has failed, and the reason why -I will tell you—it was, because I was not consulted; the conspirators -relied in their own cunning and strength and were justly disappointed. -The guardian genius of this republic and of all republics can be -overcome, and prostrated by a power not inferior to my own, but times -and seasons and circumstances must be consulted if even I succeed. Our -little plot is of far less import, and with the exception of the Doge -and a few of the high officers we can sweep the hall. Be firm to the -purpose. Give them the contents of the vial in their wine, and in -three nights after I will show you the souls of all, and then you may -roll in vengeance for your wrongs. Farewell, Farragio; remember to -follow strictly my injunctions." It was past midnight, and without -another word the little gentleman took his leave.</p> - -<p>Time rolled heavily along, and nothing but the bustle of preparation -enabled Farragio to endure its tardiness.</p> - -<p>The eventful evening came. The Doge with the members of the Senate and -their wives, and many distinguished citizens and their families, -graced the sumptuous feast. Comino, according to promise, led in the -beautiful Glorianna. The chandeliers blazed like jasper in the -sunbeams, and threw additional charms from their lustre around the -"fairest of the fair." She walked amid their light—proud as the -Egyptian queen whose beauty made slaves of kings and brought -conquerors at her feet. Lightly went the revel on; song and wine -followed each other in quick succession; each guest seemed gayest of -the gay, and gave heart and soul to the bewitching joy.</p> - -<p>The Doge retired, the elder citizens soon followed; one by one they -dropped off till youth alone was left to roll the revel anthem on—and -loud and long it rang, till merry peals broke on the morning's verge.</p> - -<p>Farragio, true to his hellish purpose, mingled the contents of the -vial with the wine. All drank—and as if by the power of enchantment -were hurried on to doom.</p> - -<p>In the morning, smiles were on their marble lips. Incholese sat like -one rapt in ectsacy, and Glorianna's fingers were still upon the harp -whose melody had charmed the host to bliss—a silent throng they -lingered there.</p> - -<p>The little gentleman was also true to his appointment—in three days -he showed to Farragio the souls of his enemies. But his own looked -from its infernal abode upon those—in a place of less torment than -the bottomless abyss that foamed its fury upon him.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect15"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>A LEAF FROM MY SCRAP BOOK.</h4> -<br> - -<p>My friend Bob for the most part made verses in commendation of the -eyes and cheeks of Betty Manning. After her death, however, he at -times left these to the worm, and wrote upon other matters.</p> - -<p>One thing for which Bob was renowned was his disregard of everything -like accuracy in his literary statements, and in his quotations from -books. I find the following singular note appended to a little poem -which with many others, fell to my care at his death.</p> - -<p>"The flight of the Huma is in so rarified an atmosphere, that blood -oozes from its pores; its plumage is constantly colored with it. The -eyes, too, of this comrade of the clouds, unlike those of the eagle or -hawk, have a sorrowful and lack lustre appearance."—<i>Spix</i>.</p> - -<p>Bob must have found this note on the same page with the description of -the "Chowchowtow." But that is no business of mine.</p> - -<p>The verses to which the above note was appended were headed "<i>The -Huma</i>."</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem15"> - <tr><td>Mark how the sun flush dyeth<br> - Earth and sky!<br> - Bravely yon Huma flyeth<br> - Lone and high.<br> - Thine is a flight of glory<br> - Bold bird of the bosom gory,<br> - And mournful eye!—what story<br> - Hath that eye?<br> - What tale of sorrow telleth<br> - That bosom?—Hark!<br> - In yon high bright breast dwelleth<br> - Pain low and dark.<br> - O is it not thus ever<br> - With human bard?<br> - His wings of glory quiver<br> - By no mist marred;<br> - The clouds' high path he shareth,<br> - His breast to heaven he bareth—<br> - And a regal hue it weareth—<br> - But—dark reward!<br> - 'Tis blood his breast that staineth—<br> - His own hot blood.<br> - Over thought's high realm he reigneth<br> - His heart his food.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect16"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE CORPUS JURIS.</h4> -<br> - -<p>The "<i>Corpus Juris</i>," which is written in Latin, has never been -translated into any living tongue; yet it is the basis of law in -nearly all Europe and America. It was written by Tribonien, -Theophilus, Dorotheus, and John, and although called The Roman Law, is -in nothing Roman but the name. It is in four parts—Institutes, -Pandects or Digests, The Code, and The Novel Law. This celebrated book -is full of pedantry, and abounds in the most whimsical platitudes. For -example, in the chapter, "De patria potestate," 'The father loses his -authority over the son in many ways, firstly, when the father dies, -secondly, when the son dies,' &c. There is a Greek version of the -Institutes by Angelus Politianus.</p> -<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page373"><small><small>[p. 373]</small></small></a></span> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect17"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>A LOAN TO THE MESSENGER.</h4> -<center><small>NO. III.</small></center> -<br> - -<p>The following is from a poet of no ordinary talent, whose main fault -is indolence. He gave it me for my collection, where I believe it has -slumbered until now, since its conception. I think it a very pretty -song, and hope it will be a favorite with your readers, to whom I lend -it for May.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>J. F. O.</small> </div> -<a name="sect18"></a> -<h5>TO —— ——.</h5> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem16"> - <tr><td>Come, fill the bowl,—'twill win a smile<br> - To glad once more your drooping brow,<br> - Nor scorn the spell that can beguile<br> - One thought from all that wrings you now!<br> - For who, in worlds so sad as this,<br> - Would lose e'en momentary bliss?<br> -<br> - Come,—touch the harp,—its notes will bring<br> - At least a wreck of happier years,—<br> - The songs our childhood, used to sing,—<br> - Its artless joys,—its simple tears.<br> - How blessed, if weeping could restore<br> - Those bright glad days that come no more!<br> -<br> - Then touch the harp! and free and fast<br> - The tears I fain would weep shall flow:<br> - And fill the bowl! the last, the last!<br> - Then back to Life's deceitful show!<br> - And waste no more a single tear<br> - On Life, whose joys are sold so dear!</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>GEORGE LUNT.</small> </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect19"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>GERMAN LITERATURE.</h4> - -<blockquote><small><i>A Lecture on German Literature, being a Sketch of its history from -its origin to the present day, delivered by request, before the -Athenæum Society of Baltimore, on the 11th of February 1836, by G<small>EORGE</small> -H. C<small>ALVERT</small>, Translator of Schiller's Don Carlos: now first published.</i></small></blockquote> -<br> - -<p>A nation's literature is the embodied expression of its mind. That in -a people, there be impulse, depth, individuality enough to give clear -utterance to its thoughts, passions, and aspirations, and that these -have the distinctness and consistency necessary to mould them into -definite forms, denotes a degree of mental endowment and cultivation -traceable in but few of the nations of whose history we have record. -But few have attained to the creation and enjoyment of a literature. -Regions of the globe there are, whole continents indeed of its -surface, hitherto inhabited by races of men, who, like the -cotemporaneous generations of brute animals, have only lived and died, -leaving behind them nought but a tradition of their -existence,—communities, in which the essentially human was too feebly -developed to erect the brain-built structures, which, while they -preserve and refine the spirit whence they arise, from it derive the -indestructible character that perpetuates them, as honorable monuments -of the past, and for the present ever-open temples whither the wise -resort for worship and inspiration.</p> - -<p>Out of the darkness that envelops all else of the primeval ages, the -words of the Jewish writers shine upon the minds of every successive -generation as brightly and fixedly as do the stars from the mysterious -heavens upon the shifting appearances of our shallow earth; and the -books of the Old Testament stand, the sole human relics of eldest -time, as lofty objects of admiration to the literary as they are of -wonder to the religious. Of the architectural and sculptural creations -of the gifted Greeks, embodied in perishable marble, but a few -fragments have been saved from the consuming breath of time; but in -the poet's lines, fresh and perfect, lives the spirit which produced -them. As audible and musical as is to-day the murmur upon the Chian -shore of the same waves to which Homer listened, is still the sound of -Grecian song, imparting through our ears as deep and new a pleasure as -it did to those who fought at Salamis. The conquests Cæsar made with -his sword, a few centuries wiped from the face of the earth, but time -has not touched and cannot touch those of his pen; and, though the -language wherein the imperial chiefs of Rome gave orders to the -prostrate world, has passed from the mouths of men, so long as they -shall value beauty and wisdom, will the cherished lines of Tacitus and -of Virgil be reproduced for their enjoyment.</p> - -<p>Of the many nations of antiquity, these three are the only ones that -possessed enough of mind to have each a distinct literature.</p> - -<p>Within a much shorter space of time than elapsed between the birth of -Moses and the birth of Seneca, have grown up to the maturity needed -for the cultivation of letters, double the number of modern nations, -separately formed out of the deposites of northern hordes, who, -overrunning central and southern Europe, settled upon the mouldering -strata of the Roman Empire, infusing apparently by their mixture with -the conquered people, a new vigor into the inhabitants of these -regions. As the states of modern Europe date their origin from the -confused period of this conquest, so does the literature of each trace -its birth to the same, presenting in its history a bright and -elaborate picture, standing forth on a rude and dark back ground.</p> - -<p>Notable among them, for the depth and nature of its foundations, for -the character of the influences which affected its progress, for the -richness and fullness of its late development, and for its present -power upon the general mind of the human race, is the literature of -Germany. Little more than a sketch of its history is all that I can on -this occasion undertake.</p> - -<p>In order to present to your minds an outline whereby will be rendered -easier the following of its course from its rise to the present day, I -will, in the first place, label three great epochs in its progress, -with the names which made them epochs. Of the first, however, can be -given but the name of the work, that of its author being unknown. I -allude to the <i>Nibelungenlied</i>, the Song of the Nibelungen, the great -Epic of the Germans, written about the beginning of the thirteenth -century, more than a hundred years before the birth of Chaucer. Luther -makes the second epoch, and Goethe represents the third. We have here -a period embracing six hundred years. But long before the production -of the <i>Nibelungenlied</i>, and the cotemporaneous lyrical poetry, -letters were cultivated in Germany and books written, which, though -containing nothing worthy of preservation, deserve to be considered -and respected as bold forerunners, that fitted the Germans to value -the singers of the Nibelungen period, while for these they cultivated -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page374"><small><small>[p. 374]</small></small></a></span> -the language into the degree of flexibility and fullness -required for the medium of poetry. Charlemagne, who in the eighth -century, conquered and converted Germany to Christianity, established -schools in the monasteries, caused to be collected the ancient songs -and laws, ordered the preaching to be in German, and had translations -made from Latin. As the immediate result of this beginning, chronicles -and translations in verse of the Bible, were written by the inmates of -monasteries during the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries.</p> - -<p>The first period of German literature, I have named after the -<i>Nibelungenlied</i>, a work which is not only the greatest of its age, -but stands alone and unapproached as a national epic in the literature -of all modern Europe. This period is commonly called the Swabian, from -the influence of the Swabian line of emperors, who commenced to reign -as emperors of Germany in the twelfth century, and who, by their -zealous and judicious encouragement of letters, made the Swabian -dialect prevail over the Franconian, which had hitherto been -predominant. In the Swabian dialect is written the Song of the -Nibelungen, which, like the Iliad—according to the well supported -theory of the great German philologist Wolff—is wrought into a -compact whole out of the traditions, songs and ballads, current at the -time of its composition. The name Nibelungen, is that of a powerful -Burgundian tribe, whose tragic fate is the subject of the poem. -Nibelungen is obviously a name derived from the northern mythology, -and is transferred to the Burgundians, when these get possession of -the fatal Nibelungen hoard of treasure. The time is in the fifth -century, and the scene is on the Rhine and afterwards on the frontier -of Hungary and Austria.</p> - -<p>Chriemhild, a beautiful daughter of a king of the Burgundians, is -wooed and won by Siegfried, a prince of Netherlands, who possesses an -invisible cloak, a sword of magic power, the inexhaustible hoard of -the Nibelungen, and, like Achilles, is invulnerable except in one -spot. Brunhild, a princess, endowed, too, with supernatural qualities, -weds at the same time king Gunther, Chriemhild's brother; having been -won by force by Gunther, aided by Siegfried. Jealousy and discord grow -up between the two princesses, and reach such a pitch, that Brunhild -plots against the life of Siegfried, and has him treacherously -assassinated by the brothers of his wife, who wound him through the -vulnerable spot between his shoulders. After years of grief, during -which she harbors designs of vengeance, Chriemhild accepts, as a means -of avenging her wrongs, the offer of the hand of Etzel, king of the -Huns, the Attila of history, and leaving Gunther's court, accompanies -Etzel to Hungary. Hither, after a time, she invites with his -champions, Gunther, who in the face of dark forebodings, accepts the -invitation, and with a chosen army of Nibelungen, comes to Etzel's -court, where by Chriemhild's contrivance, he and all his band are -enclosed in an immense Minster and therein slain.</p> - -<p>Such is the outline of the story of this poem, which consists of -thirty-nine books, or <i>Adventures</i>, as they are called, extending to -nearly ten thousand lines. Over the whole hangs the dark northern -mythology, under whose mysterious influences the action proceeds. The -narrative is full of life and picturesque beauty. The story is -developed with life-like truth and sequence, and with a unity of -design unsurpassed in any poetic work. Naif simplicity and tragic -grandeur unite to give it attraction.</p> - -<p>At the time when the song of the Nibelungen was written, Germany was -richer than any European country in poetic literature. Besides this -great Epic, many poems of an epic character were written, relating, in -addition to national themes, to Charlemagne and his knights, King -Arthur and his round table, and others noted in the times of chivalry. -There too flourished the <i>Minnesinger</i>, that is, love-singers, numbers -of them knights and gentlemen, who, in imitation of the Troubadours of -southern France, cultivated poetry and sang of love and war. The -characteristics of the <i>Minnelieder</i>, or love songs, are simplicity, -truth, and earnestness of feeling, joined with beautiful descriptions -of nature. The golden age of German romantic poetry, was in the -beginning of the thirteenth century. After the fall of the -Hohenshauffen family from the imperial throne in the middle of this -century, anarchy and civil war prevailed for a time in Germany. The -nobility, given up to petty warfare, soon fell back from the state of -comparative culture to which, by devotion to poetry, they had -ascended, into rudeness and grossness.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the towns, particularly the imperial cities, which were -directly under the emperor, were growing into importance. In these the -civilization of the age centered. To them too, Poetry fled for -preservation, and, deserted by nobles, took refuge with mechanics. And -in a spirit that cannot be too warmly praised, was she welcomed. -Zealously and earnestly did the worthy shoemakers, and carpenters of -Nüenberg, Augsburg, Strasburg, and other towns betake themselves to -reading poetry, and writing verse,—for with all their good will and -zeal and laborious endeavors, they could produce only a mechanical -imitation of their predecessors. Nevertheless, much good did they do. -For carrying on the business of verse-making, they formed themselves -into guilds or associations, on the principle of those established by -the different trades: hence their name of master-singers, an -apprenticeship being required for admission into the guild. So -respectable and so much respected were these associations, that -knights and priests did not disdain to belong to them. Thus did the -master-singers, though ungifted with the soul of poetry which animated -the Minnesingers, keep alive the love of literature and preserve as it -were its body. Their most prosperous period was in the 15th century, -when several of their number laid the foundation of the German Drama, -and by their writings, particularly the satirical, contributed to -prepare the German mind for the influence of Luther. Especially -distinguished were men with the unmusical names of Hans Folks, Hans -Rosenplüt, and Hans Sacks. The last,—an industrious shoemaker who -still found time to write numberless dramas, not without wit, spirit -and invention,—still holds an honorable place in German Literature.</p> - -<p>During the same period, the result of the tendency to intellectual -developement then manifested throughout Europe,—were first founded in -Germanic Universities. The oldest is that of Prague, established by -Charles IV in 1345. In imitation of it, that of Heidelberg was founded -in 1386; and in the following century they multiplied all over -Germany. Their effects were for a time injurious. By introducing -Latin, they brought <span class="pagenum"><a name="page375"><small><small>[p. 375]</small></small></a></span> -contempt upon the native language, and as a -consequence, contempt also upon native poetry. This influence lasted -until within less than a century of the present time. It is only -indeed fifty years since the practice, for a long while universal, of -lecturing in Latin, was entirely disused in the universities of -Germany. As the universities rose, literature sank. Latin usurped the -place of German: scholastic philosophy, theology, jurisprudence, and -medicine with its kindred studies,—for, as yet there was no science, -engrossed these seats of mental labor. But even in the early stage of -their existence, while delving blindly at veins, many of them not -destined ever to yield a precious metal, they have a claim to be -regarded with honor and thankfulness, not only as the sources of so -much after-fertility, but that within their walls was disciplined and -instructed, and stored with the manifold learning which made more -fearful its gigantic powers, that mind whose startling flashes fixed, -in the opening of the 16th century, the gaze of the world it was about -to overspread with a purifying conflagration. In 1503 was first heard -in public, lecturing in the university of Erfurt, on the physics and -ethics of Aristotle, the voice of Martin Luther.</p> - -<p>On the long undulating line of human progression, here and there -appear, at wide distances apart, men, in whom seem to centre, -condensed into tenfold force, the faculties and spirit of humanity, -apparently for the purpose of furthering by almost superhuman effort, -its great interests,—men who, through the union of deep insight with -wisest action, utter words and do deeds, which so touch, as with the -hand of inspiration, the chords of the human heart, that their fellow -men start up as though a new spring were moved in their souls, and, -shaking off the clogging trammels of custom, bound forward on their -career with freer motion and wider aim. High among these gifted few, -stands Luther,—the successful assertor, in the face of deeply founded -and strongly fortified authority, of mental independence. This is not -the occasion to dwell on the keen sagacity, the wise counsel, the -hardy acts, the stern perseverance, the broad labors, wherewith this -mighty German made good his bold position, and, partly the -trumpet-tongued spokesman, and partly the creator of the spirit of his -age, so powerfully affected the world's destiny. I have here to speak -of his influence upon the literature of Germany. That influence was -twofold. First, by the mental enfranchisement—whereof he was the -agent and instrument—of a large mass of the German people, he gave an -impetus to thought and a scope to intellectual activity, and thereby -opened up the deep springs of the German mind; and secondly, by one -great and unsurpassed literary effort, he fixed the language of his -country. The bold spirit of inquiry, of which he set the example with -such immense consequences—and with such immense consequences because -it was congenial to his countrymen,—has been the chief agent in -working out the results that in our age have given to German -literature its elevated rank: while upon the dialect which, two -hundred years after his death, was the pliant medium for the thoughts -of Kant and the creations of Goethe, he exerted such a power, that it -is called Luther's German.</p> - -<p>When Luther began to preach and to write, Latin was the language of -the learned. Towards the end of the 15th century, that is, about the -period of his birth, unsuccessful attempts were made to circulate -translations of the ancient classics. The translations found few -readers and made no impression. Cotemporaneous with Luther, and a -forerunner of the great Reformer in attacking with boldness and skill -the usurpations of the Roman hierarchy, was Ulrich von Hutten, a name -much honored in Germany. But he wrote excellent Latin and wretched -German. The union in one man of the power to fix upon himself, and -hold as by a spell, the minds of his countrymen, with the power of a -language-genius over his native tongue—a union consummated in -Luther—was required, to raise the German language from its degraded, -enfeebled condition, to its due place, as the universal medium of -intercommunication among Germans of all classes.</p> - -<p>About this time, two dialects contended for supremacy—if in a period -of such literary stagnation their rivalry can be termed a contest. -These were, the Low German, prevalent in Westphalia and Lower Saxony, -and the High German, spoken in Upper Saxony. The latter had just -obtained the ascendancy over the former in the Diet and the Courts of -Justice. The High German, therefore, modifying it however, in his use -of it, Luther adopted in his great work; and by the adoption for ever -determined the conflict. This great work was the translation of the Bible.</p> - -<p>While by speech and deed, writing, preaching, and acting, he fomented -and directed the mighty struggle for liberty, whereto his bold -words—called by his countryman Jean Paul "half-battles"—had roused -the civilized world, Luther took time to labor at the task whose -accomplishment was to forward so immensely his triumph, and which, -executed as it was by him, is an unparalleled literary achievement. At -the end of thirteen years, he finished his translation. "Alone he did -it;" and alone it stands, pre-eminent in the world among -cotemporaneous performances for its spiritual agency, and in Germany -for its influence upon literature. Before him, there scarcely existed -a written German prose. He presented to his country a complete -language. With such a compelling and genial power did he mould into a -compact, fully equipt whole, the crude and fluctuating elements of the -German language of the 15th century, that it may be said, his mother -tongue came from him suddenly perfected. And not only did he, in -vigor, flexibility, precision, and copiousness, vastly excel all who -had written before him, but not even could those who came after him -follow in his footsteps in command over the new language, for a -century. The time when the pliant, well-proportioned body he created -was to indue the spirit of the German people, was postponed to a -distant period: and of this very postponement, was he too the cause; -for the religious and civil wars, the disputes and jealousies, -consequent upon the great schism he produced, so engrossed during a -long period the German mind, that literature languished. In the latter -half of the 16th century, it was poor. In the 17th, through the -impulse given to thought by the Reformation, it would have revived, -but for the outbreaking of the terrible <i>thirty years' war</i>, which, -remotely caused by the division between Catholics and Protestants, -commenced in 1618 and lasted till 1648, and which not only during its -continuance desolated and brutalized Germany, but left it -impoverished, disorganized, and, by the protracted internal strife and -foreign <span class="pagenum"><a name="page376"><small><small>[p. 376]</small></small></a></span> -participation therein, in spirit to a great degree denationalized.</p> - -<p>Here in our rapid survey of German literature, it will be well for a -moment to pause, and before entering upon the period in which it -attained its full multiform development, cast a look back upon the -stages through which we have traced its progress.</p> - -<p>We have seen, that in the 12th and 13th centuries, the mind of the -German people manifested its native depth and beauty in the fresh rich -bloom of a poetry, characterised in a rude age by tenderness and -grandeur. Before this, it had evinced its ready capability, in the -production of chronicles and translations in verse from the Bible, the -moment opportunity was given it in the monasteries early founded by -the enlightened spirit of Charlemagne. Afterwards, in the 14th and -15th centuries, in the wars and contests incident to the political -development of Germany, the nobles—to whom, and the clergy, the -knowledge of letters was at first confined—were drawn off by grosser -excitements from the culture and encouragement of poetry. With the -fine instinct that knows, and the aspiring spirit that strives after -the highest, which denote a people of the noblest endowments, -poetry—thrown aside as the plaything of idle hours by warrior -knights—was cherished by peaceful artizans, whose zealous devotion -vindicated their worthiness of the great gift about to be bestowed; by -whose wondrous potency, not only were the hitherto barred portals of -all pre-existing literature thrown down, but a highway was opened to -all who should seek access by letters to the temples of wisdom or fame.</p> - -<p>The invention of printing preceded the birth of Luther about half a -century. This great event—infinitely the greatest of a most eventful -age—facilitated vastly his labors and made effective his efforts. It -showered over Germany the new language and the new ideas embodied in -his translation of the Bible and his other writings. Thus, through its -means chiefly, the German mind was progressive, notwithstanding the -long period, extending through a century, of internal convulsion, -ending in physical exhaustion, which followed Luther's death. The -language, nervous, copious, homogeneous, as it came from Luther, was -fixedly established,—a standard by which the corruptions and ungerman -words, introduced through the long and intimate intercourse with -foreigners during the <i>thirty years' war</i>, could be cast out.</p> - -<p>In the beginning of the 17th century, in the midst of the civil war, -an attempt was made to revive literature by Martin Opitz, a Silesian. -Silesia was then not included in the German empire. The language of -the peasantry was bad Polish; but German had been introduced into the -towns. Silesia suffered little from the <i>thirty years' war</i>. Here, -therefore, was made the beginning of the endeavors which, after -various fluctuations, resulted in the rich literary produce of the -18th century. Opitz was a scholar, versed in ancient literature as -well as in that of France and of Holland, which latter had in the age -of Hugo Grotius higher literary pretensions than at present. He -endeavored to introduce a classical spirit into German poetry, and to -create a new poetical language; but he was not a man of high genius, -and therefore, though entitled to praise for his zeal and for having -given to the German mind an impulse towards the path, so long -deserted, neither he nor his feebler followers are now read but by the -literary antiquarian or historian. Through the 17th and first part of -the 18th centuries, writers were not wanting; but their productions -were without force or originality. Though heartily devoted to letters, -they were powerless to revive literature. Their efforts betoken a -craving for that which they could not supply. Vile imitations of -French taste, extravagant romances, exaggerated sentiment, are the -characteristics of the works wherewith it was attempted to supply the -national want of a literature. The authors of these were, however, the -precursors of a class, who, themselves shining luminaries compared to -those who preceded them, were made pale by the brilliant light of the -mighty spirits in whom and through whom the literature of Germany now -stands the object of admiration and of study to the most cultivated -scholars of all nations, and, by general acknowledgment, unsurpassed -by that of any other people for richness, for depth and truth of -thought and sentiment, for beauty in its forms and solidity of -substance, for, in short, multifarious excellence.</p> - -<p>Gottsched, Bodmer, Haller, Gellert, Rabener, Gleim, Kleist, Gessner, -Hagedorn, are names worthy of honor, though their volumes are now -seldom disturbed in their repose on the shelves of public libraries. -They broke the long darkness with a promising streak of light, which -expanded into day in the works of Klopstock, Winkelman, Lessing, -Herder, Wieland, Goethe, Schiller, Richter.</p> - -<p>The two first named of the first class, Gottsched and Bodmer, are -noted in German literature as the chiefs of two rival schools, in the -merging of which into more enlarged views,—whereto their lively -conflict greatly contributed,—appeared the second class. Gottsched -aimed to create a German literature by imitating French models and -introducing the French spirit. Bodmer warmly opposed Gottsched, and by -translations from English authors,—far more congenial to the German -people than French,—endeavored to produce good by English influence. -This was in the first half of the 18th century. They both did service. -Their keen rivalry excited the German mind. The fertile soil was -stirred, and from its depths burst forth in thronging profusion a -mighty progeny, as though the land of Herman and of Luther had been -slow in bringing forth the children that were to make her illustrious, -because they were a brood of giants, whose first cries startled even -the mother that bore them. In one grand symphony ascended their -matured voices, lifting up the minds of their countrymen to loftiest -aspirations, and sounding in the uttermost parts of the earth, -wherever there were ears that could embrace their artful music.</p> - -<p>Accustomed to spiritless imitations, the souls of the deep-minded -Germans were moved with unwonted agitation by the <i>Messiah</i> of -Klopstock, of which the first books were published in the middle of -the 18th century. A voice, free and vigorous, such as since Luther -none had been heard, was eagerly heeded, and with warm acclaim all -over Germany responded to. To literature a new impulse was given, to -swell the which rose other voices, similar in strength and -originality—especially those of Kant in philosophy, and Lessing in -criticism. 'Mid this heaving and healthy excitement, came with -maddening power the first wild outpourings of the master-spirit, not -of Germany only, but of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page377"><small><small>[p. 377]</small></small></a></span> -age. Twenty years after the -<i>Messiah</i>, appeared the first works of the then youthful Goethe, whom -in our day, but four years back, we have seen at the age of four score -descend gently to the tomb, having reached the natural end of a life -that was only less productive than that of Shakspeare. Ten years -later, another mighty genius announced himself, the only one who has -been honored with the title of Goethe's rival, and Schiller burst upon -Germany and the world in the <i>Robbers</i>. Poets, philosophers, critics, -historians—of highest endowment, genial, profound, of many-sided -culture, world-famous, illustrate this brilliant epoch.</p> - -<p>A brief description of the career and best productions of the most -noted among them, will enable you to understand why, in the latter -half of the 18th and the beginning of the 19th centuries, German -literature suddenly reached so high a stage of perfection.</p> - -<p>Klopstock has the high merit of being the leader of the glorious band, -through whose teeming minds the want of a national literature was so -suddenly and fully satisfied. Klopstock was the first who by example -taught the Germans the lesson they were most apt at learning, that the -French rules of taste are not needed for the production of excellence. -Therefore is he called by Frederick Schlegel the founder of a new -epoch, and the father of the present German literature. Born at -Quedlinburg, a small town of North Germany, he was sent to school to -the Schulpforte, then and now one of the most famous schools in -Germany. As a boy, he was noted for warmth of feeling and patriotic -enthusiasm. A youth under age, he conceived the idea of writing a -national epic, taking for a subject the exploits of Henry I, Emperor -of Germany. This design he however abandoned for that of a religious -epic, and at twenty-one planned and commenced, before he knew of -Milton's poems, his <i>Messiah</i>. In his own deep meditative mind, -wrought upon by religious and patriotic zeal, originated and was -matured the bold conception. Klopstock was in his twenty-fourth year -when the first three books of the <i>Messiah</i> appeared. His countrymen, -ever susceptible to religious appeals, and prepared at that period for -the literary revolution, or, more properly, creation, of which the -<i>Messiah</i> was the first great act, received it with an enthusiasm to -which they had long been unused. The people beheld the young poet with -veneration, and princes multiplied upon him honors and pensions. The -remaining books were published gradually, and in the execution of his -lofty work, the German bard felt, as was natural, the influence of the -genius and precedent verse of Milton and of Dante. Like Paradise Lost, -the <i>Messiah</i> has won for its author a reputation with thousands, even -of his countrymen, where it has been read by one. Klopstock also -attempted tragedy; but in this department he failed signally. Indeed, -he had no clear notion of the essential nature of the drama, as may be -inferred from the fact of his choosing as the subject for a tragedy, -the death of Adam. But, as a lyrical poet, he is even greater than as -an epic, and for the excellence of his odes justly has he been styled -the modern Pindar. In these,—distinguished for condensation of -thought, vigor of language, and poetic inspiration,—the Germans first -learned the full capacity of their language in diction and rhythm.</p> - -<p>As to Klopstock is due the praise of being the first to teach the -Germans by great examples, that reliance upon native resources, and -independence of the contracting sway of meager French conventional -rules, were the only paths to the production of original, enduring -literature; to Lessing belongs that of enforcing the wholesome lesson -by precept. Lessing is the father of modern criticism. Born in -Kaments, a small town of Lusatia, in 1729, five years later than -Klopstock, he wrote at the age of twenty-two a criticism of the -<i>Messiah</i>. Later, in his maturity, he produced his <i>Dramaturgie</i>, or, -theatrical and dramatic criticism, and his <i>Laocoon</i>, or, the limits -of poetry and the plastic arts. He sought always for first principles; -and in the search he was guided by a rare philosophic acuteness, -co-operating with strong common sense. His fancy—whereof a good -endowment is indispensable to a critic—is ever subordinate to his -reason; his fine sensibility to the beautiful, supplying materials for -the deduction of principles of taste and composition by his subtle -understanding. Though greater as a critic than as a poet or creator, -he has nevertheless left three different works in the dramatic form, -that are classics in German literature;—<i>Minna von Barnkelm</i>, a -comedy; <i>Amelia Galotti</i>, a domestic tragedy; and <i>Nathan the Wise</i>, a -didactic poem of unique excellence. He himself regarded as his best -work his <i>Fables</i>, remarkable for sententiousness, simplicity of -language, and pithy significance. His prose style, concise, -transparent, forcible without dryness, is a model for the literary -student. Not the least of his great services is, that he was the first -to draw attention in Germany to Shakspeare, whose supremacy over all -poets has since been no where more broadly acknowledged, and the -causes of it no where more lucidly developed.</p> - -<p>Cotemporary with Klopstock and Lessing, and, from his works and -influence, deserving of being mentioned next to them, was Wieland, -born in 1733 in Biborach, a town of Swabia. Wieland commenced writing -at the age of seventeen, and finished at that of eighty, during which -extended period he addicted himself to almost every department of -authorship. He is the first German who translated Shakspeare. As the -author of <i>Oberon</i>, his name is familiar to English readers. This is -much the best work of Wieland, more remarkable for grace and -sprightliness than force or originality. He drew largely from the -Greeks, Italians, English and French, and though a poet and writer of -high and various merit, but a small portion of the much he has written -is now read.</p> - -<p>Following chronological order in this fertile period, we come after -Wieland to Herder, born at Mohrungen, a small town of Eastern Prussia, -in 1744. Like Wieland, Goethe, and Schiller, Herder was drawn to -Weimar by the munificient spirit of the Duchess Amalia, and her son, -the grand Duke Augustus, illustrious and ever memorable, as -enlightened fosterers of genius—shining examples to sovereigns, -kingly or popular. Herder was appointed in his thirty-second year, -court preacher at Weimar, and there passed the remainder of his life, -in diversified usefulness, simultaneously inspecting schools and -elaborating philosophical essays, learnedly elucidating the Old -Testament, and at the same time reviving and awakening a taste for -national songs. His greatest work, entitled <i>Ideas for the Philosophy -of History</i>, is esteemed one of the noblest productions of modern -times. Herder is called by Richter, a Christian Plato.</p> - -<p>And here, next to Herder, and a congenial and profounder spirit, we -will speak of Richter himself, born in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page378"><small><small>[p. 378]</small></small></a></span> 1763. Richter, better -known by his Christian names, Jean Paul, is a fine sample of the -German character. The truthfulness of the Germans, their deep -religious feeling, their earnestness and their playfulness, (far -removed from frivolity) their enthusiasm and their tendency to the -mystical, their warm affections and aptness to sympathy, are all not -only traceable in his works, but prominent in the broad vivid lines of -his erratic pen. In the union of learning with genius, Richter -surpasses Coleridge. His wonderful fictions are out of the reach of -common readers, not more by their learned illustrations and their -subtleties, than by their wild irregularity of form and arbitrary -structure, whereby the world generally is deprived of the enjoyment of -a fund of the most tender pathos, gorgeous description, bold, keen wit -and satire, and the richest humor in modern literature. His two -greatest works are on education, and on the philosophy of criticism. -He was several years in writing each; and storehouses they are of deep -and just thought, of searching analysis, and of great truths, evolved -by the reason of one of the world's profoundest thinkers, and -illuminated by flashes of genius of almost painful intensity. They are -works, each of them, to be studied page by page. Nothing similar to or -approaching them exists in English literature.</p> - -<p>Of the writers who in this remarkable epoch belong to the first class -in the highest department of letters, the poetical or creative, we -have spoken—in the cursory manner necessary in a general sketch—of -all, save the two greatest, Schiller and Goethe.</p> - -<p>Frederick Schiller was born in 1759, at Marbach, a small town of -Wurtemberg. In his mind seem to have been blended, and there -strengthened, elevated, and refined, the qualities of his parents—the -one, a man of clear upright mind; the other, a woman of more than -common intelligence and taste, who both enjoyed the fortune of living -to witness the greatness of their son. Schiller had the benefit of -good early instruction. At the age of fourteen he was placed in a high -school, just founded by the reigning Duke of Wurtemberg, and conducted -with military discipline. Here, while his daily teachers were tasking -him with irksome lessons, first of jurisprudence and afterwards of -medicine, the chained genius, chafing like the lion in his cage, was -brooding over the thoughts, and by stealth feeding with a translation -of Shakspeare the cravings, which nature had implanted in him to -produce one of her noblest works—a great poet. At eighteen he began, -within the walls of the Duke's military school, <i>The Robbers</i>, often -feigning sickness, that he might have a light in his room at night to -transfer to paper his daring conception and burning thoughts. He -postponed its publication until after he had finished his college -course and had obtained the post of surgeon in the army, in his -twenty-first year. The appearance of <i>The Robbers</i>, as a consequence -of the formal drilling of the self-complacent pedagogues of the Duke -of Wurtemberg, I have elsewhere<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> likened to the explosion of a mass -of gunpowder under the noses of ignorant boys drying it before a fire -to be used as common sand. Schiller himself, in after life, described -it as "a monster, for which by good fortune the world has no original, -and which I would not wish to be immortal, except to perpetuate an -example of the offspring which genius, in its unnatural union with -thraldom, may give to the world." Never did a literary work produce a -stronger impression. With enthusiastic admiration, the world hailed in -it the advent of a mighty poet.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> North American Review, for July 1834.</small></blockquote> - -<p>That which roused enthusiasm throughout Germany, roused anger in the -sovereign of Wurtemberg; and while all eyes were turned towards the -land whence this piercing voice had been heard, he from whose bosom it -issued was fleeing from his home to avoid a dungeon. For having gone -secretly to Manheim, in a neighboring state, to witness the -performance of <i>The Robbers</i>, the Duke had the young poet put under -arrest for a week, and Schiller, learning that for repeating the -transgression a severer punishment awaited him, fled in disguise, -choosing rather to face the appalling reality of sudden -self-dependence than brook the tyranny of mind, which to the soaring -poet was even more grievous than to the high-souled man. He quickly -found friends. Baron Dalberg supplied him with money, while he lived, -for a short time, under the name of Schmidt in a small town of -Franconia, until Madam von Wollzogen invited him to her estate near -Meinungen. Under this lady's roof he gave free scope to his genius, -and produced two more dramas—<i>Fiesco</i>, and <i>Kabal und Liebe</i> (Court -Intrigue and Love.) These, with the <i>Robbers</i>, constitute the first or -untutored era of Schiller's literary life. With faults as glaring as -their beauties are brilliant, they are now chiefly valued as the broad -first evidence of that power, whose full exertion afterwards gave to -the world <i>Don Carlos</i>, <i>Wallenstein</i>, and <i>Tell</i>, and to Schiller -immortality. Their reputation obtained for him the post of poet to the -Manheim theatre. Thence, after a brief period he went to Leipsic and -to Dresden, developing his noble faculties by study and exercise. In -1789, at the age of thirty, he was appointed by the Grand Duke of -Weimar, at the instigation of Goethe, professor of History in the -university of Jena. Here and at Weimar he passed, in constant literary -labor, the remainder of his too short life.</p> - -<p>Schiller's great reputation rests, and will ever rest, unshaken, on -his dramas. Regarding his first three, which we have named, as -preparatory studies to his dramatic career, he has left six finished -tragedies, viz.—<i>Don Carlos</i>, <i>The Maid of Orleans</i>, <i>Wallenstein</i> -(in three parts,) <i>Mary Stuart</i>, <i>The Bride of Messina</i>, and <i>William -Tell</i>—works, in whose conception and execution the highest principles -of art control with plastic power the glowing materials of a rich, -deep, fervent mind, ordering and disposing them with such commanding -skill, as to produce dramas, which are not merely effective in -theatrical representation, and soul-stirring to the reader as pictures -of passion, but which, by the rare combination of refined art with -mental fertility and poetic genius, exhibit, each one of them, that -highest result of the exertion of the human faculties—a great poem. -Possessing, in common with other gifted writers, the various -endowments needed in a dramatist and poet of the highest order, the -individual characteristic of Schiller is elevation. The predominant -tendency of his mind is ever upwards. Open his volumes any where, and -in a few moments the reader feels himself lifted up into an ideal -region. The leading characters in his plays, though true to humanity, -have an ideal loftiness. You figure them to yourself as of heroic -stature, such grandeur and nobleness is there in their strain of -sentiment <span class="pagenum"><a name="page379"><small><small>[p. 379]</small></small></a></span> -and expression. The same characteristic pervades his -prose and lyrical poetry. Had he never written a drama, his two -volumes of lyrical poetry would suffice to enthrone him among the -first class of poets, so beautiful is it and at the same time of such -depth of meaning, so musical and so thought-pregnant. No where is the -dignity of human nature more nobly asserted than in the works of -Schiller; as pure, and simple, and noble, as a man, as he is powerful -and beautiful as a poet. In the full vigor of his faculties, his mind -matured by experience and severe culture, and teeming with poetic -plans, he died in 1805, having reached only his forty-sixth year.</p> - -<p>Of Schiller's great rival and friend, Goethe, as of Schiller himself, -I can, in the limited space allowed in such a lecture as this, only -give you a rapid sketch.</p> - -<p>John Wolfgang Goethe was born at Frankfort on the Maine in 1749, ten -years before Schiller. "Selectest influences" leagued with nature to -produce this wonderful man. To give its complete development to a -mighty inward power, outward circumstances were most happily -propitious. Upon faculties of the quickest sensibility, and yet of -infinitely elastic power, wide convulsions and world-disturbing -incidents bore with tempestuous force, dilating the congenial energies -of the young genius, who suddenly threw out his fiery voice to swell -the tumult round him, and announce the master spirit of the age. For a -while, the thrilling melody of that voice mingled in concert with the -deep tones of the passionate period whence it drew so much of its -power. Soon, however, was it heard, uttering with calmer inspiration -the words of wisdom, drawn from a source deeper than passion—passion -subdued by the will, and tempered by culture. "It is not the ocean -ruffled," says Jean Paul, "that can mirror the heavens, but the ocean -becalmed."</p> - -<p>Goethe's father was a prosperous honored citizen of Frankfort, -improved by travel and study—a man of sound heart and sharp temper; -his mother, a woman of superior mind and of genial character, to whom -in her old age Madam de Stael paid a visit of homage, and who enjoyed -the pleasure of introducing herself to her distinguished visiter with -the words,—"I am the mother of Goethe." Under the guidance of such -parents was Goethe's boyhood passed in the old free city of Frankfort, -ever a place of various activity, where he witnessed when a child the -coronation of an emperor of Germany, and the stir of a battle, fought -in the neighborhood between Frederick the Great and the French—events -of rare interest to any boy, and of deep import to one in whose -unfolding a great poet was to become manifest. In due season he was -sent to the university of Leipsic, famous then by the lectures of -Gottsched, Gellert, Ernesti, and others. To the young Frankfort -student the admired discourses of these sages of the time were but -lessons in skepticism; their magisterial dicta and hollow dogmas being -quickly dissolved in the fire of a mind, already in its youth -competent to self-defence against error, though with vision too -untried yet to pierce to the truth. From Leipsic he went to Strasburg, -to complete his studies in the law, his father having destined him for -a lawyer. A more imperious parent, however, had laid other commands on -him, and while the words of law-professors were falling upon his -outward ear, the inward mind was revolving the deeds of <i>Goetz von -Berlichingen</i>, and shaping the vast fragments of which in after years -was built the wondrous world of <i>Faust</i>.</p> - -<p>In his twenty-third year appeared <i>Goetz von Berlichingen</i>, the -firstling of a pen, which, in the following sixty years, filled as -many volumes with works of almost every form wherein literature -embodies itself, a series of boundless wealth and unequalled -excellence, to gain access to which, a year were well spent in daily -labor to master the fine language it enriches. Two years later, -appeared <i>Werter</i>, an agonizing picture of passion, which, like the -first crude outburst of Schiller's genius, shot a thrill through the -then agitated mind of Germany, and which Goethe afterwards, in the -tranquillity of his purified faculties, looked back upon as a curious -literary phenomenon. This work has never been directly translated into -English (and a good translation of it were no easy achievement,) the -book called "The Sorrows of Werter" being a translation of a French -version, that does not give even the title of the original, which is, -"The Sufferings of the Young Werther." And yet, by this doubly -distorted image of a youthful ebullition, was the Protean giant for a -long while measured in England, and through England, in America.</p> - -<p>Soon after the publication of Werter, Goethe was invited to Weimar, -where, honored and conferring honor, he lived the rest of his long and -fruitful life. Appointed at once a member, he in a few years became -president of the Council of State; and finally, after his return from -Italy, at about the age of forty he was made one of the Grand Duke's -Ministers, a post he for many years held. Directing the establishment -and arrangement of museums, libraries, art-exhibitions, and theatrical -representations, he contributed directly by practical labors, as well -as by the brilliancy which the products of his pen shed upon his place -of abode, to the fame and prosperity of Weimar.</p> - -<p>In the poems of Shakspeare, is disclosed a mind, wherein capaciousness -and subtlety, vigor and grace, clearness and depth, versatility and -justness, combine and co-operate with such shifting ease and -impressive effect, that ordinary human faculties are vainly tasked to -embrace its perfectness and its immensity. Contemplating it, the -keenest intelligence exhausts itself in analysis, and the most refined -admiration ends in wonder. Inferior only to this consummation of human -capabilities is the mind of Goethe, akin to Shakspeare's in the -breadth and variety and subtlety of its powers. In comprehensiveness -of grasp and ideal harmony in conceiving a poetic whole, the German -approaches the mighty Englishman, and displays also in the -delineation, or, more properly, the creation of characters, that -instinctive insight and startling revelation of the human heart, which -in Shakspeare almost at times make us think he were privy to the -mystery of its structure. The same calmness and serene -self-possession—a sign of supreme mental power—are characteristic of -both. Like Shakspeare, Goethe never intrudes his personal -individuality to mar the proportions of a work of art.</p> - -<p>To pour out the wealth of a mind, which ranges over every province of -human thought and action, Goethe adopts all the various forms in which -poetry, according to its mood and object, moulds itself. In his -epigrams, elegies, songs and ballads, he embodies the highest -excellences of the <i>lyrical</i>. In <i>Egmont</i>, you have a bold -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page380"><small><small>[p. 380]</small></small></a></span> -specimen of the romantic <i>tragedy;</i> in <i>Iphygenia</i>, a beautiful -reproduction of the classical Greek; while <i>Torquato Tasso</i>, a drama -of the most exquisite grace and refinement, occupies a middle ground -between the two. To pass from this to <i>Faust</i>, is to be suddenly borne -away from a quiet scene of rural beauty to a rugged mountain peak, -whence, through a tempest, you catch glimpses of the distant sunny -earth, and mid the elemental strife, beautiful in its terrors, hear -sounds as though a heaven-strung æolian harp snatched music from the -blast. In <i>Herman and Dorothea</i>, executed with matchless felicity, -reigns the pure <i>epic</i> spirit. This one poem were enough to make a -reputation. But the highest exhibition of Goethe's manifold powers is -<i>Wilhelm Meister</i>, in which a mixed assemblage of fictitious -personages, each one possessing the vital individuality and yet -generic breadth of Falstaff and of Juliet, bound together in a vast -circle of the most natural and complex relations, presents so truthful -and significant and art-beautified a picture of the struggles and -attainments, the joys and griefs, the labors and recreations, the -capacities and failings of mortal men, that from its study we rise -with strength freshened and feelings purified, and our vision of all -earthly things brightened. Unhesitatingly characterizing this work as -the greatest prose fiction ever produced, I close this brief notice of -its wonderful author.</p> - -<p>The writers I have named are they who have given existence and -character to modern German literature. Yet, to omit all mention of a -number of others, would be not only unjust to them, but an -imperfection even in so rapid a sketch as this.</p> - -<p>By the side of Lessing, I should have placed Winkelman, born in the -beginning of the last century, whose history of ancient art is -esteemed the best of all works in this department of criticism. It had -great influence upon German literature. Among the poets who, next to -the brilliant series already described, hold high places, are, Bürger, -Koerner, (both known to English readers through translations), -Voss—to whom, and to their own copious, flexible language, the -Germans are indebted for the most perfect translations of Homer -possessed by any people—Tieck, Novalis, Grilpazer. Besides these may -be mentioned the Stolbergs, Hoelty, Tidge, Leisewits, Mülner, Collin, -Mathison, Uland. Among a crowd of novelists, distinguished are the -names of Engel, Fouquet, Lafontaine, and Hoffman, and Thummel, whose -satirical novels have a high reputation. Of miscellaneous writers -there is a host, among whom should be particularized, Mendelsohn, -Jacobi, Lichtenberg. In historians Germany is especially rich. Johan -von Müller, Heeren, Niebuhr, Raumer, O. Müller, are writers whose -merits are acknowledged throughout Europe, and acquaintance with whose -works is indispensable to the scholar who would have wide views and -accurate knowledge of the spirit of history. In criticism the two -Schlegels have a European reputation. The "Lectures on the Drama" of -Augustus William Schlegel constitute the finest critical work extant. -Of the well known learning, profoundness, and acuteness of the German -philologists, theologians and metaphysicians, it were superfluous here -to speak. In short, to conclude, the Germans, endowed by nature with -mental capabilities inferior to those of no people of the earth, and -enjoying for the last half century a more general as well as a higher -degree of education than any other, and thus combining talent and -genius with wide learning and laborious culture, possess a vast and -various accumulation of productions, wherein are to be found in every -province of letters works of highest excellence, which to the literary -or scientific student, whatever be his native tongue, are -inexhaustible sources of mental enjoyment and improvement.</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect20"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LINES.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>The following lines were composed in January 1830, while passing the -night in the wilderness before a huntsman's fire, in company with a -party of friends engaged in a hunting expedition.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem17"> - <tr><td>Above, the starry dome;<br> - Beneath, the frozen ground;<br> - And the flickering blaze that breaks the gloom,<br> - And my comrades sleeping sound.<br> -<br> - Well may they sleep; their sportive toil<br> - Has found a mirthful close,<br> - And dreams of home, of love's sweet smile,<br> - And prattling childhood void of guile,<br> - Invite them to repose.<br> -<br> - O! never more on me,<br> - Such dear illusions e'en in sleep can fall;<br> - Scared by the frown of stern reality<br> - The forms my yearning spirit would recall.<br> -<br> - The dead! the dead! The ne'er forgotten dead,<br> - In slumber's shadowy realm so vainly sought,<br> - Yet haunt my path, and hover round my bed,<br> - Unseen, unheard, but present still to thought.<br> -<br> - Breathe not their voices in the linnet's strain?<br> - Glow not their beauties in the opening flower?<br> - Fond fantasies of grief! alas! how vain,<br> - While cruel memory tells "they are no more."<br> -<br> - But this spangled roof is their mansion bright,<br> - Though the icy earth is their lowly tomb;<br> - And this mounting flame is their spirit's light,<br> - That seeks its native home.<br> -<br> - And that oak that frowns o'er the desolate waste,<br> - While its withered arms are tossing wide,<br> - As if to screen from the whirling blast<br> - The scattered wreck of its summer pride—<br> -<br> - 'Tis I: thus left alone on earth,<br> - Thus fixed in my spirit's lonely mood,<br> - Mid the strifes of men, in the halls of mirth,<br> - Or the desart's solitude.<br> -<br> - For never can I stoop<br> - To bandy malice with the base and vile;<br> - And in the grave is quenched the cherished hope,<br> - Kindled and fed by Beauty's favoring smile.<br> -<br> - The grave! the grave! It will not restore<br> - The victims to its hunger given;<br> - And this weary spirit can rest no more,<br> - Till it sleep with them to wake in heaven.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect21"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>ALLITERATION.</h4> -<br> -<p>"Pierce Plowman's Vision," by William Langlande, in the reign of -Edward III, is the longest specimen extant of alliterative poetry. It -proceeds in this manner without rhyme, and with few pretensions to -metre—</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem18"> - <tr><td>It befell on a Friday two friars I mette<br> - Maisters of the minours, men of great wytte.</td></tr> -</table><br> -<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page381"><small><small>[p. 381]</small></small></a></span> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect22"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>READINGS WITH MY PENCIL.</h4> - -<center><small>NO. IV.<br> -<br> - Legere sine calamo est dormire.—<i>Quintilian</i>.</small></center> -<br> - -<blockquote><small>26. "There should always be some foundation of fact for the most airy -fabric: and pure invention is but the talent of a liar."—<i>Byron, by -Moore</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This seems harsh judgment—but is it so, in reality? Ethically, as -well as in a mere worldly view, I think it is. "There is nothing new -under the sun," and he who tells what is not, lies—under a mistake, -or otherwise. All fiction is woven on a web of fact, except the liar's -fiction, which is all woof and no web, and so must soon fall to pieces -from its own want of consistency. <i>Apropos!</i> I saw a play advertised, -within the week, which was announced by the author, as founded neither -in fact, fancy, or imagination!</p> - -<blockquote><small>27. "The piety implanted in Byron's nature—as it is, deeply, in all -poetic natures," &c.—<i>Moore's Byron</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Devotion arises very naturally from viewing the works of God with -seriousness. If Byron had not some holy stirrings of devotion within -him, when painting his loveliest pictures, I greatly err in my -estimate of human nature. These remained, perhaps, to show him how -much he had lost in his misanthropic musings over the dark and gloomy -past: and had he followed gently those motions, with which, in -thinking of the sublime and beautiful of nature, his mind was visited, -it would have but been a compliance with a call from heaven, guiding -him to true happiness.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem19"> - <tr><td><small>28. "Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth, asleep,<br> - Unconscious lies—effuse your mildest beams!<br> - Ye constellations!—while the angels strike,<br> - Amid the spangled sky, their silver lyres!"<br> - - - - - <i>Thomson</i>.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>How vividly does this bold but beautiful figure at times come back -upon me, when I have been walking at deep midnight—when the stillness -that pervaded all around me was so deep and intense as to make me, for -very fear of breaking it, restrain my breath: while the fine array of -stars was gloriously marshalled in high heaven: the belted Orion—the -Serpent showing its every fold between the Bears. Lyra had not set, -the Eagle was just on the western edge, and the Dolphin's cluster near -its precursor. The Canès, Major and Minor, were bright in the east; -nearly over head was Capella, and the Gemini as bright as the prince -of the Hyades, Aldebaran. Jupiter lighted his gas-like flame, eastward -of Castor and Pollux, and meteors were flitting in various lines -across the whole western sky. And again, on some still, clear, fair -night—when the blood-red planet, Mars, was high in heaven, and the -brighter and purer Jupiter, and the Dogstar were fading in the -horizon—how have I stood, listening to nothing, while the hum of the -fairies was melting in my ears! For what else can I call that -deception of the fancy, or perhaps that real sound from an unknown -source, which, in the most profound silence, is still sweetly rising -up around us?</p> - -<blockquote><small>29. "Do not we all know that the whig laureate, <i>Tom Moore</i>, actually -published in the Morning Chronicle, the substance of conversations -which had occurred at the royal table itself, to which he had been -incautiously admitted? And that the most pungent and piquant things in -* * the Twopenny Post Bag, and the Fudge Family * * *, are derived -from information picked up in the progress of social intercourse?"</small></blockquote> - -<div align="right"><small><i>Blackwood's Magazine for Nov., -1823</i>.</small> </div> - -<p>I believe these inuendoes are now beyond all cavil. The excuse of Tom -was, that George deserted his party, and that all's fair in politics. -Whether or not this were reasonable excuse, casuists may settle; but -there is one reflection incident to the anecdote, to which the years -1835-6 has given rise; and this is, how ungracefully looks the Irish -Anacreon, after such a well-authenticated charge, in raising a breeze -against poor Willis, for repeating what himself had said about -O'Connell, as a public speaker merely, at a large dinner party of Lady -Blessington's! The mote and the beam!</p> - -<div align="right"><small>J. F. O.</small> </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect23"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>AMERICAN SOCIAL ELEVATION.</h4> -<br> - -<p>The Spartan knew no other stimulus to exertion than the shining -glories of war. From infancy to old age he was ever learning the skill -and daring which belong to the battle field. His every mental -development was martial in its tendency. He saw in every feature of -his country's institutions an appeal to his warrior spirit. Imagine a -band of young ambitious minds circled around some aged patriot, who, -in the all-glowing language of arms, is describing the daring, the -glorious achievement which had immortalized the <i>Spartan</i> character. -Listen to him as he portrays the bravery unrivalled, the death -unequalled, of those who fell at Thermopylæ or Leuctra; as he calls -upon their mighty shades to witness his words—and mark the youth how -intent, how all-intent they grow as he proceeds; their eyes flashing -with fire; their hands clenched; their teeth set. Do this, and you -have a faint idea of that kind of influence which moulded and directed -the mind of the Spartan. Is it wonderful that Sparta became the -military school of antiquity? Thus taught, the highest worship of her -youth was offered on the altars of war. Thus taught, their imagination -was ever picturing the fierce onset, the high conflict, the battle -won, and the laurel immortal which graced the victor's brow. Thus -taught, they were ever ready to seize the sword and shield and rush to -meet the invader. Thus taught, they served well their country and went -to their fancied home in the distant <i>Elysia</i>, to join the heroes whom -they had learned to admire, mourned and remembered by their countrymen.</p> - -<p>We propose to point out those objects which actuate the American mind; -to show their inadequacy to produce the general elevation of society, -and humbly to suggest what should be the controlling stimulus. Need we -ask what are the chief motives which influence our national mind? Need -it be told that our young growing mind is fast becoming a money -making, political mind? The most casual observer has only to glance at -the state of things, to feel sensibly its truth. Observe that man of -quick step and active air, as he moves through the street of the -commercial city; how, all absorbed in himself, he passes heedlessly -on, as if he were the only being in society: his mind is intensely -bent on making a few dollars; and he is but one among the thousands. -Observe the throngs of men who have met to-day on public exchange, to -transact the business of thousands and millions. Mark this one in deep -meditation; that one lively with a face brilliant with joy; here one -telling in whispers some long expected news to one all attention; -there one earnest in persuasion with one -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page382"><small><small>[p. 382]</small></small></a></span> feignedly reluctant. -There is a variety of mental exercise, of thought, of emotion; but the -desire of gain, the secret spring of action, is the chief mental -development. Go into the extensive manufactory, and while with -delighted mind you admire the beauties and power of invention, and -believe the veil of the Holy of Holies of Science's temple to be -lifted, and her mysteries revealed, reflect to what end these fruits -of inventive genius are applied. Go upon the hill-top, and looking -down upon the verdant meadow, the rich fields of grain, the orchard -and vine-clad arbors, all in luxuriant growth, ask yourself, why so -much industry in bringing forth the products of the soil. There is but -one answer—the desire of gain. Nor are the manifestations of this -desire seen only in the outward world; it is the deity of the fireside -circle. It moulds the earliest thought, and directs its action. Around -it bow in low submission the powers and affections of mind. For it, -all, all which belongs to the man, mentally and physically, is offered -a willing sacrifice.</p> - -<p>Now, it may be asked, are the fruits of this desire the elevation of -society, the full developments of the mind's faculties, the beautiful, -the active, the useful, the noble? Being the controlling power which -influences every thought and feeling, it becomes the sole arbiter of -every action. Self-emolument being its highest aim, it shapes every -exertion to this end. It requires activity, unrelaxing activity—but -it is not an activity for the promotion of general good. It requires -sleepless attention, even such as belonged to the virgins who tended -the sacred fires of Vesta's temple. But it is a watching which takes -care of self. It requires the exertion of the intellectual powers, but -only so far as to bemean them to its purposes. In fine, it -concentrates the whole soul, its entire thoughts and feelings on a -single point. And whatever attractions there may be around, however -glorious or grand, it never turns from this point. This point is self.</p> - -<p>Now, where in this system is that cultivation of mind, which lifts -society from the depths of barbarism to the mountain heights of power -and civilization? Where those brilliances and glories of intellect, -which die not with nations but live in the admiration of all coming -time? Where that eloquence of the heart which flows from the deep well -of the affections? That eloquence which strengthens and chastens the -social relations; which, silent, unobserved, connects men together by -chains of sympathetic love and benevolence? Or where in this system, -is that love of country, that lofty patriotism, which is the -foundation of national character? What is patriotism? It is a love of -ancestry; a love, the very antithesis of self; a love, which like the -Christian's love, beautifies and elevates society. Can it exist in -this money-getting age? As well might you bid yonder queen river of -the west to roll backwards. Does it exist? Who can doubt that this is -an age of degenerate patriotism? Patriotism! that which holds a nation -up, which forgotten lets her fall into the common sepulchre of -departed empires. Patriotism! alas! that the signs of the times are -ominous that this people are fast bidding you a long, long farewell.</p> - -<p>But the fruits, say the advocates of this money-seeking desire, are -industry and wealth. We grant wealth as its result, and that it is not -an effect of enchantment; but as there must be much labor, chiselling -and hammering, before the edifice can rise in beauty and magnificence, -so in its acquisition there must be inflexible industry. But is it -that kind of industry which unfolds and invigorates the mind, thereby -producing social elevation and refinement? History informs us how some -of the mighty cities of the east, by industry, rose to opulence, but -laments over their low state of society, and as a consequence, their -fall, like Lucifer from the halls of heaven, never to rise again. This -industry, so beloved, so enticing in the view of the many, is directed -to one end—individual gain. Considered in reference to the well-being -of communities as a whole, it is a gilded fatality. It explores the -deep centres of the earth, and brings forth its long buried riches; -covers every river, sea, and lake with commerce; ransacks all nature, -animate and inanimate. But what is all this, without a fully developed -mind to direct, to manage, to enjoy? What would it avail us, though -industry should roof our houses with diamonds, if there was not within -a virtuous feeling, an elevation of thought? Does this money-loving -industry purify and ennoble the social relations—show their nature -and point out how they should be observed?—or, does it lift the mind -to the contemplation of the ineffable glories and majesties of the -eternal King of worlds?</p> - -<p>We have said we grant wealth as the result of this desire, but it is -not general wealth. All may strive, all may labor with intense anxiety -and assiduity, but all will not gain the mountain's summit; a great -majority must ever be at its base. Speculation, which is the mean of -immense fortunes, bankrupts more than it enriches. The follies of -mankind, their diversity of thought and feeling, their ignorance, -their mistaken notions of pride, render it impossible for all to be -alike successful. The result is obvious. The few, the mighty few, are -the wealthy. Now, wealth in the present state of things is power; for -the sicklied conception of the age has thrown around it all that is -great or glorious. And it is a well founded principle that power, -whatever its nature, will govern. Who can picture that state of -society, governed by aristocratic wealth, untempered by the virtues of -the heart and intellect?</p> - -<p>Further; it is not only by the sacrifice of its mind that this age -will acquire its wealth, but by the sacrifice of that of posterity. -One generation stamps a character upon another. Whatever this age -thinks and does, will more or less characterize the thoughts and -actions of the succeeding.</p> - -<p>Nor is this all. This, with coming generations, by their industry, by -the stimulus of an unquenchable thirst for wealth, will, in all -probability, accumulate countless riches—will, if we may speak thus -figuratively, erect in our land immense moneyed houses filled with -gold and silver, the reward of their desire. But these generations, -like all things below, must pass away, and sink into the common tomb -of the dead. Then these moneyed houses, though locked and barred, and -ironed, will be burst open, and their gold and silver, amassed with -miserly care, be made to flow in streams to slake the thirst of a -debased posterity. And the result is beyond the power of human -imagination. Having the wealth of their ancestors in their hands, and -being, as man is, naturally prone to idleness, they will forget the -industry of their fathers, and only think how they may live most -lavishly, most splendidly. The gratification of the senses, attended -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page383"><small><small>[p. 383]</small></small></a></span> -by its concomitants, vice and degradation, will be the sole -desire of all human aspiration. Society—its beautiful dependences and -proportions destroyed—will fall into fragments and return to original -anarchy. Mind uncultivated, will shed no illuminations, but, like -"expression's last receding ray," will be lost in the universal -midnight of heart and intellect. For to this idol of their worship, -sensual pleasure, they will bring as daily offerings the lovely and -beautiful in the heart, the noble and sublime in the intellect. But -amid all their dissipation, like the revellers at Belshazzar's feast, -surrounded by the luxuries and glittering splendors of earth, -unsuspecting, the thunderbolt of their destruction will come upon -them—fearfully, suddenly, to their annihilation.</p> - -<p>We have now briefly shown the nature of this money-getting desire, and -its inadequacy, from its total neglect of all mental cultivation, to -promote the general elevation of society. There is another stimulus of -American mind which sometimes combines with the desire of -wealth—occasionally acts alone. It is an aspirancy for political fame.</p> - -<p>Bear with us while we attempt very concisely to show its nature and -effects. No one who looks abroad upon the present aspect of society -can doubt the existence of such a desire. It is the controlling -stimulus of our young educated mind. It has its origin in our nature, -for man is naturally fond of distinction, fond of wielding the sceptre -of governing power. Our institutions in their high and impartial -wisdom have said, that all men possess equal rights; and upon this -declaration rest the pillars which support the sky-dome of our -national temple. But the mind of this age has perverted its original -intent, and made it the all-stimulating cause of a thirst for -political elevation. The state of society, its love of political -excitement, its seeming willingness to reward political effort, -likewise awaken and nourish this thirst.</p> - -<p>What is its nature? It does not develope the various mental powers. It -does not strengthen the affections or awaken their inborn eloquence. -It does not teach us the nature of that great chain of relations which -holds society in union. Being common to the many, and attainable but -by the few, it creates an ungenerous rivalry among its votaries. All -in fancy gaze upon the shining halo of greatness which encircles the -rulers, and beholding the unbounded adoration paid it by the ruled, -each resolves, in newness of purpose and strength, to gratify his -selfish aim, though at the expense of the best hopes of society.</p> - -<p>What is its effect? All the faculties of mind are applied and made -subservient to one end—individual elevation. A fondness for -excitement is created, and the mind is ever longing and panting for -this excitement. Parties start up, and society is engrossed and -agitated by party dissensions—dissensions which awaken and cherish -old prejudices and sectional feelings, to the smothering of those -which are purer and nobler; dissensions, which combine bad ambition -and immature intellect; dissensions, which elicit cunning and -chicanery, instead of throwing out the brilliant thought or touching -the chord of high affection; dissensions, in which that calm serenity -which chastens the powers, passions, and emotions which unfold the -higher graces and charities of our nature, is unknown; dissensions in -which <i>patriotism</i>, which is a love as universal, as it is noble and -inspiriting, is forgotten; dissensions, which terminate in the -elevation of some ambitious leader to the high throne of power; who, -having reached the summit of his wishes, looks down upon the servile -mass, and with the utmost complacency throws upon their bended necks -the yoke of their bondage. Where is here the elevation of society, -pure feeling, pure thoughts?</p> - -<p>The same train of thought may be exemplified by a reference to those -nations of antiquity, where now the "spirit of decay" has its abiding -place. The history of ancient republics is familiar to every one; -their unequalled greatness, their decline and fall are the schoolboy's -tale. And what does this history tell him? That in times of great -political excitement there was less virtue, less elevation of mind, -less real patriotism; that what is noble or excellent in our nature, -was lost amid the whirl of party dissensions; as in the times of the -<i>Gracchi</i> when the first seed was sown which led to the fall of the -"seven-hilled city"—or still later, when the mighty <i>Cæsar</i> rose, and -the elements of old parties were stirred up and new ones created, -until the imperial mistress of the world reeled and fell to the dust. -This history likewise tells him that the same is true of the democracy -of Athens—that in periods of high party contention the excellences -and glories of mind, so congenial to that "bright clime of battle and -of song," were unknown, as in the ages of Aristides and Socrates, or -of Demosthenes and Æschines, when the gold of the Macedonian bought -their purest patriots.</p> - -<p>We come now to the last point which we proposed to set forth. What is -essential to the elevation of society? Before proceeding in its -investigation, we would correct all misapprehensions. We would not -have this age unmindful of the importance of wealth, but would have it -exert due energy in its acquisition. Wealth, in the hands of -enlightened mind, is a powerful mean in the improvement of morals and -intellect, adorns the social structure by its offerings of the -beauties and elegances of <i>art</i> and nature, dispenses far and near the -comforts and blessings of life—and is one of the great levers by -which society is raised to its highest elevation. Nor would we have -this age unmindful of political interests. Politics, from the nature -of the social organization, enter into and necessarily become an -inherent characteristic of all society. There must be a government of -laws; and whether the people or their representatives legislate, it is -necessary that the people understand the nature and effect of -legislation. Without such knowledge, the maxim, that power is ever -stealing from the many to the few, would be too truly, fatally, -verified; for the power-loving nature of man would be enabled, first, -to throw around the mass an illusive gilded snare—afterwards, to -crush it in its iron despotic grasp. There must then be both wealth -and politics. But we would not have either wealth or politics the -controlling desire of the mind; thus considered, they debase and -destroy this mind. We would have them as subordinate instruments to -one grand desire, the elevation of society. We would have them as the -satellites which revolve in glorious harmony around the great <i>sun;</i> -and we would not have them take the place of the sun, for then the -system would be broken, the music of the spheres hushed, and all -nature return to primeval chaos.</p> - -<p>The promotion of the general well-being of society by a cultivation of -the heart and intellect, is impliedly required of Americans, from the -nature and structure of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page384"><small><small>[p. 384]</small></small></a></span> -our government. It was not reared by the -gold of the conquered, or on the bones of the subject. It rose into -being all glorious, the creation of free minds enlightened by the -reason and experience of centuries. Being the opposite of despotism, -it does not chain down the powers of mind or shrivel away their -existence. Nor does it like Sparta, unchain the mind, only to -stimulate its martial character; for the rainbow of peace is the -circling arch of our national fabric. Founded in morals and intellect, -it appeals to their cultivation as the means of its prosperity and -perpetuity. It says to the mind, be free!—free, to expand in full -bloom and vigor—free, to be noble—free, to rise and soar with the -strength and majesty of the eagle! And it attaches a meaning to -freedom of mind. That mind is free which is not bound to the will of -party; which is not the slave of any imperious passion or desire. That -mind is free which can love and rejoice over the prosperity of the -Union. That mind is free which does not allow the still current of the -soul's affections to be chilled by impure passion or feeling, but -increases its onward flow in warmth and strength. That mind is free -which thinks and acts as becomes the "noblest work" of Deity. That -mind is free which enjoys a full and chaste development of all its -powers, passions and emotions; which knows and observes its relations; -which can concentrate its thoughts on a single point; which, when it -looks abroad upon nature's works, beholds the reflected power and -wisdom of a <i>God;</i> or, which, as it gazes upon the azure sky, the -verdant forest, the beautiful river, the sparkling lake, the -storm-rolling ocean, feels inexpressible delight and reverence. Such -is the meaning which our government attaches to the phrase "freedom of -mind." What in the nature of things can be clearer? Does it not -require of this people a general cultivation of mind?</p> - -<p>Consistency then with the objects of our government requires, that the -great pervading desire of society should be its elevation by its -universal mental cultivation. Such a desire is opposed to the selfish -system—is the protecting angel of patriotism. It combines the -excellences of intellect and pure ambition. It lifts the mind from low -and grovelling objects to the contemplation of those which are purer -and higher, delighting in the good, the exalted. In it is concentrated -whatever is noble in morals, whatever is sublime and unanswerable in truth.</p> - -<p>What is meant by universal mental cultivation? We find it not in the -history of nations. The history of the world is no more than a record -of human usurpations based on human ignorance. A powerful few have -ever moulded and wielded the destinies of mankind. Learning has shone -only to render more brilliant some kingly reign. Unlike the great -luminary of day, which it should resemble, its beams have ever been -confined within the compass of a court or palace. The mountain peaks -only of society have felt its light, while at the base, where the -great mass congregate, there has been utter darkness. True, we are -told of remarkable eras in the history of learning—of the Augustan -age, when all that was beautiful and powerful in thought, all that was -magic in conception or grand in imagery, shone forth in the most -attractive forms; of the reigns of queens Anne and Elizabeth, when the -graces and elegances of English literature were unrivalled, as they -appeared in the majestic imaginings of Shakspeare, the nervous beauty -and simplicity of Addison, and other master minds; of periods in the -learning of Italy, when Dante, Tasso, Petrarch, gave a new name and a -new being to Italian intellect. But was the state of society, as a -whole, refined and elevated in any of these remarkable eras? The -lights were chiefly intellectual, and belonged to the higher grades of -society; besides, they shone but for a short time and departed, -leaving the deeper darkness. Moreover, they were purely literary, and -pure literature never reaches the mass of mind. True, it is perpetual, -and shines down from age to age, as do the lights of those eras which -now illumine in some degree the mind of the present; but it is only a -reflection from eminence to eminence—the people see it, feel it not. -We repeat it, learning has ever been confined to the few; the many -have never known its invigorating influence.</p> - -<p>Now, mind is the moving and guiding principle of all human action. -Mind teaches the nature of the delicate and momentous relations which -unite society, preserves their beauty and uniformity, developes their -power and usefulness. This mind dwells with the mass of mankind. We -would then, that society may be elevated, have the rays of knowledge -penetrate and expand this mind. We would have the genius of learning -courted and wooed from her mountain residence, that literature and -science might come down, and walk radiant with truth and loveliness -through every grade of the community. We would have the bright light -struck out from the mind of the mass, and its illuminations reach the -uttermost boundaries of the land, as extensive as the circling canopy -of the sky. So speaks the voice of humanity, even as the voice of an angel.</p> - -<p>Again: What is meant by universal mental cultivation? It is not the -expansion of any single mental power or susceptibility. There should -be no brilliancy of intellect unmellowed by the radiancy of moral -feeling—no strength of passion or sentiment uninfluenced by other of -the mind's faculties. There must be a mental balance, which is the -great secret of all education. From the want of such balance, -Ignorance, with her offspring, Superstition and Prejudice, has ever -weighed down the intellectual scale and destroyed the noblest results -of mental effort. That system should be discarded which developes only -the powers of intellect. Variety, the high thought, the virtuous -sentiment, the beautiful and sublime emotion, the chaste passion, all, -in happy union, raise communities to power and happiness.</p> - -<p>Surely, it is not illogical to maintain, that an endowment of -diversified powers and affections of mind, impliedly requires their -cultivation. Why the gift of reason, of memory, of imagination? Why -the gift of moral and religious feeling, of love, of sympathy—or of -any faculty? It would be absurd to say that they are mere trifles, -mere butterfly appendages, to gratify taste or pleasure. Further, this -diversity of mind, entering into, necessarily creates the numerous -individual fibres which are the sources of the vigor and strength of -the social frame. Is it not then evident, that the expansion of any -one mental power to the neglect of all, or of some to the neglect of -others, would take away more or less of this vigor and strength; would -disfigure the social frame and destroy its beauty and harmony of -proportion? Here, the mind suggests -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page385"><small><small>[p. 385]</small></small></a></span> -an analogical argument. Look -abroad over the material world. Is there sameness? Is there the -exclusive development of any single feature? Is the earth's surface -one barren, limitless plain? or its soil of one kind? or its deep -mines all gold, or silver, or iron? Or do we behold a world of water, -of inconceivable sublimity? No! There is the mountain, bold and -rugged, bleak, or crowned with magnificent foliage, to awaken the -emotions and give wings to the imagination; the valley of varied soil -suited to the production of the comforts of life; the vein of gold, of -silver, of iron, each and all, in happy effect, increasing the -embellishments and blessings of society; and there are the river, the -lake, and still worlds of water. What is there useful or harmonious, -or ornamental, or enlivening, or grand, unseen in this, the Deity's -material creation? Now, observe the mental world. There is reason, -producing the solid and beneficial; memory and imagination, her -handmaids, assisting her vigor and research, and robing her in -loveliness and brightness; the affections, diffusing through all and -throwing over all a glow of love, beauty, and peace; thus, preserving -the necessary relations, and showing their glorious influences when -developed and joined in union in this the <i>Deity's</i> mental creation. -Should you take from the material world one of its parts, you would -destroy its harmony and uniformity. A similar result would follow, -should you take from the mental world one of its parts. Let there, -then, be no single mental development since it destroys the other -powers and their relations, but let there be a full growth of all to -their greatest, their proudest stature. Let the systems of the past be -forgotten, and in contemplation of the future, let us resolve that no -one passion or desire of mind, shall erect its tyrant throne on the -prostration of other nobler powers. For the mind fully cultivated is a -"museum of knowledge," lives forever "serene in youthful beauty."</p> - -<p>The principle of universal mental cultivation being set forth, its -bearing and effect will be seen in its application to the various -classes of society. First, in the professions, that of the law being -the one of our adoption, and therefore most congenial to our thoughts, -we select for illustration. The science of law considered strictly, -only in reference to rules, forms, and the gathered opinions of -centuries, may be styled an isolated system in character, cold and -forbidding. But construed liberally, in all its relations and -bearings, it embraces within its circle all that belongs to human -action. It appeals to, and acts upon the good sense and good feeling -of mankind. It is the protector of morals, and may be the defender of -religion. It is the guardian and dispenser of social rights, and their -invincible champion with power. It combats vice and ignorance, -unravels the cunning and chicanery of men, and brings forth truth all -beautiful and overwhelming. In short, founded in justice and the good -of society, it becomes the conservator of religion, morals, and -intellect. What should be the qualifications of the high priests who -administer around the sacred altars of the judicial temple? They -should sound deep the wells of knowledge, and be familiar with nice -and subtle distinctions. They should know every motive of human -conduct, from that which causes the most delicate to that which causes -the most stupendous movements in society. They should examine well the -passions, their sources and effect upon the mind. They should look -abroad upon society, understand its origin, the nature of its -relations, their beautiful adaptations, their harmonious influences, -and love to increase its glory and happiness by the cultivation of -fresh virtues and excellences. They should, for this end, unlock the -store-houses of wisdom and knowledge for original and sound -principles, for apt illustration. They should be thoroughly -indoctrinated in a spirit of true philosophy—of that philosophy which -teaches the intimate nature of the transactions and interests of -men—of that philosophy which teaches what should characterize every -action whether in the family or in the outward world. They should be -old acquaintances with the master spirits of literature and science, -both in ancient and modern times; that "halo" of mingled character, of -light, grace and magic, which encircles the Muses, should likewise be -to them a fount of inspiration. Now, such a preparation presupposes a -full development of minds—of minds, not only powerful in stern -reason, but rich and dazzling in imagination, and useful in the -exercise of all other powers; of minds, not only great in some one of -the affections, but deeply imbued in all the higher and sympathetic -feelings of the heart. Such being the case, these minds, which we may -call by their prototypes, Marshalls and Wirts, will raise the -profession to the loftiest pinnacle of eminence, will stamp its -character for moral and intellectual power and usefulness. The same -remarks apply to the other professions, and the same train of cause -and effect will raise them to a similar eminence.</p> - -<p>But is the elevation of the professions the elevation of society? So -has thought the world, and generation after generation has passed -away, and others and others have followed, and still it is thus -thought. But it is time that this fatal delusion, which has hung like -an incubus over society, blasting its bloom and vigor, should be -dispelled—that all grades may rise to their rightful station. Never -was suggested to mortal mind a fairer scheme, or one of more moral -grandeur. The mechanic possessing the same mental gifts, enjoying the -same rights, holding the same momentous relations to society as the -professional man, should likewise have his heart and intellect fully -developed. It is not sufficient that he be a mere mechanic. A mere -mechanic is a child in the world of knowledge. It is not sufficient -that he be a good workman, though he be as skilful and precise in the -use of his instrument, as was the Moorish king Saladin, in Scott's -story of the Talisman. In mere workmanship there is no illumination of -intellect, no awakening of emotion, no refinement of passion. The -principles of science are closely interwoven in every piece of -mechanism. He should master well these principles, the effect of their -application, consider them as the solid basis of the comforts and -conveniences of life, and not the least among the means of human power -and enjoyment. He should love his trade because of the science -engrafted in it, because of its usefulness, because of its affording -him an enduring place in Fame's temple. For this purpose, he should go -back to the earliest, feeblest dawn of science, when first Israel's -shepherds gazed upon the star-gemmed firmament, and mark its gradual -but onward progress; how, at one period, it shone all luminous; how, -at another, it went down in universal midnight; how again it revived -under the touch of a few mighty geniuses, and rose -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page386"><small><small>[p. 386]</small></small></a></span> clustered -with new principles and discoveries, with the glory and splendor of -the sun itself. The productions of Newton and Franklin, and other -great lights both of the past and present, should be the aliment of -his mind; their thoughts, which when sought, come clear and -inspiriting from the living page, should be familiar to him as -household words; and how they studied and thought, he should learn to -study and think. And like them, whatever is important in the material -world, above or below, he should make the playthings of his inquiring -mind. And like them, he should not be ignorant of whatever is -excellent in religion, useful in philosophy, enrapturing in song, or -thrilling in eloquence. He will thus exhibit a mind not stinted in its -growth, not controlled by any one desire, but a mind, like Milton's -tree of paradise, weighed down with rich and delicious fruits—a mind, -elevated, useful and polished. He will thus exalt his trade, and add -to it new and brighter glories. But the elevation of professions and -mechanical trades is not sufficient to produce the general elevation -of society. They compose no more than half of the great mass of mind. -There are yet the <i>merchant</i> and the <i>farmer</i>, who should be raised to -a like eminence. Commerce, viewed in reference to buying and selling, -retards the moral and intellectual improvement of mankind. Thus -viewed, and connected with avarice for money, it would create a nation -of pedlars. But, considered in its widest sense, as influencing the -business and interests of men, and thus acting on thought and feeling, -as entering into every social relation, as drawing on the resources of -the earth, the air, and the water, as connected with foreign climes, -and uniting nations by golden links of sympathy and interest, it is by -far the most comprehensive and important of all life's vocations. The -merchant then should possess a mind sure, deep and searching; nor -should he be a novice in knowledge of any kind. What is peculiar to -variety of soil and climate, what to the habits and feelings of -countries, what to their wants and desires, should be fully known to -him. What are the duties and obligations, arising from the many and -weighty relations which his calling creates, should likewise be fully -known to him. He should therefore be a historian, a philosopher, a -scholar, and a Christian. Commerce will then rise to the highest -degree of perfection and usefulness.</p> - -<p>And is the mind of the farmer, amid all this moral and intellectual -illumination, to remain uncultivated? Is he an isolated being, -unconnected by any relations with society? or has he no obligations to -perform in common with his fellow men? Has he not those varied mental -endowments, which are the glory of his species, which exalt, adorn, -bless, and refine? Or is he incapable of feeling the poetry of the -emotions, delight, beauty, and sublimity? or of that warmth and -exaltedness of sympathetic virtue, which stimulate and invigorate the -spirit of love and benevolence? Is there no knowledge or science in -agriculture? Agriculture is closely allied to commerce, and has a -bearing greater or less on every pursuit in life. It may be called an -unfailing source of national wealth and prosperity, supplying the -wants of man, and imparting new life, and stirring, ceaseless activity -to trade of every kind. Besides, its followers—uninfluenced by the -vanities and vices of the world, so effeminating, so debasing to the -mind—are the repositories of the integrity and patriotism of society. -Indeed, we may say that the farmer is the guardian of government, -rights and laws; the watchman, sleeping neither by day nor by night, -on the outposts of defence. We would then have his mind cultivated -both morally and intellectually, that he may know and observe the -duties imposed upon him by society—by Heaven. We would then have him -conversant with all that is noble or mighty, with all that is -inspiriting or strengthening in literature, science, and philosophy, -both in the ancient and modern world, for then agriculture shall -become a fountain of power and usefulness, and a "wall of fire" around society.</p> - -<p>And what is the effect of this principle thus applied to the various -classes of society? Heretofore, and at present, to a certain extent, -as we have before remarked, learning has ever belonged to a few, -constituting a single class of society, and of course, the -repositories of all moral and intellectual power and wisdom. And -these, having the power in their own grasp, and standing on lofty -stations and surrounded by a false show of glory and goodness, the -result of admiring ignorance, mould and wield the destinies of -society. To them the mass of mind looks up, as to oracular deities, -with much the same faith and confidence as the ancient pagan, when -consulting the Pytho of the Delphian shrine. Thus, the elevation of -society has ever been characterized by the moral and intellectual -education of a single class; and as this class has been cultivated, -communities have risen or fallen. Thus, the history of society has -ever been, like the waves of a rolling sea, a series of fluctuations. -Now, this principle of universal mental cultivation, as above applied, -destroys this usurping, tyrannizing system. It takes from the few the -power of holding and disposing of the rights of the many, giving to -the many the same mental superiority and knowledge. It presents not an -isolated point, but raises all grades to the same glorious, elevated level.</p> - -<p>The mind of society is composed, to a greater or less degree, by the -mingling of purity and pollution. As the pure rivers of intellect and -affection flow on, they are met by counter streams deeper and broader, -emanating from the sources of evil and ignorance. Thus, good is -counteracted, and its tendency destroyed by evil; thus, society is -full of bitter animosities and contentions, and kept in a deleterious, -feverish excitement, destructive of all noble effort. By the -introduction of this principle, peace, active and beauteous, will calm -the angry waters, and the countless currents of thought and feeling -which sweep society, will only tend to the magnifying of one grand -current flowing to universal good. Moreover, at the approach of this -light, struck out of the mind of the mass, ignorance, though sitting -upon her throne of centuries, shall find her throne to crumble from -under her, and her reign over mankind to depart forever. Superstition, -too, which has ever chained down the soaring spirit of mind, and -destroyed the harmony and independence of society, shall find her -power vanish—her altars prostrate—"her spell over the minds of men -broken, never to unite again." In their place, whatever is glorious, -noble, and sublime in mind, will reign supreme. And instead of any one -desire giving tone productive of sordid selfishness to the thought and -action of society; or instead of that levelling spirit, originating in -lawless passion, which tramples upon and bids defiance to all law and -good order—which marches -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page387"><small><small>[p. 387]</small></small></a></span> -through society with the terror and -fatality of a thousand plagues—from a union of the virtues of the -heart and intellect, a spirit of high-mindedness will arise, full of -nobleness and power, to guarantee the force of law, to strengthen the -social ties, and, like the star of the east, which marked the coming -of the Saviour, ensure to the world universal happiness.</p> - -<p>Are the effects of this principle sufficient to create a motive -conducive to the universal cultivation of mind—or is something more -required? As an effect creative of a motive, we would merely refer to -the immortality of mental achievement. It is a fact, known to every -one of common observation, that a virtuous mind dies not with the -clayey tenement, but lives forever in its hallowed results. It is -founded in reason and philosophy. The mind of the past is not -different in its essential characteristics from the mind of the -present; and therefore, the thoughts and feelings of the past are in a -measure congenial with our thoughts and feelings; and from this -kindred sympathy, it is, that the intellect of the remotest antiquity -lives in the intellect of the most distant future. Are Homer, or -Cicero, or any of that galaxy of mind which casts so brilliant, so -undying a lustre over the ancient world, forgotten? Are Milton and -Shakspeare, or Newton and Franklin, or any of the illustrious moderns, -whatever their sphere of action, forgotten? The beautiful fanes and -consecrated groves, where genius was wont to shine in her full power -and brightness; the elegances of art, her towering domes and her -magnificent columns, once the centre of admiration; the luxuries and -splendors of opulence, once affording rich continued -gratification—where are they? They have passed away, like "shadows -over a rock," and are lost in the dust. But the mind which created -them, admired them, enjoyed them, lives, will live, shall live, -forever, forever.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>H. J. G.</small> </div> - -<blockquote><small><i>Cincinnati</i>.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect24"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>DYING MEDITATIONS</h4> -<center><small>OF A NEW YORK ALDERMAN.</small></center> -<br><br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem20"> - <tr><td>Let me review the glories that are past,<br> - And nobly dine, in fancy, to the last;<br> - Since here an end of all my feasts I see,<br> - And death will soon make turtle soup of me!<br> - Full soon the tyrant's jaws will stop my jaw,<br> - A <i>bonne bouche</i> I, for his insatiate maw;<br> - My tongue, whose taste in venison was supreme,<br> - Whose bouncing blunders Gotham's daily theme,<br> - In far less pleasant <i>fix</i> will shortly be<br> - Than when it smack'd the luscious callipee.<br> - Oh would the gourmand his stern claim give o'er,<br> - And bid me eat my way through life once more!<br> - And might (my pray'rs were then not spent in vain,)<br> - A hundred civic feasts roll round again,<br> - As sound experience makes all men more wise,<br> - How great th' improvement from my own would rise!<br> - What matchless flavor I would give each dish,<br> - Whether of venison, soup, or fowl, or fish!<br> - In this more spice—in that more gen'rous wine,<br> - Gods, what ecstatic pleasure would be mine!<br> - But no—ungratified my palate burns,<br> - Departed joy to me no more returns;<br> - And vainly fancy strives my death to sweeten,<br> - With dreams of dinners never to be eaten.<br> - The dawning of my youth gave promise bright<br> - Of vict'ry in the gastronomic fight:<br> - "Turtle!" I cried, when at the nurse's breast,<br> - My cries for turtle broke her midnight rest;<br> - Such pleasure in the darling word I found,<br> - That turtle! turtle! made the house resound.<br> - When, after years of thankless toil and pains,<br> - The pedant spic'd with A B C my brains,<br> - My cranium teem'd, like Peter's heav'nly sheet,<br> - With thoughts of fish and flesh and fowls to eat;<br> - The turtle's natural hist'ry charm'd my sense—<br> - Adieu, forever, syntax, mood and tense!<br> - And when in zoologic books I read,<br> - That once a turtle liv'd without his head,<br> - To emulate this feat I soon began,<br> - And so became a Gotham Alderman.<br> - A civic soldier, I no dangers fear'd,<br> - Save indigestion or a greasy beard;<br> - <i>Forced balls</i> were shot, I fac'd with hearty thanks,<br> - And in the <i>attack on Turkey</i> led the ranks,<br> - The fork my bayonet—the knife my sword,<br> - And mastication victory secur'd.<br> - Alas! that kill'd and eat'n foes should plague us,<br> - And puke their way back through the œsophagus!<br> - Ye murder'd tribes of earth and air and sea,<br> - Dyspepsia hath reveng'd your deaths on me!<br> - Ah! what is life? A glass of ginger beer,<br> - Racy and sparkling, bubbling, foaming, clear;<br> - But when its carbonated gas is gone,<br> - What matter where the vapid lees are thrown?<br> - In this eternal world to which I go,<br> - I wonder whether people eat or no!<br> - If so, I trust that I shall get a chair,<br> - Since all my life I've striv'n but to prepare.<br> - And holy writ—unless our preachers lie—<br> - Says, "Eat and drink, to-morrow we must die."<br> - My faith was firm as ardent zeal could wish,<br> - From Noah's ark full down to Jonah's fish.<br> - Then may the pow'rs but give a starving sinner,<br> - A <i>bid</i> to that eternal turtle dinner!</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>E. M.</small> </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect25"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>IRENE.</h4> -<br> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem21"> - <tr><td>I stand beneath the soaring moon<br> - At midnight in the month of June.<br> - An influence dewy, drowsy, dim,<br> - Is dripping from yon golden rim.<br> - Grey towers are mouldering into rest,<br> - Wrapping the fog around their breast.<br> - Looking like Lethe, see! the lake<br> - A conscious slumber seems to take,<br> - And would not for the world awake.<br> - The rosemary sleeps upon the grave,<br> - The lily lolls upon the wave,<br> - And million cedars to and fro<br> - Are rocking lullabies as they go<br> - To the lone oak that nodding hangs<br> - Above yon cataract of Serangs.<br> -<br> - All Beauty sleeps!—and lo! where lies<br> - With casement open to the skies<br> - Irene with her destinies!<br> - And hark the sounds so low yet clear,<br> - (Like music of another sphere)<br> - Which steal within the slumberer's ear,<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page388"><small><small>[p. 388]</small></small></a></span> - Or so appear—or so appear!<br> - "O lady sweet, how camest thou here?<br> - "Strange are thine eyelids! strange thy dress!<br> - "And strange thy glorious length of tress!<br> - "Sure thou art come o'er far off seas<br> - "A wonder to our desert trees!<br> - "Some gentle wind hath thought it right<br> - "To open thy window to the night,<br> - "And wanton airs from the tree-top<br> - "Laughingly through the lattice drop,<br> - "And wave this crimson canopy,<br> - "So fitfully, so fearfully,<br> - "As a banner o'er thy dreaming eye<br> - "That o'er the floor, and down the wall,<br> - "Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall—<br> - "Then, for thine own all radiant sake,<br> - "Lady, awake! awake! awake!<br> -<br> - The lady sleeps!—oh, may her sleep<br> - As it is lasting, so be deep,<br> - No icy worms about her creep!<br> - I pray to God that she may lie<br> - Forever with as calm an eye—<br> - That chamber changed for one more holy,<br> - That bed for one more melancholy!<br> - Far in the forest dim and old,<br> - For her may some tall vault unfold,<br> - Against whose sounding door she hath thrown<br> - In childhood many an idle stone—<br> - Some tomb which oft hath flung its black<br> - And vampire-wing-like pannels back,<br> - Fluttering triumphant o'er the palls<br> - Of her old family funerals.</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>E. A. P.</small> </div> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect26"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>VERBAL CRITICISMS.</h4> -<br> - -<p><i>Guessing and Reckoning</i>. Right merry have the people of England made -themselves at the expense of us their younger brethren of this side of -the Atlantic, for the manner in which we are wont to use the verbs, to -guess and to reckon. But they have unjustly chided us therefor, since -it would not be difficult to find in many of the British Classics of -more than a century's standing, instances of the use of these words -precisely in the American manner. In the perusal of Locke's Essay on -Education a short time since, I noticed the word guess made use of -three times in <i>our</i> way. In section 28 he says, "Once in four and -twenty hours is enough, and no body, <i>I guess</i>, will think it too -much;" again, in section 167, "But yet, <i>I guess</i>, this is not to be -done with children whilst very young, nor at their entrance upon any -sort of knowledge;" and again, in section 174, "And he whose design it -is to excel in English poetry, would not, <i>I guess</i>, think the way to -it was to make his first essay in Latin verses."</p> - -<p>Was John Locke a Yankee? Or have the people of the United States -preserved one of the meanings of the verb <i>to guess</i> which has become -obsolete in England?</p> - -<p>In several passages of the English version of the New Testament the -word <i>reckon</i> is used as the people in many parts of the United States -are in the habit of using it. In the Epistle to the Romans, chapter 8, -verse 18, is an instance, "For <i>I reckon</i> that the sufferings of this -present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall -be revealed to us."</p> - -<p>"<i>Take and tell</i>." "If you do so I will <i>take and tell</i> father," such -is the constant language of children. What will they take? Is the -expression a contraction of some obsolete phrase? Who can tell me if -it is to be met with in print?</p> - -<p><i>Had have</i>. I have for some time noticed this corruption in -conversation. It has lately crept into print. Here are instances of -it, "Had I have gone, I should not have met her," "If I had have been -at the sale I would not have bought it at that price." I have a -suspicion that a rapid pronunciation of "would have," "should have," -and "could have," has given rise to this. "I'd have gone," "I'd have -come," and similar phrases have probably introduced it, the -contraction answering as well for <i>had</i> as <i>would</i>, <i>could</i>, and -<i>should</i>. It is very awkward and incorrect.</p> - -<p><i>Fully equal</i>. This is a tautologous expression in constant use. "This -work is <i>fully equal</i> to its predecessor." The writer means to say -that the last work is equal to the first; but what is the use of the -<i>fully</i>, unless there can be an equality which is <i>not full</i> and -perfect?</p> - -<p><i>Eventuate</i>. The editor of Coleridge's Table Talk, very justly -denounces this Americanism. He says it is to be met with in Washington -Irving's Tour to the Prairies. If so, so much the worse for the book. -It is a barbarism, "I pray you avoid it." We do not need the word, so -that it cannot be sneaked in, under the plea of necessity. The English -verb, <i>to result</i>, means all, I presume, that the fathers of -<i>eventuate</i> design that it shall mean. If we may coin <i>eventuate</i> from -event, why not <i>processiate</i> from process, <i>contemptiate</i> from -contempt, <i>excessiate</i> from excess, and a hundred more, all as useful -and elegant as <i>eventuate?</i></p> - -<p><i>Directly</i>. Many of the English writers of the present day, use this -word in a manner inelegant and unsanctioned, I am convinced, by any -standard author. They appear to think that it has the same meaning as -the phrase "as soon as." For instance: "The troops were dismissed -<i>directly</i> the general had reviewed them." "The House of Lords -adjourned <i>directly</i> this important bill had passed." I am happy to -find that the writers in this country have not fallen into it.</p> - -<p><i>Mutual</i>. When persons speak of an individual's being <i>a mutual -friend</i> of two others, who perhaps may not know each other, they -attach a meaning to the word mutual which does not belong to it. A and -B may be mutual friends, but how C can be the mutual friend of A and B -it is difficult to comprehend. Where is the mutuality in this case? We -should say, C is the <i>common</i> friend of A and B. Several of the -associations for interment which have lately been instituted, have -seized upon the word <i>mutual</i> and used it very absurdly. They style -themselves "Mutual Burial Societies." How can two individuals <i>bury -each other?</i> and yet this is implied by the term "<i>mutual</i>."</p> - -<p>Is not the familiar phrase, "now-a-days," a corruption of "in our -days?"</p> - -<p>"<i>If I am not mistaken</i>." This is evidently wrong. If what I say to -another is misunderstood, I am <i>mistaken</i>, but if I misunderstand what -is said to me, I am <i>mistaking</i>, and so we should speak and write.</p> - -<p><i>Degrees of perfection</i>. "The army," says president Monroe, in one of -his messages, "has arrived at <i>a high degree of perfection</i>." There -can be no degrees of perfection. Any thing which is <i>perfect</i> cannot -become <i>more</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page389"><small><small>[p. 389]</small></small></a></span> -<i>perfect</i>, and any thing which falls short of -perfection is in <i>a degree of imperfection</i>.</p> - -<p>"<i>Is being built</i>." This form of expression has met with many and -zealous advocates. It is an error almost exclusively confined to -print. In conversation we would say, "the house is <i>getting</i> built," -and no one would be in doubt as to our meaning. <i>Being built</i> is the -past or perfect participle, which according to Lindley Murray, -signifies action perfected or finished. How then can prefixing the -word <i>is</i> or <i>are</i>, words in the present tense, before it, convert -this meaning into another signifying the continuation of the building -at this moment? We say, "the house <i>being built</i> the family moved in," -and imply absolute completion by the phrase <i>being built</i>, as people -are not in the habit of moving into unfinished houses. To say that the -house is being built, is no more than saying that the house is built, -and by this we understand that the building is completely finished, -not that the work is still going on.</p> - -<p>I do not know that any of Shakspeare's hundred and one commentators -has noticed the pun in Hamlet's address to his father's ghost, "Thou -comest to me in such a <i>questionable</i> shape, that I will <i>speak</i> to -thee." Perhaps the great bard meant to exhibit the coolness of his -hero by placing a jest in his mouth. Hamlet immediately after proceeds -to <i>question</i> the spirit.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect27"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4><i>Editorial</i>.</h4> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>LYNCH'S LAW.</center> -<br> -<p>Frequent inquiry has been made within the last year as to the origin -of Lynch's law. This subject now possesses historical interest. It -will be perceived from the annexed paper, that the law, so called, -originated in 1780, in Pittsylvania, Virginia. Colonel William Lynch, -of that county, was its author; and we are informed by a resident, who -was a member of a body formed for the purpose of carrying it into -effect, that the efforts of the association were wholly successful. A -trained band of villains, whose operations extended from North to -South, whose well concerted schemes had bidden defiance to the -ordinary laws of the land, and whose success encouraged them to -persevere in depredations upon an unoffending community, was dispersed -and laid prostrate under the infliction of Lynch's law. Of how many -terrible, and deeply to be lamented consequences—of how great an -amount of permanent evil—has the partial and temporary good been -productive!</p> - -<p>"Whereas, many of the inhabitants of the county of Pittsylvania, as -well as elsewhere, have sustained great and intolerable losses by a -set of lawless men who have banded themselves together to deprive -honest men of their just rights and property, by stealing their -horses, counterfeiting, and passing paper currency, and committing -many other species of villainy, too tedious to mention, and that those -vile miscreants do still persist in their diabolical practices, and -have hitherto escaped the civil power with impunity, it being almost -useless and unnecessary to have recourse to our laws to suppress and -punish those freebooters, they having it in their power to extricate -themselves when brought to justice by suborning witnesses who do swear -them clear—we, the subscribers, being determined to put a stop to the -iniquitous practices of those unlawful and abandoned wretches, do -enter into the following association, to wit: that next to our -consciences, soul and body, we hold our rights and property, sacred -and inviolable. We solemnly protest before God and the world, that -(for the future) upon hearing or having sufficient reason to believe, -that any villainy or species of villainy having been committed within -our neighborhood, we will forthwith embody ourselves, and repair -immediately to the person or persons suspected, or those under -suspicious characters, harboring, aiding, or assisting those villains, -and if they will not desist from their evil practices, we will inflict -such corporeal punishment on him or them, as to us shall seem adequate -to the crime committed or the damage sustained; that we will protect -and defend each and every one of us, the subscribers, as well jointly -as severally, from the insults and assaults offered by any other -person in their behalf: and further, we do bind ourselves jointly and -severally, our joint and several heirs &c. to pay or cause to be paid, -all damages that shall or may accrue in consequence of this our -laudable undertaking, and will pay an equal proportion according to -our several abilities; and we, after having a sufficient number of -subscribers to this association, will convene ourselves to some -convenient place, and will make choice of our body five of the best -and most discreet men belonging to our body, to direct and govern the -whole, and we will strictly adhere to their determinations in all -cases whatsoever relative to the above undertaking; and if any of our -body summoned to attend the execution of this our plan, and fail so to -do without a reasonable excuse, they shall forfeit and pay the sum of -one hundred pounds current money of Virginia, to be appropriated -towards defraying the contingent expenses of this our undertaking. In -witness whereof we have hereunto set our hands, this 22d day September -1780."</p> -<br> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="100"> -<br> -<br><a name="sect28"></a> -<h4>CRITICAL NOTICES.</h4> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>SPAIN REVISITED.</center> - -<p><i>Spain Revisited. By the author of "A Year in Spain." New York: Harper -and Brothers.</i></p> - -<p>Some three months since we had occasion to express our high admiration -of Lieutenant Slidell's <i>American in England</i>. The work now before us -presents to the eye of the critical reader many if not all of those -peculiarities which distinguished its predecessor. We find the same -force and freedom. We recognize the same artist-like way of depicting -persons, scenery, or manners, by a succession of minute and -well-managed details. We perceive also the same terseness and -originality of expression. Still we must be pardoned for saying that -many of the same <i>niaiseries</i> are also apparent, and most especially -an abundance of very bad grammar and a superabundance of gross errors -in syntatical arrangement.</p> - -<p>With the <i>Dedicatory Letter</i> prefixed to <i>Spain Revisited</i>, we have no -patience whatever. It does great credit to the kind and gentlemanly -feelings of Lieutenant Slidell, but it forms no inconsiderable -drawback upon <span class="pagenum"><a name="page390"><small><small>[p. 390]</small></small></a></span> -our previously entertained opinions of his good -taste. We can at no time, and under no circumstances, see either -meaning or delicacy in parading the sacred relations of personal -friendship before the unscrupulous eyes of the public. And even when -these things are well done and briefly done, we do believe them to be -in the estimation of all persons of nice feeling a nuisance and an -abomination. But it very rarely happens that the closest scrutiny can -discover in the least offensive of these dedications any thing better -than extravagance, affectation or incongruity. We are not sure that it -would be impossible, in the present instance, to designate gross -examples of all three. What connection has the name of Lieutenant -Upshur with the present Spanish Adventures of Lieutenant Slidell? -None. Then why insist upon a connection which the world cannot -perceive? The Dedicatory letter, in the present instance, is either a -<i>bona fide</i> epistle actually addressed before publication to -Lieutenant Upshur, intended strictly as a memorial of friendship, and -published because no good reasons could be found for the -non-publication—or its plentiful professions are all hollowness and -falsity, and it was never meant to be any thing more than a very -customary public compliment.</p> - -<p>Our first supposition is negatived by the stiff and highly constrained -character of the <i>style</i>, totally distinct from the usual, and we will -suppose the less carefully arranged composition of the author. What -man in his senses ever wrote as follows, from the simple impulses of -gratitude or friendship?</p> - -<blockquote><small>In times past, a dedication, paid for by a great literary patron, -furnished the author at once with the means of parading his own -servility, and ascribing to his idol virtues which had no real -existence. Though this custom be condemned by the better taste of the -age in which we live, friendship may yet claim the privilege of -eulogizing virtues which really exist; if so, I might here draw the -portrait of a rare combination of them; I might describe a courage, a -benevolence, a love of justice coupled with an honest indignation at -whatever outrages it, a devotion to others and forgetfulness of self, -such as are not often found blended in one character, were I not -deterred by the consideration that when I should have completed my -task, the eulogy, which would seem feeble to those who knew the -original, might be condemned as extravagant by those who do not.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Can there be any thing more palpably artificial than all this? The -writer commences by informing his bosom friend that whereas in times -past men were given up to fulsome flattery in their dedications, not -scrupling to endow their patrons with virtues they never possessed, -he, the Lieutenant, intends to be especially delicate and original in -his own peculiar method of applying the panegyrical plaster, and to -confine himself to qualities which have a real existence. Now this is -the very sentiment, if sentiment it may be called, with which all the -toad-eaters since the flood have introduced their dedicatory letters. -What immediately follows is in the same vein, and is worthy of the -ingenious Don Puffando himself. All the good qualities in the world -are first enumerated—Lieutenant Upshur is then informed, by the most -approved rules of circumbendibus, that he possesses them, one and -each, in the highest degree, but that his friend the author of "<i>Spain -Revisited</i>" is too much of a man of tact to tell him any thing about it.</p> - -<p>If on the other hand it is admitted that the whole epistle is a mere -matter of form, and intended simply as a public compliment to a -personal friend, we feel, at once, a degree of righteous indignation -at the profanation to so hollow a purpose, of the most sacred epithets -and phrases of friendship—a degree, too, of serious doubt whether the -gentleman panegyrized will receive as a compliment, or rather resent -as an insult, the being taxed to his teeth, and in the face of the -whole community, with nothing less than all the possible -accomplishments and graces, together with the entire stock of cardinal -and other virtues.</p> - -<p><i>Spain Revisited</i>, although we cannot think it at all equal to the -<i>American in England</i> for picturesque and vigorous description (which -we suppose to be the forte of Lieutenant Slidell) yet greatly -surpasses in this respect most of the books of modern travels with -which we now usually meet. A moderate interest is sustained -throughout—aided no doubt by our feelings of indignation at the -tyranny which would debar so accomplished a traveller as our -countryman from visiting at his leisure and in full security a region -so well worth visiting as Spain. It appears that Ferdinand on the 20th -August, 1832, taking it into his head that the Lieutenant's former -work "A Year in Spain" (esta indigesta produccion) esta llena de -falsedades y de groceras calumnias contra el Rey N. S. y su augusta -familia, thought proper to issue a royal order in which the book -called <i>un ano en Espana</i> was doomed to seizure wherever it might be -found, and the clever author himself, under the appellation of the -Signor Ridell, to a dismissal from the nearest frontier in the event -of his anticipated return to the country. Notwithstanding this order, -the Lieutenant, as he himself informs us, did not hesitate to -undertake the journey, knowing that, subsequently to the edict in -question, the whole machinery of the government had undergone a -change, having passed into liberal hands. But although the danger of -actual arrest on the above-mentioned grounds was thus rendered -comparatively trivial, there were many other serious difficulties to -be apprehended. In the Basque Provinces and in Navarre the civil war -was at its height. The diligences, as a necessary consequence, had -ceased to run; and the insurgents rendered the means of progressing -through the country exceedingly precarious, by their endeavors to cut -off all communications through which the government could be informed -of their manœuvres. The post-horses had been seized by the Carlist -cavalry to supply their deficiencies, "and only a few mules remained -at some of the post-houses between Bayonne and Vitoria."</p> - -<p>The following sketch of an ass-market at Tordesillas seems to embody -in a small compass specimens of nearly all the excellences as well as -nearly all the faults of the author.</p> - -<blockquote><small>By far the most curious part of the fair, however, was the ass-market, -held by a gay fraternity of gipsies. There were about a dozen of -these, for the most part of middle stature, beautifully formed, with -very regular features of an Asiatic cast, and having a copper tinge; -their hands were very small, as of a race long unaccustomed to severe -toil, with quantities of silver rings strung on the fingers. They had -very white and regular teeth, and their black eyes were uncommonly -large, round-orbed, projecting, and expressive; habitually languid and -melancholy in moments of listlessness, they kindled into wonderful -brightness when engaged in commending their asses, or in bartering -with a purchaser. Their jet-black hair hung in long curls down their -back, and they were nearly all dressed in velvet, as Andalusian majos, -with quantities of buttons made from pesetas and half -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page391"><small>[p. 391]</small></a></span> pesetas -covering their jackets and breeches, as many as three or four hanging -frequently from the same eyelet-hole. Some of them wore the Andalusian -leggjn and shoe of brown leather, others the footless stocking and -sandal of Valencia; in general their dress, which had nothing in -common with the country they were then in, seemed calculated to unite -ease of movement and freedom from embarrassment to jauntiness of -effect. All of them had a profusion of trinkets and amulets, intended -to testily their devotion to that religion which, according to the -popular belief, they were suspected of doubting, and one of them -displayed his excessive zeal in wearing conspicuously from his neck a -silver case, twice the size of a dollar, containing a picture of the -Virgin Mary holding the infant Saviour in her arms.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Four or five females accompanied this party, and came and went from -the square and back, with baskets and other trifles, as if engaged at -their separate branch of trade. They had beautiful oval faces, with -fine eyes and teeth, and rich olive complexions. Their costume was -different from any other I had seen in Spain, its greatest peculiarity -consisting in a coarse outer petticoat, which was drawn over the head -at pleasure instead of the mantilla, and which reminded me of the -manta of Peru, concealing, as it did, the whole of the face, except -only a single eye.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I asked a dozen people where these strange beings were from, not -liking to speer the question at themselves; but not one could tell me, -and all seemed to treat the question as no less difficult of solution -than one which might concern the origin of the wind. One person, -indeed, barely hinted the possibility of their being from Zamora, -where one of the faubourgs has a colony of these vermin, for so they -are esteemed. He added, moreover, that a late law required that every -gipsy in Spain should have a fixed domicil, but that they still -managed, in the face of it, to gratify their hereditary taste for an -unsettled and wandering life. He spoke of them as a pack of gay rogues -and petty robbers, yet did not seem to hold them in any particular -horror. The asses which they were selling they had probably collected -in the pueblos with a view to this fair, trading from place to place -as they journeyed, and not a few they had perhaps kidnapped and coaxed -away, taking care, by shaving and other embellishments, to modify and -render them unknown.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I was greatly amused in observing the ingenious mode in which they -kept their beasts together in the midst of such a crowd and so much -confusion, or separated them for the purpose of making a sale. They -were strung at the side of the parapet wall, overlooking the river, -with their heads towards it and pressing against it, as if anxious to -push it over, but in reality out of sedulousness to avoid the frequent -showers of blows which were distributed from time to time, without -motive or warning, on their unoffending hinder parts, and withdraw -them as far as possible from the direction whence they were inflicted. -As they were very much crowded together, there was quite scuffling -work for an ass to get in when brought back from an unsuccessful -effort to trade, or when newly bought, for these fellows, in the true -spirit of barter, were equally ready to buy or sell. The gipsy's -staff, distributing blows on the rumps of two adjoining beasts, would -throw open a slight aperture, into which the nose of the intruding ass -would be made to enter, when a plentiful encouragement of blows would -force him in, like a wedge into a riven tree. The mode of extracting -an ass was equally ingenious, and, if any thing, more singular; -continually pressing their heads against the wall with all their -energy, it would have required immense strength, with the chance of -pulling off the tail if it were not a strong one, to drag them -forcibly out; a gipsy, taking the tail of the required animal in one -hand, would stretch his staff forward so as to tap him on the nose, -and, thus encouraged, gently draw him out.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The ingenuity of these gipsies in getting up a bargain, trusting to be -able to turn it to their own account, was marvellous. Mingling among -the farmers, and engaging them in conversation on indifferent -subjects, they would at length bring them back to the favorite theme -of asses, and eventually persuade them to take a look at theirs. "Here -is one," measuring the height of an individual with his staff, "which -will just suit you;—what will you give for him? Come, you shall have -him for half his worth, for one hundred reals—only five dollars for -an ass like this," looking at him with the admiration of a connoisseur -in the presence of the Apollo; "truly, an animal of much merit and the -greatest promise—<i>de mucho merito y encarecimiento</i>—he has the -shoulders and breast of an ox; let me show you the richness of his -paces," said the gipsy, his whole figure and attitude partaking of his -earnestness, and his eye dilating and glowing with excitement. He had -brought the unwary and bewildered countryman, like a charmed bird, to -the same point as the eloquent shopkeeper does his doubting customer -when he craves permission to take down his wares, and does not wait to -be denied. Vaulting to the back of the animal, he flourished his staff -about its head, and rode it up and down furiously, to the terror of -the by-standers' toes, pricking it on the spine with his iron-pointed -staff to make it frisky, and pronouncing the while, in the midst of -frantic gesticulations an eloquent eulogium on its performances and -character, giving it credit, among other things, for sobriety, -moderation, long suffering, and the most un-asslike qualification of -chastity. To add to the picturesque oddity of the scene, an old monk -stood hard by, an interested spectator of some chaffering between a -young woman and a seller of charms and trinkets stationed beneath an -awning, and no accessory was wanting to render the quaint little -picture complete.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In our notice of the <i>American in England</i>, we found much fault with -the <i>style</i>—that is to say, with the mere English of Lieutenant -Slidell. We are not sure whether the volumes now before us were -written previously or subsequently to that very excellent work—but -certain it is that they are much less abundant than it, in simple -errors of grammar and ambiguities of construction. We must be -pardoned, however, for thinking that even now the English of our -traveller is more obviously defective than is becoming in any well -educated American—more especially in any well educated American who -is an aspirant for the honors of authorship. To quote individual -sentences in support of an assertion of this nature, might bear with -it an air of injustice—since there are few of the best writers of any -language in whose works single faulty passages may not readily be -discovered. We will therefore take the liberty of commenting in detail -upon the English of an entire page of <i>Spain Revisited</i>.—See page -188, vol. i.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Carts and wagons, caravans of mules, and files of humbler asses came -pouring, by various roads, into the great vomitory by which we were -entering, laden with the various commodities, the luxuries as well as -the necessaries of life, brought from foreign countries or from remote -provinces, to sustain the unnatural existence of a capital which is so -remote from all its resources, and which produces scarce any thing that -it consumes.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This sentence, although it would not be too long, if properly managed, -is too long as it stands. The ear repeatedly seeks, and expects the -conclusion, and is repeatedly disappointed. It expects the close at -the word "<i>entering</i>"—at the word "<i>life</i>"—at the word -"<i>provinces</i>"—and at the word "<i>resources</i>." Each additional portion -of the sentence after each of the words just designated by inverted -commas, has the air of an after-thought engrafted upon the original -idea. The use of the word "<i>vomitory</i>" in the present instance is -injudicious. Strictly speaking, a road which serves as a vomitory, or -means of egress, for a population, serves also as a means of ingress. -A good writer, however, will consider not only whether, in all -strictness, his words will admit of the meaning he attaches to them, -but whether in their implied, their original, or other collateral -meanings, they may not be at variance with some portion of his -sentence. When we hear of "a <i>vomitory</i> by which we were <i>entering</i>," -not all the rigor of the most exact construction will reconcile us to -the phrase—since we are accustomed to connect with the word -<i>vomitory</i>, notions precisely the reverse of those allied to the -subsequent word "<i>entering</i>." Between the participle "<i>laden</i>" and the -nouns to which it refers (carts, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page392"><small><small>[p. 392]</small></small></a></span> -wagons, caravans and asses) two -other nouns and one pronoun are suffered to intervene—a grammatical -arrangement which when admitted in any degree, never fails to -introduce more or less obscurity in every sentence where it is so -admitted. Strict syntatical order would require (the pronoun "we" -being followed immediately by "laden") that—not the asses—but -Lieutenant Slidell and his companions should be laden with the various -commodities.</p> - -<blockquote><small>And now, too, we began to see horsemen jantily dressed in slouched -hat, embroidered jacket, and worked spatterdashes, reining fiery -Andalusian coursers, each having the Moorish carbine hung at hand -beside him.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Were horsemen, in this instance, a <i>generic</i> term—that is, did the -word allude to horsemen generally, the use of the "<i>slouched hat</i>" and -"<i>embroidered jacket</i>" in the singular, would be justifiable—but it -is not so in speaking of individual horsemen, where the plural is -required. The participle "<i>reining</i>" properly refers to -"<i>spatterdashes</i>," although of course intended to agree with -"<i>horsemen</i>." The word "<i>each</i>," also meant to refer to the -"<i>horsemen</i>," belongs, strictly speaking, to the "<i>coursers</i>." The -whole, if construed by the rigid rules of grammar, would imply that -the horsemen were dressed in spatterdashes—which spatterdashes reined -the coursers—and which coursers had each a carbine.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Perhaps these were farmers of the better order; but they had not the -air of men accustomed to labor; they were rather, perhaps, Andalusian -horse-dealers, or, maybe, robbers, of those who so greatly abound -about the capital, who for the moment, had laid aside their -professional character.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This is an exceedingly awkward sentence. The word "<i>maybe</i>" is, we -think, objectionable. The repetition of the relative "<i>who</i>" in the -phrases "<i>who so greatly abound</i>" and "<i>who for the moment had laid -aside</i>," is the less to be justified, as each "<i>who</i>" has a different -antecedent—the one referring to "<i>those</i>" (the robbers, generally, -who abound about the capital) and the other to the suspected -"<i>robbers</i>" then present. But the whole is exceeding ambiguous, and -leaves a doubt of the author's true meaning. For, the words -"<i>Andalusian horse-dealers, or, maybe, robbers of those who abound -about the capital</i>," may either imply that the men in question were -some of a class of robbers who abounded, &c. or that they were men who -robbed (that is, robbers of) the Andalusian horse-dealers who -abounded, &c. or that they were either Andalusian horse-dealers, or -robbers of those who abound about the capital—i.e. of the inhabitants -of the suburbs. Whether the last "<i>who</i>" has reference to <i>the -robbers</i>, or to <i>those who abound</i>, it is impossible to learn from any -thing in the sentence itself—which, taken altogether, is unworthy of -the merest tyro in the rules of composition.</p> - -<blockquote><small>At the inn of the Holy Ghost, was drawn up a highly gilded carriage, -hung very low, and drawn by five gaily decorated mules, while two -Andalusians sat on the large wooden platform, planted, without the -intervention of springs, upon the fore-wheels, which served for a -coach-box.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This sentence is intelligible enough, but still badly constructed. -There is by far too great an interval between the antecedent -"<i>platform</i>" and its relative "<i>which</i>," and upon a cursory perusal -any reader would be led to suppose (what indeed the whole actually -implies) that the coach-box in question consisted not of the platform, -but actually of the fore-wheels of the carriage. Altogether, it may -safely be asserted, that an entire page containing as many grammatical -errors and inaccuracies of arrangement as the one we have just -examined, will with difficulty be discovered in any English or -American writer of even moderate reputation. These things, however, -can hardly be considered as more than inadvertences, and will be -avoided by Lieutenant Slidell as soon as he shall feel convinced -(through his own experience or through the suggestions of his friends) -how absolutely necessary to final success in any undertaking is a -scrupulous attention to even the merest <i>minutiæ</i> of the task.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect29"></a> -<br> -<center>ANTHON'S SALLUST.</center> - -<p><i>Sallust's Jugurthine War, and Conspiracy of Catiline, with an English -Commentary, and Historical Indexes. By Charles Anthon, L.L.D. -Jay-Professor of Ancient Literature in Columbia College, and Rector of -the Grammar School. Sixth edition, corrected and enlarged. New York: -Harper and Brothers.</i></p> - -<p>In respect to external appearance this is an exceedingly beautiful -book, whether we look to the quality of its paper, the clearness, -uniform color, and great accuracy of its typography,<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> or the -neatness and durability of its covering. In this latter point -especially the Harpers and other publishers would do well, we think, -to follow up the style of the present edition of Sallust—dropping at -once and forever that flimsy and unsatisfactory method of binding so -universally prevalent just now, and whose sole recommendation is its -cheapness—if indeed it be cheaper at all. These are things of which -we seldom speak—but venture to mention them in the present instance -with a view of seizing a good opportunity. No man of taste—certainly -no lover of books and owner of a library—would hesitate at paying -twice as much for a book worth preservation, and which there is some -possibility of preserving, as for one of these fragile ephemera which -it is now the fashion to do up in muslin. We think in short the -interest of publishers as well as the taste of the public would be -consulted to some purpose in paying more attention to the mechanics of -book making.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> In the course of a very attentive perusal we have -observed only one typographical error. On page 130, near the top, we -see <i>Fatigatus a fatre</i> in place of <i>fratre</i>.</small></blockquote> - -<p>That Mr. Anthon has done more for our classical literature than any -man in the country will hardly be denied. His Lempriere, to speak of -nothing else, is a monument of talent, erudition, indefatigable -research, and well organized method, of which we have the greatest -reason to be proud, but which is perhaps more fully and more properly -appreciated in any other climate than our own. Of a former edition of -his Sallust, two separate reprints, by different editors, total -strangers to the author, have appeared in England, without any effort -on his part, as we are very willing to believe, for procuring a -republication of his labors. The correct and truly beautiful edition -now before us, leaves nothing to be desired. The most striking -emendation is the placing the narrative of the Jugurthine war before -the conspiracy of Catiline. This arrangement, however, as Mr. Anthon -we believe admits, has the merit of novelty in America alone. At least -we understand him to make this admission in saying that the order he -has <span class="pagenum"><a name="page393"><small><small>[p. 393]</small></small></a></span> -observed is no novelty on the continent of Europe, as may be -discovered from the works of the President De Brosses, the Abbé -Cassagne, and M. Du Rozoir. At all events we have repeatedly seen in -England editions of Sallust, (and we suppose them to have been English -editions,) in which the Jugurthine war preceded the Conspiracy. Of the -propriety of this order there can be no doubt whatever, and it is -quite certain to meet with the approbation of all who give themselves -even a moment's reflection on the subject. There is an obvious -anachronism in the usual arrangement—for the rebellion of Catiline -was nearly fifty years subsequent to the war with Jugurtha. "The -impression produced, therefore, on the mind of the student," (we here -use the words of our author,) "must necessarily be a confused one when -he is required to read the two works in an inverted order. In the -account of Catiline's conspiracy, for example, he will find frequent -allusions to the calamitous consequences of Sylla's strife with -Marius; and will see many of the profligate partizans of the former -rallying around the standard of Catiline; while in the history of the -Jugurthine war, if he be made to peruse it after the other, in the -ordinary routine of school reading, he will be introduced to the same -Sylla just entering on a public career, and standing high in the favor -and confidence of Marius. How too will he be able to appreciate, in -their full force, the remarks of Sallust relative to the successive -changes in the Roman form of government, and the alternate ascendency -of the aristocratic and popular parties, if he be called upon to -direct his attention to results before he is made acquainted with the -causes that produced them?"</p> - -<p>The only reason assigned for the usual arrangement is founded upon the -order of composition—Sallust having written the narrative of the -Conspiracy before the account of the Jugurthine war. All the MS.S. too, -have followed this order. Mr. Anthon, however, justly remarks that -such an argument should weigh but little when positive utility is -placed in the opposite scale.</p> - -<p>An enlarged commentary on the Jugurthine War, is another improvement -in the present edition. There can be no doubt that the notes usually -appended to this portion of Sallust were insufficient for the younger, -if not for all classes of pupils, and when this deficiency is -remedied, as in the present instance, by the labors of a man not only -of sound scholarship, but of great critical and general acumen, we -know how to value the services thus rendered to the student and to the -classical public at large. We subjoin one or two specimens of the -additional notes.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Page 122. "<i>Ingenii egregia facinora</i>." "<i>The splendid exertions of -intellect.</i>" <i>Facinus</i> denotes a bold or daring action, and unless it -be joined with a favorable epithet, or the action be previously -described as commendable, the term is always to be understood in a -vituperative sense. In the present passage, the epithet <i>egregius</i> -marks the character of the action as praiseworthy.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Page 122. "<i>Quippe probitatem, &c.</i>" "Since it (i.e. fortune) can -neither give, nor take away integrity, activity, nor other -praiseworthy qualities." <i>Industria</i> here means an active exercise of -our abilities.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We might add (with deference) to this note of Professor Anthon's, that -<i>industria</i>, generally, has a more variable meaning than is usually -given it, and that the word, in a great multiplicity of instances, -where ambiguities in translation have arisen, has allusion to mental -rather than to physical exertion. We have frequently, moreover, -remarked its connection with that idea which the moderns attach to the -term <i>genius</i>. <i>Incredibili industriâ</i>, <i>industriâ singulari</i>, are -phrases almost invariably used in the sense we speak of, and refer to -great mental power. Apropos, to this subject—it is remarkable that -both Buffon and Hogarth directly assert that "genius is nothing but -labor and diligence."</p> - -<blockquote><small>Page 133. "<i>Vos in mea injuria</i>," <i>&c.</i> "<i>You are treated with -contempt in the injustice which is done me.</i>" <i>Despicere</i> always -implies that the person despising thinks meanly of the person -despised, as compared with himself. <i>Contemnere</i> denotes the absolute -vileness of an object.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We may here observe that we have no English equivalent to <i>despicere</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Page 135. "<i>Quod utinam</i>," <i>&c.</i> "<i>But would that I may see.</i>" The use -of <i>quod</i> before many conjunctions, &c. merely as a copulative, appears -to have arisen from the fondness of the Latin writers for the -connexion by means of relatives.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Page 135. "<i>Emori</i>." "<i>A speedy death</i>." The infinitive here supplies -the place of a noun, or more correctly speaking, is employed in its -true character. For this mood, partaking of the nature of a noun, has -been called by grammarians "the verb's noun" (<i>ονομα ρηματος</i>.) -The reason of this appellation is more apparent, however, in Greek, -from its taking the prepositive article before it in all cases; as -<i>το γραφειν</i>, <i>τον γραφειν</i>, <i>τω γραφειν</i>. The same construction -is not unknown in English. Thus Spencer—</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem22"> - <tr><td><small>For not to have been dipped in Lethe lake,<br> - Could save the son of Thetis from to die.</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Besides the new arrangement of matter, and the additional notes on the -Jugurthine war, the principal changes in the present edition are to be -found in two convenient Indexes—the one Geographical, the other -Historical. We are told by Mr. Anthon that his object in preparing -them was to relieve the Annotations from what might have proved too -heavy a pressure of materials, and have deterred from, rather than -have invited, a perusal. The geographical and historical matter is now -made to stand by itself.</p> - -<p>The account of Sallust himself, and especially the critical -examination of his writings, which appeared in the ordinary way in -previous editions, is now resolved into the form of a dialogue, and -has gained by the change much force and vivacity, without being at all -deteriorated in other respects. Upon the whole, any farther real -improvement in the manner of editing, printing, or publishing a -Sallust would seem to be an impossibility.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect30"></a> -<br> -<center>PARIS AND THE PARISIANS.</center> - -<p><i>Paris and the Parisians in 1835. By Frances Trollope, Author of -"Domestic Manners of the Americans," "The Refugee in America," &c. New -York: Published by Harper and Brothers.</i></p> - -<p>We have no patience with that atra-bilious set of hyper-patriots, who -find fault with Mrs. Trollope's book of <i>flumflummery</i> about the good -people of the Union. We can neither tolerate nor comprehend them. The -work appeared to us (we speak in all candor, and in sober earnest) an -unusually well-written performance, in which, upon a basis of -downright and positive truth, was erected, after the fashion of a -porcelain pagoda, a very brilliant, although a very brittle fabric of -mingled banter, philosophy, and spleen. Her mere political -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page394"><small><small>[p. 394]</small></small></a></span> -opinions are, we suppose, of very little consequence to any person -other than Mrs. Trollope; and being especially sure that they are of -no consequence to ourselves we shall have nothing farther to do with -them. We do not hesitate to say, however, that she ridiculed our -innumerable moral, physical, and social absurdities with equal -impartiality, true humor and discrimination, and that the old joke -about her <i>Domestic Manners of the Americans</i> being nothing more than -the <i>Manners of the American Domestics</i>, is like most other very good -jokes, excessively untrue.</p> - -<p>That our national soreness of feeling prevented us, in the case of her -work on America, from appreciating the real merits of the book, will -be rendered evident by the high praise we find no difficulty in -bestowing upon her <i>Paris and the Parisians</i>—a production, in -whatever light we regard it, precisely similar to the one with which -we were so irreparably offended. It has every characteristic of the -<i>Domestic Manners of the Americans</i>—from the spirit of which work, if -it differs at all, the difference lies in the inferior quantity of the -fine wit she has thought proper to throw away upon our Parisian friends.</p> - -<p>The volume now issued by the Harpers, is a large octavo of 410 pages, -and is embellished with eleven most admirable copperplate engravings, -exclusive of the frontispiece. These designs are drawn by A. Hervieu, -and engraved by S. H. Gimber. We will give a brief account of them -all, as the most effectual method of imparting to our readers (those -who have not seen the work and for whom this notice is especially -intended) a just conception of the work itself.</p> - -<p>Plate 1 is the "<i>Louvre</i>." A picture gallery is seen crowded with a -motley assemblage of all classes, in every description of French -costume. The occasion is an exhibition of living artists, as the world -chooses to call the exhibition of their works. Poussin, (consequently) -Raphael, Titian, Correggio and Rubens, are hidden beneath the efforts -of more modern pencils. In the habiliments of the company who lounge -through the gallery, the result of newly acquired rights is -ludicrously visible. One of the most remarkable of these, says our -authoress, is the privilege enjoyed by the rabble of presenting -themselves dirty instead of clean before the eyes of the magnates. -Accordingly, the plate shows, among a variety of pretty <i>toques</i>, -<i>cauchoises</i>, <i>chaussures</i>, and other more imperial equipments, a -sprinkling of round-eared caps, awkward <i>casquettes</i>, filthy -<i>blouses</i>, and dingy and ragged jackets.</p> - -<p>Plate 2 is "<i>Morning at the Tuileries</i>." It represents that portion of -the garden of "trim alleys" which lies in front of the group of Petus -and Aria. In the distance are seen various figures. In the foreground -we descry three singular-looking personages, who may be best described -in the words of Mrs. Trollope herself.</p> - -<blockquote><small>It was the hour when all the newspapers are in the greatest -requisition; and we had the satisfaction of watching the studies of -three individuals, each of whom might have sat as a model for an -artist who wished to give an idea of their several peculiarities. We -saw, in short, beyond the possibility of doubt, a royalist, a -doctrinaire, and a republican, during the half hour we remained there, -all soothing their feelings by indulging in two sous' worth of -politics, each in his own line.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>A stiff but gentlemanlike old man first came, and having taken a -journal from the little octagon stand—which journal we felt quite -sure, was either 'La France' or 'La Quotidienne'—he established -himself at no great distance from us. Why it was that we all felt so -certain of his being a legitimatist I can hardly tell you, but not one -of the party had the least doubt about it. There was a quiet, -half-proud, half-melancholy air of keeping himself apart; an -aristocratical cast of features; a pale, care-worn complexion; and a -style of dress which no vulgar man ever wore, but which no rich one -would be likely to wear to-day. This is all I can record of him: but -there was something pervading his whole person too essentially loyal -to be misunderstood, yet too delicate in its tone to be coarsely -painted. Such as it was, however, we felt it quite enough to make the -matter sure; and if I could find out that old gentleman to be either -doctrinaire or republican, I never would look on a human countenance -again, in order to discover what was passing within.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The next who approached us we were equally sure was a republican: but -here the discovery did little honor to our discernment; for these -gentry choose to leave no doubt upon the subject of their <i>clique</i>, -but contrive that every article contributing to the appearance of the -outward man shall become a symbol and a sign, a token and a stigma of -the madness that possesses them. He too held a paper in his hand, and -without venturing to approach too nearly to so alarming a personage, -we scrupled not to assure each other, that the journal he was so -assiduously perusing was 'Le Réformateur.'</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Just as we had decided what manner of man it was who was stalking so -majestically past us, a comfortable looking citizen approached in the -uniform of the National Guard, who sat himself down to his daily -allowance of politics with the air of a person expecting to be well -pleased with what he finds, but, nevertheless, too well contented with -himself and all things about him to care overmuch about it. Every line -of this man's jocund face, every curve of his portly figure, spoke -contentment and well being. He was probably one of that very new race -in France, a tradesman making a rapid fortune. Was it possible to -doubt that the paper in his hand was 'Le Journal des Debats?' Was it -possible to believe that this man was other than a prosperous -doctrinaire?</small></blockquote> - -<p>Plate 3 is "<i>Pro patria</i>"—and represents two uniformed soldiers in a -guard-room of the National Guard.</p> - -<p>Plate 4 is entitled "'<i>Ce soir, à la Porte St. Martin</i>'—'<i>J'y -serâi</i>,'" and is full of humor. Two conspirator-like republicans stand -in the gardens of the Luxembourg, with short staffs, conical hats, -dark bushy eyebrows, fierce mustaches, and countenances full of fate. -The hand of the one is clasped in the hand of the other with a -vice-like impressiveness and energy, while the taller, looking -furtively around him, lays his hand upon the shoulder of his -associate, and is whispering some most momentous intelligence in his -ear. This plate is explained thus in the words of Mrs. T.</p> - -<blockquote><small>It seems, that ever since the trials began, the chief duty of the -gendarmes (I beg pardon, I should say of La Garde de Paris) has been -to prevent any assembling together of the people in knots for -conversation and gossippings in the courts and gardens of the -Luxembourg. No sooner are two or three persons observed standing -together, than a policeman approaches, and with a tone of command -pronounces "Circulez Messieurs!—circulez s'il vous plaît." The reason -for this precaution is, that nightly at the Porte St. Martin a few -score of <i>jeunes gens</i> assemble to make a very idle and unmeaning -noise, the echo of which regularly runs from street to street, till -the reiterated report amounts to the announcement of an <i>émeute</i>. We -are all now so used to these harmless little <i>émeutes</i> at the Porte -St. Martin, that we mind them no more than General Lobau himself: -nevertheless it is deemed proper, trumpery -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page395"><small>[p. 395]</small></a></span> as the cause may be, -to prevent any thing like a gathering together of the mob in the -vicinity of the Luxembourg, lest the same hundred-tongued lady, who -constantly magnifies the hootings of a few idle mechanics into an -<i>émeute</i>, should spread a report throughout France that the Luxembourg -was beseiged by the people. The noise which had disturbed us was -occasioned by the gathering together of about a dozen persons; but a -policeman was in the midst of the group, and we heard rumors of an -<i>arrestation</i>. In less than five minutes, however, every thing was -quiet again: but we marked two figures so picturesque in their -republicanism, that we resumed our seats while a sketch was made from -them, and amused ourselves the while in fancying what the ominous -words could be that were so cautiously exchanged between them. M. de -L—— said there could be no doubt they ran thus:</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem23"> - <tr><td><small>'Ce soir à la Porte St. Martin!'<br> - <i>Answer</i>—'J'y serai!'</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>Plate 5 is the "<i>Tuileries Gardens on Sunday</i>," in which the prominent -and characteristic group is a "<i>chère maman</i>" in half toilet, and -seated beneath a tree reading, or attempting to read, while her -children, attended by their <i>bonne</i>, are frolicking about her knees.</p> - -<p>Plate 6 is "<i>Porte St. Martin</i>," and commemorative of one of the -thousand and one little <i>émeutes</i> which have now become too much a -matter of course at Paris to excite very serious attention, and which -are frequently (so we are assured by Mrs. Trollope) quieted by no more -effective artillery than that of a slight shower of rain. The -prominent figures in the plate, are two gentlemen of the National -Guard, who are vehemently struggling to secure a desperate and -mustached republican, equipped <i>cap à pie</i> à la Robespierre, and whose -countenance is indicative of deadly resolve, while a little urchin in -a striped jacket, not having before his eyes the horrors of an -<i>arrestation</i>, and being probably body squire to the republican, -shoulders manfully a banner somewhat larger than himself, and, -standing upon tiptoe, amuses himself with bellowing <i>Vive la -République!</i></p> - -<p>Plate 7 is a "<i>Soiree</i>," in which the peculiarities of Parisian -sociability are humorously sketched. All the countenances are -especially French. The prominent group is that of two little -awkward-looking specimens of imperial noblesse who are making love -upon a <i>chaise-longue</i>. The opinions of Mrs. Trollope are quite -orthodox in the matter of hereditary grace. Some of her good things -upon this topic we must be allowed to quote, for the sake of their -point, without being responsible for their philosophy.</p> - -<blockquote><small>I have heard that it requires three generations to make a gentleman. -Those created by Napoleon have not yet fairly reached a second; and -with all respect for talent, industry, and valor, be it spoken, the -necessity of the slow process very frequently forces itself upon one's -conviction at Paris.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It is probable that the great refinement of the post-imperial -aristocracy of France may be one reason why the deficiences of those -now often found mixed up with them is so remarkable. It would be -difficult to imagine a contrast in manner more striking than that of a -lady who would be a fair specimen of the old Bourbon <i>noblesse</i>, and a -bouncing <i>marechale</i> of imperial creation. It seems as if every -particle of the whole material of which each is formed, gave evidence -of the different birth of the spirit that dwells within. The sound of -the voice is a contrast; the glance of the eye is a contrast; the step -is a contrast. Were every feature of a <i>dame de l'Empire</i> and a <i>femme -noble</i> formed precisely in the same mould, I am quite sure that the -two would look no more alike than Queen Constance and Nell Gwyn.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Nor is there at all less difference in the two races of gentlemen. I -speak not of the men of science or of art; their rank is of another -kind: but there are still left here and there specimens of decorated -greatness, which look as if they must have been dragged out of the -guard-room by main force; huge mustached militaries, who look, at -every slight rebuff, as if they were ready to exclaim, 'Sacré nom de -D——! Je suis un héros, moi! vive l'Empereur!'</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>And again. My parvenue duchess <i>is</i> very remarkable indeed. She steps -out like a corporal carrying a message. Her voice is the first, the -last, and almost the only thing heard in the salon that she honors -with her presence—except it chance indeed, that she lower her tone -occasionally to favor with a whisper some gallant <i>décoré</i> military, -scientific, or artistic, of the same standing as herself; and, -moreover, she promenades her eyes over the company as if she had a -right to bring them all to roll-call.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Notwithstanding all this, the lady is certainly a person of talent; -and had she happily remained in the station in which both herself and -her husband were born, she might not, perhaps, have thought it -necessary to speak quite so loud, and her <i>bons mots</i> would have -produced infinitely greater effect. But she is so thoroughly out of -place in the grade to which she has been unkindly elevated, that it -seems as if Napoleon had decided on her fate in a humor as spiteful as -that of Monsieur Jourdain, when he said—'Your daughter shall be a -Marchioness in spite of all the world; and if you provoke me I'll make -her a Duchess.'</small></blockquote> - -<p>Plate 8 is "<i>Le roi citoyen</i>." He is represented as a well-looking, -portly, middle-aged man, of somewhat dignified appearance. His dress -differs from that of any common citizen only by a small tri-colored -cockade in the hat, and he walks quite at his leisure with one hand -clenching a rough-looking stick, and the other thrust in his -breeches-pocket. A republican, habited in full Robespierrian costume, -is advancing towards him with a very deliberate air, and eyeing him -nonchalantly through a <i>lorgnon</i>.</p> - -<p>Plate 9 is entitled "<i>Prêtres de la Jeune France</i>." The flowing curls, -the simple round hat, the pantaloons, &c. give them the appearance of -a race of men as unlike as possible to their stiff and primitive -predecessors. They look flourishing, and well pleased with themselves -and the world about them: but little of mortification or abstinence -can be traced on their countenances; and if they do fast for some -portion of every week, they may certainly say with Father Philip, that -'what they take prospers with them marvellously.'</p> - -<p>Plate 10 is the "<i>Boulevard des Italiens</i>," with a view of -<i>Tortoni's</i>. The main group is "a very pretty woman and a very pretty -man," who are seated on two chairs close together and flirting much to -their own satisfaction, as well as to the utter amazement and -admiration of a young urchin of a Savoyard, or professor of the <i>gaie -science</i>, who, forgetting the use of his mandoline, gazes with open -mouth and eyes at the enamored pair. To the right is seen an exquisite -of the first water promenading with an air of ineffable grace, and -deliberately occupied in combing his luxuriant tresses.</p> - -<p>Plate 11 is called "<i>V'la les restes de notre revolution de Juillet!</i>" -and like all the other engravings in the volume is admirable in its -design, and especially in its expression. In the back ground are seen -the monuments erected at the <i>Marché des Innocens</i> over some -revolutionary heroes, who fell here and were buried near the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page396"><small><small>[p. 396]</small></small></a></span> -fountain, on the 29th July 1830. A mechanic leans against a rail and -is haranguing with great energy a young girl and a little boy, who -listen to him with profound attention. His theme is evidently the -treatment of the prisoners at the Luxembourg. We cannot too highly -praise the exquisite piquancy of the whole of these designs.</p> - -<p>In conclusion, we recommend <i>Paris and the Parisians</i> to all lovers of -fine writing, and vivacious humor. It is impossible not to be highly -amused with the book—and there is by no means any necessity for -giving a second thought to the <i>political</i> philosophies of Madame -Trollope.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect31"></a> -<br> -<center>PAULDING'S WASHINGTON.</center> - -<p><i>A Life of Washington. By James K. Paulding. New York: Harper and -Brothers.</i></p> - -<p>We have read Mr. Paulding's Life of Washington with a degree of -interest seldom excited in us by the perusal of any book whatever. We -are convinced by a deliberate examination of the design, manner, and -rich material of the work, that, as it grows in age, it will grow in -the estimation of our countrymen, and, finally, will not fail to take -a deeper hold upon the public mind, and upon the public affections, -than any work upon the same subject, or of a similar nature, which has -been yet written—or, possibly, which may be written hereafter. -Indeed, we cannot perceive the necessity of any thing farther upon the -great theme of Washington. Mr. Paulding has completely and most -beautifully filled the <i>vacuum</i> which the works of Marshall and Sparks -have left open. He has painted the boy, the man, the husband, and the -Christian. He has introduced us to the private affections, -aspirations, and charities of that hero whose affections of all -affections were the most serene, whose aspirations the most God-like, -and whose charities the most gentle and pure. He has taken us abroad -with the patriot-farmer in his rambles about his homestead. He has -seated us in his study and shown us the warrior-Christian in -unobtrusive communion with his God. He has done all this too, and -more, in a simple and quiet manner, in a manner peculiarly his own, -and which mainly because it is his own, cannot fail to be exceedingly -effective. Yet it is very possible that the public may, for many years -to come, overlook the rare merits of a work whose want of arrogant -assumption is so little in keeping with the usages of the day, and -whose striking simplicity and <i>naiveté</i> of manner give, to a cursory -examination, so little evidence of the labor of composition. We have -no fears, however, for the future. Such books as these before us, go -down to posterity like rich wines, with a certainty of being more -valued as they go. They force themselves with the gradual but rapidly -accumulating power of strong wedges into the hearts and understandings -of a community.</p> - -<p>From the preface we learn, that shortly after the conclusion of the -late war, Mr. Paulding resided for several years in the city of -Washington, and that his situation bringing him into familiar -intercourse with "many respectable and some distinguished persons" who -had been associated with the Father of his Country, the idea was then -first conceived of writing a Life of that great man which should more -directly appeal to the popular feeling of the land, than any one -previously attempted. With this intent, he lost no opportunity of -acquiring information, from all authentic sources within his reach, of -the private life, habits and peculiarities of his subject. We learn -too that the work thus early proposed was never banished from the mind -of the author. The original intention, however, was subsequently -modified, with a view of adapting the book to the use of schools, and -"generally to that class of readers who have neither the means of -purchasing, nor the leisure to read a larger and more expensive -publication." Much of the information concerning the domestic life of -Washington was derived immediately from his cotemporaries, and from -the "present most estimable lady who is now in possession of Mount -Vernon." In detailing the events of the Revolution, the author has -principally consulted the public and private letters of Washington.</p> - -<p>The rich abundance of those delightful anecdotes and memorials of the -private man which render a book of this nature invaluable—an -abundance which has hardly more delighted than astonished us—is the -prevailing feature of Mr. Paulding's Washington. We proceed, without -apology, to copy for the benefit of our readers such as most -immediately present themselves.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Although it is of little consequence who were the distant ancestors of -a man who, by common consent, is hailed as the Father of his Country, -yet any particulars concerning his family cannot but be a subject of -curiosity. In all my general reading I have only chanced to meet with -the name of Washington three or four times in the early history and -literature of England. In the diary of Elias Ashmole, founder of the -Ashmolean Museum, are the following entries:—</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"<i>June 12th, 1645</i>. I entered on my command as comptroller of the -ordnance."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"<i>June 18th</i>. I received my commission from Colonel Washington."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Hume, in his account of the siege of Bristol, has the following -passage:—"One party led by Lord Grandison was beaten off and its -commander himself mortally wounded. Another, conducted by Colonel -Bellasis, met with a like fate. But Washington, with a less party, -finding a place in the curtain weaker than the rest, broke in, and -quickly made room for the horse to follow." This was in 1643. Five -years afterwards, that deluded monarch, Charles I., suffered the just -consequences of his offences against the majesty of the people of -England, and from that time the cause of royalty appeared desperate. -The more distinguished and obnoxious adherents of the Stuarts exiled -themselves in foreign lands, and the date of the supposed arrival of -the first Washington in Virginia, accords well with the supposition -that he may have been the same person mentioned by Ashmole and Hume. -In an old collection of poetry, by Sir John Menzies<small><sup>2</sup></small> and others, -there is a fine copy of verses to the memory of Mr. Washington, page -to the king, who died in Spain. In the year 1640, William Legge, Earl -of Dartmouth, married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Washington. -But the name and family of Washington are now extinct in the land of -our forefathers. When General Washington was about making his will, he -caused inquiries to be instituted, being desirous to leave some -memorial to all his relations. The result was a conviction that none -of the family existed in that country. But the topic is rather curious -than important. The subject of this biography could receive little -additional dignity through a descent from the most illustrious -families of Christendom. He stands alone in the pure atmosphere of his -own glory. He derived no title to honors from his ancestry, and left -no child but his country to inherit his fame.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Perhaps <i>Mennes</i>—Ed.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The house in which Washington was born stood about half a mile from -the junction of Pope's Creek with the Potomac, and was either burned -or pulled down long previous to the revolution. A few scanty relics -alone remain to mark the spot which will ever be sacred in the eyes of -posterity. A clump of old decayed -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page397"><small>[p. 397]</small></a></span> -fig trees, probably coeval -with the mansion, yet exists; a number of vines, and shrubs, and -flowers still reproduce themselves every year as if to mark its site, -and flourish among the hallowed ruins; and a stone, placed there by -Mr. George Washington Custis, bears the simple inscription, "Here, on -the 11th of February," (O.S.) "1732, George Washington was born."</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The spot is of the deepest interest, not only from its associations, -but its natural beauties. It commands a view of the Maryland shore of -the Potomac, one of the most majestic of rivers, and of its course for -many miles towards Chesapeake Bay. An aged gentleman, still living in -the neighborhood, remembers the house in which Washington was born. It -was a low pitched, single-storied, frame building, with four rooms on -the first floor and an enormous chimney at each end on the outside. -This was the style of the better sort of houses in those days, and -they are still occasionally seen in the old settlements of Virginia.</small></blockquote> - -<p>On page 106, vol. i., we find the following interesting particulars:</p> - -<blockquote><small>It has been related to me by one whose authority I cannot doubt, that -the first meeting of Colonel Washington with his future wife was -entirely accidental, and took place at the house of Mr. Chamberlayne, -who resided on the Pamunkey, one of the branches of York River. -Washington was on his way to Williamsburg, on somewhat pressing -business, when he met Mr. Chamberlayne, who, according to the good old -Virginia custom, which forbids a traveller to pass the door without -doing homage at the fireside of hospitality, insisted on his stopping -an hour or two at his mansion. Washington complied unwillingly, for -his business was urgent. But it is said that he was in no haste to -depart, for he had met the lady of his fate in the person of Mrs. -Martha Custis, of the White House, county of New Kent, in Virginia.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I have now before me a copy of an original picture of this lady, taken -about the time of which I am treating, when she captivated the -affections of Washington. It represents a figure rather below the -middle size, with hazel eyes, and hair of the same colour, finely -rounded arms, a beautiful chest and taper waist, dressed in a blue -silk robe of the fashion of the times, and altogether furnishing a -very sufficient apology to a young gentleman of seven and twenty for -delaying his journey, and perhaps forgetting his errand for a time. -The sun went down and rose again before Washington departed for -Williamsburg, leaving his heart behind him, and, perhaps, carrying -another away in exchange. Having completed his business at the seat of -government, he soon after visited the White House, and being -accustomed, as my informant says, to energetic and persevering action, -won the lady and carried her off from a crowd of rivals.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The marriage look place in the winter of 1759, but at what precise -date is not to be found in any record, nor is it, I believe, within -the recollection of any person living. I have in my possession a -manuscript containing the particulars of various conversations with -old Jeremy, Washington's black servant, who was with him at Braddock's -defeat, and accompanied him on his wedding expedition to the White -House. Old Jeremy is still living while I am now writing, and in full -possession of his faculties. His memory is most especially preserved, -and, as might be expected, he delights to talk of Massa George. The -whole series of conversations was taken down verbatim, in the peculiar -phraseology of the old man, and it is quite impossible to read the -record of this living chronicle of the early days of Washington, -without receiving the full conviction of its perfect truth.</small></blockquote> - -<p>The following account of his last illness is copied, we are told, from -a memorandum in the handwriting of Tobias Lear, his private secretary -and confidential friend, who attended him from first to last.</p> - -<blockquote><small>On Thursday, Dec. 12, the general rode out to his farms at about ten -o'clock, and did not return home till past three. Soon after he went -out the weather became very bad; rain, hail, and snow falling -alternately, with a cold wind. When he came in, I carried some letters -to him to frank, intending to send them to the post-office. He franked -the letters, but said the weather was too bad to send a servant to the -office that evening. I observed to him that I was afraid he had got -wet; he said, no; his great coat had kept him dry: but his neck -appeared to be wet—the snow was hanging on his hair.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>He came to dinner without changing his dress. In the evening he -appeared as well as usual. A heavy fall of snow took place on Friday, -which prevented the general from riding out as usual. He had taken -cold (undoubtedly from being so much exposed the day before,) and -complained of having a sore throat; he had a hoarseness, which -increased in the evening, but he made light of it, as he would never -take any thing to carry off a cold,—always observing, 'Let it go as -it came.' In the evening, the papers having come from the post office, -he sat in the room with Mrs. Washington and myself, reading them till -about nine o'clock; and when he met with any thing which he thought -diverting or interesting, he would read it aloud. He desired me to -read to him the debates of the Virginia Assembly on the election of a -senator and governor, which I did. On his retiring to bed he appeared -to be in perfect health, except the cold, which he considered as -trifling—he had been remarkably cheerful all the evening.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>About two or three o'clock on Saturday morning he awoke Mrs. -Washington, and informed her that he felt very unwell, and had an -ague. She observed that he could scarcely speak, and breathed with -difficulty, and she wished to get up and call a servant; but the -general would not permit her, lest she should take cold. As soon as -the day appeared, the woman Caroline went into the room to make a -fire, and the general desired that Mr. Rawlins, one of the overseers, -who was used to bleeding the people, might be sent for to bleed him -before the doctor could arrive. I was sent for—went to the general's -chamber, where Mrs. Washington was up, and related to me his being -taken ill between two and three o'clock, as before stated. I found him -breathing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word -intelligibly. I went out instantly, and wrote a line to Dr. Plask, and -sent it with all speed. Immediately I returned to the general's -chamber, where I found him in the same situation I had left him. A -mixture of molasses, vinegar, and butter was prepared, but he could -not swallow a drop; whenever he attempted he was distressed, -convulsed, and almost suffocated.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Mr. Rawlins came in soon after sunrise and prepared to bleed him; when -the arm was ready, the general, observing Rawlins appeared agitated, -said, with difficulty, 'Don't be afraid;' and after the incision was -made, he observed the orifice was not large enough: however, the blood -ran pretty freely. Mrs. Washington, not knowing whether bleeding was -proper in the general's situation, begged that much might not be taken -from him, and desired me to stop it. When I was about to untie the -string, the general put up his hand to prevent it, and, as soon as he -could speak, said, 'More.'</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Mrs. Washington still uneasy lest too much blood should be drawn, it -was stopped after about half a pint had been taken. Finding that no -relief was obtained from bleeding, and that nothing could be -swallowed, I proposed bathing the throat externally with sal volatile, -which was done; a piece of flannel was then put round his neck. His -feet were also soaked in warm water, but this gave no relief. By Mrs. -Washington's request, I despatched a messenger for Doctor Brown at -Port Tobacco. About nine o'clock, Dr. Craik arrived, and put a blister -of cantharides on the throat of the general, and took more blood, and -had some vinegar and hot water set in a teapot, for him to draw in the -stream from the spout.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>He also had sage-tea and vinegar mixed and used as a gargle, but when -he held back his head to let it run down, it almost produced -suffocation. When the mixture came out of his mouth some phlegm -followed it, and he would attempt to cough, which the doctor -encouraged, but without effect. About eleven o'clock, Dr. Dick was -sent for. Dr. Craik bled the general again; no effect was produced, -and he continued in the same state, unable to swallow any thing. Dr. -Dick came in about three o'clock, and Dr. Brown arrived soon after; -when, after consultation, the general was bled again: the blood ran -slowly, appeared very thick, and did not produce any symptoms of -fainting. At four o'clock the general could swallow a little. Calomel -and tartar emetic were administered without effect. About half past -four o'clock he requested me to ask Mrs. Washington to come to his -bedside, when he desired her to go down to his room, and take from his -desk two wills which she would find there, and bring them to him, -which she did. Upon looking at one, which he observed was useless, he -desired her to burn it, which she did; and then took the other and put -it away. After this was done, I returned again to his bedside and took -his hand. He said to me, 'I find I am going—my breath cannot continue -long—I believed from the first attack it would be fatal. Do you -arrange and <span class="pagenum"><a name="page398"><small>[p. 398]</small></a></span> -record all my military letters and papers; arrange -my accounts and settle my books, as you know more about them than any -one else; and let Mr. Rawlins finish recording my other letters, which -he has begun.' He asked when Mr. Lewis and Washington would return? I -told him that I believed about the twentieth of the month. He made no -reply.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The physicians arrived between five and six o'clock, and when they -came to his bedside, Dr. Craik asked him if he would sit up in the -bed: he held out his hand to me and was raised up, when he said to the -physician—'I feel myself going; you had better not take any more -trouble about me, but let me go off quietly; I cannot last long.' They -found what had been done was without effect; he laid down again, and -they retired, excepting Dr. Craik. He then said to him—'Doctor, I die -hard, but I am not afraid to go; I believed from my first attack I -should not survive it; my breath cannot last long.' The doctor pressed -his hand, but could not utter a word; he retired from the bedside and -sat by the fire, absorbed in grief. About eight o'clock, the -physicians again came into the room, and applied blisters to his legs, -but went out without a ray of hope. From this time he appeared to -breathe with less difficulty than he had done, but was very restless, -continually changing his position, to endeavor to get ease. I aided -him all in my power, and was gratified in believing he felt it, for he -would look upon me with eyes speaking gratitude, but unable to utter a -word without great distress. About ten o'clock he made several -attempts to speak to me before he could effect it; at length he said, -'I am just going. Have me decently buried; and do not let my body be -put into the vault in less than two days after I am dead.' I bowed -assent. He looked at me again and said, 'Do you understand me?' I -replied, 'Yes, sir.' ''Tis well,' said he. About ten minutes before he -expired, his breathing became much easier: he lay quietly: he withdrew -his hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. I spoke to Dr. Craik, who -sat by the fire; he came to the bedside. The general's hand fell from -his wrist; I took it in mine, and placed it on my breast. Dr. Craik -placed his hands over his eyes; and he expired without a struggle or a -sigh.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We proceed with some farther extracts of a like kind taken at random -from the book.</p> - -<blockquote><small>His manly disinterestedness appeared, not only in thus divesting -himself of the means of acquiring glory, perhaps of the power of -avoiding defeat and disgrace, but in a private act which deserves -equally to be remembered. While the British fleet was lying in the -Potomac, in the vicinity of Mount Vernon, a message was sent to the -overseer, demanding a supply of fresh provisions. The usual penalty of -a refusal was setting fire to the house and barns of the owner. To -prevent this destruction of property, the overseer, on receipt of the -message, gathered a supply of provisions, and went himself on board -with a flag, accompanying the present with a request that the property -of the general might be spared.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Washington was exceedingly indignant at this proceeding, as will -appear by the following extract of a letter to his overseer.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>"It would," he writes, "have been a less painful circumstance to me to -have heard that, in consequence of your noncompliance with the request -of the British, they had burned my house, and laid my plantation in -ruins. You ought to have considered yourself as my representative, and -should have reflected on the bad example of communicating with the -enemy, and making a voluntary offer of refreshment to them with a view -to prevent a conflagration."</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="15"> - -<blockquote><small>And here I will take what seems to me a proper opportunity of refuting -a false insinuation. In the edition of Plutarch's Lives, translated by -John and William Langhorne, and revised by the Reverend Francis -Wrangham, M.A., F.R.S., there is the following note appended to the -biography of Cato the Censor, whose kindness is said to have extended -to his cattle and sheep: "<i>Yet Washington, the Tertius Cato of these -latter times, is said to have sold his old charger!</i>"</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>On first seeing this insinuation of a calumny founded on hearsay, I -applied to Colonel Lear, who resided at Mount Vernon, and acted as the -private secretary of Washington at the time of his death, and many -years previously, to learn whether there was any foundation for the -report. His denial was positive and unequivocal. The horse of -Washington, sold, not by him, but one of his heirs, after his death, -was that which he was accustomed to ride about his plantation after -his retirement from public life. The aged war-horse was placed under -the special care of the old black servant who had served the same -campaigns with him; was never rode after the conclusion of the war, -and died long before his illustrious master.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="15"> - -<blockquote><small>As illustrating his character and affording an example of his great -self-command, the following anecdote is appropriate to my purpose. It -is derived from Judge Breckenridge<small><sup>3</sup></small> himself, who used often to tell -the story. The judge was an inimitable humorist, and, on a particular -occasion, fell in with Washington at a public house. They supped at -the same table, and Mr. Breckenridge essayed all his powers of humor -to divert the general; but in vain. He seemed aware of his purpose, -and listened without a smile. However, it so happened that the -chambers of Washington and Breckenridge adjoined, and were only -separated from each other by a thin partition of pine boards. The -general had retired first, and when the judge entered his own room, he -was delighted to hear Washington, who was already in bed, laughing to -himself with infinite glee, no doubt at the recollection of his -stories.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>3</sup></small> Author of Modern Chivalry.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="15"> - -<blockquote><small>He was accustomed sometimes to tell the following story:—On one -occasion, during a visit he paid to Mount Vernon while president, he -had invited the company of two distinguished lawyers, each of whom -afterwards attained to the highest judicial situations in this -country. They came on horseback, and, for convenience, or some other -purpose, had bestowed their wardrobe in the same pair of saddle-bags, -each one occupying his side. On their arrival, wet to the skin by a -shower of rain, they were shown into a chamber to change their -garments. One unlocked his side of the bag, and the first thing he -drew forth was a black bottle of whiskey. He insisted that this was -his companion's repository; but on unlocking the other, there was -found a huge twist of tobacco, a few pieces of corn-bread, and the -complete equipment of a wagoner's pack-saddle. They had exchanged -saddle-bags with some traveller on the way, and finally made their -appearance in borrowed clothes that fitted them most ludicrously. The -general was highly diverted, and amused himself with anticipating the -dismay of the wagoner when he discovered this oversight of the men of -law. It was during this visit that Washington prevailed on one of his -guests to enter into public life, and thus secured to his country the -services of one of the most distinguished magistrates of this or any -other age.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Another anecdote of a more touching character is derived from a source -which, if I were permitted to mention, would not only vouch for its -truth, but give it additional value and interest. When Washington -retired from public life, his name and fame excited in the hearts of -the people at large, and most especially the more youthful portion, a -degree of reverence which, by checking their vivacity or awing them -into silence, often gave him great pain. Being once on a visit to -Colonel Blackburn, ancestor to the exemplary matron who now possesses -Mount Vernon, a large company of young people were assembled to -welcome his arrival, or on some other festive occasion. The general -was unusually cheerful and animated, but he observed that whenever he -made his appearance, the dance lost its vivacity, the little -gossipings in corners ceased, and a solemn silence prevailed, as at -the presence of one they either feared or reverenced too much to -permit them to enjoy themselves. He strove to remove this restraint by -mixing familiarly among them and chatting with unaffected hilarity. -But it was all in vain; there was a spell on the little circle, and he -retired among the elders in an adjoining room, appearing to be much -pained at the restraint his presence inspired. When, however the young -people had again become animated, he arose cautiously from his seat, -walked on tiptoe to the door, which was ajar, and stood contemplating -the scene for nearly a quarter of an hour, with a look of genuine and -benevolent pleasure that went to the very hearts of the parents who -were observing him.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In regard to the style of Mr. Paulding's Washington, it would scarcely -be doing it justice to speak of it merely as well adapted to its -subject, and to its immediate design. Perhaps a rigorous examination -would detect an occasional want of euphony, and some inaccuracies of -syntatical arrangement. But nothing could be more out -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page399"><small><small>[p. 399]</small></small></a></span> of place -than any such examination in respect to a book whose forcible, rich, -vivid, and comprehensive English, might advantageously be held up, as -a model for the young writers of the land. There is no better literary -manner than the manner of Mr. Paulding. Certainly no American, and -possibly no living writer of England, has more of those numerous -peculiarities which go to the formation of a happy style. It is -questionable, we think, whether any writer of any country combines as -many of these peculiarities with as much of that essential negative -virtue, the absence of affectation. We repeat, as our confident -opinion, that it would be difficult, even with great care and labor, -to improve upon the general manner of the volumes now before us, and -that they contain many long individual passages of a force and beauty -not to be surpassed by the finest passages of the finest writers in -any time or country. It is this striking character in the <i>Washington</i> -of Mr. Paulding—striking and peculiar indeed at a season when we are -so culpably inattentive to all matters of this nature, as to mistake -for style the fine airs at second hand of the silliest romancers—it -is this character we say, which should insure the fulfilment of the -writer's principal design, in the immediate introduction of his book -into every respectable academy in the land.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect32"></a> -<br> -<center>WALSH'S DIDACTICS.</center> - -<p><i>Didactics—Social, Literary, and Political. By Robert Walsh. -Philadelphia: Carey, Lea, and Blanchard.</i></p> - -<p>Having read these volumes with much attention and pleasure, we are -prepared to admit that their author is one of the finest writers, one -of the most accomplished scholars, and when not in too great a hurry, -one of the most accurate thinkers in the country. Yet had we never -seen this collection of <i>Didactics</i>, we should never have entertained -these opinions. Mr. Walsh has been peculiarly an anonymous writer, and -has thus been instrumental in cheating himself of a great portion of -that literary renown which is most unequivocally his due. We have been -not unfrequently astonished in the perusal of the book now before us, -at meeting with a variety of well known and highly esteemed -acquaintances, for whose paternity we had been accustomed to give -credit where we now find it should not have been given. Among these we -may mention in especial the very excellent Essay on the acting of -Kean, entitled "<i>Notices of Kean's principal performances during his -first season in Philadelphia</i>," to be found at page 146, volume i. We -have often thought of the unknown author of this Essay, as of one to -whom we might speak, if occasion should at any time be granted us, -with a perfect certainty of being understood. We have looked to the -article itself as to a fair oasis in the general blankness and -futility of our customary theatrical notices. We read it with that -thrill of pleasure with which we always welcome our own long-cherished -opinions, when we meet them unexpectedly in the language of another. -How absolute is the necessity now daily growing, of rescuing our stage -criticism from the control of illiterate mountebanks, and placing it -in the hands of gentlemen and scholars!</p> - -<p>The paper on <i>Collegiate Education</i>, beginning at page 165, volume ii, -is much more than a sufficient reply to that Essay in the <i>Old -Bachelor</i> of Mr. Wirt, in which the attempt is made to argue down -colleges as seminaries for the young. Mr. Walsh's article does not -uphold Mr. Barlow's plan of a National University—a plan which is -assailed by the Attorney General—but comments upon some errors in -point of fact, and enters into a brief but comprehensive examination -of the general subject. He maintains with undeniable truth, that it is -illogical to deduce arguments against universities which are to exist -at the present day, from the inconveniences found to be connected with -institutions formed in the dark ages—institutions similar to our own -in but few respects, modelled upon the principles and prejudices of -the times, organized with a view to particular ecclesiastical -purposes, and confined in their operations by an infinity of Gothic -and perplexing regulations. He thinks, (and we believe he thinks with -a great majority of our well educated fellow citizens) that in the -case either of a great national institute or of State universities, -nearly all the difficulties so much insisted upon will prove a series -of mere chimeras—that the evils apprehended might be readily -obviated, and the acknowledged benefits uninterruptedly secured. He -denies, very justly, the assertion of the <i>Old Bachelor</i>—that, in the -progress of society, funds for collegiate establishments will no doubt -be accumulated, independently of government, when their benefits are -evident, and a necessity for them felt—and that the rich who have -funds will, whenever strongly impressed with the necessity of so -doing, provide, either by associations or otherwise, proper seminaries -for the education of their children. He shows that these assertions -are contradictory to experience, and more particularly to the -experience of the State of Virginia, where, notwithstanding the extent -of private opulence, and the disadvantages under which the community -so long labored from a want of regular and systematic instruction, it -was the government which was finally compelled, and not private -societies which were induced, to provide establishments for effecting -the great end. He says (and therein we must all fully agree with him) -that Virginia may consider herself fortunate in following the example -of all the enlightened nations of modern times rather than in -hearkening to the counsels of the Old Bachelor. He dissents (and who -would not?) from the allegation, that "the most eminent men in Europe, -particularly in England, have received their education neither at -public schools or universities," and shows that the very reverse may -be affirmed—that on the continent of Europe by far the greater number -of its great names have been attached to the rolls of its -universities—and that in England a vast majority of those minds which -we have reverenced so long—the Bacons, the Newtons, the Barrows, the -Clarkes, the Spencers, the Miltons, the Drydens, the Addisons, the -Temples, the Hales, the Clarendons, the Mansfields, Chatham, Pitt, -Fox, Wyndham, &c. were educated among the venerable cloisters of -Oxford or of Cambridge. He cites the Oxford Prize Essays, so well -known even in America, as direct evidence of the energetic ardor in -acquiring knowledge brought about through the means of British -Universities, and maintains that "when attention is given to the -subsequent public stations and labors of most of the writers of these -Essays, it will be found that they prove also the ultimate practical -utility of the literary discipline of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page400"><small><small>[p. 400]</small></small></a></span> colleges for the -students and the nation." He argues, that were it even true that the -greatest men have not been educated in public schools, the fact would -have little to do with the question of their efficacy in the -instruction of the mass of mankind. Great men cannot be <i>created</i>—and -are usually independent of all particular schemes of education. Public -seminaries are best adapted to the generality of cases. He concludes -with observing that the course of study pursued at English -Universities, is more liberal by far than we are willing to suppose -it—that it is, demonstrably, the best, inasmuch as regards the -preference given to classical and mathematical knowledge—and that -upon the whole it would be an easy matter, in transferring to America -the general principles of those institutions, to leave them their -obvious errors, while we avail ourselves as we best may, of their -still more obvious virtues and advantages.</p> - -<p>We must take the liberty of copying an interesting paper on the -subject of Oxford.</p> - -<blockquote><small>The impression made on my mind by the first aspect of Paris was -scarcely more lively or profound, than that which I experienced on -entering Oxford. Great towns were already familiar to my eye, but a -whole city sacred to the cultivation of science, composed of edifices -no less venerable for their antiquity than magnificent in their -structure, was a novelty which at once delighted and overpowered my -imagination. The entire population is in some degree appended and -ministerial to the colleges. They comprise nearly the whole town, and -are so noble and imposing, although entirely Gothic, that I was -inclined to apply to the architecture of Oxford what has been said of -the schools of Athens;</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem24"> - <tr><td><small>"The Muse alone unequal dealt her rage,<br> - And graced with noblest pomp her earliest stage."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<blockquote><small>Spacious gardens laid out with taste and skill are annexed to each -college, and appropriated to the exercises and meditations of the -students. The adjacent country is in the highest state of cultivation, -and watered by a beautiful stream, which bears the name of Isis, the -divinity of the Nile and the Ceres of the Egyptians. To you who know -my attachment to letters, and my veneration for the great men whom -this university has produced, it will not appear affectation, when I -say that I was most powerfully affected by this scene, that my eyes -filled with tears, that all the enthusiasm of a student burst forth.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>After resting, I delivered next morning, my letter of introduction to -one of the professors, Mr. V——, and who undertook to serve as my -<i>cicerone</i> through the university. The whole day was consumed in -wandering over the various colleges and their libraries, in -discoursing on their organization, and in admiring the Gothic chapels, -the splendid prospects from their domes, the collection of books, of -paintings, and of statuary, and the portraits of the great men who -were nursed in this seat of learning. Both here and at Cambridge, -accurate likenesses of such as have by their political or literary -elevation, ennobled their <i>alma mater</i>, are hung up in the great -halls, in order to excite the emulation of their successors, and -perpetuate the fame of the institution. I do not wish to fatigue you -by making you the associate of all my wanderings and reflections, but -only beg you to follow me rapidly through the picture-gallery attached -to the celebrated Bodleian library. It is long indeed, and covered -with a multitude of original portraits, but from them I shall merely -select a few, in which your knowledge of history will lead you to take -a lively interest.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I was struck with the face of Martin Luther the reformer. It was not -necessary to have studied Lavater to collect from it, the character of -his mind. His features were excessively harsh though regular, his eye -intelligent but sullen and scowling, and the whole expression of his -countenance, that of a sour, intemperate, overbearing -controversialist. Near him were placed likenesses of Locke, Butler, -and Charles II., painted by Sir Peter Lely; with the countenance of -Locke you are well acquainted, that of Butler has nothing sportive in -it—does not betray a particle of humor, but is, on the contrary, -grave, solemn, and didactic in the extreme, and must have been taken -in one of his splenetic moods, when brooding over the neglect of -Charles, rather than in one of those moments of inspiration, as they -may be styled, in which he narrated the achievements of Hudibras. The -physiognomy of Charles is, I presume, familiar to you, lively but not -"spiritual." Lord North is among the number of heads, and I was caught -by his strong resemblance to the present king; so strong as to remind -one of the scandalous chronicles of times past.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The face of Mary queen of Scots next attracted my notice. It was taken -in her own time, and amply justifies what historians have written, or -poets have sung, concerning her incomparable beauty. If ever there was -a countenance meriting the epithet of lovely in its most comprehensive -signification, it was this, which truly "vindicated the veracity of -Fame," and in which I needed not the aid of imagination to trace the -virtues of her heart. In reading Hume and Whitaker I have often wept -over her misfortunes, and now turned with increased disgust from an -original portrait of Elizabeth, her rival and assassin, which was -placed immediately above, and contributed to heighten the captivations -of the other by the effect of contrast. The features of Elizabeth are -harsh and irregular, her eye severe, her complexion bad, her whole -face, in short, just such as you would naturally attach to such a -mind.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Among the curiosities of the gallery may be ranked a likeness of Sir -Phillip Sydney, done with <i>a red hot poker</i>, on wood, by a person of -the name of Griffith, belonging to one of the colleges. It is really a -monument of human patience and ingenuity, and has the appearance of a -good painting. I cannot describe to you without admiration another -most extraordinary <i>freak</i> of genius exhibited here, and altogether -<i>unique</i> in its kind. It is a portrait of Isaac Tuller, a celebrated -painter in the reign of Charles II., executed by <i>himself when drunk</i>. -Tradition represents it as an admirable likeness, and of inebriety in -the abstract, there never was a more faithful or perfect delineation. -This anecdote is authentic, and must amuse the fancy, if we picture to -ourselves the artist completely intoxicated, inspecting his own -features in a mirror, and hitting off, with complete success, not only -the general character, but the peculiar stamp, which such a state must -have impressed upon them. His conception was as full of humor as of -originality, and well adapted to the system of manners which the -reigning monarch introduced and patronized. As I am on the subject of -portraits, permit me to mention three to which my attention was -particularly called on my visit to the University of Dublin. They were -those of Burke, Swift, and Bishop Berkeley, done by the ablest -masters. The latter must have had one of the most impressive -physiognomies ever given to man, "<i>the human face divine</i>." That of -Burke is far inferior, but strongly marked by an indignant smile; a -proper expression for the feelings by which his mind was constantly -agitated towards the close of his life. The face of Swift from which -you would expect every thing, is dull, heavy and unmeaning.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Portrait painting is the <i>forte</i>, as it has always been the passion of -this country. Happily for the inquisitive stranger, every rich man has -all his progenitors and relatives on canvass. The walls of every -public institution are crowded with benefactors and pupils, and no -town hall is left without the heads of the corporation, or the -representatives of the borough. The same impulse that prompts us to -gaze with avidity on the persons of our cotemporaries, if there be any -thing prominent in their character, or peculiar in their history, -leads us to turn a curious and attentive eye on the likenesses of the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page401"><small>[p. 401]</small></a></span> -"mighty dead," whose souls as well as faces are thus in some -degree transmitted to posterity. Next to my association with the -living men of genius who render illustrious the names of Englishmen, -no more sensible gratification has accrued to me from my residence in -this country, than that of studying the countenances of their -predecessors; no employment has tended more efficaciously to improve -my acquaintance with the history of the nation, to animate research, -and to quicken the spirit of competition.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I quitted Oxford with a fervent wish that such an establishment might -one day grace our own country. I have uttered an ejaculation to the -same effect whenever the great monuments of industry and refinement -which Europe displays exclusively, have fallen under my observation. -We have indeed just grounds to hope that we shall one day eclipse the -old world.</small></blockquote> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem25"> - <tr><td><small>"Each rising art by just gradation moves,<br> - Toil builds on toil, and age on age improves."</small></td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The only paper in the <i>Didactics</i>, to which we have any decided -objection, is a tolerably long article on the subject of <i>Phrenology</i>, -entitled "Memorial of the Phrenological Society of —— to the -Honorable the Congress of —— sitting at ——." Considered as a -specimen of mere burlesque the <i>Memorial</i> is well enough—but we are -sorry to see the energies of a scholar and an editor (who should be, -if he be not, a man of metaphysical science) so wickedly employed as -in any attempt to throw ridicule upon a question, (however much -maligned, or however apparently ridiculous) whose merits he has never -examined, and of whose very nature, history, and assumptions, he is -most evidently ignorant. Mr. Walsh is either ashamed of this article -now, or he will have plentiful reason to be ashamed of it hereafter.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect33"></a> -<br> -<center>COOPER'S SWITZERLAND.</center> - -<p><i>Sketches of Switzerland. By an American. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea and -Blanchard.</i></p> - -<p>These very interesting sketches are merely selections from a work of -much larger extent, originally intended for publication, but which, as -a whole, is, for private reasons, suppressed. There is consequently on -this account, and on some others, several <i>vacuums</i> in the narrative. -Mr. Cooper commenced the year 1828 in Paris, whence, after a short -stay, he paid a visit to England. In June he returned to France by the -way of Holland and Belgium. The narrative embraced in vol. i commences -at Paris after his return from England, and terminates at Milan. The -remainder of the year 1828, and the years 1829, 1830, and 1831, with -part of 1832, were passed between Italy, Germany, France and Belgium. -Volume ii recommences at Paris, and a great portion of it is occupied -with matters relating to other countries than that which gives a title -to the book.</p> - -<p>We either see, or fancy we see, in these volumes, and more -particularly in the Preface affixed to them, a degree of splenetic ill -humor with both himself and his countrymen, quite different from the -usual manner of the novelist, and evincing something akin to -resentment for real or imaginary ill usage. He frankly tells us among -other things, that had the whole of his intended publication seen the -light, it is probable their writer would not have escaped some -imputations on his patriotism—for in making the comparisons that -naturally arose from his subject, he has spoken in favor of American -principles much oftener than in favor of American things. He then -proceeds with a sneer at a "numerous class of native critics," and -expresses a hope that he may be permitted at least to assert, that "a -mountain fifteen thousand feet high is more lofty than one of fifteen -hundred, and that Mont Blanc is a more sublime object than Butter -Hill." We quote a specimen of the general tone of this Preface.</p> - -<blockquote><small>The writer does not expect much favor for the political opinions that -occasionally appear in these letters. He has the misfortune to belong -to neither of the two great parties that divide the country, and -which, though so bitterly hostile and distrustful of each other, will -admit of no neutrality. It is a menacing symptom that there is a -disposition to seek for a base motive, whenever a citizen may not -choose to plunge into the extremes that characterize the movements of -political factions. This besetting vice is accompanied by another -feeling, that is so singularly opposed to that which every body is -ready to affirm is the governing principle of the institutions, that -it may do no harm slightly to advert to it. Any one who may choose to -set up a semi-official organ of public opinion, called a newspaper, -however illiterate, base, flagrantly corrupt, and absolutely destitute -of the confidence and respect of every man in the community, may daily -pour out upon the public his falsehoods, his contradictions, his -ignorance, and his corruption, treating the national interests as -familiarly as "household terms," and all because he is acting in an -admitted vocation; the public servant, commissioned to execute the -public will, may even turn upon his masters, and tell them not only in -what light they are to view him and his conduct, but in what light -they are also to view the conduct of his associates in trust; in -short, tell them how to make up their judgments on himself and others; -and all because he is a public servant, and the public is his master: -but the private citizen, who merely forms a part of that public, is -denounced for his presumption, should he dare to speak of matters of -general concernment, except under such high sanction, or as the organ -of party.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It may be well to say at once, that this peculiar feeling has not been -permitted to influence the tone of these letters, which have been -written, in all respects, as if the republic did not contain one of -those privileged persons, honored as "patriots" and "godlikes," but as -if both classes were as actually unknown to the country as they are -certainly unknown to the spirit and letter of its institutions.</small></blockquote> - -<p>The spirit of these observations seems to be carried out (we cannot -say with what degree of justice,) in many other portions of the book. -On page 71, vol. i, we observe what follows.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Among other books, I have laid my hands, by accident, on the work of a -recent French traveller in the United States. We read little other -than English books at home, and are much given to declaiming against -English travellers for their unfairness; but, judging from this -specimen of Gallic opinion, our ancient allies rate us quite as low as -our quondam fellow subjects. A perusal of the work in question has led -me to inquire further into the matter, and I am now studying one or -two German writers on the same interesting subject. I must say that -thus far, I find little to feed national vanity, and I begin to fear -(what I have suspected ever since the first six months in Europe) that -we are under an awkward delusion respecting the manner in which the -rest of Christendom regards that civilization touching which we are so -sensitive. It is some time since I have made the discovery, that 'the -name of an American is not a passport all over Europe,' but on the -other hand, that where it conveys any very distinct notions at all, it -usually conveys such as are any thing but flattering or agreeable.... -I shall pursue the <i>trail</i> on which I have fallen, and you will -probably hear more of this, before these letters are brought to a -close.</small></blockquote> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page402"><small><small>[p. 402]</small></small></a></span> -<p>At page 113 of the same volume we have something of the same -nature, and which we confess astonished us in no little degree.</p> - -<blockquote><small>We have just had a visit from two old acquaintances—Manhattanese. -They tell me a good many of our people are wandering among the -mountains, though they are the first we have seen. There is a list of -arrivals published daily in Berne; and in one of them I found the name -of Captain C——, of the Navy; and that of Mr. O., an old and intimate -friend, whom it was vexatious to miss in a strange land. Mr. and Mrs. -G——, of New York, are also somewhere in the cantons. Our numbers -increase, and with them our abuse; for it is not an uncommon thing to -see, written in English in the travellers' books kept by law at all -the inns, pasquinades on America, opposite the American names. What a -state of feeling it betrays, when a traveller cannot write his name, -in compliance with a law of the country in which he happens to be, -without calling down upon himself anathemas of this kind! I have a -register of twenty-three of these gratuitous injuries. What renders -them less excusable, is the fact, that they who are guilty of the -impropriety would probably think twice before they performed the act -in the presence of the party wronged. These intended insults are, -consequently, so many registers of their own meanness. Let the truth -be said; I have never seen one, unless in the case of an American, or -one that was not written in English! Straws show which way the wind -blows. This disposition, in our kinsmen, to deride and abuse America, -is observed and freely commented on by the people of the continent, -who are far from holding us themselves in the highest respect.</small></blockquote> - -<p>And again, on page 327, vol. ii.</p> - -<blockquote><small>I have made this comparison as the last means I know of to arouse you -from your American complacency on the subject of the adjectives -<i>grand</i>, <i>majestic</i>, <i>elegant</i> and <i>splendid</i>, in connection with our -architecture. The latter word, in particular, is coming to be used -like a household term; while there is not, probably, a single work of -art, from Georgia to Maine, to which it can with propriety be applied. -I do not know a single edifice in the Union that can be considered -more than third rate by its size and ornaments, nor more than one or -two that ought to be ranked even so high. When it comes to capitals, -and the use of the adjectives I have just quoted, it may be well to -remember, that there is no city in the Republic that has not decidedly -the air and the habits of a provincial town, and this too, usually -without possessing the works of art that are quite commonly found in -this hemisphere, even in places of that rank, or a single public -building to which the term <i>magnificent</i> can with any fitness be -adjudged.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We can only say, that if the suppressed portions of Mr. Cooper's -intended publication embraced any thing more likely than these -assertions and opinions to prove unacceptable to American readers at -large, it is perhaps better, both for his own reputation, and for the -interest of his publishers, that he finally decided upon the -suppression. Yet Mr. Cooper may be right, and not having the fear of -punishment sufficiently before our eyes, we, for ourselves, frankly -confess that we believe him to be right. The passages which remain of -a similar nature to those we have quoted, will only serve we hope, to -give additional piquancy to these admirable Sketches. As a work -affording extensive and valuable information on the subject of -Switzerland, we have seen nothing in any shape, at all equal to the -volumes before us.</p> - -<p>The extract we now subjoin, will prove beyond doubt, that the fine -descriptive powers of the author of the Prairie, are in as full vigor -as ever.</p> - -<blockquote><small>It is at all times a very difficult thing to convey vivid and, at the -same time, accurate impressions of grand scenery by the use of words. -When the person to whom the communication is made has seen objects -that have a general similarity to those described, the task certainly -becomes less difficult, for he who speaks or writes may illustrate his -meaning by familiar comparisons; but who in America, that has never -left America, can have a just idea of the scenery of this region? A -Swiss would readily comprehend a description of vast masses of granite -capped with eternal snow, for such objects are constantly before his -eyes; but to those who have never looked upon such a magnificent -spectacle, written accounts, when they come near their climax, fall as -much short of the intention, as words are less substantial than -things. With a full consciousness of this deficiency in my craft, I -shall attempt to give you some notion of the two grandest aspects that -the Alps, when seen from this place, assume; for it seems a species of -poetical treason to write of Switzerland and be silent on what are -certainly two of its most decided sublimities.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>One of these appearances is often alluded to, but I do not remember to -have ever heard the other mentioned. The first is produced by the -setting sun, whose rays of a cloudless evening, are the parents of -hues and changes of a singularly lovely character. For many minutes -the lustre of the glacier slowly retires, and is gradually succeeded -by a tint of rose color, which, falling on so luminous a body, -produces a sort of "roseate light;" the whole of the vast range -becoming mellowed and subdued to indescribable softness. This -appearance gradually increases in intensity, varying on different -evenings, however, according to the state of the atmosphere. At the -very moment, perhaps, when the eye is resting most eagerly on this -extraordinary view, the light vanishes. No scenic change is more -sudden than that which follows. All the forms remain unaltered, but so -varied in hue, as to look like the ghosts of mountains. You see the -same vast range of eternal snow, but you see it ghastly and spectral. -You fancy that the spirits of the Alps are ranging themselves before -you. Watching the peaks for a few minutes longer, the light slowly -departs. The spectres, like the magnified images of the -phantasmagoria, grow more and more faint, less and less material, -until swallowed in the firmament. What renders all this more -thrillingly exquisite is, the circumstance that these changes do not -occur until after evening has fallen on the lower world, giving to the -whole the air of nature sporting in the upper regions, with some of -her spare and detached materials.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>This sight is far from uncommon. It is seen during the summer, at -least, in greater or less perfection, as often as twice or thrice a -week. The other is much less frequent; for, though a constant -spectator when the atmosphere was favorable, it was never my fortune -to witness it but twice; and even on these occasions, only one of them -is entitled to come within the description I am about to attempt.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It is necessary to tell you that the Aar flows toward Berne in a -north-west direction, through a valley of some width, and several -leagues in length. To this fact the Bernese are indebted for their -view of the Oberland Alps, which stretch themselves exactly across the -mouth of the gorge, at the distance of forty miles in an air line. -These giants are supported by a row of outposts, any one of which, of -itself, would be a spectacle in another country. One in particular, is -distinguished by its form, which is that of a cone. It is nearly in a -line with the Jung Frau,<small><sup>4</sup></small> the virgin queen of the Oberland. This -mountain is called the Niesen. It stands some eight or ten miles in -advance of the mighty range, though to the eye, at Berne, all these -accessories appear to be tumbled without order at the very feet of -their principals. The height of the Niesen is given by Ebel at 5584 -French, or nearly 6000 English feet, above the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page403"><small>[p. 403]</small></a></span> lake of Thun, on -whose margin it stands; and at 7340 French, or nearly 8000 English -feet above the sea. In short, it is rather higher than the highest -peak of our own White Mountains. The Jung Frau rises directly behind -this mass, rather more than a mile nearer to heaven.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>4</sup></small> Jung Frau, or the virgin; (pronounced Yoong Frow.) The -mountain is thus called, because it has never been scaled.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The day, on the occasion to which I allude, was clouded, and as a -great deal of mist was clinging to all the smaller mountains, the -lower atmosphere was much charged with vapor. The cap of the Niesen -was quite hid, and a wide streak of watery clouds lay along the whole -of the summits of the nearer range, leaving, however, their brown -sides misty but visible. In short the Niesen and its immediate -neighbors looked like any other range of noble mountains, whose heads -were hid in the clouds. I think the vapor must have caused a good deal -of refraction, for above these clouds rose the whole of the Oberland -Alps to an altitude which certainly seemed even greater than usual. -Every peak and all the majestic formation was perfectly visible, -though the whole range appeared to be severed from the earth, and to -float in air. The line of communication was veiled, and while all -below was watery, or enfeebled by mist, the glaciers threw back the -fierce light of the sun with powerful splendor. The separation from -the lower world was made the more complete, from the contrast between -the sombre hues beneath and the calm but bright magnificence above. -One had some difficulty in imagining that the two could be parts of -the same orb. The effect of the whole was to create a picture of which -I can give no other idea, than by saying it resembled a glimpse, -through the windows of heaven, at such a gorgeous but chastened -grandeur, as the imagination might conceive to suit the place. There -were moments when the spectral aspect just mentioned, dimmed the -lustre of the snows, without injuring their forms, and no language can -do justice to the sublimity of the effect. It was impossible to look -at them without religious awe; and, irreverent though it may seem, I -could hardly persuade myself I was not gazing at some of the sublime -mysteries that lie beyond the grave.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>A fortnight passed in contemplating such spectacles at the distance of -sixteen leagues, has increased the desire to penetrate nearer to the -wonders; and it has been determined that as many of our party who are -of an age to enjoy the excursion, shall quit this place in a day or -two for the Oberland.</small></blockquote> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect34"></a> -<br> -<center>MELLEN'S POEMS.<small><small><sup>5</sup></small></small></center> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>5</sup></small> We have received this notice of Mellen's Poems from a -personal friend, in whose judgment we have implicit reliance—of -course we cannot deviate from our rules by adopting the criticism as -Editorial.</small></blockquote> - -<p><i>The Martyr's Triumph; Buried Valley; and other Poems. By Grenville -Mellen. Boston, 300 pp.</i></p> - -<p>We took up this book with the conviction that we should be pleased -with its contents, and our highly wrought expectations have not in any -degree been disappointed. It is as high praise as we are able to -bestow upon it, that we have read most of its contents with the very -associations around us, which are required for the perfect production -of the impressions intended to be produced by the poet—and that we -have, in each and all, still found those impressions strengthening and -deepening upon our minds, as we perused the pages before us. "The -Buried Valley," in which is portrayed the well remembered tragedy of -the avalanche, which, in 1826, buried a peaceful cottage situated at -the foot of the White Mountains, with all its inhabitants, at -midnight, is not perhaps the best, though a most deeply interesting -part of the volume. It is too unequal in its style, and at times too -highly wrought, perhaps, as a picture. But the idea which it gives the -reader of the wild and magnificent spot upon which this terrible -catastrophe occurred is perfect, and the description of the -circumstances and incidents of the scene most faithful.</p> - -<p>The Scenery of the White Mountains of New Hampshire forms the -inspiration of another poem also in this collection, which we boldly -place beside any emanation from the most gifted of our poets. We -allude to "Lines on an Eagle," on pp. 130 and 131. We must be chary of -our space, and can therefore give but a single stanza, in -corroboration of our opinion.</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem26"> - <tr><td>Sail on, thou lone imperial bird,<br> - Of quenchless eye and tireless wing;<br> - How is thy distant coming heard,<br> - As the night-breezes round thee ring!<br> - Thy course was 'gainst the burning sun,<br> - In his extremest glory—how!<br> - Is thy unequall'd daring done,<br> - Thou stoop'st to earth so lowly now!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>The "Martyr's Triumph" is a most splendid poem, and deserves all the -praise it has received from reader and critic. What can be more -beautiful than the exordium?</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem27"> - <tr><td> Voice of the viewless spirit! that hast rung<br> - Through the still chambers of the human heart,<br> - Since our first parents in sweet Eden sung<br> - Their low lament in tears—thou voice, that art<br> - Around us and above us, sounding on<br> - With a perpetual echo, 'tis on thee,<br> - The ministry sublime to wake and warn!—<br> - Full of that high and wondrous Deity,<br> - That call'd existence out from Chaos' lonely sea!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>And what more purely inspired than the following?</p> - -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem28"> - <tr><td>Thou wast from God when the green earth was young,<br> - And man enchanted rov'd amid its flowers,<br> - When faultless woman to his bosom clung,<br> - Or led him through her paradise of bowers;<br> - Where love's low whispers from the Garden rose,<br> - And both amid its bloom and beauty bent,<br> - In the long luxury of their first repose!<br> - When the whole earth was incense, and there went<br> - Perpetual praise from altars to the firmament.</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>And these are but single "bricks from Babel." Specimens, only, of the -beauty and grace with which the poem abounds.</p> - -<p>Were we looking for faults, doubtless we should be able to find them, -for who is faultless? But that is not our aim. Yet would we suggest to -the author that the use of the word <i>dulce</i> in stanza six, is somewhat -forced,—and though a sweet word in itself, is yet "like sweet bells -jangled, harsh, and out of tune," on account of its rarity, which -induces the reader to note its strangeness rather than to admire its -application. The whole book abounds with proofs of <i>Mellen's</i> fine -musical ear, and therefore does it seem to us a fault that he should -have suffered the compositor to do him the injustice of printing such -a line as this.</p> - -<center>"Before ill-starr'd Dunsinane's waving wood!"</center> - -<p>But it is for the minor, or shorter pieces which the volume contains, -that it is most highly to be valued. <i>Mellen</i> is delightful in his -"occasional poems." Take the following, addressed to one of the -sweetest singers, whose strains, like angel-harmonies from heaven, -ever floated upon the rapt ear of the poet, as a proof.</p> - -<center>TO HELEN.</center> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem29"> - <tr><td>Music came down from Heaven to thee,<br> - A spirit of repose—<br> - A fine, mysterious melody,<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page404"><small><small>[p. 404]</small></small></a></span> - That ceaseless round thee flows;<br> - Should Joy's fast waves dash o'er thy soul,<br> - In free and reckless throng,<br> - What Music answers from the whole,<br> - In thy resistless song!<br> -<br> - Oh! Music came a boon to thee,<br> - From yon harmonious spheres;<br> - An influence from eternity,<br> - To charm us from our tears!<br> - Should Grief's dim phantoms then conspire<br> - To tread thy heart along,<br> - Thou shalt but seize thy wavy lyre,<br> - And whelm them all in song!<br> -<br> - Yes, thine's a blest inheritance,<br> - Since to thy lips 'tis given,<br> - To lure from its long sorrows hence<br> - The spirit pall'd and riven!<br> - Go, unto none on earth but thee<br> - Such angel tones belong;<br> - For thou wert born of melody,<br> - Thy soul was bath'd in song!</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>There are many such, as, for instance, "To Sub Rosa," "Death of -Julia," "The Eagle," "The Bugle," "<i>To Gabriella R——, of Richmond</i>," -&c. &c.</p> - -<p>Mellen is distinguished for his lyric powers. His Odes are all very -fine. That "To Music," in the volume before us, is deserving of -particular mention, as indeed are those "To Shakspeare," "To Byron," -"To Lafayette," and others, written on several public occasions.</p> - -<p>The volume has but one general fault, and that is, its deficiency in -the lighter and gayer strain, in which we have private proofs that -Mellen certainly excels. It were to be regretted that the poet did not -throw into his collection some touches of that delicate and graceful -humor, which none can more happily hit off than himself. The general -tone of the volume is grave, if not indeed severe—though relieved by -many exquisite verses like those already alluded to, and of which the -following may serve as another specimen.</p> - -<center>TO SUB ROSA.</center> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem30"> - <tr><td>Lady, if while that chord of thine,<br> - So beautifully strung<br> - To music that seem'd just divine,<br> - Still sweetly round me rung,<br> - I should essay a higher song<br> - Than humblest minstrel may,<br> - Shame o'er my lyre would breathe the wrong,<br> - And lure my hand away.<br> -<br> - Forgive me then if I forbear,<br> - Where thou hast done so well,<br> - Nor o'er my harp strings idly dare<br> - What I should feebly tell.<br> - 'Tis woman that alone can breathe<br> - These holier fancies free—<br> - Ah, then, be thine the fadeless wreath<br> - I proudly yield to thee.</td></tr> -</table> - -<div align="right"><small>O.</small> </div> -<br> -<p>We may add to the critique of our friend O. that in looking over -cursorily the poems of Mellen, we have been especially taken with the -following spirited lyric.</p> - -<center>STANZAS,<br> -<br> -<small><i>Sung at Plymouth, on the Anniversary of the landing of our Fathers, -22d Dec. 1820.</i></small></center> -<br> -<table align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="poem31"> - <tr><td>Wake your harp's music!—louder—higher,<br> - And pour your strains along,<br> - And smite again each quiv'ring wire,<br> - In all the pride of Song!<br> - Shout like those godlike men of old,<br> - Who daring storm and foe,<br> - On this bless'd soil their anthem roll'd,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - From native shores by tempests driven,<br> - They sought a purer sky,<br> - And found beneath a wilder heaven,<br> - The home of liberty!<br> - An altar rose—and prayers—a ray<br> - Broke on their night of wo—<br> - The harbinger of Freedom's day,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - They clung around that symbol too,<br> - Their refuge and their all;<br> - And swore while skies and waves were blue,<br> - That altar should not fall.<br> - They stood upon the red man's sod,<br> - 'Neath heaven's unpillar'd bow,<br> - With home—a country—and a God,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - Oh! 'twas a hard unyielding fate<br> - That drove them to the seas,<br> - And Persecution strove with Hate,<br> - To darken her decrees:<br> - But safe above each coral grave,<br> - Each booming ship did go—<br> - A God was on the western wave,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - They knelt them on the desert sand,<br> - By waters cold and rude,<br> - Alone upon the dreary strand<br> - Of Ocean'd solitude!<br> - They look'd upon the high blue air,<br> - And felt their spirits glow,<br> - Resolved to live or perish there,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - The Warrior's red right arm was bar'd,<br> - His eye flash'd deep and wild;<br> - Was there a foreign footstep dar'd<br> - To seek his home and child?<br> - The dark chiefs yell'd alarm—and swore<br> - The white man's blood should flow,<br> - And his hewn bones should bleach their shore,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - But lo! the warrior's eye grew dim,<br> - His arm was left alone;<br> - The still black wilds which shelter'd him,<br> - No longer were his own!<br> - Time fled—and on this hallow'd ground<br> - His highest pine lies low,<br> - And cities swell where forests frown'd,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - Oh! stay not to recount the tale,<br> - Twas bloody—and 'tis past;<br> - The firmest cheek might well grow pale,<br> - To hear it to the last.<br> - The God of Heaven, who prospers us,<br> - Could bid a nation grow,<br> - And shield us from the red man's curse,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - Come then great shades of glorious men,<br> - From your still glorious grave;<br> - Look on your own proud land again,<br> - Oh! bravest of the brave!<br> - We call ye from each mould'ring tomb,<br> - And each blue wave below,<br> - To bless the world ye snatch'd from doom,<br> - <i>Two hundred years ago!</i><br> -<br> - Then to your harps—yet louder—higher—<br> - And pour your strains along,<br> - And smite again each quiv'ring wire,<br> - In all the pride of song!<br> - Shout <i>for</i> those godlike men of old,<br> - Who daring storm and foe,<br> - On this bless'd soil their anthem roll'd,<br> - TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!</td></tr> -</table> - -<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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