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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..62fcb14 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69867 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69867) diff --git a/old/69867-0.txt b/old/69867-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c31f77e..0000000 --- a/old/69867-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8349 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. -II., No. 8, July, 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. 8, July, 1836 - -Author: Various - -Editor: Edgar Allan Poe - -Release Date: January 27, 2023 [eBook #69867] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Ron Swanson - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SOUTHERN LITERARY -MESSENGER, VOL. II., NO. 8, JULY, 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. - - -{461} - - -SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. - -VOL. II. RICHMOND, JULY, 1836. NO. VIII. - -T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM. - - - - -MSS. OF JOHN RANDOLPH. - -[We have obtained, after much difficulty, from a personal friend of -the late JOHN RANDOLPH of Roanoke, the MSS. of the annexed _Letters_, -and are permitted to publish them in the Messenger. We know our -readers will receive them with interest. They throw much novel light -on the character of a man whose genius, however great, has been mostly -an enigma, and show his views on the most interesting of subjects in -the maturity of his life and in the zenith of his reputation.] - - -LETTER I. - -As well as very bad implements and worse eyes will permit me to do it -by candlelight, I will endeavor to make some return to your kind -letter, which I received, not by Quashee, but the mail. I also got a -short note by him, for which I thank you. - - * * * * * - * * * * * - * * * * * - -And now, my dear friend, one word in your ear—in the porches of thine -ear. With Archimedes I may cry Ἑυρηκα. Why, what have you found—the -philosopher's stone? No—something better than that. Gyges' ring? No. A -substitute for bank paper? No. The elixir vitæ then? It is; but it is -the elixir of eternal life. It is that peace of God which passeth all -understanding, and which is no more to be conceived of by the natural -heart, than poor St. George[1] can be made to feel and taste the -difference between the Italian and German music. It is a miracle, of -which the person upon whom it is wrought alone is conscious—as he is -conscious of any other feeling—e.g. whether the friendship he -professes for A or B be a real sentiment of his heart, or simulated to -serve a turn. - -[Footnote 1: His nephew, who is deaf and dumb.] - -God, my dear friend, hath visited me in my desolation; in the hours of -darkness, of sickness, and of sorrow: of that worst of all sickness, -sickness of the heart, for which neither wealth nor power can find or -afford a cure. May you, my dear friend, find it, where alone it is to -be found! in the sacred volume—in the word of God, whose power -surpasseth all that human imagination (unassisted by his grace) can -conceive. I am now, for the first time in my life, supplied with a -motive of action that never can mislead me—the love of God and my -neighbor—because I love God. All other motives I feel, by my own sad -experience, in my own person, as well as in that of numerous -“_friends_,” (so called) to be utterly worthless. God hath at last -given me courage to confess him before men. Once I hated -mankind—bitterly hated them—but loved (like that wretched man Swift) -“John or Thomas.” Now, my regard for individuals is not lessened, but -my love for the race exalted almost to a level with that of my -_friends_—I am obliged to use the word. I pretend to no sudden -conversion, or new or great lights. I have stubbornly held out, for -more than a Trojan siege, against the goodness and mercy of my -Creator. Yes—Troy town did not so long and so obstinately resist the -confederated Greeks. But what is the wrath of the swift-footed -Achilles to the wrath of God? and what his speed to the vengeance of -Heaven? and what are these even, to the love of Jesus Christ, thou son -of David? I had often asked, but it was not with sufficient humility; -or, perhaps, like the Canaanitish woman, God saw fit to try me. I -sought, but not with sufficient diligence—at last, deserted in my -utmost need, (not indeed like Darius, great and good—for I could -_command_ service, such as we too often pay to God—lip service and eye -service,) desolate and abandoned by all that had given me reason to -think they had any respect and affection for me, I knocked with all my -might. I asked for the crumbs that otherwise might be swept out to the -dogs, and it was opened to me, the full and abundant treasury of his -grace. When this happened I cannot tell. It has broken upon me like -the dawn I see every morning, insensibly changing darkness into light. -My slavish fears of punishment, which I always knew to be sinful, but -would not put off, are converted into an humble hope of a seat, even -if it be the lowest, in the courts of God. Yes, at last I am happy—as -happy as man can be. Should it please God to continue his favor to me, -you will see it—not only on my lips, but in my life. Should he -withdraw it, as assuredly he will, unless with his assistance I humbly -endeavor by prayer and self-denial, and _doing_ of his word as well as -hearing it, to obtain its continuance, _mine_ will only be the deeper -damnation. Of this danger I am sensible, but not afraid. I mean -slavishly afraid. He that hath not quenched the smoking flax, who has -snatched me as a brand from the burning, will not, I humbly yet firmly -trust, cast me back into the furnace. I now know the meaning of words -that before I repeated, but did not comprehend. I am no Burley of -Balfour, but I have been, as I thought, on the very verge and brink of -his disease; but I prayed to God to save me, and not to suffer me to -fall a prey to the arts and wiles of Satan, at the very moment I was -seeking his reconcilement. - -I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak the words of truth and -soberness. I have thrown myself, reeking with sin, on the mercy of -God, through Jesus Christ his blessed Son and our (yes, my friend, -_our_) precious Redeemer; and I have assurance as strong as that I now -owe nothing to your Bank, that the debt is paid—and now I love God, -and with reason. I once hated him, and with reason too, for I knew not -Christ. The only cause why I should love God is his goodness and mercy -to me _through Christ_. But for this, the lion and the sea-serpent -would not be more appalling to my imagination, than a being of -tremendous and indefinite power, who made me what I am—who wanted -either the will or the ability to prevent the existence of evil, and -punishes what is inevitable. This is not a God, but a Devil, and all -unbelievers in God tremble and believe in this Devil that they -worship—such worship {462} as it is, in his place. I have been looking -over some of my marginal pencilled notes on Gibbon, and rubbing them -out. I had thought to burn the book, but the Quarterly Review and -Professor Porson have furnished the antidote to his poison, whether in -the shape of infidelity or obscenity. See Review of Gibbon's -posthumous works. - - Chains are the portion of revolted man, - Stripes and a dungeon: and his body serves - The triple purpose. In that sickly, foul, - Opprobrious residence he finds them all. - _Cowper's Task_. - -God hath called me to come out from among them—worshippers of Mammon -or of “Moloch-homicide,” or “Chemos, the obscene dread of Moab's son,” -“Peor his other name:” - - “Lust hard by Hate,” - -and I will come, so help me God! - -Is it madness to prefer your new house in fee simple, to a clay -cottage, of which I am tenant at will, and may be turned out at a -moment's warning, and even without it, and out of which _I know_ I -must be turned in a few years certainly? - -It is now midnight. May God watch over our sleep—over our helpless, -naked condition, and protect us as well from the insect that carries -death in his sting, as from the more feared but not so obvious dangers -with which life is beset; and if he should come this night (as come he -will) like a thief, may we be ready to stand in his presence and plead -not our merits, but his stripes, by whom we are made whole. - -J. R. of R. - -P. S. I was not aware of the length to which my sermon would extend. -Let me entreat you again to read Milton and Cowper. They prepared me -for the “Sampson” (as Rush would say) among the medicines for the -soul. - -_Roanoke, August 25, 1818_. - - -LETTER II. - -MY GOOD FRIEND—I am sorry that Quashee should intrude upon you -unreasonably. The old man, I suppose, knows the pleasure I take in -your letters, and therefore feels anxious to procure his master the -gratification. I cannot, however, express sorrow, for I do not feel -it, at the impression which you tell me my last letter made upon you. -May it lead to the same happy consequences that I have experienced, -which I now feel in that sunshine of the heart, which the peace of -God, that passeth all understanding, alone can bestow. - -Your imputing such sentiments to a heated imagination, does not -surprise me, who have been bred in the school of Hobbes, and Bayle, -and Shaftesbury, and Bolingbroke, and Hume, and Voltaire, and Gibbon; -who have cultivated the sceptical philosophy from my vain-glorious -boyhood—I might almost say childhood; and who have felt all that -unutterable disgust which hypocrisy, and cant, and fanaticism, never -fail to excite in men of education and refinement, superadded to our -natural repugnance to Christianity. I am not, even now, insensible to -this impression; but as the excesses of her friends (real or -pretended) can never alienate the votary of liberty from a free form -of government, and enlist him under the banners of despotism, so -neither can the cant of fanaticism, or hypocrisy, or of both—for so -far from being incompatible, they are generally found united in the -same character, (may God in his mercy preserve and defend us from -both!) disgust the pious with true religion. - -Mine has been no sudden change of opinion. I can refer to a record -showing, on my part, a desire of more than nine years standing to -partake of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper; although, for two and -twenty years preceding, my feet had never crossed the threshold of the -house of prayer. This desire I was restrained from indulging, by the -fear of eating and drinking unrighteously; and although that fear hath -been cast out by perfect love, I have never yet gone to the -altar—neither have I been present at the performance of divine -service, unless indeed I may so call my reading the Liturgy of our -Church and some chapters of the Bible to my poor negroes on Sundays. -Such passages as I think require it, and which I feel competent to -explain, I comment upon, enforcing as far as possible, and dwelling -upon those texts especially that enjoin the indispensable -accompaniment of a good life as the touchstone of the true faith. The -sermon from the mount, and the Evangelists generally—the Epistle of -Paul to the Ephesians, chap. vi,—the general Epistle of James, and the -first Epistle of John—these are my chief texts. - -The consummation of my _conversion_—I use the word in its strictest -sense—is owing to a variety of causes, but chiefly to the conviction, -unwillingly forced upon me, that the very few friends which an -unprosperous life (the fruit of an ungovernable temper) had left me, -were daily losing their hold upon me in a firmer grasp of ambition, -avarice, or sensuality. I am not sure that to complete the -anti-climax, avarice should not have been last; for although, in some -of its effects, debauchery be more disgusting than avarice, yet as it -regards the unhappy victim, this last is more to be dreaded. -Dissipation, as well as power or prosperity, hardens the heart, but -avarice deadens it to every feeling but the thirst for riches. Avarice -alone could have produced the slave trade. Avarice alone can drive, as -it does drive, this infernal traffic, and the wretched victims of it, -like so many post-horses whipped to death in a mail-coach. Ambition -has its cover-sluts, in the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious -war; but where are the trophies of avarice? The handcuff, the manacle, -and the blood-stained cowhide! What man is worse received in society -for being a hard master? Who denies the hand of a sister or daughter -to such monsters?—nay, they have even appeared in “the abused shape of -the vilest of women.” I say nothing of India, or Amboyna—of Cortes, or -Pizarro. - -When I was last in your town I was inexpressibly shocked, (and perhaps -I am partly indebted to the circumstance for accelerating my -emancipation,) to hear, on the threshold of the temple of the least -erect of all the spirits that fell from heaven, these words spoken: - -“I don't want the Holy Ghost (I shudder while I write,) or any other -spirit in me. If these doctrines are true, [St. Paul's] there was no -need for Wesley and Whitfield to have separated from the church. The -Methodists are right, and the Church wrong. I want to see the old -church,” &c. &c.—that is, such as this diocese was under Bishop -_Terrick_, when wine-bibbing {463} and buck-parsons were sent out to -preach “a dry clatter of morality,” and not the word of God, for -sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco. When I speak of _morality_, it is -not as condemning it. Religion includes it, but much more. Day is now -breaking, and I shall extinguish my candles, which are better than no -light—or if I do not, in the presence of the powerful king of day they -will be noticed only by the dirt and ill-savor that betray all human -contrivances—the taint of humanity. Morality is to the Gospel not even -as a farthing rush-light to the blessed sun. - -By the way, this term Methodist in religion is of vast compass and -effect—like _Tory_ in politics—or _Aristocrate_ in Paris, “with the -lamp-post for its second,” some five or six and twenty years ago. _Dr. -Hoge?_—“a Methodist parson.” _Frank Key?_—“a fanatic,” (I heard him -called so not ten days ago,) “a Methodistical whining,” &c. &c. -_Wilberforce?_—“a Methodist.” _Mrs. Hannah More?_—“ditto.” It ought -never to be forgotten, that real converts to Christianity on opposite -sides of the globe, agree at the same moment to the same facts. Thus -Dr. Hoge and Mr. Key, although strangers, understand perfectly what -each other feels and believes. - -If I were to show a MS. in some unknown tongue to half a dozen -persons, strangers to each other, and natives of different countries, -and they should all give me the same translation, could I doubt their -acquaintance with the strange language? On the contrary, can I, who am -but a smatterer in Greek, believe an impostor, who pretends to a -knowledge of that tongue, and who yet cannot tell the meaning of -τυπτο? - -I now read with relish and understand St. Paul's Epistles, which not -long since I could not comprehend, even with the help of Mr. Locke's -Paraphrase. Taking up, a few days ago, at an “Ordinary,” the Life of -John Bunyan, which I had never before read, I find an exact -coincidence in our feelings on this head, as well as others. - -Very early in life I imbibed an absurd prejudice in favor of -Mahomedanism and its votaries. The Crescent had a talismanic effect on -my imagination, and I rejoiced in all its triumphs over the Cross, -(which I despised,) as I mourned over its defeats; and Mahomet the 2d -himself did not more exult than I did when the Crescent was planted on -the dome of St. Sophia, and the Cathedral of the Constantines was -converted into a Turkish Mosque. To this very day I feel the effects -of Peter Randolph's Zanga on a temper naturally impatient of injury, -but insatiably vindictive under insult. - -On the night that I wrote last to you, I scribbled a pack of nonsense -to Rootes, which serves only to show the lightness of my heart. About -the same time, in reply to a question from a friend, I made the -following remarks, which, as I was weak from long vigilance, I -requested him to write down, that I might, when at leisure, copy it -into my diary. From it you will gather pretty accurately the state of -my mind. - -“It is my business to avoid giving offence to the world, especially in -all matters merely indifferent. I shall therefore stick to my old -uniform, blue and buff, unless God see fit to change it for black. I -must be as attentive to my dress and to household affairs, as far as -cleanliness and comfort are concerned, as ever—and indeed more so. Let -us take care to drive none away from God, by dressing Religion in the -garb of Fanaticism. Let us exhibit her as she is, equally removed from -superstition and lukewarmness. But we must take care, that while we -avoid one extreme, we fall not into the other—no matter which. I was -born and baptized in the Church of England. If I attend the Convention -at Charlottesville, which I rather doubt, I shall oppose myself then, -and always, to every attempt at encroachment on the part of the -Church—the Clergy especially—on the rights of conscience. I attribute, -in a very great degree, my long estrangement from God, to my -abhorrence of Prelatical pride and Puritanical preciseness; to -Ecclesiastical tyranny, whether Roman Catholic or Protestant—whether -of Harry V, or Harry VIII—of Mary or Elizabeth—of John Knox, or -Archbishop Laud—of the Cameronians of Scotland, the Jacobins of -France, or the Protestants of Ireland. Should I fail to attend, it -will arise from a repugnance to submit the religion, (or church) any -more than the liberty of my country, to foreign influence. When I -speak of my country, I mean the Commonwealth of Virginia. I was born -in allegiance to George III—the Bishop of London (_Terrick!_) was my -diocesan. My ancestors threw off the oppressive yoke of the mother -country, but they never made me subject to _New_ England in matters -spiritual or temporal—neither do I mean to become so, voluntarily.” - -I have been up long before day, and write with pain from a sense of -duty to you and Mrs. B., in whose welfare I take the most earnest -concern. You have my prayers. Give me yours, I pray you. Adieu! - -J. R. of R. - -P. S. You make no mention of Leigh. I was on the top of the pinnacle -of Otter this day fortnight—a little above the Earth, but how far -beneath Heaven! - -_Roanoke, Sept. 25, 1818_. - - -LETTER III. - -Your obliging promptitude deserved my speedier thanks, but you will -excuse me I am sure, my dear sir, when you learn that I have been for -several days confined to my chamber by something very like _angina -pectoris_. It is the most distressing sensation I ever felt, although -not the most painful. It is during a remission of its attack that I -take up my pen to put some of my nothings upon paper. - -Yesterday was a sore day (as I hear) for the War Department. The -official statements from that bureau were exposed in a most mortifying -manner, and on the question in committee of the whole to strike out -the first section of the obnoxious bill [i.e. to reject it] the court -mustered but five or seven affirmatives—and this after the combined -exertions of several of the leading members, as they are called, in -favor of the motion. - -My question to Mrs. B. related to a book that I had lately read with -some amusement—Melincourt. It is not new, but I had not happened to -meet with it before. I have been trying to read Southey's Life of -Wesley for some days. Upon the whole, I find it a heavy work, although -there are some very striking passages, and it abounds in curious -information. From 279 to 285, inclusive, of the second volume is very -fine. Yesterday I was to have dined with Frank Key, but was not well -enough to go. He called here the day before, and we {464} had much -talk together. He perseveres in pressing on towards the goal, and his -whole life is spent in endeavors to do good for his unhappy fellow -men. The result is, that he enjoys a tranquillity of mind, a sunshine -of the soul, that all the Alexanders of the earth can neither confer -nor take away. This is a state to which I can never attain. I have -made up my mind to suffer like a man condemned to the wheel or the -stake—and, strange as you may think it, I could submit without a -murmur to pass the rest of my life “in some high, lonely tower, where -I might outwatch the Bear with thrice great Hermes;” and exchange the -enjoyments of society for an exemption from the plagues of life. These -press me down to the very earth, and to rid myself of them I would -gladly purchase an annuity and crawl into some hole, where I might -commune with myself and be still. - - * * * * * - -I am glad that the pretty Mrs. F——h is so comfortably established at -Mrs. Kemp's. Do I understand you correctly that the C——'s, Rootes, -Gilmer, and Mr. Burwell are of the same party? I should like very much -to join it, for (to say nothing of the ladies) R. and G. are two of my -favorites. I could be somewhat less miserable there, I am sure, than I -find myself here. - - * * * * * - -If I possessed a talent that I once thought I had, I would try and -give you a picture of Washington. The state of things is the strangest -imaginable, but I am like a speechless person who has the clearest -conception of what he would say, but whose organs refuse to perform -their office. There is one striking fact that one can't help seeing at -the first glance—that there is no faith among men: the state of -political confidence may be compared to that of the commercial world -within the last two or three years. - -I read Mr. Roane's letter with the attention that it deserves. Every -thing from his pen on the subject of our laws and institutions excites -a profound interest. I was highly gratified at the manner in which it -was spoken of in my hearing by one of the best and ablest men in our -house. It is indeed high time that the hucksters and money-changers -should be cast out of the Temple of Justice. The tone of this -communication belongs to another age; but for the date, who could -suppose it to have been written in this our day of almost universal -political corruption? I did not read the report on the lottery case. -The print of the Enquirer is too much for my eyes: and besides I want -no argument to satisfy me that the powers which Congress may exercise -where they possess exclusive jurisdiction, may not be extended to -places where they possess only a limited and concurrent jurisdiction. -The very statement of the question settles it, and every additional -word is but an incumbrance of help. - -And now, my dear sir, you may be glad to come to an end of this almost -interminable epistle. Shut up in my little “chair-lumbered closet” -this cold day, without a soul to speak to or a book to read, you have -become the victim of my desolate condition. Indeed, if I had a book I -could not read it, having exercised my eyes so unmercifully on John -Wesley, that I do not see what I am writing—at least not distinctly. -My best regards to Mrs. B. I wish I could provoke her to talk. When -you see Dudley, tell him I have been trying to write to him for -several days; and when you see Mr. Cunningham, present me most kindly -to him and _his house_. - - Sincerely yours, - J. R. of R. - -_Washington, January, 1821_. - - - - -TO A LOCK OF HAIR. - -BY J. DOGGETT, Jr. - - - Bright auburn lock! which like the wing - Of some kind angel sweeping by, - Shinest in the sun a glossy thing, - As soft as beams from beauty's eye, - Thou dost recall, sweet lock, to me, - All of the heaven of memory. - - Thou once did'st shade a marble brow, - Where beauty raised her polish'd throne; - Methinks I gaze upon it now - And listen to a silver tone— - Which floats from lips in notes as sweet - As angel's greetings when they meet. - - Fair lock! I'd rather hold with thee - A silent, blissful, strange commune, - Than join that boisterous gaiety - Which seems of happiness the noon: - For thou dost whisper, shining hair, - Peace comes not, rests not, _is_ not there. - -_Philadelphia, June, 1836_. - - - - -EXAMPLE AND PRECEPT. - -BY J. K. PAULDING. - - -A fine fashionable mother, one beautiful spring morning, walked forth -into the city, leading by the hand a little child of five or six years -old. The former was dressed in all the fantastic finery of the times; -she had a pink bonnet, ornamented with a bird of paradise, shaded with -huge bows of wide ribbon; sleeves which caused her taper waist to -appear like lean famine supported on either side by overgrown plenty; -her gown was of such redundancy of plaits and folds, that a whole -family might have been clothed from its superfluities; and while with -one hand she led the little girl along, in the other she held a -cambric handkerchief worked with various devices, and bordered with -rich lace, reported to have cost fifty dollars. The little child was -dressed as fine as its mother, for she unfortunately had light curly -hair, and was reckoned a beauty. - -They passed a toy-shop, and the child insisted on going in, where she -laid out all the money she had in various purchases that were of no -use whatever, in spite of the advice of her mother, who alternately -scolded and laughed at her for thus wasting her allowance on things so -useless. The child seemed to reflect for a few moments, and thus -addressed her mother: - -“Mother, what is the use of those great sleeves you wear?” - -The mother was silent, for the question puzzled her. - -“Mother, what is the use of that fine bird on your hat?” - -The mother was still more at a loss for a reply. - -{465} “Mother, what is the use of having a worked handkerchief, -bordered with lace, to wipe your nose?” - -“Come along,” cried the mother somewhat roughly, as she dragged the -little girl out of the toy-shop, “come along, and don't ask so many -foolish questions.” - - - - -MISERIES OF BASHFULNESS. - -A modest woman dressed out in all her finery is the most tremendous -object of the whole creation.—_She Stoops to Conquer_. - - -Of all the evils which harass the human family, none is perhaps more -tormenting or more difficult to be removed, than bashfulness—a feeling -sufficient in itself to blast the most promising hopes, and render -comparatively useless the most brilliant abilities. To this evil, from -earliest recollection, I have been painfully subject, and to its -influence upon my character and habits, may be traced the many -difficulties I have met with in my passage through life. Gifted by -nature with a mind of no ordinary caste, which my modest and retiring -disposition, while it precluded me from the enjoyment of society, -induced me to cultivate, at an early age I had acquired a large fund -of useful and polite information. This circumstance induced my parents -to send me to the University of ——, then the most flourishing -institution in the country. The first term after my arrival passed off -drearily enough, but after becoming familiarized to the habits of my -fellow students, and to the customs of the institution, I became -better satisfied with my situation. Nothing of importance occurred -until the time appointed for the examinations came on. I had applied -myself with assiduity and vigilance, and flattered myself that I had -completely mastered the exercises appointed for the occasion. Among -the candidates for graduation there was an individual whom I shall -designate by the name of C——, and whose connection with my narration -compels me to mention him. He was the son of a southern planter, of -immense fortune, and to a person of almost faultless beauty united -great liberality, which his princely fortune enabled him to stretch to -its farthest limits. As may be imagined he was quite a lion among the -students and ladies. - -Towards this individual I conceived a certain feeling of dislike from -my first introduction, which a more intimate acquaintance with his -character ripened into hatred. He was proud and overbearing in his -deportment towards his inferiors, and even amidst his immediate -friends and acquaintance he possessed a certain haughty and imperious -bearing, indicative of the exalted opinion he entertained respecting -his own merits. His mind was not remarkable for strength, nevertheless -he had some shrewdness or cunning, which the vulgar are apt to mistake -for talents. As I have before observed, the time for the annual -examination had arrived, and no culprit in the gloomy walls of Newgate -dreaded the fatal toll of St. Sepulchre's bell—the gloomy herald of -many a sinner's entrance into eternity—more than I did the arrival of -the hour when our exercises were to commence. A large number of ladies -and gentlemen had been invited, and among the number was my father. - -At length the University bell tolled the appointed hour, and we were -drawn up on a stage in front of the assembly, from which we were -concealed by a curtain, as yet down. At a given signal the curtain -rose and presented to our view a numerous concourse of both sexes, -among whom I distinguished my father seated on the front row of seats, -prepared no doubt to witness his son's triumph. A sight of his -countenance served to increase the confidence I had in my powers, and -to dispel the embarrassment I felt on the occasion. The student at the -head of the class answered the question put to him with perfect ease -and composure—so did the second. I stood third; as soon as my name was -called by the examining professor, I felt the blood rush with such -velocity to my face as nearly to cause blindness—my brain reeled—my -eyes swam—and although I perfectly understood the question, my -confusion was so great as to hinder utterance. The question was passed -to the next, who was C——; he answered it. The mingled shame, -mortification, and rage I suffered, are indescribable. I retired from -the contest, and the prize which I could have gained was awarded to my -abominated enemy. I returned home with my mortified father, who -persuaded me to endeavor to overcome the painful and unfortunate -failing, which he perceived would blight my future prospects, by -mixing largely in society. In pursuance of this advice, soon after my -arrival in my native town, I determined to attend a large party, at -the residence of one of my mother's fashionable friends. I suffered -acutely from the time I received the invitation till the appointed -night. At length it arrived, and I, attired in my best suit, with no -aristocratic touch, rung the door bell. The servant ushered me into a -large and splendidly furnished room but partially filled. The courage -I had summoned for the occasion, like Bob Acre's, “oozed as it were -from the palms of my hands,” and I remained standing in the door-way -as immovable as if (instead of the gay and fashionable assembly who -were gazing at my strange appearance with so much astonishment,) the -Gorgon Medusa had turned upon me her petrifying look. The harmonious -note which at that moment stole from Bennett's eloquent cremona, -diverted their attention from my person and restored me to something -like consciousness. I advanced into the room, and was cordially -greeted by mine host and his lady, who were old friends of my family. -The dancing now commenced, and the rooms gradually filling placed me -in a rather more comfortable situation. I was, however, far from being -easy. In order, as I thought, to calm my perturbed spirits, I seated -myself on a sofa, situated in a corner of one of the rooms. I had -remained there but a short time, when the voice of some one engaged in -earnest conversation striking upon my ear, I turned my attention in -that direction and perceived my late triumphant enemy C——, conversing -in an animated strain with Miss ——, the only daughter of the wealthy -and hospitable owner of the mansion in which we were passing the -afternoon. Miss —— was evidently much pleased with the subject as well -as the manner of the speaker, and he seemed inclined to make the best -possible use of the advantage he had gained. They were however joined -by a large number of ladies, who in their anxiety to reach Miss —— -completely surrounded me. Yes—I who would sooner march to the cannon's -mouth, or attempt to scale the fortress of Gibraltar, than face a -female, was literally blockaded—totally {466} surrounded by decidedly -“the most awful things in nature,” a company of full dressed women. -C—— was perfectly at ease, and enjoyed heartily the dismay and -confusion under which I labored. Perceiving that the only possible -chance of escaping, would be speedy action, I endeavored instinctively -to effect a retreat, but in vain. As I arose, I encountered the huge -sleeve of a female attired “in all the glaring impotence of dress,” -which impeded my egress. On attempting to return, I ran foul of a -talkative little creature, and left her minus of about half of her -head dress. The little lady was in a rage; however, there was no time -for delay—so I gave her no apology. At length I reached my seat on the -sofa, on which several ladies had seated themselves. After some time, -I endeavored to enter into conversation with the damsel who sat next -me, hoping that it would afford me some alleviation; but the attempt -was abortive. My tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and refused -to utter whatever ideas I might have had in my brain—through which -passed in rapid succession, the last opera—the fancy -ball—Shakspeare—Moliere, &c. &c., without affording its wretched owner -a theme on which to commence a conversation. In vain I made strenuous -exertions to collect my scattered thoughts—the attempt increased my -confusion. At last the approach of a servant with a waiter of -refreshments opened a passage through which I dashed. The exulting -laugh of C—— reached my ear, as I cleared the little crowd collected -around him. In my passage through the room I met a servant bearing a -freshly opened bottle of Champaigne. Seizing a glass brimfull with the -sparkling liquor I tossed it off—another, and another—and then “a -change came o'er the spirit of my dream.” I was immediately changed -from the bashful and timid character in which I had hitherto appeared, -to the bold, impudent, easy man of the world. An almost irresistible -desire to make female acquaintances seized me, and I was determined to -indulge it. Meeting a friend at the moment, I requested him to give me -an introduction to every lady in the house. At this sweeping request -my friend was surprised beyond measure, knowing well my former -disposition. However, not being able to refuse, he led me up to a -fresh, rosy-looking Miss, and gave the necessary introduction. I -bowed, and in doing so nearly lost my equilibrium. I, however, -succeeded in gaining my footing, and commenced conversing. By this -time, I had given such unequivocal indications of the effect my -Champaigne potation had produced, as to induce my friend to withdraw -me from my fair acquaintance and insist upon my taking leave of the -“festive scene.” But what man has been known to take good advice when -he is at all inebriated. I refused to retire, and to disprove the -suspicions of my friend, I determined to dance the next cotillion. In -accordance with this resolve I wended my way through the crowd till I -discovered the lady to whom I had been introduced, and solicited the -pleasure of her hand. We stood up to a double cotillion, and at that -moment the music struck up. The animating and delightful sensations -produced by the wine began to subside, and my mind commenced gradually -to comprehend the almost insurmountable difficulties of the situation -in which my rashness had placed me. I had no more idea of dancing than -a bear just caught from the woods, and as for the figure of the dance, -I would sooner have attempted to solve the hieroglyphics inscribed -upon an Egyptian obelisk. Every moment developed new difficulties, and -fresh obstacles were cast in my way by every second's reflection. Oh! -how bitterly did I repent the many opportunities I had omitted of -learning the trifling (in the abstract, yet important in reality,) -accomplishment which I so much needed then. However, it was now too -late to retreat, and I was about to dash forth and perform some random -capers, when my companion checked me with the information that my time -to dance had not yet come on. To increase the awkwardness of my -situation, I discovered myself to be corporeally tipsy, though -mentally sober. I was therefore afraid to move, lest I should evince -my unlucky and disagreeable situation. As a _dernier resort_, I -resolved to watch the graceful and easy movements of my companions in -the dance, and, if possible, to gain some slight information -concerning my unenviable employment. At last my turn came round, and -with bent knees and clenched hands I advanced. In attempting to make a -flourish which was to have been followed by a bow, I lost my balance, -and tumbled at full length upon the floor. The roar of laughter which -this feat called forth still rings in my ears, and a recollection of -the scene always covers my cheeks with blushes. I arose from my -incumbent posture and hastily excusing myself to my partner, rushed -from the house, heartily wishing for “a lodge in some vast -wilderness.” - -MARLOW. - - - - -FIRST LOVE. - -BY J. C. McCABE. - - - There is a thought, still beautiful, though years have roll'd along, - Which stirs the wave of memory, and wakes her wonted song— - Which rustles 'mid the heart's dead flowers like midnight's mournful - breeze, - And dove-like spreads its soothing wing o'er passion's stormy seas. - No crime can dim its purity—no cloud obscure its ray; - But like the temple's altar light, its steady beams will play, - All sweetly hovering o'er the soul, like spirit from above—— - O, 'tis the thought—the holy thought—of boyhood's early love! - - When years have wrinkled o'er his brow, and furrows traced his - cheek, - And his once glad voice is trembling now in lapses faint and weak; - How thoughtful is his glance, as on his slowly rolling tears, - There floats along that fairy form he loved in boyhood's years. - And then—O then, that heart (like harp hung up in ruined hall, - Untouch'd, save when the night-winds sweep along the mould'ring - wall,) - It gives a wild tone from its chords, the pilgrim lone to tell, - Though desolate it still can yield to melody's sweet spell. {467} - - Oh, cast him on the stormy sea, when Death rides on the surge, - And sea-nymphs chant around his head a melancholy dirge, - While struggling with the giant waves, from their embrace to flee, - That lov'd one's voice is whispering of halls beneath the sea. - And as far down he swiftly sinks, and billows o'er him foam, - A thousand phantasies appear, and o'er his vision come; - But _one will_ keep its vigil there, though storm and tempest sweep, - Unmoved, though burst upon by all the billows of the deep. - - Go place him in the battle's front, where death and carnage meet, - And his country's flag unsullied is his warrior-winding sheet; - When from his heart is oozing fast the darkly purple tide, - And victory's shout a moment fills his dying eye with pride— - The wild and lingering look he casts, as heaven's own arch of blue, - Like the vision of a summer dream, fades slowly from his view, - Speaks—clearly speaks—of vision'd joys—of home beheld once more— - Of the image of the one-loved form in sorrow bending o'er. - - - - -EROSTRATUS. - - -I. - -Early in the afternoon of an autumn day, in the first year of the -hundred and fifth Olympiad, the keeper of the light-house which then -marked the entrance of the harbor of Ephesus, announced the approach -of a vessel, which, from its size and proportions, he decided to be -from Corinth or Athens. Crowded, as the port of Diana's favorite city -at that time was, with sails from every maritime town in the -Mediterranean, where commerce was cultivated, the arrival of a vessel -was an event of hourly occurrence, yet the news of the approach of -this spread rapidly through the city. The magistrate left the bench, -the merchant forsook his warehouse, and the mechanic dropped his -tools. All hastened to the quay. It was expected that this vessel -brought the news of the results of the Olympic games. With such -rapidity the lusty rowers plyed their oars, that the most experienced -eye could scarcely decide whether the approaching bark carried three -or four banks. The helms-man was singing the prize verses of the -games, in which all the oars-men joined at intervals as a chorus. Soon -she neared sufficiently for the pilots, who stood upon an eminence, to -decide that she was the Sphynx of Corinth. She presently came within -speaking distance, and the name of the victor in the poetic contest -was demanded. “Leonidas of Mægara,” was the reply. Other questions -succeeded until the Sphynx was moored in the harbor, and then -followed, amidst the embraces of friends and relatives, more minute -inquiries and particular replies touching the events of the games, -which then excited an interest in every land where the Greek tongue -was spoken, of which the moderns can form but little conception. -Preparations for the customary sacrifices to Diana of the Ephesians, -Neptune, and the Winds, in grateful return for the prosperous voyage, -were quickly made. - - -II. - -The crowds which shortly before covered the spacious quays had nearly -all dispersed, when a young man for whom no one appeared to wait, and -who had sought no one in the joyful multitude, stepped on shore, -bearing all his baggage in a small scrip. His countenance wore an -expression of the deepest melancholy, which could not have escaped -notice, had not the sighs which broke from his breast, and the half -dried tears which stained his cheeks, sufficiently testified that his -bosom shared none of the general joy. Instead of seeking his home, he -bent his steps along the quays, and shortly gained the suburbs, -passing rapidly through which, he sought the open country. Here -throwing himself upon the ground, he gave way to the most passionate -expressions of sorrow. “Cursed folly” he exclaimed “that induced me to -believe that glory was to be obtained by merit, and that the applauses -of the crowd could be won by him who has no gold in his purse to -purchase their praises. Cursed be the books of the Philosophers which -teach”—“Erostratus,” exclaimed a young man who, unobserved, had -approached and gazed on him with astonishment, “what mischance has so -disordered you, that instead of seeking your friend's house, I find -you embracing our mother earth, and outshining our first tragedians? -Is this a specimen of some successful drama which you have been -composing, or”—“Metazulis,” said Erostratus, “cease these ill-timed -pleasantries. I have just returned from the Olympic games”—“I know -it,” interrupted Metazulis. “I was from home when the Sphynx arrived, -and had I not learned from our neighbor Polisphercon that you and he -had been fellow passengers, I should have assured myself that the -charms of Corinth had proved stronger than your patriotism. Excuse my -interruption, and pardon a friend's inquiring why these tears? why -this anguish? Have you returned without that heart, which you once -vowed to Diana should never leave your keeping, and without the -blue-eyed maiden who has robbed you of it?” “No Metazulis,” replied -his friend, forcing a melancholy smile, “my heart is safe as though -blue-eyed maidens had never been—but I went to Olympia, puffed up with -the senseless expectation of gracing my brow with the wreath of -poetry, which now encircles the head of a wealthy churl who feasted -the judges. _His_ name is celebrated through the cities of Greece; -_mine_ is unmentioned, save as that of the deluded Ephesian who dared -to put his doggrel in competition with the rich strains of the rich -Leonidas. But I forever forswear”—“Forswear nothing” cried Metazulis. -“Be not discouraged by a single failure. The next judges may be -honester, and in four years the strengthened wings of your muse will -achieve higher flights.” “And Leonidas may become richer,” said -Erostratus. “How often, how often,” {468} said Metazulis, “have I had -to censure my friend's faint heart, discouraged at the slightest -disappointment! Who ever swam a river at a single stroke? Make my -house your home. Let poetry continue your study. My sister's lyre -shall accompany your odes. We will strive to put off the partiality of -friends, and play the critics upon your works. I warrant not a spot -shall meet the eye in the next production you lay before the Olympic -Judges.” Putting his arm into that of Erostratus, who offered no -resistance, he led him to the city. - - -III. - -Henceforth the streets of Ephesus rarely echoed to the footsteps of -Erostratus. Immured in the house of the friendly Metazulis, his whole -soul was occupied with the ardent hope of gaining the prize for poetry -at the next Olympic games. The encouragement of Metazulis and Lesbia, -had fanned into a flame the spark of ambition not to be extinguished -in his breast. Every day did his impatience increase, and nightly, -upon retiring to his couch, would he reckon that a day less was -between him and immortal glory. The poems and odes which fell from his -pen, fell not faster than they were wedded to music by the -enthusiastic Lesbia. Unhappy Lesbia! it was not in thy nature to -behold such kindred genius and remain unmoved! A fire was in thy -breast, bright and unquenchable, save by death! Poor Lesbia! Her -admiration of the poet blinded her to the most glaring defects of the -poetry, and the living Erostratus, whom she daily saw, seemed to her -superior to all the poets who had sung since the days of Deucalion. - -Four years rolled by in poetry, music, and, though neither seemed -conscious of it, in—love. The hymn to Ceres, upon which Erostratus now -builds his hopes, is completed, and pronounced perfect by Metazulis, -and Lesbia. Lesbia gives her brother and his friend the parting -embrace, and with her scarf, waves them again and again farewell from -the terraced roof. She is not to see Erostratus again until his brows -are shaded with the crown of victory. Prosperous winds wafted on their -course Erostratus and his friend, who had left his home and his -sister, to share with his adopted brother the first triumphs of -success. A few days were spent in luxurious Corinth by the travellers, -and postponing a more ample view until their return, they departed for -Olympia, where they arrived after a journey, which to Erostratus -seemed to occupy an age. - - -IV. - -With the usual ceremonies the games were opened, and the first, -second, and third days devoted to chariot races and the athletic -exercises. The fourth day was assigned to the claimants of the palm -for poesy. Erostratus was the first competitor who rose. His feelings -at first overpowered him, but a look from Metazulis, a burst of -applause from the countless multitude, and more than all, a thought of -the moment when he should lay the meed of victory at the feet of -Lesbia, encouraged him. His voice was at first low and indistinct, but -as the plaudits increased, he became more animated, and towards the -close, the delivery was worthy of the poem. The hymn being ended, the -lengthened shouts dispelled all fear of failure from his mind, and he -fancied he already felt the olive wreath upon his temples. A single -competitor appeared to contest with him the prize, many having -withdrawn upon the conclusion of his ode. Cratinus of Platæa arose, as -soon as the applause began to subside. Four times had the crown been -decreed to Cratinus, and he now aspired the fifth time to that honor. -The hitherto unconquered Cratinus began, and scarcely had he recited -twenty lines, when even Metazulis admitted in his heart the -superiority of this poem to that of his friend. Cratinus was loudly -cheered, and in justice would have been more so, had not a large -proportion of the audience been prepossessed in favor of Erostratus. -Applause well merited followed the conclusion of the Judgment of -Paris, (such was the theme of Cratinus) and then a breathless silence -succeeded, whilst the judges compared their opinions. We cannot -describe the anxiety of Erostratus in this interval. He trembled, a -cold sweat bedewed his body, and leaning upon the breast of his -friend, his life seemed to hang upon the decision. The presiding judge -at length arose and delivered the award. The crown was decreed to -Cratinus; and Erostratus fell senseless in Metazulis' arms. For a long -time he remained insensible, and his friend was beginning to fear that -his hopes and his life had terminated together, when he began to -revive; but having murmured “the crown, the crown,” he fell into a -second swoon. So great an effect had the destruction of his long -cherished hopes produced upon him, that for some days there appeared -scarcely a possibility of his recovery. During this time Metazulis -wrote to his sister the following letter. - -“Weep with me Lesbia. Our friend has failed, Cratinus, of Platæa has -obtained the prize, Erostratus is dangerously ill. The physicians bid -me hope—I have none. Should he recover from the fever which now -threatens to terminate his life, what a life will be his! If, contrary -to my expectations, he should survive this shock, may our love to him -be redoubled! Let it be our care to smooth his path to the grave, -which, broken hearted as he is, can be but short. Farewell.” - - -V. - -The medical attendants were not disappointed. A month having elapsed, -Erostratus left the couch of sickness; but another passed by before -Metazulis thought his strength sufficient to warrant his proposing -their return. Erostratus made no opposition. The love he felt for -Lesbia, (with which the ravings of his delirium had acquainted -Metazulis,) urged his return, although he felt that he scarcely dared -appear before her. The task of diverting his mind from the sad -recollections which occupied it, was painful and difficult. Metazulis -proposed visiting the curiosities of nature, and the celebrated works -of art, which lay contiguous to their route. To this Erostratus made -no objection, but his eye, ones so delighted with all that was -beautiful and sublime, now gazed upon them without pleasure. Metazulis -left Corinth in the first vessel which departed, anxious to see his -sister, and to bear his friend from Greece, where every thing -conspired to bring to his mind his failures. Far different were the -feelings with which Erostratus had entered Corinth, and now bade it a -final farewell. They reached Ephesus. Metazulis found none of his -domestics awaiting his return; but what was their anxiety, their -horror, upon finding the house closed, and the door-posts marked with -the insignia of death! They hastily opened the door. All is silence -and desolation. Erostratus rushes to the sitting room, where he had -{469} parted from Lesbia. Mctazulis following, arrives to see him fall -senseless upon the couch, whereon reposed the dead body of his sister, -at whose head sat the motionless domestics, murmuring the prayers for -the departed. - - -VI. - -In a month after the ashes of Lesbia had been consigned to the tomb, -those of Metazulis were laid beside them. The wealth of Metazulis was -now the property of Erostratus, but could gold purchase peace for his -anguished soul? Never was he seen to smile, and his solitary hours -(and how few of his hours were not solitary?) were passed in grief and -lamentation. The love of immortality remained inextinguishable in his -breast, and he resolved upon an achievement which should give his name -a place in the page of history; and in the moments of his phrenzy, he -imagined that the name of Lesbia would appear in the record with his, -and that this would be accepted by her shade as an atonement on his -part, for the fate in which her love for him had involved her. In the -middle of a dark and tempestuous night, he applied a torch to that -temple, the boast of Ephesus, the wonder of the world! The Greek -historians of after days asserted that the goddess was in Macedon -attending to the birth of Alexander. Her fane was destroyed and -reduced to a mass of blackened ruin. Erostratus unhesitatingly avowed -himself the incendiary, and the rack could force no reply from him but -the cry “I did it for immortality.” He was condemned to be burnt to -death, and expired in the most dreadful torture, with a smile upon his -countenance and the name of Lesbia upon his lips. The magistrates, -lest his desire of an immortal memory should be gratified, denounced -death upon all who should pronounce his name, that it might be blotted -out forever. - - * * * * * - * * * * * - -About twenty years subsequently, a citizen of Ephesus, and his friend -from Athens, were walking upon the shore of the sea, a few miles from -the former city. There were a number of young Ephesians exercising -themselves in athletic sports upon the sands, at whom they looked for -a while, and then passed on. After a few steps they stopped to examine -something over which the sea was breaking near the shore. A few human -bones blackened and mouldering met their gaze. “Near this spot,” said -the Ephesian, “we burnt Erostratus.” “Who was he?” replied the -Athenian, “I do not remember to have ever heard of him.” The Ephesian -made no reply but hurried his friend on board a small fishing boat, -and put to sea. It was long before the Athenian could obtain an -explanation of this singular conduct from his agitated friend. The -Ephesian at length reminded him of the edict, and avowed that the -forbidden name had escaped his lip, and been overheard by the youths -who were near them. A vessel bound to Greece picked them up. The -Ephesian settled in Attica, never daring to return to his native -country. The greater portion of the incidents recorded above were -communicated by him to his friend, and the tale, corroborated by -others, became well known throughout Greece; but at Ephesus, no one -for centuries dared to utter the forbidden name of Erostratus. - - - - -BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. - -[We have rather accidentally met with these two poems, _The Belles of -Williamsburg_, and the _Sequel to the Belles of Williamsburg_, both -written and circulated in that place in 1777. These pieces are -believed to have been either composed by two different gentlemen, or -to have been the joint production of both. As we cannot, however, -assign to each his due share, we do not think ourselves at liberty to -mention their names—which (although the authors in question are now no -more,) are still distinguished names in Virginia.] - - -THE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. - - Wilt thou, advent'rous pen, describe - The gay, delightful, silken tribe, - That maddens all our city; - Nor dread, lest while you foolish claim - A near approach to beauty's flame, - Icarus' fate may hit ye. - - With singed pinions tumbling down, - The scorn and laughter of the town, - Thou'lt rue thy daring flight; - While every miss with cool contempt, - Affronted by the bold attempt, - Will, tittering, view thy plight. - - Ye girls, to you devoted ever, - The object still of our endeavor - Is somehow to amuse you; - And if instead of higher praise, - You only laugh at these rude lays, - We'll willingly excuse you. - - Advance then each illustrious maid, - In order bright to our parade, - With beauty's ensigns gay; - And first, two nymphs who rural plains - Forsook, disdaining rustic swains, - And here exert their sway. - - Myrtilla's beauties who can paint? - The well turned form, the glowing teint, - May deck a common creature; - But who can make th' expressive soul - With lively sense inform the whole, - And light up every feature. - - At church Myrtilla lowly kneels, - No passion but devotion feels, - No smiles her looks environ; - But let her thoughts to pleasure fly, - The basilisk is in her eye - And on her tongue the Syren. - - More vivid beauty—fresher bloom, - With teints from nature's richest loom - In Sylvia's features glow; - Would she Myrtilla's arts apply, - And catch the magic of her eye, - She'd rule the world below. - - See Laura, sprightly nymph, advance, - Through all the mazes of the dance, - With light fantastic toe; {470} - See laughter sparkle in her eyes— - At her approach new joys arise, - New fires within us glow. - - Such sweetness in her look is seen, - Such brilliant elegance of mien, - So jauntie and so airy; - Her image in our fancy reigns, - All night she gallops through our veins, - Like little Mab the fairy. - - Aspasia next, with kindred soul, - Disdains the passions that control - Each gentle pleasing art; - Her sportive wit, her frolic lays, - And graceful form attract our praise, - And steal away the heart. - - We see in gentle Delia's face, - Expressed by every melting grace, - The sweet complacent mind; - While hovering round her, soft desires, - And hope gay smiling fan their fires, - Each shepherd thinks her kind. - - The god of love mistook the maid, - For his own Psyche, and 'tis said - He still remains her slave; - And when the boy directs her eyes - To pierce where every passion lies, - Not age itself can save. - - With pensive look and head reclined, - Sweet emblems of the purest mind, - Lo! where Cordelia sits; - On Dion's image dwells the fair— - Dion the thunderbolt of war, - The prince of modern wits. - - Not far removed from her side, - Statira sits in beauty's pride, - And rolls about her eyes; - Thrice happy for the unwary heart, - That affectation blunts the dart - That from her quiver flies. - - Whence does that beam of beauty dawn? - What lustre overspreads the lawn? - What suns those rays dispense? - From Artemisia's brow they came, - From Artemisia's eyes the flame - That dazzles every sense. - - At length, fatigued with beauty's blaze, - The feeble muse no more essays - Her picture to complete; - The promised charms of younger girls, - When nature the gay scene unfurls, - Some happier bard shall treat. - - -SEQUEL TO THE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. - - Ye bards that haunt the tufted shade, - Where murmurs thro' the hallowed glade, - The Heliconian spring— - Who bend before Apollo's shrine, - And dance and frolic with the nine, - Or touch the trembling string— - - And ye who bask in beauty's blaze, - Enlivening as the orient rays - From fair Aurora's brow, - Or those which from her crescent shine, - When Cynthia with a look benign, - Regards the world below— - - Say, why, amidst the vernal throng, - Whose virgin charms inspired your song - With sweet poetic lore, - With eager look th' enraptured swain, - For Isidora's form in vain, - The picture should explore. - - Shall sprightly Isidora yield, - To Laura the distinguished field, - Amidst the vernal throng? - Or shall Aspasia's frolic lays - From Leonella snatch the bays, - The tribute of the song? - - Like hers I ween the blushing rose, - On Sylvia's polished cheek that glows, - And hers the velvet lip, - To which the cherry yields its hue, - Its plumpness and ambrosial dew - Which even Gods might sip. - - What partial eye a charm can find, - In Delia's look, or Delia's mind, - Or Delia's melting grace, - Which cannot in Miranda's mien, - Or winning smile or brow serene, - A rival beauty trace? - - Sweet as the balmy breath of spring, - Or odors from the painted wing - Of Zephyr as he flies, - Brunetta's charms might surely claim, - Amidst the votaries of fame, - A title to the prize. - - What giddy raptures fill the brain, - When tripping o'er the verdant plain, - Florella joins the throng! - Her look each throbbing pain beguiles, - Beneath her footsteps Nature smiles, - And joins the poet's song. - - Here even critic Spleen shall find, - Each beauty that adorns the mind, - Or decks the virgin's brow; - Here Envy with her venomed dart, - Shall find no vulnerable part, - To aim the deadly blow. - - Could such perfection nought avail? - Or could the fair Belinda fail - To animate your lays? - For might not such a nymph inspire - With sportive notes the trembling lyre - Attuned to virgin praise? - - The sister graces met the maid, - Beneath the myrtle's fragrant shade, - When love the season warms; - Deluded by her graceful mien, - They fancied her the Cyprian queen, - And decked her with their charms. {471} - - Say then why thus with heedless flight, - The panegyric muse should slight - A train so blythe and fair, - Or why so soon fatigued, she flies - No longer in her native skies, - But tumbles through the air. - - - - -BRITISH PARLIAMENT IN 1835. - -NO. I. - -THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.[1] - -[Footnote 1: Translated from a number of the _Revue des Deux Mondes_.] - - -The chambers in which the British Parliament are accustomed to -assemble, have nothing of the theatrical aspect of the halls for -political exhibition built in France for the representations of its -representative government. - -Let us enter the chamber of the Commons. Here you see no amphitheatre -for the ladies, no boxes for the Peers, nor for the _corps -diplomatique_. A narrow gallery, only, is reserved for the reporters, -and another, more spacious, is open to the public. Here are no costly -marbles, no statues, no gilding. It is truly nothing but a chamber—a -vast apartment, of greater length than width, without ornaments of any -sort—indeed, perfectly naked. - -Conceive that we are looking from the public gallery. - -Directly before us, at the bottom, is a sort of sentry-box, surmounted -by the royal arms. There, in an arm chair covered with green leather, -sits the speaker, in his black robe and greyish mittens, solemnly -dressed out in an immense wig, the wings of which fall to his waist. - -At his feet is a narrow table, at which the principal clerk is seated, -supporting on his two hands a large face, smiling impurturbably under -a little _perruque_ that hangs over his head in the form of a -horse-shoe. - -The benches on which the members sit, are ranged rectilinearly in -different divisions, to the right and left, and in front of the -speaker. Every one places himself in the position that is most -agreeable to himself, and sits, or stands, at his pleasure. Every -member wears his hat, except when addressing the speaker. Every one -speaks from the place in which he finds himself at the moment. It is -not to the house, however, but to the speaker that they must address -themselves. - -The simple and country-like habits of the house are well suited to the -character of representatives of the people. It proves that the Commons -meet not to take part in a show, but to discharge the business of the -country. - -At three o'clock the speaker enters the chamber, preceded by the chief -of the ushers, the mace on his shoulder, and followed by a -sergeant-at-arms, with a sword at his side, and dressed in black after -the French fashion. Arrived at his chair, the speaker first counts the -members present. If there be forty, the session is opened, and the -chaplain repeats his prayers, to which every member listens, standing -and uncovered, with his face towards the back of his bench. - -Generally the first hours are consumed in matters of minor importance. -Local and private bills are discussed. The benches begin to be filled -between eight and nine in the evening. The house is rarely full before -midnight. From this period till two in the morning, they discuss great -questions, such as are likely to bring on an important vote. - -Such are the English. They distrust, beyond all reason, the frivolity -of their own minds. They consider it always dangerous to embark in -grave affairs, if their dinner has not been stored away to serve as -ballast. It is indispensable that they should meditate and mature -their opinions and their eloquence, while engaged in drinking their -wine and grog. - -When simple Mr. Brougham (the period of his greatest glory) Lord -Brougham never came to the House of Commons until he had emptied three -bottles of Port. It was at the bottom of his glass that he found -calmness, wisdom, and discretion. But since his elevation to the House -of Lords, his lordship is forced to speak fasting. It is in -consequence of this change that he is now always intoxicated. The -sobriety of his stomach produces the intemperance of his tongue and of -his brain. - -The invariable prolongation of its sittings late into the night, is -the cause that the House of Commons never assembles on Saturday. -Encroachment on the Sabbath would otherwise be an inevitable -legislative sacrilege; and we must admit, that it would be with but -bad grace that the Parliament alone should violate the Puritanical -laws which it so rigorously maintains, and which prescribe, during the -twenty-four hours of that sacred day, the most absolute and universal -idleness. - -Two words of personal statistics at present. - -The House of Commons contains four hundred and seventy-one members for -England, twenty-nine for Wales, fifty-three for Scotland, and a -hundred and five for Ireland—in all, six hundred and fifty-eight. On -important occasions, very few fail to appear at their posts. Six -hundred and twenty-two voted, at the commencement of this session, on -the election of the present speaker. Mr. Abercromby, elected by the -opposition, obtained a majority of but eight votes over Sir Charles -Manners Sutton, the candidate of the then ministry. - -You observe that the chamber is divided into two parts, almost equal -in size. On one side, the ministry and the reformers; on the other, -the conservatives, forming the present opposition. - -Each of these grand divisions may perhaps be subdivided. Among the -reformers or whigs, radical reformers, pure radicals, and -repealers;[2] among the conservatives, the old tories and the -demi-conservatives. Such subdivisions, however, are useless. It is no -easy thing to distinguish these different shades of opinion. Besides, -they are every day becoming gradually less distinct, and will soon -present but two parties. - -[Footnote 2: The _repealers_ are Irish members advocating the repeal -of the union between Ireland and England.] - -In the first place, are there any whigs? Are the whigs a party? I -answer, no. There are some great noblemen, some minister-lords, whose -ancestors were whigs, but they themselves are not. To continue the -leaders of a true political party, they have been forced to become -radicals, and to make themselves interpreters and advocates of the -popular wants. What has been {472} the result? The whigs and the -radicals are absorbed, the one in the other. Seeing so many liberal -concessions obtained by England, the Irish Catholics have followed the -example of the liberals; they have put off their extreme demands; they -have ceased to contend for the repeal of the union. Under the orders -of O'Connell, they march behind the ministerial troops, and sustain -them so as to prevent their falling back, come what may. - -In the camp of the opposition there is the same fusion. Sir Robert -Peel has dressed all the tories in the uniform of conservatives. Even -the little irresolute batallion of Lord Stanley, has recently, with -its chief, assumed the new livery of the defenders of the church and -of the throne. The _tiers-parti_ has not been more successful on the -side of the Manche than on the Parisian. - -The question, then, is simply and plainly raised. It is the great -question that is to be decided between the old society and the new, -the same that was raised in France in 1789; only, if the throne is -wise, here the whole war may be finished on the floors of Parliament. - -The field of battle is now before the reader. You have the army of -reformers and that of the conservatives in the presence of each -other—each recognizing but one watchword, but one standard; the first, -stronger and bolder, but having too many leaders, and a rear guard -more impatient to arrive in action than the principal body; the -second, more compact, better disciplined, and more obedient to its -only chief. - -Great as may be the exasperation on each side, you will rarely ever -observe the belligerent parties, even in their hostilities, depart -from their habits of chivalrous loyalty. - -There is a sort of Parliamentary law of nations established in the -house. - -The opposition never takes advantage of the absence of a minister to -interrogate his colleagues on matters foreign to their own -departments. - -Nor will a minister ever introduce a bill without notice; the -courtesy, in this respect, is extremely great between the two parties. -Challenges are regularly exchanged; the day and the hour are both -fixed. If any member mentions his inability to attend at the appointed -time, the motion is hurried or delayed to suit his convenience. - -If the question should be one of importance, and the decision -doubtful, whatever urgent business may call a member away, he will not -desert his post, unless he is enabled to find among his adversaries -some one equally desirous to absent himself. They make an arrangement -then that both shall stay away, and this double contract is always -held sacred. - -In their struggles, though often violent, the blows are always -generous, and aimed in front. However, the noise of the interruptions -by which approbation or discontent is expressed, would astonish and -terrify a stranger—above all, one unaccustomed to the discordance of -English pronunciation. The sound is unusual, striking, and the more -astonishing, as at first you are unable to tell whence it proceeds. -There are six hundred men, seated, uttering savage cries of joy or -anger, their bodies all the while remaining immovable, their features -preserving their usual phlegmatic and calm expression. These tumults -produce quite a fantastic effect. _Hear! hear!_ is the cry of -satisfaction and encouragement. Listen to the speaker!—his discourse -penetrates and touches the soul of the question; let us listen to -him—hear him. _Spoke!—spoke!_ indicates impatience, ennui, lassitude. -You abuse your privilege—you have said enough—you have spoken! This -reproach is imperative—it is rarely resisted. _Order! order!_ is the -call to order; it is a summons to the speaker to notice and reprimand -the offending member who has passed the boundaries of propriety—for, -to the speaker alone belongs the right to pronounce judgment on such -occasions. - -The speaker centres in himself the omnipotence of the chamber of which -he is the representative. His authority is supreme, within as well as -without the walls of the Parliament house. His situation renders him a -personage of very high importance. He has his official palace, he -holds his _levees_, to which none are admitted unless in court dress. -Singular inconsistency! the very same Commoners who enter booted, -spurred, with their over-coats and their hats on, into their own hall, -would find the doors of their own speaker closed against them, if they -should present themselves without ruffles and dressed _à la -Française_. This rigorous particularity is unreasonable. Mr. Hume, -however, in a recent attack upon this absurd etiquette, found himself -unable to succeed against the powerful prejudice by which it is -upheld. The sound sense of his objections only passed for radical -folly. Thus it is that with the English the ancient forms of etiquette -have deeper root than even their old abuses. You may be certain that -they will have reformed the church, the aristocracy, and perhaps the -crown itself, before the grotesque wigs of their magistrates. Their -entire revolution will have been completed, while their new liberty -will be still distinguished by the manners and dress of the _ancien -regime_. - -In England, the real and undeniable sovereignty is in the House of -Commons. The British peerage is a mere phantom, a little more -respectably clothed than that of France, but quite as much of a -phantom. Still this very British Peerage, which is condemned to obey -the Commons and register their edicts, preserves all the appearances -of supremacy! It continues to command the Commons to appear at its -bar, who regularly obey this summons, preceded by their speaker! And -when the Lords, seated in their own chamber, have signified the royal -assent to the wishes of the Commons, the latter withdraw, bowing as -they go out! The real upper or superior chamber consents to be called -and to appear always as the inferior. - -How much do I prefer to these ceremonious _levees_ of the British -speaker, the popular balls of the president of the French Chamber of -Deputies, where no orders are given to the guards to prevent the entry -of persons not in costume! Above all, I like those numbered letters of -invitation—the four hundred and fifty-nine first for the -representatives of the people, and then the four hundred and sixtieth -for the Duke of Orleans, as the first peer of the realm, and so on for -the rest. In France the peerage comes after the people! - -It is much to be regretted that the French do not remove the abuses -themselves, as they do their names and customs. Their system is -different from the English, but it is very doubtful if it be the best. -The latter are always very respectful subjects; they kneel {473} down -at the feet of royalty in supplicating it to take their will for its -pleasure. The former hold themselves erect and firm before their -monarch, who leads them by the nose, suffering them all the while to -proclaim themselves at their ease, the true sovereigns of the kingdom. - -Mr. Abercromby, the present speaker, by no means solicited the honor -of the chair which, at the opening of the session, was decreed him by -the first act of the reformers. Constrained to maintain, in the name -of the house, the privileges of that body, he represents that assembly -with all the dignity that his grotesque wig will permit. Happily he -has thick grey eye-brows, which harmonize extremely well with his -light-colored official _perruque_. In spite of the enormous quantity -of hair that overshadows his person, there is nothing savage in his -appearance; on the contrary, a mild and affable dignity eminently -distinguishes him; his manners are marked by a noble ease; he also -speaks well, and his full and sonorous voice is admirably suited to -the station which he occupies as president of a large and popular -assembly. - -The conservatives will never forgive him for having, even -involuntarily, dethroned their candidate. They regret the airs of a -superannuated dandy, and the old-fashioned elegance of Sir Charles -Manners Sutton, who, having grown old in the chair, had been long -accustomed to regard toryism with a favorable eye. It is true that Mr. -Abercromby, an avowed partizan of the reformers, has not, in -consequence of his acceptance of the speakership, become the -inexorable censor of his radical friends. So that when O'Connell, -provoked by some imprudent noblemen, branded them with epithets never -to be effaced, Mr. Abercromby was guilty of the heinous crime of not -interposing to check the vengeance of the outraged orator. -Impartiality, according to the tories, would consist in permitting -their attacks, without allowing the insulted or injured party the -rights of defence. - -I have now given you a general and hasty sketch of the leading -characteristics of the house; it only remains for me to carry you to -one of its sittings. We will select the occasion of the presentation -of the bill for the reform of the English and Welch Corporations, -which was, after a month of argument, finally voted. On the evening of -the 5th of June, then, it was known that Lord John Russell was to -introduce his bill in the Commons. What was to be the nature of this -measure, so long promised and so impatiently expected on one side, and -so much feared on the other? Curiosity in London was at its height; it -was the third day of the Epsom races! No matter! Every one returned to -the city—horses were abandoned for politics. As early as twelve the -crowd began to encumber the environs of Westminster, pressing towards -the gates of the palace of the Parliament. With great difficulty I -succeeded in squeezing myself into the public gallery. - -At three, prayers being said, the speaker having counted with the end -of his little flat three-cornered hat the members in attendance, and -more than forty being present, the session opened. - -There was at first a long discussion of a bill regulating the -distribution of water in the parish of _Mary-le-bone_; the debate was -of but little interest, though Mr. Henry Lytton Bulwer, Mr. Hume, and -Sir Francis Burdett look frequent part in it. My attention was fixed -on their persons, if not on their discourses. - -Mr. Henry Lytton Bulwer is a young radical who leads a life altogether -aristocratic. He is renowned for the elegance of his grooms and of his -vehicles. Nobody wears a black frock so short and so tight. He speaks -well and easily, with a voice somewhat unpleasant, his head elevated -and thrown back after the fashion of men of small stature. He is the -elder brother of the novelist, and is himself the author of a work on -France, in which he judges of French manners, society, politics and -literature with a degree of insane ignorance hardly less disgusting -than the _naïve_ buffoonery of Lady Morgan. It is a distinguishing -characteristic of the English, to write without knowledge, observation -or study on every country they pass through. It is a pity that a man -of common sense and intelligence such as Mr. Henry Lytton Bulwer, -should have made his literary _debut_ by so vulgar a piece of national -_gaucherie_. - -There is nothing about the person of Mr. Hume that would strike you; -he looks like a good-natured, unaffected, broad-shouldered countryman, -independent in his character, and utterly careless of fashion. His -mere manner, to say nothing of his words, expresses invincible -aversion to all ceremony. His appearance does not belie his character. -His enunciation has all the ease, firmness, and roughness of his -opinions. One of the chief priests of radicalism—an inexorable and -incorruptible reformer, he has sworn never to sit, but on the benches -of the opposition; it is from fidelity to his oath, not from sympathy, -as you might well conclude, that he now sits in the ranks of the -conservatives. - -Sir Francis Burdett differs from Mr. Hume both in his air, height, and -figure. Picture to yourself a long body, about five feet ten inches, -in white velvet breeches, with boots turned down at the top, and a -blue frock. A white vest, a white cravat, a little bald, flat head, -well powdered, will complete the portrait. The fate of public men who -outlive themselves, is often singular. Sir Francis Burdett, ten years -since, was as fashionable as his dress. He was the favorite of -Westminster—the popular orator of the House of Commons. He caused -himself to be imprisoned in the Tower, for having dared to speak too -boldly against royalty. Now he is suspected by the people—they suspect -him of voting with toryism. They despise him, they accuse him of -versatility. “But,” he replies, “it is you, perhaps, who have changed. -Reformers formerly, you are now radicals! Tories in my day, you are -now reformers! I have preserved my opinions and my dress!” Well! the -error is with you, Sir Francis Burdett; you should have changed also, -or not have lived to become old. If you had died at the proper time, -perhaps you might now have your statue of bronze near that of Canning, -in Westminster square. Who knows if to-morrow the same people who -formerly carried you in triumph, may not ornament your white breeches -with the mud of the streets leading to the Parliament house? - -At last the discussion touching the waters of Mary-le-bone draws to a -close. The house having to vote on this unlucky bill, the galleries -for the reporters and the public were cleared. This is the custom of -Parliament; decisions never take place but with closed doors. - -When I returned to the gallery, the hall presented {474} quite an -altered appearance. The less piece was finished—the great one was -about to commence. The ranks on the right and left grew thicker every -moment—each member hastened to his post. - -Lord John Russell, the official commander in chief of the reformers, -had appeared on the ministerial benches, to the right of the speaker. -By his side, you observed his principal aides-de-camp, the Chancellor -of the Exchequer, Mr. Spring Rice, with a large bald forehead, and the -countenance of a Satyr, the most ready, if not the ablest speaker in -the cabinet; Lord Morpeth, secretary for Ireland, a large young man -whose premature grey hairs, appear at a distance to be of a light -yellow, looking like a timid and blushing youth; Lord Palmerston, an -old bloated dandy, whose fat face seems to swell itself out between -his thick whiskers with more satisfaction since he is no longer led by -the nose by Talleyrand—Lord Palmerston, who has not wished to be made -a peer since his last return to power, pretending that his eloquence -has a more open field in the Commons than it could have in the House -of Lords. - -In front of the ministerial group, and separated from it only by the -table of the clerks, sits Sir Robert Peel, surrounded also by his -conservative aids, among whom you may distinguish Lord Granville -Somerset the quasimodo of Westminster, whose double hump does not -prevent him from being one of the most alert to sound the Protestant -tocsin against Popery. - -Here and there you may have observed other distinguished members of -the house; Daniel O'Connell, the great O'Connell, calm and absorbed in -the reading of some new book, of which he is cutting open the leaves, -in the midst of his sons, his nephews, and his Irish Catholics, who -form what is called _his tail_; a tail, if you please, but one which -leads the head of the state. After them, Lord Stanley, the young heir -of the house of Derby, that ambitious and disappointed _elegant_, who -has yet only in heart deserted the benches of the reformers. - -Next you have remarked two young men standing up, and differing as -much in their height and figure as in their opinions; but equally -celebrated, each one in his own way, in the world, and who, in -consequence, deserve to be described. - -The first is Viscount Castlereagh, son of the Marquis of Londonderry, -a mad conservative like his father, but less simple and possessed of -much more discretion. Thin and pitiful in his person, without figure -and without talent, it is not in the house that he really exists; in -the saloons of the west end is his true atmosphere—it is there alone -that his stupidity finds the air that it can respire. Lord Castlereagh -is one of the chiefs of the new school which has regenerated English -fashion. This school is entirely different from that of Brummell, -which founded its distinction upon dress. The new fashionables of the -sect of the noble lord, affect, on the contrary, entire negligence in -the dress, and the greatest freedom of manners. Nothing is brilliant -in their equipages, nor in the style of their servants. Their vehicles -are of dark colors and sombre liveries; for themselves extreme -simplicity in appearance. No flowered vests; no gold or silver lacing -about them; no jewels; at the most the end of a gold chain at the -button of a black coat; an engraved ring betraying some mysterious -sentiment known to the whole city. Add to this the most refined -impertinence of vanity, a sublime contempt for every one not of the -exclusive circle into which they alone find admission, and an -ambitious senseless jargon. Lord Castlereagh is the perfect type of -this first and principal class of London fashionables. - -The second, Mr. Edward Lytton Bulwer, the well known author of -_Pelham_ and other novels, is, like his brother, an avowed radical. He -is large, and would, did he not stoop and hold himself in other -respects badly, appear to advantage. His hair is thick, light, and -curly. His long inexpressive countenance, and his large moist and -fixed eyes, scarcely reveal the writer of genius. I suppose it is in -some measure the incontestible success of his writings that has opened -to him the doors of that exclusive society, with which he is very much -at home. For the style of his costume he is indebted to old -traditionary fashions. You will rarely ever meet him but with his -bosom open, the skirts of a luxuriant surtout lined with velvet or -silk floating to the wind, with the rest of his dress of clear -brilliant shades, and varnished boots, brandishing some cane encrusted -with a rich head. He would remind you of those _parvenus_ of bad taste -who encumber the _avant_ scenes of the opera at Paris. I do not deny -the really interesting character of some of the novels of Mr. Bulwer, -though they are in other respects so wretchedly written; but it seems -to be that he acted very ridiculously in endeavoring to exaggerate -their real value, at the expense of exhibiting the absurd vanity -betrayed in every page of the sad rhapsodies he has recently published -under the title of the _Student_. I would however sooner pardon him -for this last work, than an act of his of which I have been informed. -A young American called on him the other day, with letters of -introduction. “I am delighted to see you, sir,” said Mr. Bulwer, “but -I will tell you beforehand that it will be difficult for me often to -have that honor; I have already more acquaintances than my leisure -will allow me to cultivate, and, in conscience, it is to them that I -owe the moments at my disposal.” Do you not discover in this piece of -politeness something that even surpasses the characteristic amiability -of the English? The English do not ruin themselves by hospitality. If -a stranger is introduced to them by letters of introduction, they give -him a heavy and long dinner, with a supper for dessert; then, having -stuffed him with roast beef and filled him with Port and grog, and -having spared no pains to cram him, they take their leave of him; and -if the unfortunate individual survives this cheer, their doors are -afterwards closed against his entrance. Sir Walter Scott, who was -perhaps as great a novelist as Mr. Bulwer, did not consider himself -exempt from the common duties of politeness and attention to visitors -who happened to be introduced to him. So far from it, he treated them -with much more hospitality than is the custom in England; it is true, -however, that Sir Walter, though a great novelist, was not a great -_fashionable_. - -There also you may have recognized Doctor Bowring searching about, -running up and down, from one bench to another, shaking the hand of -every member who will allow him to do so. The doctor is well known in -Paris; and as he did not quite waste his time in promenading the -streets of that capital, he soon discovered that charlatanism was one -of the most powerful means of success. {475} He took the most direct -route to attain his end, and proceeded straight to the journals. The -French journalists, when one knows how to deal with them, are -complacency itself. In a short time no one was talked of but Doctor -Bowring. The doctor did not take a single step that was not duly -registered; it was Doctor Bowring here, and Doctor Bowring there, -every where the doctor; and the honest public of the French capital, -deafened by these trumpet-tongued praises, took him for some -extraordinary important personage. On this side of the channel we -better understand the puffs of the press, so that every body laughed, -I assure you, when this Doctor Bowring was strutting through France, -so splendidly decked out with the importance which he had purchased -from the newspapers of Paris. He returned to London, but without this -glorious mantle. That had been detained at the custom house as a sort -of prohibited French merchandise. In fine, the doctor remains just -what he was before, that is to say a reformer, anxious to profit by -reform, a pale disciple of the utilitarian school of Lord Brougham; a -sort of travelling clerk of the foreign office, speaking sufficiently -well three or four living languages; a poet, who furnishes some -stanzas of ordinary poetry to the magazines; as for the rest, the very -best physician in the world. - -It was now near six; no one remained to be heard; the moment had -arrived for opening the lists. According to the order of the motions -for the day, the speaker gave the floor to the minister of the home -department. Suddenly the waves of the assembly subsided; a profound -silence ensued; Lord John Russell rose to speak. - -Lord John Russell, third son of the Duke of Bedford, is extremely -small, scarcely five feet high; the smallness of his person almost -renews his youth; one would hardly suppose him forty-five years of -age, as he really is. A head large about the forehead, and small -towards the chin, forming a sort of triangle; chesnut-colored hair, -short and thin; large eyes surmounted by well arched brows; a -countenance pale, calm, soft and phlegmatic, marked by a sort of -half-concealed cunning, are the features that would alone strike you. -His manner of speaking is in perfect harmony with his modest and quiet -exterior. His voice is weak and monotonous, but distinct. In speaking, -his body is scarcely more animated than his discourse. All his action -consists in gliding his left hand behind his back, seizing the elbow -of his right arm, and balancing himself indefinitely in that position. - -Lord John Russell expresses himself plainly and without effort; his -language is cold and dry, but clear and concise. An author more -concise than elegant, his style of writing exhibits itself in his -off-hand speeches. He has nothing of the tiresome volubility of -Thiers, who is minister of the home department in France; he says no -more than is necessary, while he says every thing that he wishes. His -sarcasm though frozen, is not the less sharp. The blade of his -poignard does not require to be made red hot to inflict a deep wound. -He has none of those sudden flashes which electrify and inflame an -assembly; his light is of that peaceable and steady nature that -illuminates and guides. His mind is a serious one, full of -appropriate, condensed, and well resolved reflections. - -In less than an hour he had unrolled the whole plan of his bill, and -concisely explained its principles and details, not without letting -fly some well sharpened arrows against the corrupting influence of the -tories over the municipal constitution, the reform of which he -demanded. - -As soon as Lord John Russell had resumed his seat, and in the midst of -the various murmurs which his speech had excited, Sir Robert Peel rose -to address the speaker. - -The ex-first lord of the treasury is of moderate height; his figure -would be elegant, but for the fatness which has already begun to -render it heavy; his dress is neat and studied without being dandyish; -his manner would not convict him of the approach of fifty; his regular -features have an expression of contemptuous severity; he seems to -affect too much the manners of a great man; natural distinction has -more ease and carelessness about it. - -Moreover, studied affectation is also the prevailing characteristic of -his oratory. Gesture and language both betray his ambitious -affectedness. He has more of the actor than becomes a public speaker. -It is irksome to see him agitate, struggle, and throw himself -incessantly about. I do not like to see a statesman exhibit so much -acquaintance with the positions of an elocutionist. It may be well -enough by one's own fireside to cross one leg over another and to play -with the guineas in the pockets of one's pantaloons. One may play with -his collar in a drawing room, or throw back the skirts of his frock, -without any great impropriety; but in public, and, above all, in -places devoted to the solemn discussion of the laws of a nation, this -style of flirting manners is by no means appropriate. Sir Robert -abuses the purposes for which his hands and arms were given him. One -almost loses his words in the incessant agitation of his person. - -In other respects I will acknowledge that his elocution is spirited, -easy, and intellectual; he may be listened to with pleasure. I am -always well pleased with the manner in which he applies his rhetorical -skill to public affairs. He has every thing which the art of speaking -can give him; but the warmth which animates him is always artificial. -The true fire of conviction which is so naturally communicated from -the speaker to his audience, is always wanting. There is no sincerity -about him. He is an ambitious tory in disguise, who, in order to seize -again the golden reins of government, has hypocritically cloaked -himself under the mantle of a reformer, and who would pass over to the -radicals with his arms and baggage, if there was any chance of -remounting by their aid to the power which he covets, and of securing -himself in its enjoyment. - -In accepting, with ample reservations, the principle of the bill, Sir -Robert Peel, in answer to the sharp insinuations of Lord John Russell, -made several witty and amusing observations, which diverted a good -deal the house. - -The minister replied in a few polite but firm observations. The -serenity of the noble lord is perfectly unchangeable. He is as calm -when defending himself, as when attacking his adversaries. I consider -this political temperament as the most desirable for a statesman -actively engaged in public affairs. Such coolness disconcerts the fury -of one's assailants. One is never worsted in a combat when he retains -such undisturbed self-possession. - -{476} Some remarks on the details of the bill were made by different -members. No one having opposed its introduction, the members began to -move off. It was already night, and the hour for dinner; the candles -were not yet lit; the house rose in a body. - -An individual in a brown curly wig, and dressed in a blue frock, whose -broad shoulders and athletic form displayed great personal strength, -descended from the ministerial benches, and stepped in the centre of -the hall. The sound of his voice called every one back. Silence -ensued. This was the great Irishman, the _giant agitator_, as he is -called—a giant they may well call him. This energetic old man has -alone more youth and life than all the young men in the Commons -together, than the whole chamber itself. - -The darkness of the evening was not sufficiently great to conceal him -from my view. I see him now before me, erect on his large feet, his -right arm extended, and his body inclined forwards; I seem to hear him -speak. His remarks were not long; he said but a few words, but all his -power was condensed in them. The lion fondled while he growled. His -approbation was imperative and threatening. “So the bill has only -looked to England and Wales! Must Ireland then be always forgotten, -that its turn never comes but after the other countries of the United -Kingdom? Has it not enough of venal and corrupt municipalities? -Nevertheless, he would support openly and with all his strength, the -plan of ministers. It was a noble and glorious measure; he wished for -nothing more for Ireland.” - -He did not wish for more, that is to say, he did not order more for -Ireland. The wishes of O'Connell are not to be despised. In -consequence, Mr. Spring Rice hastened to satisfy him. “He need not -give himself any uneasiness,” said the Chancellor of the Exchequer; -“the government would equally do justice to Ireland. It should -likewise have its corporations reformed, and perhaps during the same -session.” - -“Thanks!” murmured O'Connell, mixing himself with the crowd of members -pouring out of the hall; “I will remember this promise for Ireland.” - -_Ireland!_ you should have heard him pronounce its name with that -excited, trembling accent, so full of tenderness, which emphasizes and -lingers on every syllable of the beloved word; you should have heard -him, to comprehend the power of his irresistible eloquence. Pure love -of country lends one a super-human strength. A just cause, honestly -and warmly embraced, is an irresistible weapon in hands capable of -wielding it. - -I am not surprised that desperate conservatives, seeing their -tottering privileges ready to be trodden under the feet of O'Connell, -should treat him as an agitator, madman, destroyer. But how is it, -that among the reformers themselves, he has so many inconsistent -admirers, who will never pardon him for the bitter violence and -inexorable severity of his speeches? Do these moderate and quiet men -believe that honeyed phrases, and the submission of prayers, would -have obtained the redress of even the least of the Irish griefs? No! -had he not struck roughly and pitilessly, the old edifice of -usurpation and intolerance would be still entire. Let him go on—let -him be pitiless; he has made an important breach in the walls—let him -level them with the ground. To overthrow such things is not -destruction; it is but the clearing of the ground to build up public -liberty. - -O'Connell is unquestionably the best speaker, and the ablest -politician in Parliament. Friends or enemies, every one acknowledges, -at least to himself, that he is the master-spirit; thus he is the true -_premier_. The members of the cabinet are nothing but puppets, dressed -up for show, and worked by his agency. His influence over the masses -of the people is also immense and universal. He is not the popular -idol in Ireland only, but also in England and Scotland. Long life to -him! the hopes and future welfare of three nations are centered in his -person. - -I have nothing further to say of the sitting of the 5th of June, -except to remark, that a sufficient number of working members were -left in the room to continue for many hours the despatch of business -of secondary importance. It is but justice to the House of Commons to -state, that great political questions do not retard the execution of -local and private business. They will often get through in a single -night, more work than the French Chamber of Deputies would in a month -of thirty days. - -You have seen that the opposition of the conservatives gave way before -the corporations bill. It was not without deep mortification, as you -may imagine, but prudence rendered it indispensable. It is necessary, -at any sacrifice, to assume the appearance of not hating too violently -the principles of reform. The plan is not without cunning. - -But the opposition counts with confidence on regaining its ground on -the question of Irish tithes and their appropriation. It is on this -question that it has halted and offers combat. “We have abundantly -proved,” say their proclamations, “that we are reasonable reformers, -but our love of change cannot induce us to sacrifice the church.” And -their church, that ungrateful and unnatural daughter, which has denied -and plundered its mother, invokes with all its power the old -prejudices of the Protestants to the aid of its champions; it sounds -the tocsin with its bells taken from Catholic steeples. Every where it -stations its bishops in its temples without altars, and makes them -preach a new crusade against Catholicism. Hear them: Of the -innumerable religious sects which encumber the three kingdoms, taking -them in alphabetical order, from the Anabaptists to the Unitarians, -there is not one so hateful and dangerous as the Catholic church. The -Popish sect is the only one that endangers the state, the throne and -the property of individuals. It is necessary to burn again the Pope in -effigy and in processions, as formerly under the reign of Queen -Elizabeth; and it would not be bad to burn on the same occasion that -impious majority in the Commons, who wish to appropriate a part of the -Protestant tithes in Ireland to the education of the poor of all -religions! God be praised, the selfish and insensate voice of the -conservatives has only cried in the desert. Their fanaticism will not -succeed against the general good sense of the nation. Within as -without the chamber, their defeat is inevitable. To use the beautiful -metaphor of Mr. Shiel, the first Irish orator after O'Connell, the -church of Ireland will be the cemetery of toryism and Protestant -intolerance. - - -{477} - - -THIRD LECTURE - -Of the Course on the Obstacles and Hindrances to Education, arising -from the peculiar faults of Parents, Teachers and Scholars, and that -portion of the Public immediately concerned in directing and -controlling our Literary Institutions. - - -_On the Faults of Teachers_. - -It will be recollected, my friends, that my last effort was to expose -the vices and faults of parents, so far as they obstruct the progress -of education. Those of instructers shall next be exhibited, since they -are certainly entitled at least to the second in rank in their power -to do mischief. I might sum up all _their_ faults in one sweeping -condemnation, by saying that they render the persons guilty of them -enemies to themselves, to their professional brethren, and to the -public. But specifications are wanting, and such I propose to give, as -minutely and distinctly as I can. - -In the first place, they injure themselves by the style and language -often used when they tender their services to the public. The -expressions are frequently such as to encourage the idea, already too -prevalent, that _they_ are the only party to be obliged—_they alone_ -to be the receivers of favors never to be adequately compensated. -Whereas the truth is, if they are really fit for their business, and -desirous to perform it faithfully, they never receive the millionth -part of a cent for which they do not make a most ample return—a -return, the real value of which can never be measured by mere dollars -and cents. But the language in which they seek or acknowledge -employment, often expresses a degree of humility below the lowest -gospel requirement—a doubt of their own qualifications to teach, -which, if true, ought forever to exclude them from the class of -instructers. It sometimes, in fact, deserves no better name than a -servile begging for patronage, as if they considered it a species of -gratuitous alms. Ought it to be wondered at, when this is the case, -that the public should understand them literally, and treat them -accordingly? If they avoid this extreme in tendering their services, -it by no means follows, as a necessary consequence, that they should -run into the other, which is also very common, of making themselves -ridiculous by extravagant pretensions. The middle course in this, as -in many other things, is best. Let them always state plainly and -explicitly, without exaggeration, what they believe they can do—their -willingness to make the attempt with persevering fidelity, and the -pecuniary compensation expected for their services. If this were -always fairly and fully done, there could not be even the shadow of a -pretext on the part of any who might then choose to accept their -offers, for underrating their labors, and talking or acting as persons -who had conferred obligations beyond all requital, by giving much more -than they had received, or could be paid. When teachers are treated in -this way, it is, in a great measure, their own fault, and it arises -chiefly from the causes just stated. To render their intercourse with -their employers what it ought to be, and what it certainly might -become, there should be not only a feeling of entire reciprocity of -benefit as to the money part of their dealings, but a mutuality of -respect and esteem well merited on both sides. This kind of regard can -never be felt towards teachers who receive such civilities as may be -paid to them, like unexpected and unmerited favors; for if they -themselves do not appear to hold their own profession in the honor to -which it is justly entitled, who else can they expect to rate it any -higher? - -In the second place, teachers are often enemies to their professional -brethren in the jealousy manifested towards each other—in a restless -and ill-restrained propensity to depreciate each other's -qualifications, and a too frequent co-operation with the slandering -part of the community, when they find the children sent to them from -other schools ignorant and ill-disposed, to ascribe it all to the -defective manner in which they have been taught, rather than to the -real and very frequent causes of incapacity, bad temper, or bad early -habits. By such practices, many foolishly imagine that they are -promoting their own particular interests, when, in fact, they are -deeply injuring the general interests of the whole class of teachers, -by contributing to impair the public confidence in all schools -whatever. For what can more effectually do this with the majority of -mankind, than to hear those who set up for their instructers in -morals, as well as in general science, continually finding fault with -each other, or silently acquiescing in its being done by persons not -of their own profession? Such conduct places them in this desperate -dilemma; if what each says of every other be false, the public must -think them all base calumniators: if it be true, the conclusion is -inevitable that they are all incapable; and either alternative would -speedily and most deservedly strip the whole of employment. - -Lastly, teachers are often enemies to the public in so many -particulars that I scarcely know with which to begin; not that I mean -to charge them with being intentionally so—for it frequently happens -with the best people in the world, that they are among the last to see -their own greatest defects. Some of the faults of teachers may be -considered as belonging exclusively to themselves, and for which they -can find no excuse whatever in the faults of others—such, for example, -as the two first enumerated. But those which I have now to expose, are -so intimately blended with the faults of their employers, of their -children, and of that portion of the world with which they are more -immediately connected, that, like the reciprocating action of the -various parts of certain mechanical contrivances, these faults must be -viewed as causing each other. Thus, the parental fault of blindness to -their children's defects, both natural and moral, and their consequent -injustice to the instructers who ever blame or punish them, give birth -to the equally fatal fault in teachers of carefully avoiding every -hint of incapacity, and studiously concealing the ill-conduct of their -pupils, because well aware that they probably will not be believed. If -compelled to make communications on so perilous and ungrateful a -subject, they are so softened and frittered away, as to produce a far -less pardonable deception than entire silence, since a sensible parent -would ascribe the last to its proper motive, when the glossing and -varnishing process might lead them entirely astray. The same knowledge -of the self-delusion, and consequent injustice of parents, leads -teachers to the frequent commission of another fault, in which they -often engage their particular friends as participators. At their -public examinations (where they have any) they contrive a sort of -Procrustes' bed, which all their pupils are made to fit, but rather by -the {478} stretching than by the lopping process. This is usually -managed so adroitly, that the public will see numerous goodly -advertisements, with many imposing signatures, taking their rounds -through all the newspapers, by which it clearly appears that every -scholar in the school, however numerous they may be, even to the -youngest child, performed to the entire satisfaction and admiration of -all who saw or heard them. It is utterly impossible that these -examinations, if fairly made, could have any such uniform and -favorable result; for the difference of natural capacity alone must -inevitably produce a great inequality of performance in the pupils. -Every body with five grains of experience, knows that many other -causes are constantly operating to increase this inequality. Such -reports, therefore, of examinations, fail entirely with the -reflecting, well-informed part of the community, to produce any thing -but ridicule, disgust, or pity, while the ignorant and inexperienced -are most unjustifiably imposed upon. The most deceived of any will -generally be the parents who are absent, whose natural partiality for -their own children so blinds their judgment, as to make them believe -in any eulogium bestowed upon them, however extravagant. Little else -is ever accomplished by these truly delusive spectacles, unless it be -most injuriously to inflate the vanity of the poor pupils. The desire -to be puffed in the newspapers, and talked about in public, is -substituted for the love of learning for its own sake, and thereby one -of the most important objects of education is greatly obstructed. -_This is_, or _ought to be_, to excite in all persons under pupilage -an ardent desire to gain knowledge, because they love it for itself, -and for the power which it confers of promoting human happiness. - -The reciprocal faults just stated in teachers and parents, co-operate, -not to promote in any way, but to destroy the great ends of -instruction, so far at least as they can contribute to the work of -destruction. Let it not be understood, from the foregoing remarks, -that I am opposed to public examinations in all schools whatever; -although I certainly wish it to be understood that, as generally -managed, they are worse than useless. But I do object to them -altogether in schools for females—unless, among our other marvellous -advances towards perfectibility, we should take it into our heads to -make lawyers, doctors, statesmen, and soldiers of our daughters, -instead of modest, unassuming, well-informed, home-loving, and -virtuous matrons. _Then, indeed_, it will be necessary to give them -that kind of early training, continually aided by public examinations -at school, which will inure them to the public gaze, and enable them, -in due time, to meet the searching eyes of multitudes with unabashed -hardihood of countenance; and entirely divested of such a very -needless incumbrance as that retiring, timid, indescribable modesty, -heretofore deemed one of the most lovely, fascinating, and precious -traits of the female character. I will not go so far as to assert that -none can possess this trait who have been accustomed to be publicly -examined—for I have the happiness to know many from whose hearts -neither this ordeal, nor all the other corrupting influences of the -world united, have had power to banish those admirable principles and -qualities which constitute at once the most endearing ornaments and -highest glory of their sex. But I _will say_, that they are -exceptions, forcibly illustrating the truth of the general principle, -which is, that modesty, or indeed any other good quality, _must_, in -the end, be destroyed by causes continually operating to work its -destruction. - -Another sore evil of incalculable extent, in relation to this subject -of education, is the frequent discordance between the precepts and the -lessons which must necessarily be taught in all well-regulated -schools, and the examples witnessed, the opinions heard, and the -habits indulged in at home. This often places conscientious teachers -in a most puzzling and painful dilemma, from which many shrink -altogether, while others vainly endeavor to compromise the matter in -such a manner, as completely to _nullify_ (if I may use a very current -phrase) every effort to do good. The dilemma is, that in discharging -the duty to the child, the parent, although indirectly, is unavoidably -condemned, every time the teachers warn their pupils, as they -continually ought to do, against any of the faults and vices most -prevalent in society. Desperate, indeed, and almost hopeless, is the -task of teaching, when this most deplorable, but very common case -occurs. For what is the consequence of imparting virtuous principles -and habits to the children, admitting the possibility of it, where -none but vicious examples have been seen under the parental roof? -Their eyes are inevitably opened to the wretched moral destitution of -those to whom, under God, they owe their existence; and they are thus -plunged into a state of perpetual suffering, if not actual misery—for -the better the children become, the greater will be their distress and -affliction at the condition of their parents. What fathers or mothers -are there, having either hearts to feel or understandings to discern -the awful responsibilities they live under in regard to their -children, but must tremble at the bare thought of setting them bad -examples, and thus becoming a source of double misery to their own -offspring—misery _here_, even if they escape the contagion of these -vicious parental practices and habits—and misery _hereafter_, should -they be so deeply infected as to prove irreclaimable? - -Another highly pernicious fault, of which multitudes of teachers are -guilty, is continually to act as if they took upon themselves no other -responsibility than that of a mere formal attendance in their schools -for the number of hours prescribed, to hear prescribed lessons -repeated in a parrot-like manner. Any thought of being accountable for -the influence exerted in forming the characters of so many -fellow-beings, seems never to enter their minds, although this is -beyond all calculation the most important part of the whole process of -education. - -Another fault of frequent occurrence among instructers is, to have -such an overweening, extravagant sense of their own dignity, as to be -incessantly on the watch for offences committed against it. Thus even -a single muscular contortion of a pupil's face, whether natural or -accidental, and even if he be but nine or ten years old, will be -construed into a most grievous and flagrant insult, not to be expiated -but by some signal punishment, usually of a corporeal kind, and -inflicted in such a manner as to prove that the operators are rather -working off their own wrath than endeavoring to cure the scholar's -defects. By this truly ridiculous sensitiveness, they are certain so -to expose themselves as either to become laughing-stocks or objects of -scorn and contempt to all their older scholars, or of the most {479} -perfect hatred to the younger ones. In all such cases these teachers -become real nuisances—for the injuries done by such conduct to the -tempers of their pupils, far exceed any possible benefit they can gain -at such schools. - -There are some faults of teachers which greatly impair, if they do not -entirely destroy, a proper subordination among their scholars. One is -the want of a dignified manner, equally removed from a proud, haughty, -imperious demeanor, and too much familiarity. Another is the excessive -fear of offending the parents, and perhaps losing the pupils, by -complaint. In every case of the kind, the child, of course, escapes -all effectual reproof or adequate correction, especially if the parent -be very wealthy, very weak, or extensively connected with what are -usually called “_great people_.” Invidious distinctions are thus -created in such schools, and the influence of all punishment is lost, -even over those upon whom it may be inflicted, sometimes in double or -quadruple proportions, to compensate for the omission in the cases of -the favored culprits. - -Another fault, little, if any less destructive of the influence which -teachers should possess over their pupils, is their general -carelessness in the all-essential duty of striving to convince their -scholars that they are really and deeply interested, both as social -beings and as christians, in leading their juvenile minds to the -sublimest heights of knowledge and virtue. No instructer who fails to -do this, whatever may be his or her other qualifications, can possibly -succeed well in the main objects of education. They may, indeed, cram -their pupils' heads with words, and even get into them a very showy -stock of ideas; but in regard to the great, vital principles of human -action, _piety and virtue_, these pupils will be in little better -condition, as to true moral worth, than so many automata, having the -power of uttering articulate sounds, and repeating what they have been -taught, but devoid of all generous, benevolent, and virtuous motives -of conduct. The notion constantly present to their minds will be, that -they pay their money for a quantum of reluctant service, to a selfish -and mercenary being, whose constant study is, to perform no more of -such service than barely sufficient to secure the pupils' continuance -at school, for the sake of the pecuniary compensation alone. Ought -there to be any wonder if the scholars themselves, under such -circumstances, contract the same selfishness, the same base love of -lucre, which they find often so productive of profit, and which they -believe to be the governing principle of their teacher's conduct? -Should the general propensity to extravagance in the use of money, so -fatally common among young people, or their better feelings imbibed at -home, protect them from contracting principles similar to those of -such instructers, they are in danger of adopting another opinion -equally destructive of the chance of deriving intellectual or moral -improvement from any school whatever. This is, a firm belief that the -whole class of teachers are destitute of every thing like generous and -noble sentiments, and are consequently utterly undeserving of -deference, respect, esteem, or affection. - -Another thing which greatly impairs the influence of teachers with -their pupils, is the very common practice of giving way to their own -faults and bad habits in the presence of their scholars. Those who -take upon them to instruct others in practical duties, must so act on -all occasions as to be able to say, “_Not only do as I tell you, but -do as I do_;” for without good examples in teachers, all their -precepts go for nothing, or will be obeyed from no other principle but -fear. - -Another fault much too common among teachers, is, that many will enter -into the profession, who are exceedingly deficient in all the -requisite qualifications; and whose sole object is to support -themselves at other people's expense, while preparing for some other -pursuit, to which the business of teaching is made a kind of -convenient stepping-stone. For all the mechanic arts—even the most -simple—a particular training and appropriate education is deemed -essential. But for that most difficult of all arts, next to governing -a nation—I mean the art of preparing youth successfully to fulfil all -their various duties in life—no peculiar adaptation of talent seems -ever to be looked for; no course of study or instruction, specially -suited to this all important profession, is scarcely any where -systematically pursued, or required. We will not trust even a tinker -to mend a hole in a dish or basin, unless we believe that he has been -regularly bred to his business; yet we fear not to trust both the -souls and bodies of our children—both their temporal and eternal -happiness—to persons of whom we often know nothing, but that they -profess to teach a few sciences, a foreign language or two, and -possibly some ornamental art; as if the mere professing to do these -things was necessarily accompanied by the full power and skill to -accomplish that infinitely greater object of all education—the forming -the hearts, minds, and principles of youth, to the love of knowledge -and the practice of virtue! This last all important qualification, -without which every other will be unavailing, is so far from being the -inseparable concomitant of what is usually called “learning,” that it -is rarely ever found in those who have had no practical experience in -teaching: not that practice alone will give it, for it seems to be the -result of a combination of circumstances and qualities not often -uniting in the same person. These are—perfect self-control—great -benevolence—much forbearance—a quickness in distinguishing all the -various shades and diversities of character in children—sound judgment -in selecting the best means of instruction—with unwearied perseverance -in applying them. Many an humble mother, who scarcely understands even -the meaning of the terms grammar, science, and literature, possesses -vastly more of this highly essential art, than thousands of the most -erudite scholars; and are as far superior to them for all the most -valuable purposes of education, as Sir Isaac Newton was to Swift's -ideal clown, whom he represents as ignorantly calling this -incomparable philosopher, “one Isaac Newton, a maker of sun dials.” -Not that I would undervalue learning in teachers; no, very far from -it, for a large portion of it is indispensable. But I mean to assert, -that _there is a peculiar art of teaching_, not necessarily connected -with, nor the result of, what is usually called learning. It is the -art, as I before remarked, of forming the hearts, minds and principles -of children, to the love of knowledge and to the practice of virtue, -which mere learning can never confer. It is an art, in fact, which -must have for its basis strong natural sense and feelings—a heart full -of the milk of human kindness—sound, moral, and religious principles—a -clear, {480} discriminating judgment, a considerable portion of -scholastic learning, and some practical experience. Those alone who -possess and love to exercise this art, are capable of imparting “that -education which bears upon the machinery of the human mind, which is -truly practical—that which breaks up the ‘fallow ground’ of the human -heart—that which brings forth the fruits of intelligence and virtue.” -In other words, (to borrow the language of an admirable article on -popular education, in a late North American Review,) every teacher, -when entering upon the discharge of his duties, should be able most -conscientiously “to say with himself—‘now, _my_ business is to do what -is in my power, to rear up for society intelligent and virtuous men -and women: it is not merely to make good arithmeticians or -grammarians, good readers or writers, good scholars who shall do -themselves and me credit—this, indeed, I have to do; but it is still -farther, to make good members of society, good parents and children, -good friends and associates; to make the community around me wiser and -happier for my living in it: my labor, in fine, must be, to ingraft -upon these youthful minds that love of knowledge and virtue, without -which, they cannot be happy, nor useful, nor fitted for the greatest -duties; and without which, indeed, all their acquisitions will soon -drop like untimely blossoms from the tree of life.’” - -We bind lads to hatters, shoemakers, and tailors, to learn their -trades, lest our miserable bodies and limbs should not receive their -due share of decoration—nay, we often make the mere fashion of these -decorations an object of the most anxious concern, of the deepest -imaginable interest; while the artizans who are to adorn our minds -with _their_ appropriate embellishments, are left to pick up their -qualifications as they may; frequently too, they are persons without -any inclination, or talents, or temper, or principles, to fit them for -this all important business; and not unfrequently, with so slender a -stock of the requisite knowledge and learning, as to be much more -suitable subjects for _receiving_, than for imparting instruction. -True it is, that such charlatans and impostors are soon found out; but -they contribute greatly to degrade the profession, and do infinite -mischief in other respects; for they are free to roam every where, -without any testimonials of their fitness, and rarely fail to find -some new field for their fatal empiricism. - -Another crying fault among teachers is, that many still make rods and -sticks their chief—if not the sole reliance, for restraining their -pupils from doing what they prohibit, or for compelling them to do -what they command; as if the only sure method of informing the mind, -or curing the deep-rooted diseases of the soul, was by the barbarous -quackery of bruising the head, or scarifying the body. Under the old -_regime_, there were some punishments, (possibly still in use) of -which it is hard to say, whether the cruelty or folly was greatest. -For instance—one was to beat the collected ends of the fingers with an -implement, sometimes made like a butter stick, at other times like a -broad, flat rule. This served the double purpose of inflicting the -first punishment, and for administering a second, which was to smack -the palms of the open hands until they were often black and blue with -bruises. I can speak experimentally of a _third_ punishment, not less -novel, I believe, than ingenious; but whether it was ever practised by -any other than a master of my own, (God rest his soul!) “this deponent -sayeth not.” It was unquestionably a favorite one with him, and well -do I remember it, having occasionally suffered it in my own person. -There was one thing which the scholars thought much in its favor—it -could only be conveniently applied in the season for fires, as it -consisted in igniting the end of a stick, extinguishing the blaze -after a sufficient quantity of charcoal was formed, and then smoking -the boys' noses, who were compelled to stand as still as statues, from -the dread of something still more painful. How it may be with such of -my school fellows and fellow sufferers as are still living, I cannot -tell; but I confess my own nostrils have always taken unusual alarm at -smoke ever since, although it has been more than forty years since -they have received any in this way. What could have been our worthy -tutor's object I never could conjecture, unless it might have been to -give himself lessons in physiognomy, while contemplating the various -contortions into which he could throw the human countenance, by the -application of so simple, so cheap an agent, and thus coming at a -better knowledge of the dispositions and characters of his pupils. I -have it from several unquestionable authorities, that other -punishments, still more cruel, irrational, and unjustifiable, _were -once_, if they are not yet, common in some schools. Among these, I -will here mention one, which a highly estimable gentleman told me, -that he himself saw inflicted on his own brother, many years ago, in a -celebrated eastern school, which was always full to overflowing. The -poor little fellow, for some offence not recollected, was actually -suspended from the floor by his thumbs, and suffered to hang so long, -that several weeks elapsed before he recovered the perfect use of his -hands. This was kept a profound secret from the father, doubtless -through fear of their barbarous tyrant, lest he should inflict some -equally cruel punishment on the informer. - -In proof of farther deficiency in the requisite qualifications to -perform, even what teachers themselves often promise—to say nothing of -what the public have a right to expect from all who profess to teach—I -will notice two or three advertisements which I myself saw several -years ago. The schools, by the way, no longer exist. I rely upon these -public annunciations as conclusive evidence of incompetence, because, -with ample time to prepare such notices, if persons who offer to -undertake the business of instruction, do not, even with the -assistance of friends, put forth an advertisement in passable English, -the failure is a clear demonstration, that much more is promised than -the individual is capable of performing. The first advertisement -contained a promise “to teach English Grammar _orthöepically_.” The -second notice informed all whom it might concern, that the gentleman -would “_learn_” (instead of teach) all children all the branches which -he enumerated, comprehending nearly the whole circle of sciences; but, -notwithstanding this palpable proof, that he was ignorant of his own -language, he soon obtained from seventy to eighty pupils. The third -advertisement proclaimed, that all the various branches in which -instruction was given by the subscribers, “were taught upon _reasoning -principles_.” Many more examples might be given of public promises to -teach, which were falsified by the very terms in which they were made, -but these, I hope, will suffice. {481} For this evil of incompetent -teachers there seems to be no corrective but public opinion. This, -however, must be more enlightened—must be better educated, before it -can interpose effectually. Something, perhaps, might be beneficially -done, by a law forbidding any persons from acting as teachers without -certificates of fitness from well qualified judges. This is done in -other countries, and in some parts of our own, as to the professions -both of law and medicine. But in these parts, as with us, it would -seem as if bodily health and property were esteemed of infinitely -higher value, than all the faculties of the mind and endowments of the -soul put together. These last are left defenceless—so far, at least, -as _law_ is concerned: the glorious privileges of ignorance are in all -respects equal to those of knowledge, as regards the right to teach, -or rather _to attempt_ its exercise: and he who proposes to vend -nonsense—nay, mental poison, like the vender of damaged goods and -quack medicines, stands precisely on the same footing with the wisest, -the best man, and the fairest and the most honest dealer in the -nation. Not a solitary obstacle exists to the success of either, but -the difficulty of procuring customers, and this is easily overcome, -simply by the proclamation of “cheap goods! cheap physic! cheap -schooling!” It has been said in vindication of such unrestrained, and -often highly pernicious practices, that “every one has a right to do -as he pleases with his own.” But this is true, only so long as we do -nothing injurious either to ourselves or to others. The first species -of injury is clearly, undeniably prohibited by the laws of God, the -last is forbidden both by God and man. But we violate both divine and -human laws, in offering to undertake so sacred a trust as that of -teaching, if we know ourselves to be incapable of fulfilling it; and -the parent who accepts such offer, incurs still deeper guilt, if he -either knows or strongly suspects the incompetency of those who make -it. Another argument is, that no person, however unfit, should be -prevented from attempting to teach, because, if really incapable, this -will soon be discovered; and, of course, such would-be teacher would -get no employment. But those who use such arguments appear to forget -entirely, that until our whole population be far better educated, than -at present, the merest pretender to science and literature, who ever -made the offer to instruct others, will always have some pupils sent -to him “_upon trial_,” (as I have often heard it said,) especially if -care be taken to call the new establishment “_a cheap school_.” The -inevitable consequence of this _sending upon trial_, is, that the -whole time the experiment lasts, is literally thrown away, if nothing -worse. The poor children, who are the defenceless victims of the -process, sustain the immediate loss; and indirectly, the public at -large is injured to the full amount of the deficiency of that -knowledge which the pupils might have gained under suitable -instructers, and which might avail them, at some future period, to -serve their country in some useful capacity or other. _If knowledge be -power, time is wealth_, and wealth too, of the most precious kind; -since to misapply it ourselves, or wilfully to make others do it, -whose conduct our duty requires us to direct, is to expose to -forfeiture our _own_ chance of happiness in both worlds, and to place -_them_ in similar danger. - -Even among very competent teachers, there is frequently a fault of -very pernicious tendency, in which they are encouraged, particularly -by those who patronize them. It is often, probably, committed without -design to deceive; but in this, as in many other matters, innocence of -intention does not prevent the mischief of the act. Dr. South, I -believe, somewhere says, “Hell itself is paved with good intentions.” -The fault to which I allude is, that they, and their friends for them, -often promise _too much_. Thus the teachers make out a very specious -and flourishing epitome of their respective institutions, promising at -one and the same time, both to shorten the period of instruction, and -to augment the stock of knowledge imparted, in some most surprising -manner, by means of various wonder-working contrivances. Upon this, -probably, some partial and over zealous friends are consulted. These, -in order to repay the compliment paid to their judgment, feel bound to -flourish away in their turn; when, behold, the joint product of this -mutual flattery is a marvellous statement running through our public -journals, by way of epilogue to the prospectus of these schools, -representing the conductors of them as all so many Edgeworths, -Pestalozzis, and Fellenburgs; their pupils all docile and talented; -or, if perchance a stray black sheep should get among them, it is -speedily made as white as the best of them, either by the force of -example, or by an admirable system of rules and regulations of such -sovereign potency, as to effect _that_ for a school, in a few weeks or -months, which all the moral and religious teachers who have existed -since the birth of our Saviour, have failed to accomplish for the -christian world in eighteen hundred and thirty-six years. In these -magic seminaries, by the wonder-working inventions of their -conductors, all the crooked paths of education are speedily made -straight—all the rough places smooth, and every old difficulty, which -in times of yore, rendered the business of teaching and learning so -irksome, tedious and puzzling, is made to vanish with a “presto, -begone, thou mischievous imp of exploded and despised antiquity!” All -the movements of these modernized and Utopian institutions, are -represented as going on like clock-work, smooth as oil, and regular as -the planetary system itself. Here, are never to be heard of any -unmanageable children—any dunces—any mules who _can_, but _will not_ -learn. Here the fabled Parnassus is realized, with all its charming -prospects of verdant slopes, odoriferous flowers, delicious fruits, -and immortalizing laurels: and here, the splendid portals of the -august temple of science bear upon their ample fronts, the -soul-cheering invitation of, “ask and ye shall have, knock and they -shall be opened unto you;” the mere reading alone of which, is to -obtain for the scholars as ready an admittance to all their -exhaustless treasures, as the repetition of the cabalistic word -“sesame,” used to gain into the robber's cave of the Arabian Nights' -Entertainments. These truly marvellous facilities invented by us -moderns, to expedite the manufacture of profound scholars and -immaculate moralists, as far surpass the clumsy contrivances of our -ancestors, to accomplish the same ends, as that most palatable -expedient for teaching the famous Martinus Scriblerus his alphabet, -exceeded in ingenuity and delectable adaptation to the designed end, -every other scheme devised for a similar purpose. It consisted simply, -in coaxing the little genius to eat his letters cut out of -gingerbread. Oh! the profundities and the altitudes of these {482} -wondrous improvements! when shall we all learn to estimate them as -they deserve? Not that I mean to deny the real advances made in the -arts of teaching, as well as in the general system of education. These -certainly have been very great, and are justly entitled to much -praise. But I believe the facts will warrant me in asserting, that -they fall far short of what they are generally represented to be; and -that, if stripped of all exaggeration, of all false pretension, so as -to be estimated exactly for what they are worth and no more, they will -be found to have gained more in show than use: in other words, that -they are, in no small degree, calculated to make vain, superficial -pretenders to true knowledge, rather than profound scholars and real -proficients in any art or science whatever—unless it be in the art of -puffing, which seems now to have reached its acme of perfection. If -the amount of these improvements were nearly equal to what is claimed -for them, we should scarcely be able to walk along the streets of our -towns and cities, without running our heads against such men as -Pythagoras, Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato. But what is the plain, -stubborn matter of fact? Why, that it is very doubtful, whether the -number of such illustrious men (if such can be found at all,) now -bears an equal proportion to the present population of the world, that -the number did to the population of the period in which the -philosophers just mentioned immortalized their names. There must be -some reason for this, if true, as I confidently believe it to be; and -it must lie much deeper, and have much more force, than the zealous -advocates for the vast superiority of modern over by-gone times in the -arts of teaching, will be willing to allow. May it not be found in the -remarkable fact, that in ancient times, no men occupied a more -elevated rank than _teachers_, while the all important business of -teaching youth was confined to men of the highest order of talent—the -most profound knowledge, and the greatest respectability of character; -whereas, in our days, this indispensable occupation—this profession, -so vitally necessary to human happiness, is permitted to be exercised -by any one who chooses to attempt it? Nay, more, in these times, men -of the highest order of talent and greatest acquirements, very rarely -devote themselves to it. Hence, in public estimation, it has fallen -nearly into the lowest ranks, whereas it once held, and ought again to -occupy at least an equal grade with the highest of all the -professions. None, I presume, will deny that the proportion of human -talent is much the same in all ages. But education being the great -moving power which enables this talent to exert itself efficaciously, -the evidences of this exertion must always increase both in number and -degree, if the modes of culture improve as fast as the subjects -increase, upon whom they are to be exercised. Is this the fact?—_if it -is_, where are the proofs in regard to the present times? Let those -who have them bring them forward. There can be no doubt that a most -delightful and fascinating picture might be given of the present state -of society by any one who would exhibit all the good which is to be -found in it, leaving entirely out of view every thing which is bad. -But this last must even grow worse in education, as in every thing -else, if it be not exposed with an unsparing hand. - -Having spoken, as some perhaps may think too harshly, of the fault -committed by teachers who claim for themselves any great and novel -discovery in teaching, let me endeavor equally to expose those who -tempt them to the commission. It is with modes of instruction as with -schools themselves—the newest are generally believed to be the best; -and this seems often to be taken for granted, even by those who ought -to know better. Not that novelty alone should constitute a valid -objection to any thing; but surely it never should be considered of -itself a sufficient recommendation to any scheme or project, the -obvious design and effect of which will be, to subvert something long -established and well approved. Yet in regard to schools, it is often -sufficient to insure abundant patronage to utter strangers who offer -to instruct young persons of either sex, if they will only profess to -teach _old things_ in a _new way_, or something purporting to be -altogether new, and will dignify with the name of “_system_” what they -are pleased to claim as a method of their own, or of some person -equally unknown to the solicited patrons or patronesses. This -fascinating term “_system_” settles all doubts, and the new broom -sweeps all before it. I say not this with the slightest view of -discouraging the establishment of new schools. Nothing, indeed, is -farther from my thoughts—for I wish with all my heart that a good one -could be fixed in every neighborhood throughout the United States. But -the remarks have been made to inculcate the absolute necessity for -avoiding all precipitation in the choice of schools, and for adopting -some better measure of their merits than their own pretensions. It is -true that parents and guardians must run some risk in sending to any -school whatever, not immediately under their own eyes, and well known -to them. But surely such risk need not be near so great as it often -is, if they would always seek something beyond mere novelty in making -their choice. How, and from whom, to seek is the great difficulty; for -the characters of schools and their teachers are among the most -uncertain things in the world—since they depend infinitely more on the -prejudices and partialities of those who undertake to give them, than -on their own real merits. Thus the parents and guardians of children -who are either too stupid or too perverse to learn, will almost always -ascribe their want of information to the teachers, and censure them in -the most unqualified terms. On the other hand, where great progress -has been made by the pupils, their friends and relatives will be -equally profuse in praising their instructers. Strangers who are to -decide, will rarely ever consider, or even inquire what is the -relative situation of the eulogizers and censurers in regard to the -schools and their teachers whose characters are given; although it is -obvious, on the slightest reflection, that we cannot possibly judge -correctly of any opinions affecting the reputation of others, without -knowing thoroughly the motives of the persons who deliver these -opinions, as well as their credibility. There is another important -circumstance affecting the character of schools, which is very rarely -attended to as it should be. The last to which the pupils go, although -it be only for a few months or weeks, bears all the blame, or receives -all the praise, for whatever habits they are found to possess—for -whatever knowledge or ignorance may be discovered in them. It never -appears for a moment to cross the brains of these character-coiners, -that habits, either good or bad, cannot possibly be of such quick -growth; or that much {483} ignorance cannot be removed, nor much -knowledge imparted, within a period utterly insufficient for -communicating even the simplest elements of moral and scientific -instruction. - -The last fault which I shall notice among teachers, is, their not -unfrequent practice of endeavoring to make a kind of compromise -between that system of instruction based upon the unchangeable, -eternal principles of the Gospel of Christ, and that which is -preferred by the world at large. Few things, if any, can differ more; -few in fact, are so utterly irreconcileable to each other: yet many -teachers act as if they believed that their amalgamation must be -attempted, cost what it may. The mere worldly portion of society, who -compose a most fearful majority in every country, must be persuaded -that their children will be educated according to their own principles -and views; while the religious part of the community, small as it -seems by comparison, must likewise be regarded as worthy of the -teacher's attention. It is easy to infer what must be the result of -any attempt to form this oil and water amalgam—this hotchpotch of -contrarieties, where the worldly influence preponderates so much. The -morality of the pupils will very rarely, if ever, reach beyond the -external man, as it is not implanted in its only appropriate soil—the -heart. Its cardinal maxim will be—not the admirable christian rule of -“doing as you would be done by,” but—“do as others do; always wear a -specious outside; ever keep well with the world, by conforming to all -its fashionable practices;” while their religion will consist almost -solely, in a mere formal and reluctant attendance at places of public -worship, and in a seeming abstinence from scandalous vices. - -It may be alleged as some small excuse perhaps, for this compromising -spirit in teachers, that a very large portion of those who employ them -are really incompetent to decide correctly, either how or what their -children should be taught, although such persons are often most apt to -interfere with the teacher's views; and are most liable to be governed -by their own prejudices and passions rather than by reason and -judgment. If the instructer, in any case, subjects his principles to -their guidance, he degrades himself, he loses his self-respect by -offending against his own conscience; on the other hand, if he obeys -_that_, he risks the loss of their patronage by offending against -their self-conceit, and few there are with moral courage enough to -brave this danger. To what source therefore can we look with any -rational hope of success for that reform in teachers—in schools—and in -the relative merits of the matters taught, which is so demonstrably -essential both to individual and national happiness? The disease is in -a vitiated public opinion; and where are the moral physicians who have -hardihood enough to attempt, and influence sufficient to administer -the necessary remedies? - -In my endeavors to expose the faults of parents, I gave one female -example of ignorant interference with teachers. Having again just -spoken of this pernicious practice, let me here cite an instance of a -father, whose power to direct will best appear after the following -statement. I once breakfasted, some thirty years ago, with one of -those utterly incompetent parents, accompanied by two fine-looking -little boys, apparently about eleven and twelve years of age. The -father was more than half drunk, early as it was in the morning, and -told me, with a look of most ineffable self-complacency, that “he had -brought his boys from school to town, to see”—what think you, my -friends? why, “a negro hanged,” adding, “that it had always been _his -opinion_, you could not too soon _give boys a knowledge of the world -by showing them everything that was to be seen_.” Can we wonder that -this world should be what it is, when such animals in the form of men, -direct the education of so large a portion of it? They possess the -legal right of directing, and none can control them. The consequence -is, that thousands of youths who might have proved ornaments and -blessings to their country, are utterly lost to every valuable purpose -in life. - -To judge better how far it is possible for teachers to mingle a -worldly with a Christian system of instruction, let us endeavor -briefly to state what we believe to be the only true and justifiable -objects of education. These are—to insure, as far as human means can -accomplish it, that there shall be “sound minds in sound bodies;” -which can only be effected by fully developing the powers of both. If -this be true, and not a rational man in the world, I think, will deny -it, the merit of every plan of instruction must depend on its -competency to achieve this great purpose by the direction which it -gives to natural talent, and by its power to restrain or encourage the -natural dispositions; to inculcate every species of useful knowledge; -and to perfect all those corporeal powers, the exercise of which is -essential to the procurement of health and the means of subsistence. -Unless all these be done, and judiciously too, there cannot possibly -be, _sound minds in sound bodies_. There may be abundance of science, -a great knowledge of languages, a splendid assortment of -accomplishments; but so far as depends upon scholastic instruction, -there will be few or none of those great principles of human conduct -which are to bear us triumphantly through all the perils both moral -and physical of the present life, and lead us to heaven. The -fashionable systems of the present day, can no more accomplish this, -than they can teach children to fly. Religious principle, constantly -demonstrated by religious practice, must, aye _must_ be the first and -last thing taught and required; or all the science and literature of -the schools will be utterly unavailing to human happiness. But how -many schools have we, where this is done? How many are there wherein -not even _a pretence_ is made of either public or private worship—of -either moral or religious instruction? Numerous, deplorably numerous -are the instances in which the poor pupils are all left to seek God or -not, according to their own fancies; and where the miserable pretext -for such criminal neglect is, that the Liberals of the present times, -than whom, by the way, there are no greater bigots upon earth—bigots I -mean in _unbelief_—would probably deem it an improper interference -with the religious creeds of the scholars, if one word were ever -uttered about religion at all. Every thing of the kind they denounce -as sectarian—even Christianity itself; as if there was not just as -much sectarianism in infidelity, as among any sect of Christians to be -found in the world. Nay more, as if the dangers of error in either -party were not most fearfully greater on their side than on the side -of the Christians. - -The foregoing faults are not confined to boy schools; but too often -appear in female schools also. In regard to these last, there is one -peculiar fault committed by {484} many teachers which cannot be too -much exposed. If much retirement be essential to successful study, -nothing can well be more preposterous, than frequently to give girls -the choice between the attractions of company and those of their -schoolrooms: for not one in a hundred will then choose the latter. The -great mischief of this indulgence is, that not only their places of -study, but the studies themselves are brought into continual danger of -becoming both irksome and disgusting to them. If it be said that they -must go into company to form their manners, the answer is, that even -manners may be too dearly bought. But admitting their high value, the -teachers should be the exemplars of their pupils in _this_ as in other -matters, or they are not entirely fit for their office. It may also be -added, that manners formed by much company-keeping are not such as -would be most sought after in a wife—the destined head, and greatest -ornament of a domestic circle: for if these manners have become the -subject of much admiration, the possessor is rarely ever known to be -content, unless she can have many other spectators besides her husband -and family to witness their display. Wonderful indeed, would it be, if -women who were trained one half their lives to acquire some -accomplishment for the sake of having it admired, should be perfectly -satisfied to spend the other half with only a husband, and now and -then a relation or two to act the part of admirers. I will not deny -that what are called “elegant manners,” can rarely be acquired without -mixing much with good society. It is also admitted that there is -nothing in their acquirement at all incompatible with the attainment -of all other good qualities or acquisitions; and that many of the most -agreeable and estimable women are to be found among those who have -seen most of the world. But are these most likely to be happy in the -retirement of that domestic life, which is the destiny of ninety nine -women in a hundred? _If they are not_, then far too much has been -sacrificed for “elegant manners.” _If they are_, should we not see -many more of them to unsettle our faith in the truth of the general -rule, that all who are destined to spend the longest portion of their -existence in private life, should necessarily be so educated, as to -acquire a decided preference for it, or we do them a great and -irreparable injury by giving them a different taste? That such -education is altogether incompatible with that which requires much -going into company, as one of its essential parts, seems to me as -clear as the light of a meridian sun in a cloudless day. It is -scarcely in human nature for young ladies who have reigned as the -belles of society, as idols in public, to become exemplary, happy -matrons in private life. The two characters are so entirely unlike, -their tastes, their highest gratifications so entirely dissimilar, -that the same persons can rarely, if ever, fill both characters. _When -they do they are moral wonders._ The natural modesty of the sex, which -always inclines them to shun rather than to seek general admiration; -and consequently to prefer home, with all its tranquil pleasures, and -rational enjoyments, to the bustle, the notoriety and highly exciting -gratifications of the world, will not be altogether subdued in every -case, by what is called a fashionable education; but assuredly, there -is nothing in any part of the whole process calculated to give this -greatest charm of the female character its proper culture and highest -embellishment. This embellishment is _piety_ towards God, and active -benevolence towards the whole human race. Let me not be -misunderstood—let me never be deemed so illiberal, so inexperienced, -as to believe that no ladies fashionably educated, can be pious or -benevolent, or happy in private life; _no, far from it;_ but I do -assert that the whole tendency of fashionable education is to prevent -their being either. It is, in truth, as little suited to the things of -time, as to those of eternity. A very brief argument, I think, will -prove this assertion to be true. - -If the general principle of adapting the early education of our -children to the profession we expect them to follow—to the situations -and circumstances in which we think it likely they will be placed—be -correct in every case, where _boys_ are concerned; why, in the name of -common sense, should it be incorrect in regard to _girls_? Are _they -alone_ to be trained for _one thing_, while they are probably destined -for _another_? Is it not the height of cruelty, as well as injustice, -to give them tastes and expectations which can be gratified only for a -few months, perhaps for a year or two, after which they will almost -certainly have to spend the remainder of their lives, however long, in -nearly utter destitution of the opportunities, if not the means also, -to use and to realize these parental gifts? Desperate surely is the -folly, or far above all reason is the wisdom of such a plan; if indeed -the only legitimate plan of all education be—permanently to promote -the real happiness of the individuals educated. - -Few, I believe, if any, will deny, that the common fault just pointed -out—of so illy adapting the education of girls to the situations in -which they will probably be placed, deserves all the reprehension -which can be bestowed upon it. But those who are most apt to commit -it, are often guilty of another, if possible still worse. For the same -falsely calculating spirit which neglects to provide for the domestic -happiness of the child, so far as that can be secured by the culture -of tastes, sentiments, and habits suitable for domestic life, will -often exert parental influence and authority, after what _they_ call -education is finished, to wed the poor victims of their mismanagement -to some husband who is deemed a good match, (to use a slang phrase -among matrimonial negotiators,) solely on account of his wealth. After -making it almost absolutely necessary to the happiness of the helpless -daughter that she should marry a man of polished manners, refined -taste and liberal education, she is forcibly united to one entirely -destitute of all these accomplishments—to one who will snore an -accompaniment to her sweetest music—will gaze, if he looks at all, -“with lack-lustre eye,” on her finest paintings; and flee from her -elegant dancing to the gambling house and the bottle: to one in fine -whose capability of participating with her in the pleasures of -reading, or of literary conversation, will probably be but a few -grades above that of the most illiterate clown. Such, alas! is too -often the reward of a fashionable education; especially in cases where -in procuring it, the fortunes of the poor girls have all been expended -with confident anticipations that ample compensation would be found in -the wealth of their future husbands. It not unfrequently happens that -one of the effects of this worldly training is, to make the girls full -as great calculators as their parents in regard to matrimonial -connexions. When this occurs, they well deserve all the {485} misery -that so often follows a marriage contracted from such mercenary and -truly despicable motives; although the parents themselves if they had -their due, would undergo tenfold suffering for having been the -original cause of the calamity, in first placing their daughters where -such principles were to be imbibed; and afterwards co-operating with -might and main to encourage their very complying teachers in -accomplishing so glorious a work. - -My purpose in commencing this lecture, was to confine it solely to the -“faults of teachers;” but I have been led insensibly to blend with -them certain parental faults. Although this is a departure from the -order which I had prescribed to myself, I hope it may serve to -strengthen all my objections to the faults of both parties; since the -influence and authority of parents superadded to the exertions of -teachers in a wrong course, must be incalculably more dangerous and -fatal. It has been forcibly remarked in regard to some of the -practical evils of a certain government, that, “if men _suffer_, what -matters it, whether it be by the act of a licensed or an unlicensed -robber—a Janizary or a Jonathan Wild.” And well may it be asked in -relation to the practical defects of our systems of education, what -matters it whether they are legalized as in corporate schools, or -submitted to as in private ones, or whether parents or teachers are -most to blame for them, so long as they are quietly suffered to work -all the mischief which they so constantly produce? However innocent -either, or both parties may be of intentional harm to the sufferers -from these defects, their influence on human happiness is not -therefore the less baneful. Innocence of intention, which I doubt not -may generally be pleaded in this case, is no excuse, but a great -aggravation of the evil, since there can be no hope of any remedy -until the perpetrators of the mischief can be convinced of its real -character, its full extent, and that they alone are its authors—that -they only have both the power and the right to apply the proper -corrective. If _they_ would take the matter in hand; if _they_ would -co-operate earnestly and perseveringly in a right course, only for a -few years, the moral condition of our society would soon be as -different from what it now is, as our fondest hopes could possibly -anticipate. The vast improvement which such co-operation might effect, -the incalculable private and public blessings it would certainly -produce, cannot, I believe, be better illustrated on my part, than by -giving you in conclusion, the last two paragraphs of the excellent -article on popular education already quoted from the North American -Review for January. In speaking of the absolute necessity of -inculcating moral and religious principles as the groundwork of all -really useful education, the author remarks: - -“There are few departments of scholastic instruction, whether higher -or lower, that may not be found to yield constant suggestions for -virtuous and religious excitement. The teacher who should skilfully -avail himself of such opportunities, would produce effects upon -society the most extensive and lasting, and the most delightful. Sir -James Mackintosh says of Dugald Stewart, and we can scarcely conceive -of a higher eulogium, that ‘few men ever lived perhaps who poured into -the breasts of youth a more fervid and yet reasonable love of liberty, -of truth and of virtue. How many (he adds) are still alive, in -different countries, and in every rank to which education reaches, -who, if they accurately examined their own minds and lives, would not -ascribe much of whatever goodness and happiness they possess to the -early impressions of his gentle and persuasive eloquence.’ Few men -indeed possess the powers or opportunities of the Edinburgh Professor. -But, to every instructer of youth, a sphere is opened for the exertion -of the noblest talents and virtues. It is a most mischievous and -absurd idea, but one that has prevailed, if it do not still prevail, -that such a man is not required to possess great talents—that he may -be a dull and plodding man—that he may be dull in his moral -sensibility—that he need not be a religious man—and yet may very well -discharge the duties of his station. But if heaven has given to any -man talent and enthusiasm, or virtue, or piety, let him know that it -is all wanted _here_, and that he can scarcely choose a nobler field -for its action. Let a man enter this field, therefore, not to go -through the dull round of prescribed duty; let him throw himself into -this sphere of action with his whole mind and heart—with every wakeful -energy of thought and kindling fervor of feeling; to think and to act, -to devise and to do, all that his powers permit, for the minds that -are committed to him; to develope and exhaust his whole soul in this -work; to labor _for_ and _with_ his pupils—to win their affection—to -quicken in them the love of knowledge, to inspire with every noble -impulse the breast of ingenuous youth; to raise up sound scholars for -literature, and devoted pastors for the church, and patriotic citizens -for the country, and glorious men for the world: let him do _this_, -and none shall leave brighter signatures upon the record of honored -and well spent lives. Let him do _this_, and whether he sit in the -chair of a university or in the humblest village school—whether as a -Stewart or a Cousin, or as an Oberlin or Pestalozzi, he may fill the -land with grateful witnesses of his worth, and cause a generation -unborn to rise up and call him blessed. - -“To the friends of education, as well as to the actual laborers in its -cause, let us say in fine, _press onward_. The spread of knowledge has -given birth to civil liberty; the increase and improvement of -knowledge must give it stability and security. The fortunes of the -civilized world are now embarked in this cause. The great deeps are -breaking up, and the ark that is to ride out the coming storm must -have skill engaged in its construction, and wisdom to preside at its -helm. The warfare of opinion is already begun; and for its safe -direction, knowledge _must_ take the leading staff. In _this_ war, not -the mighty captain but the schoolmaster, is to marshal the hosts to -battle. It is _he_ that is to train the minds which are to engage in -this contest. It is _he_ that is to train up orators and legislators, -statesmen and rulers; and _he_ too is to form the body politic of the -world. Would the free spirits of the world look to the defence and -hope of their cause? It is no dubious question where they must look. -Their outposts are _free schools_; their citadels are _universities_; -their munitions are _books_; and the mighty engine that is to hurl -destruction upon the legions of darkness, is the _free press_. Other -ages have struggled with other weapons; but the panoply of _this_ age -_must be knowledge_; the gleaming of _its_ armour must be the light -that flashes from the eye of free, high minded public opinion. Call -{486} this complimenting, call it complaisance to the base multitude, -call it visionary speculation, call it what you will—but the doctrine -is true: and, over the liberties of the world, whether prostrate or -triumphant, _that truth_ must arise brighter and brighter for ever.” - - - - -NATIONAL INGRATITUDE. - -BY MATHEW CAREY. - - -Every American, actuated by a due regard for the honor of his country, -must feel deep regret at one feature in the proceedings of our -government, which is equally impolitic and discreditable. I mean the -neglect, or, what is near akin to neglect, the very long delay of an -acknowledgment of those brilliant services, which not only add lustre -to the national character, but often produce the most solid, -substantial advantages. In this respect, I am afraid, we are more -delinquent than any other nation in Christendom—so far, at least, as -regards delay. This conduct is, I say, discreditable, as it manifests -a deficiency of gratitude, one of the noblest of national virtues. - -It is, moreover, impolitic, and may often produce most pernicious and -disastrous results in moments of difficulty and danger. There is a -vast difference between the efforts of two men, in such crisis, one of -whom may rationally anticipate having his merits duly appreciated, and -to a certain extent remunerated, if he perform any very gallant or -brilliant exploit—the other almost equally certain, that do what he -may, he will probably be overlooked altogether, or, if his exploit be -commemorated, it will be after a tedious delay of ten, fifteen or -twenty years. In such great emergencies, as I referred to above, the -former is stimulated to volunteer his services as one of a forlorn -hope, where the chances are twenty to one against his escape—the -other, if detailed for the service, will doubtless perform his duty, -but will have had little temptation to offer himself as a volunteer. - -Doubtless such considerations have great influence on the conduct of -British military and naval officers. Whenever they perform any very -signal or glorious exploit, they are morally certain of due and prompt -attention being paid them. With us, if an officer victoriously defends -a fort against an overwhelming superior force, as Colonel Croghan -did—if he intrepidly destroy an important vessel of war, belonging to -an enemy, and by that glorious act spread the fame of his country in -remote nations, as Decatur, and his brave companions did—if he defeat -a numerous army, as Scott and Brown have done—if he preserve a vessel -of war by a rare union of ardor, tact, and energy, as Hull did when -pursued by a fleet—if he capture or destroy an entire fleet, as Perry -and M’Donough have done—what is his reward? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps -after a lapse of ten, a dozen, or twenty “lingering, lagging years” of -suspense, he is, at a time when the exploit by which it was earned is -almost forgotten, rewarded with a gold-hilted sword! - -By-the-bye, swords are, except for officers in actual service, a very -injudicious mode of testifying national gratitude. To such officers -they may be very appropriate, as they may carry them on their persons, -and their appearance will recall the recollection of the action for -which they were awarded.[1] But a service of plate, which might not -cost as much as a gold-hilted sword, lying on a sideboard, or used by -the party in his entertainments, would more effectually tend to -gratify that laudable pride and ambition, which, say what we may, have -a powerful tendency to produce almost every thing estimable in human -conduct. - -[Footnote 1: Lieutenant Webster, in a letter received from him some -years since, corroborated this idea: “I keep the sword generally in my -closet, unless a friend should request to see it.”] - -Of the striking cases in our history, which have called forth, and -which justify these strictures, I shall present those of General -Starke, Commodore Decatur, and Lieutenant Webster. - - -_General Starke_. - -That the acknowledgment of the Independence of the United States by, -and the treaty of alliance with, France, accelerated the -acknowledgment on the part of Great Britain, is a point admitted on -all hands. Those arrangements with France probably saved the country -the horrors of two or three years additional warfare—and this at a -time when its resources were nearly exhausted, and a fearful gloom had -for a long time pervaded the horizon. - -It is equally true, that the battle of Saratoga and the capture of a -powerful, well-disciplined army, commanded by an enterprising general, -decided the hitherto wavering councils of Louis XVI. to admit the -United States into the fellowship of nations. - -Should there be any doubts on the subject, they will be removed by an -attention to the chronology of that period. - -Dr. Franklin arrived in Paris, in December, 1776, and used his utmost -endeavors to obtain an acknowledgment of American Independence from -month to month, in vain. He was fed with those vague promises, of -which courtiers can be so lavish, but which, however specious, mean -little or nothing. At length was fought the important battle of -Saratoga, on the 17th of October, 1777. The news probably reached the -Court of Versailles early in December. The treaties of alliance and -acknowledgment of independence were signed on the 7th of February, -1778, after a lapse of only eight or nine weeks from the arrival of -that intelligence. This time was probably employed in concocting the -terms and was by no means too much for such a mighty business.[2] -Could the Jew Apella, for a moment, doubt the cause that led that -court to the recognition of American Independence? - -[Footnote 2: “In the midst of this supposed gloomy state of affairs in -America, the news of the surrender of the British army commanded by -General Burgoyne, to that of the Americans under General Gates, at -Saratoga, on the 17th October, 1777, arrived in France; and at the -very moment when the French cabinet was as yet undecided in regard to -the steps to be adopted relative to the United States. This memorable -event immediately turned the scale, and fixed the French nation in -their attachment to the infant republic.”—_Memoirs of Franklin_, p. -382.] - -This preface appeared necessary to shed a proper blaze of light on the -glorious battle of Bennington, the turning point of the war to the -northward, which directly led to the triumph at Saratoga, and to the -capture of the bombastic British commander. National gratitude could, -at its utmost stretch, scarcely overpay an achievement pregnant with -such all-important consequences. - -{487} General Carleton, who commanded the British forces in Canada, -being regarded as not sufficiently energetic, was superseded by -General Burgoyne, who stood in high estimation for energy, military -skill and bravery. How far he answered expectation remains to be seen. -He started from Canada early in December, 1776, and met with little -resistance in his destructive and marauding career some hundred miles, -till he arrived at Saratoga. - -He issued his braggart proclamation on the 6th of December, in which -he denounced extermination, through the instrumentality of the hordes -of Indians, whom he had in his pay, against all who dared oppose his -Majesty's arms. The prospect to the north was then to the last degree -gloomy—defeat and disaster had marked the progress of the Americans. -Those were “times that really tried men's souls.” Despondency had -spread extensively. General Schuyler, who commanded the northern army, -gives an appalling description of the state of things. “The torpor, -criminal indifference, and want of spirit which so generally prevail, -are more dangerous than all the efforts of the enemy.” On the 4th of -July he resumes the subject—“We have not above four thousand -continental troops; if men, one-third of whom are negroes, boys, and -men too aged for the field, and indeed for any other service, can be -called troops. The States, whence these troops came, can determine why -such boys, negroes, and aged men were sent. A great part of the army -took the field in a manner naked, without blankets, ill armed, and -very deficient in accoutrements.” - -Such was the deplorable state of affairs to the north, a few weeks -previous to the time when Starke made his appearance on the arena. -General Burgoyne, being considerably straitened for provisions of -every kind, and having learned, by his spies, that there was a large -supply of flour, corn, and cattle, collected at Bennington, guarded -only by militia, of whom he entertained great contempt, despatched a -body of five hundred Germans with one hundred Indians, under the -command of Colonel Baum, to seize them. The Germans, being heavily -armed, and the roads greatly obstructed, were several days in marching -between thirty and forty miles. - -General Starke, who had for some time previously employed all his -influence and energies in collecting as many militia as possible, -commenced an attack on Baum's troops, immediately on their arrival; -but, after a short struggle, had to retire to some little distance; -meanwhile, Baum, finding his situation perilous, fortified himself -within a double breast-work, and sent for assistance to Burgoyne. On -the other hand, Starke, having received a reinforcement on the 16th of -August, renewed his attack on Baum; and, notwithstanding the strength -of his defences, and the bravery of his troops, carried the -fortifications, and made prisoners of all that were not killed. This -battle was just ended when a reinforcement of five hundred Germans, -under Breyman, made its appearance. The Americans, though extremely -fatigued by the assault, and a battle of two hours, attacked the new -enemies with such determined bravery, that their efforts were crowned -with a most complete victory, after a hard fought battle of several -hours. The results of the two battles were, the capture of about seven -hundred prisoners, one thousand stand of arms, four brass -field-pieces, twelve brass drums, two hundred and fifty dragoon -swords, four ammunition wagons, eight loads of baggage, and twenty -horses. Among the prisoners was Colonel Baum, who shortly afterwards -died of his wounds. There were killed in the two battles about three -hundred men, of whom, it is supposed, one third were Americans. - -As a reward for this glorious triumph of patriotism and heroic -bravery, Congress _liberally passed a resolution of thanks to General -Starke and his brave soldiers! and promoted him to the rank of -brigadier-general!_ WERE NOT THESE THANKS AND PROMOTION ABUNDANT -REWARD? - -Whether this veteran received a pension or not, cannot now be -ascertained. But be that as it may, he was, in his old age, I believe -about ninety, reduced to penury. On the 18th of March, 1818, forty -years after his exploits, he petitioned Congress for a pension -(perhaps an additional one.) The petition was referred, in the House -of Representatives, to a committee, who reported a bill on the 19th, -which, conformably with the usual procrastinating routine of Congress -proceedings,[3] lay over untouched for five weeks, till the 18th of -April, when it was passed and sent to the Senate, who referred it to -the committee on pensions, who reported it that day, without -amendments. It was read in committee of the whole, on Monday the 20th, -and agreed to _with amendments_. It being against the rules of the -Senate to pass a bill the same day on which it has undergone -amendments, Mr. Fromentin moved to suspend the rule. But, regardless -of the services, the claims, and the sufferings of the hero, the -motion, alas! was rejected—Congress adjourned next day—and, of course, -the bill was lost. Next session it passed. Starke received one year's -pension, but died before another came around—covered with glory, but -steeped in penury!! - -[Footnote 3: To this general censure, there was one remarkable -exception. The bill, to render members of Congress salary officers, at -the rate of fifteen hundred dollars per annum, was hurried forward -with an engine of high pressure. It was read the first and second -time, March 6th, 1815—the third time, and passed the 9th. Received and -read first time in Senate, the 11th, second time 12th, third time, and -passed, the 14th. Laid before the President, and passed, the 18th. -Thus, this bill, so extremely obnoxious, was hurried through, from its -initiation till its final ratification in twelve days.] - - -_The Capture and Destruction of the Philadelphia frigate_. - -History furnishes few instances of heroic daring—ardent -zeal—unconquerable energy—and nice tact and skill, equal to the -capture and destruction of the frigate Philadelphia, in the harbor of -Tripoli—and, all the circumstances of the case duly considered, it may -be doubted whether any thing superior to it can be found on record. -Never was there a much more hazardous enterprize—never was there a -greater disparity between the means of attack and the means of -defence. Indeed, it must be confessed, that all the dictates of -prudence were opposed to the undertaking. But I will not enfeeble the -interest of the reader, by attempting to describe the affair, when it -is so transcendently better done in the glowing and eloquent speech of -the Hon. Mr. Robbins, one of the senators from the State of Rhode -Island. - -“The Philadelphia was captured from the barbarians when she was, and -after she had long been, in their secure possession, in their own -harbour, and under the guns of their own fort, and where she was kept -fully {488} manned and armed, as their pride, as well as defence, and -where she was a monument at once for barbarian triumph, and for -American humiliation. _This protecting fort was armed with more than a -hundred guns, and backed, it was said, by an army in camp of twenty -thousand men._ The banks of the harbor were _lined with land-batteries -throughout, and armed also with more than a hundred guns_, and its -waters were guarded by a thousand seamen. Still this little gallant -band, the recaptors, in the dead of night, with Decatur at their head, -made their way to this frigate, boarded her, cut down every barbarian -on board, or drove him over her sides into the water; then, in -obedience to orders to set fire to her in different parts, they burnt -her down to the water's edge, and made their retreat in safety; and -_all this in the face and fire of the artillery of that fort and of -those land-batteries_. - -“Let it be recollected that this daring enterprise was out of the -routine of the regular naval service; it was, indeed, permitted, but -not directed by the commanding officer on that station; it was wholly -a volunteer enterprise. It was originally suggested by the gallant and -ever-to-be-lamented Decatur, then a lieutenant, and but a youth, as it -were. He saw that the thing was practicable to spirits daring like his -own, and that the achievement, though full of danger, would be full of -honor. He saw the brilliant page it would make in history; but he did -not foresee that it would be but the title-page to that volume of -brilliant exploits, which subsequently were to illustrate our naval -annals, of which this was to be the precursor and animating model. He -soon collected his volunteer band of congenial spirits, all young, -like himself, and, like him, burning with a thirst for distinction. -Confiding in themselves, they went to the enterprise, confident of -success, and did realize what to colder minds would seem but the dream -of romance. It is pleasing to note the number of our naval heroes, who -afterwards so much distinguished themselves in our naval battles, who -gave their juvenile and first proofs of heroism in this heroic -enterprise.” - -Thirty-two years have elapsed since this achievement took place, and -the halls or Congress have, probably, witnessed twenty or thirty -frivolous debates on this simple question, whether a great, a -powerful, a wealthy nation, lying under heavy obligations to some of -its heroic citizens, should honorably discharge the debt, or, through -an unworthy species of chicane, delay or evade the payment—debates, -which, in addition to the dishonor they inflicted on the nation, -probably cost full as much as would have satisfied the claimants, and -rescued them from the distress and embarrassments caused by the delay -of justice. A delay of justice is often equivalent to a denial of it, -and, for aught we know, it may be somewhat the case in the present -instance. The justice of the claim has, I apprehend, never been -disputed. The difficulty, so far as I understand the subject, is on -the apportionment of the sum acknowledged to be due, among the -different claimants. But what character would an individual deserve, -who owed a sum of money to a number of persons, and delayed, or -refused to pay any of them, under pretence that he could not precisely -fix their respective quotas? Would he not be set down, and with -justice, as a sharper. And are the rules of morality less obligatory -on nations than on individuals? - -If a proper disposition to do justice prevailed with Congress, the -difficulty might have been easily obviated, by passing an act awarding -the whole sum to the mass of the captors, subject to an apportionment -by an arbitration, or by a jury. - -If the widow of the illustrious Decatur, and her fellow-claimants, -whoever they may be, are not common paupers, supported by eleemosynary -aid—are not tenants of hospitals, or alms-houses—their escape from -this frightful result, attaches no merit to those majorities whose -cold-blooded and heartless votes are recorded against the act of -paramount justice involved in this question. - - -_Lieutenant Webster and Lieutenant Newcomb_. - -It cannot for a moment be doubted that the gallant attack on the -British, in their attempt on Baltimore, by a six gun battery, called -Fort Patapsco, and by another small battery called Fort Covington, the -former commanded by Lieutenant Webster, and the latter by Lieutenant -Newcomb, were the chief means of saving the city from capture. The -British contemplated a simultaneous attack by land and water; and, -while the troops were landing at North Point, a flotilla, consisting -of sixteen ships including five bomb vessels, proceeded up the -Patapsco. At one o'clock, A. M. on the 14th of September, 1814, twelve -hundred picked men were detached with scaling ladders, to land on the -south side of the city. They had eluded Fort M’Henry by a somewhat -circuitous route. As they approached the shore, the two small forts, -of whose existence, it is believed, they were ignorant, opened a most -destructive fire upon them, which sunk some of their barges, and -killed many of their men. These unexpected disasters wholly deranged -all their plans, and made them retreat in a state of discomfiture. In -their retreat they came within gunshot of Fort M’Henry, which raked -them with great havoc. - -Had they passed the two small forts, and debarked their men at the -contemplated point, nothing could have saved Baltimore from falling a -prey to those who had so recently taken Washington; and sharing in the -ignominious fate of that city, as, even without this co-operation, the -former, Baltimore, was in most imminent danger. - -For this invaluable service, which would be cheaply purchased by -millions of dollars, the two Lieutenants received the thanks of the -City of Baltimore, and each a gold-hilted sword, which cost between -three and four hundred dollars. To Lieutenant Webster, whose -circumstances were humble, a donation of an equal sum in _l'argent -comptant_ would have been infinitely more useful. Sometime afterwards -he opened a grocery store, nearly opposite the Indian Queen, in Market -street, the principal thoroughfare in Baltimore, a city which was so -largely indebted to him, and whose inhabitants ought to have vied with -each other in their encouragement of him. But, alas! so slender was -their support, that he was unable to maintain himself by his business, -and finally failed. What has become of him since, I have no means of -ascertaining with precision, but have some reason to believe that he -is now in the service of the United States. - - “Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend!” - - -{489} - - -DIARY OF AN INVALID. - -NO. II. - - -THE PORTRAIT. - -My life, during the last three years, has been as variable as the -seasons. My own habits and manner of existence often remind me of -those gregarious birds, whose mysterious and far off voices we hear, -singing the requiem of dying pleasure, as they journey from one -climate to another. As soon as I have made an agreeable settlement in -one place, and begin to enjoy the sympathies of society, (for believe -me, gentle reader, my heart was not cast in the misanthrope's mould,) -either a blast from the north, or a fiery dart from the south, warns -me that I am out of my proper latitude. On consulting with my -physician on the fittest location for my approaching winter quarters, -he suggested Charleston, in South Carolina, as offering the twofold -advantage of a regular and mild temperature of climate, and all the -pleasures arising from intercourse with the most polished and -interesting society in the United States. Knowing something of the -querulous, desponding disposition attendant on protracted disease, he -encouraged me to the removal, by remarking that he had himself spent a -winter in that city, under circumstances much more depressing; and he -could truly say, he retained none but the most delightful -reminiscences of the place or its inhabitants. He had formed many -valuable and enduring friendships among its citizens, and on some of -them he should confer a favor, by recommending his friend to their -hospitable courtesies. He furnished me with several letters of -introduction; among them was one to Col. H. B. Ashton; in handing me -which, he paused, exclaiming with enthusiastic emotion, “Oh! that I -could take the place of this letter—that I could grasp again that -hand, the pledge of as true a heart as ever beat in a human breast.” -He continued—“His address you will readily ascertain, as he is a man -of some distinction there. You have only to forward _this_, and I will -warrant that you never repent the trouble of presenting it.” - -On the first day of November, I took passage in a commodious packet, -bound from New York to Charleston. The day of embarkation was fine, -and my feelings of regret, on leaving my native city, gave place to an -exhilarating superiority, as, in clearing her port, I saw her proud -ramparts spurn the encroaching billow, while the flag of every nation -swept by me, seeking her free and rich commerce. - -We had a fair and pleasant voyage to Charleston, which (except in -contrast with my own _imperial city_,) I should pronounce both an -interesting and handsome looking town from its harbor. On landing, I -had more than enough very civil offers to take me to the best hotel, -in the best coach, on the very best terms. This matter was soon -settled, and away I was whirled into the heart of the town, and set -down before a spacious and ancient looking building, not exhibiting -all the Corinthian ornament of our northern style of architecture, but -sumptuous in its accommodations. There was an ease and an elegance in -all its “appointments,” very gratifying to the flesh, as I can say -from experience. Either I was in the humor to be pleased with every -thing, or every thing was in the humor to please me. The very -attendants, to the lowest menial, evinced the most perfect delight in -waiting my pleasure, or doing my bidding; unlike our northern gentry, -who by their impertinent _empressement_, show that they are working -“for a _consideration_.” - -The first morning after my arrival opened with smiles so bland, that I -was tempted to walk to the post office and deposit my letters of -introduction; for I soon learnt that the etiquette here is not to -force yourself upon the acquaintance of any one. The following day -brought a number of calls in answer to my letters. The gentlemen were -all courteous and prepossessing, but none came up exactly to my idea -of Ashton. It was late in the evening, and I was getting a little -miffed, that my claims on his attention had not been acknowledged with -the promptitude my importance demanded, when a quick rap at the door -announced a visiter. Before I had time to smooth down my ruffled -temper into any thing like complacency, in walked a tall and elegant -gentleman, who, addressing me, said, “May H. Ashton claim the -privilege of a friend, in greeting Mr. M—— with a heartfelt shake of -the hand?” He went on to say, that an unexpected call into the country -had prevented his receiving intelligence of my arrival until late in -the evening, which, he remarked, must account for his apparent -neglect. But as soon as I saw the man, every unworthy thought was -gone. He could not be mistaken. Nature had set her stamp upon him, as -one of her _premium_ productions, when she makes the moral attributes -correspond and harmonize in beautiful proportions with noble external -lineaments. He had passed the zenith of life, being then perhaps sixty -years old, yet time had not extinguished the fires of youth; tempered -and mellowed in the school of experience, they beamed still in the -smile of benevolence, and were practically illustrated in every -virtue. I could dwell on the charming traits of his character -forever—but lest I should tire my reader, I will hasten on to the -incident which gave rise to the following interesting narrative. - -It was soon settled, that I should spend as much of my leisure time as -I found agreeable, at the house of my new friend. He gave me a sort of -running history of what I might expect to encounter, of noise and -confusion, in a castle populous with brats of all ages and sizes; but, -concluded he, “good humor, like charity, hides all their failings, in -my eyes, at least.” With these prepossessions, you will not be -surprised to learn, that I found his family not only pleasant, but -interesting. Mrs. Ashton was a lady, whose polished and dignified -manners showed that she had moved in the select circle of society, -which she still adorned by the charms of her conversation and the -sweetness of her disposition. Her two eldest sons were settled in -life, and the youngest daughter at a boarding school; but the six -little rioters of grand-children were sufficiently _uproarious_, to -show that the tranquillity of the house must not depend on silence. - -I had, on my first entrance into the saloon, remarked a PORTRAIT, -which, with many others, adorned the room, but which, though it hung -in a much less conspicuous light, had, from the first moment I beheld -it, irresistibly attracted my attention. Its subject was a young lady, -apparently not more than sixteen years old. Whenever the conversation -flagged, or my thoughts {490} were free, my eyes insensibly turned to -the charmed spot, and there they would rest, while with a strange -delight, my mind would busy itself in trying to define, and to gift -with “a local habitation and a name,” the deep, overpowering -sympathies its beauty awakened in the mind of the beholder. I can -speak of the effect on my feelings, but words would be inadequate to -express its surpassing loveliness. In beholding it, I could only -exclaim, in the celebrated words of Burke, “There surely never lighted -on this globe a more delightful vision.” To describe the features -separately, would give you no idea of the bewitching harmony of the -whole expression. “Her eyes dark charm 'twere vain to tell.” Their -light seemed as emanated from the celestial world, and while you were -gazing on it, your soul appeared to catch something of the beatific -vision. And yet this heavenly being seemed not sublimated beyond the -affections of earth—No, the rainbow of hope and love looked as it were -spanning a dark cloud, which might blot it out forever. This -fascination continued from day to day, and yet no remark or inquiry -was made as to the original of the portrait. I felt as if there were -something mysterious or sacred about it, and that it would be -intruding into the sanctuary of private feelings, to show any -curiosity on the subject. None of the family ever alluded to it, -though they must have observed the deep interest with which I regarded -it. - -One evening, after all the little nurslings were hushed, we sat as -usual, telling over, with the garrulity of age, the events of “by-gone -days.” Ashton's talent for animated narrative was of the first order, -and the hours flew on the wings of delight, when I could get him to -dilate on the revolutionary struggles at the south. Of those times his -mind retained the faint recollections of childhood, but his memory was -stored with volumes of their kindling and heart-stirring facts, which -seemed to possess double interest, when told by the patriot and the -sage. His early fancies had been fed with this “ancient lore” from the -fountain of a mother's love and a mother's instructions. Listening to -her stories of the self-denial, hardships and dangers, our ancestors -encountered in the path to freedom, his soul had become transformed -into their image; and now, the spirits of Laurens, and Rutledge, and -Sumpter, seemed to stalk before me, while he rehearsed their deeds. - -I inquired if any members of his own immediate family were engaged in -the war? “None,” he replied, “but its evils were felt in almost every -family, and its consequences, like those of other civil wars, were -often destructive to domestic peace and happiness. Such was the case -in our own house. I have remarked the fixed attention with which you -have gazed on a female portrait in my saloon. It is not often I lift -the veil which conceals the story of one whose fate was so intimately -linked with the tenderest feelings of my own heart; but I see that -your sympathies are already interested, and if you desire it, I will -give you a brief sketch of the original of the portrait, referring, -where my recollections fail, to my mother's memoranda.” I expressed my -high gratification at his offer, and he proceeded to relate the -following particulars. - -“Morna Ridgely was the only child of Colonel Charles Ridgely, an -officer in the forty-second regiment of British light infantry. He was -the younger son of a noble family in Northumberland; and, as usual in -such cases, the laws of entail excluded him from the advantages of -patrimony, leaving him to choose between the church and the army. He -possessed a gallant, noble, and sincere disposition, and scorned the -idea of making ‘merchandise of the gospel;’ but to fight his country's -battles, to bring glory to Old England, was quite congenial to his -feelings. His choice was made, and he was to go into the army as soon -as a vacancy occurred in the regiment. Meantime, he was pursuing his -studies at the University of Edinburgh, where many of the younger -branches of English nobility are sent. - -“It was here that he formed an attachment to a lovely young Scottish -maiden, by the name of Morna Donald. Her father had been the leader of -a clan, which had often made incursions on the border, and, of course, -his name was in ‘ill odor’ with the English gentry of the neighboring -lands. But the gentle Morna bloomed in unstained purity and innocence, -the brightest flower on Scottish heath—and she gave the ‘jewel of her -heart’ to the gallant and open hearted Ridgely, not dreaming how soon -it would be withered by the cold blight of scorn and unkindness. - -“All his family, except my mother, spurned poor Morna as the daughter -of a savage rebel, and declared they felt it a disgrace to receive her -into their houses. Ridgely's feelings were wounded in the keenest -manner by this treatment, and he would have sunk under the -mortification, but for the soothing affection of my mother, between -whom and himself there existed the warmest and most confidential -intimacy. She proffered her heart and her house to receive the forlorn -Morna, who found her bosom the ark of safety and repose, amidst the -storms by which she was buffetted. About this time his commission was -obtained, but the regiment not being called into service, the young -couple, at my mother's solicitation, remained with her during the -first year of their marriage. The spirits of the young bride had -received a shock of disappointment from which they never recovered. -She was calm and resigned, but the thrill of pleasure which once gave -joy to her heart and beauty to her countenance, was gone never to -return. Sadness preyed on her health, but her friends looked forward -in hope to the interesting period when a mother's cares and a mother's -love should win her spirit back to hope and happiness. - -“How fallacious are human expectations! The same wave that cast the -little orphan on the shores of time, bore the mother to the ocean of -eternity. With a smile of perfect confidence, she gave the bud of -promise into the arms of my mother, saying, this is yours, the last -gift of the dying Morna—a precious pledge of her unwavering trust in -your affection. And most faithfully was that pledge redeemed by my -mother! from that moment did the little Morna lie in her bosom, and -receive all the tenderness of maternal care. Having a few months -previously lost her only child, an infant twelve months old, all her -tenderness was now centred in her new charge, whose beauty and -sprightliness promised to repay all her attention. - -“Ridgely was ordered to join his regiment and proceed to Ireland, -where a rebellion had recently broken out. In departing, he bathed the -little orphan with his tears, and renewed the gift to his sister, not -knowing that he should ever behold her more. The child grew; the -charms of her mind and person fast unfolded in the {491} sunshine of -my mother's love, and she soon became the joy and pride of her heart. -Her father returned to England when she was four years old, and had -the long wished for happiness of clasping his beloved child, the image -of his lost wife, to his bosom; and the shattered fragments of his -heart were gathered again around his infant daughter. How gratifying -to him, to see how powerfully she felt the tie of birth! The highest -boon she could ask, was to sit on her father's knee, and lean her -bright check on his heart, while she persuaded him to stay with her, -and she would love him ‘as much as aunt Ashton.’ Among the ‘dire -chimeras’ of the nursery, she had heard many tales of the ‘wild -Irish,’ and her little heart beat with anxious fears for her father's -safety; she could not be quieted until he promised not to go among -them any more. - -“But now the young Morna was herself to be the adventurer. Major -Ashton (my father) was commanded to embark with his regiment for the -American colonies. This was unexpected and sad news to my dear -parents; but there was no time to parley. The yoke of servitude began -to sit uneasily on the necks of the colonists, under the growing -demands of government—and an increased army was necessary to enforce -submission. With decision and promptitude worthy of a better cause, my -father obeyed the summons. The military hero is bred in the school of -suffering and self-denial. A separation from all the endearments of -social and domestic life, he considers one of the necessary -consequences of the service, and he submits with dignity. Such was the -conduct of Colonel Ridgely, in parting with his only child. His tears -fell on her cheek, while with trembling fingers he threw back the -thick curls from her forehead, that he might behold all of a face so -lovely and so beloved. It was happy for Morna that she could not -comprehend the fullness of his agony. She knew that she was her -father's darling, and her heart beat in unison with his as far as she -understood his feelings; but the page of the future is gilded with -bright hues in childhood, and she readily yielded to the soothing -assurances of her aunt, that either she would return to England, or -her father be sent to America. So she was comforted, and her thoughts -were diverted by the wonderful and mysterious preparations (as it -seemed to her) her aunt was making to go away. In the course of a -month she bade adieu to the white cliffs of Albion; and after a -tedious voyage of thirty-eight days, Morna's uncle pointed out to her -the distant shores of the western world. She gazed on the prospect -with wonder-waiting eyes, for she had never thought of any land so far -from her home and country. - -“Major Ashton's troops were landed at Boston; but as that post was -well supplied, the reinforcements were stationed in the various -commercial towns along the seaboard, to enforce compliance with the -new system of taxation. He was ordered to Charleston, in South -Carolina; and after a stormy cruise of ten days arrived in harbor and -disembarked his forces, making Charleston his head quarters. For the -sake of brevity, I must pass over many intervening circumstances, and -even years, not necessary to the main interest of my story. I must not -omit, however, to mention that my mother was called, the second year -of her residence here, to experience the bitterest of all calamities, -in the death of her beloved husband, who fell a victim to the fever of -the climate. I was an infant at that time, but I can imagine the -desolation of her soul, left a widow, and a stranger in a foreign -land; and my earliest recollections of her are associated with times, -when she sat silent, and almost unheeding my importunity to know what -made her weep so much. I find a letter from Colonel Ridgely to my -mother, written during that year, informing her that his regiment -would sail in a few days for the East Indies, to relieve another, -which was suffering greatly from disease. ‘It is uncertain,’ he says, -‘how long we may continue on this station, though the present prospect -is, that we shall only act as a temporary relief.’ He speaks of his -dear child, and the anxious and melancholy thoughts that fill his -mind, when he reflects on the distance and the time that must separate -him from her. - -“But time, as it passed the young Morna, had a dove's wing. Her bark -of happiness was borne smoothly and joyfully down the current of life. -Young hope spread her sail, and no cloud dimmed the bright horizon. -The toys of childhood were gradually laid aside for the pleasures and -occupations of intellectual cultivation. My mother, while she guarded -against the perversion of the superior talents of her pupil, spared no -expense in adorning her mind with every lasting and lovely -accomplishment. But of all adornings, she considered that of a meek -and quiet spirit to be of greatest price, having learned it in the -school of sad experience; and to this end she labored with the -waywardness of childhood and the vanity of youth, believing that they -who sow in hope will reap in joy. And such was her recompense. The -natural sensibilities of her niece were exquisite: she trembled lest -by taking a wrong direction they should prove the scourge of her life. -Byron says, - - ——‘Our young affections run to waste, - Or water but the desert.’ - -Far otherwise was it with my lovely cousin. Many sweet and endearing -instances of her goodness my memory still retains. She was my mother's -almoner to the cottages of the poor. On these errands I was frequently -her companion; and though my wayward and loitering step exercised her -patience in no small degree, she never chid me in any voice but that -of love, or denied me any innocent gratification, however great the -self-denial it imposed on her. You will not wonder that she was the -idol of the indigent and helpless. Among this mass of people, the -African slaves excited her warmest sympathy—evinced in benevolence of -the most practical sort. Instead of joining her schoolmates on -holidays in selfish recreations, she would petition her aunt to carry -some nice soup to aunt Dinah, or to read the bible to blind Betty who -loved to hear it so much. I believe they looked upon her as a -ministering angel; something celestial compounded of a purer flesh and -blood than sinful mortals, ‘God bless and love you Miss Morn; you are -too pretty for this world!’ was their usual salutation. - -“When my mother arrived in Charleston, she sought out a faithful -servant as a nurse for her young family. Margaret was her name, which -we soon contracted into the endearing appellative of ‘Mammy Marget.’ -She was the most devoted and faithful servant I ever knew. I loved and -venerated her next to my mother. She doated on my cousin; with -watchful fidelity she {492} guarded her health and happiness so far as -her limited sphere extended, and was rewarded with the deep and tender -attachment of a grateful heart. - -“In her school, Morna was a general favorite. Arbitress in every -disagreement, her candor and disinterested kindness could admit no -appeal from its fair and equal decision. With Mary Percy, one of her -classmates, a girl of congenial tastes and feelings, she was very -intimate. The rocks and dells in these environs still bear memorials -of their merry gambols and rambles amongst the wild luxuriance of -nature. Alfred Percy, also, the brother of the young lady, and two -years older, was frequently one of the party, and performed wonders of -agility and bold adventure in various feats of climbing, leaping, and -swimming, any of which he would carry to the utmost extent of -possibility to oblige or amuse Morna. In a short time he had so won -her admiration as to be her beau ideal of all that was noble and -elegant: however, she was not the girl to be fascinated on a slight -acquaintance. The current of her affections ran in too deep a channel -to be ruffled by the wing of every bird that flitted over it. My -mother's experienced eye discerned the growing attachment of Percy -towards her lovely niece, and while she would not have influenced her -decision in a matter where the affections are so deeply interested, -she hoped the time might come when she would not be insensible to the -love of one so worthy of her heart and her choice. - -“We must turn from the visions of youth and the dream of love to our -political horizon, which now grew darker and darker. Our colonies had -reached the lowest point of oppression and injustice; they felt the -burden intolerable; and rising, threatened to heave off the weight -that was crushing them. You recollect the affair at Lexington struck -the first note of revolt, which was re-echoed by most of the States in -the Union. South Carolina was, perhaps, at that time, the most loyal -of all to the British government; but even here there were not a few -whose hearts swelled with indignation at her tyrannical exactions. My -mother's feelings on this subject were identified with those of the -suffering colonists, and she felt that if she had a son able to do his -country service, she would buckle on his armor, and speed him with her -prayers, in the cause of freedom and suffering humanity. - -“After the first shock of resistance, you recollect the States were -unanimous in the cause of liberty; though the scene of war was, during -the first part of the contest, confined to the Northern and middle -States, and our arms were generally successful wherever valor and -dexterity could supply the want of superior numbers and discipline. -How did the courageous youth of South Carolina burn to join their -brethren of the North in the struggle for liberty! The hot valor of -young Percy, like that of his namesake of poetic fame, spurred him on -to rush into the marshalled ranks, from which he could scarcely be -withheld by the sober forecast of his father, who foresaw that the -tide of battle was already tending towards the south. - -“Information was at length received, that a British squadron had been -fitted out for the reduction of Charleston; and, detained by -unfavorable weather, was lying at Cape Fear. This gave the Americans -time to strengthen their fortifications, so as to make an attack from -the seaboard extremely difficult. In the month of June, 1776, the -squadron anchored off the bar. What a moment of thrilling anxiety was -this to every true American heart in the place! The land forces were -commanded by Cornwallis and Clinton; the naval by Sir Peter Parker. -The provincial forces were commanded by General Lee. Our young hero -Percy, was honored with a lieutenancy in his army. It was some days -before the British troops could disembark, owing to the impediment in -crossing the bar. At length, however, they effected a landing on Long -Island, and prepared for an attack. Percy's post was in the select -division, placed on the main land, opposite Sullivan's island, the -only successful point of attack. - -“The evening before the expected battle he called at my mother's, -still the spot of peculiar attraction whenever a moment of leisure -allowed him the indulgence of his warmest and tenderest feelings. She -candidly expressed her fears for his safety, knowing the dangerous -post he would occupy, and his fearless intrepidity. She charged him to -remember how many hearts would throb with deep interest for him on -that eventful day, and concluded by hoping that discretion would -temper his courage. He replied with restrained emotion, ‘I hope, dear -madam, I am not insensible to your regard, and that of many kind -friends; but there is one whose interest and sympathy I would rather -win than the world besides.’ He looked towards Morna, but she was -gone. He followed her retreating footsteps to her favorite alcove. -‘Morna,’ he said, assuming the manner of their childhood's freedom, ‘I -have heard you say, courage should be your second requisite in a hero. -I come to ask a token from you as an incentive to valor to-morrow.’ -‘Would you desire a higher,’ she answered, ‘than the cause of your -country? Oh, Alfred, it is not your honor or courage that is in -danger, but your life.’ ‘Then give me this bright tress, which has -escaped from its bondage, to remind me that you are among those who -care for my safety. It will be the first and brightest charm my heart -ever wore.’ Morna spoke not: how could she? But her lover read the -confession of her heart in the ‘many-colored Iris’ which filled her -eye. You may imagine the scene that followed, when the fervor and -faith of young hearts are pledged on the eve of doubtful battle. The -hour of separation came, and Percy was taking his leave of her he -loved best, with a countenance of hope unclouded by doubt or fear. He -whispered to Morna, in going, ‘Remember the token, the talisman of -protection and favor to the knight without fear and without reproach.’ -‘Noble Percy!’ exclaimed Mrs. Ashton, ‘you were never formed to wear -the chain of slavery.’ Morna, too, felt proud of her lover; but in the -moment of her exultation, she thought of the perils to which his life -must be exposed, and the dark omen of dread dimmed the bright star of -her destiny. My mother, while she evinced the warm sympathy which all -the circumstances of the newly awakened feelings in her niece's bosom -were calculated to inspire, endeavored to calm them by pointing to the -bright side of the picture, and urging her to look forward with -patient hope to the probably successful issue. But Mammy Marget, who -felt, perhaps, quite as much in whatever distressed her young -mistress, with the characteristic propensity of narrow-minded -ignorance, sought to lay the blame of her tears on somebody, and who -so probably the cause as Percy. {493} ‘Mas Alfred, he's always so -violent, he must be the most foremost of any, no place will do for him -but the hottest. Why not put some of the raggamuffins, as the British -calls the militia, in that dangerous place, they mean creters don't -care—jist as live shoot down a clever young man like him as a dog. -But, maybe this don't comfort you, Miss Morn, my pretty dove, so I -won't say no more but the truth, and that is, he's as ginerous as you; -for but t'other day, he ask me, Mammy Marget, how you do these hard -times? I tell him, well as other folks I reckon, I only wish we had -some of that good sugar and coffee that them mean English is -squandering out yander, with their white sarvants to tend'm, struttin' -about like peacocks in their finery. Then I see the fire in his eye, -and he say, bridling up jest like him, I would not fill my mouth with -any of their good things; but as it does not hurt your conscience, -take this and buy some, (and he give me ever so much money,) they will -be _mean enough_, as you say, to extort upon the penury of a poor -slave. That's jist what he say, I knowed what he meant in spite of his -high larnt words, and thinks I, I'll remember 'em to tell Miss Morn.’ - -“You recollect the entire failure of this first expedition against -Charleston, owing to the inability of the land and naval forces to -unite in the attack. The American batteries sustained the fire from -the fleet with unmoved firmness, and Percy won laurels by his -intrepidity and presence of mind. The enemy seeing it impossible, in -present circumstances, to gain footing, left Charleston harbor with -all their forces; and during the two succeeding years, no further -attempt was made to reduce this place. - -“About this time a letter came to my mother, under the British -passport. It was from Colonel Ridgely from whom she had received no -intelligence for ten years. It informed her, that the state of affairs -in America had recently recalled his regiment from India, with the -design of transporting that, and several others, to the southern -colonies, to oppose the combined forces of France and America. He -lamented the occasion of his visit to a land where his tenderest and -most cherished hopes were centered. He spoke of the necessity to which -the ministry, by their harsh and unjust exactions had reduced the -American colonies, of taking up arms in self-defence. Not even -Chatham's eloquence could arrest the storm, though he had predicted -with a prophet's inspiration, that the final issue would be the infamy -of its originators, and the everlasting degradation of England. As an -officer in his majesty's service, he said honor and loyalty forbade -him to withdraw from the duties imposed on him, however his own -individual feelings and opinions might prompt him to retire from the -combat. - -“You may well conceive with what mingled emotions of hope and -disappointment the bosoms of a daughter and sister were filled on -reading this letter. Morna's first words were, ‘Dear aunt, shall I -live to see my beloved father in the ranks of my country's enemies? -No, the grave would be far preferable—can nothing avert it? O! how -shall I meet Alfred? His high soul will revolt at an alliance with the -daughter of his country's enemy. Write to him, dear aunt, immediately -for me, and release him from every obligation.’ ‘My beloved child,’ -replied she, ‘I must first chide your generous haste, which would -destroy both your own and Alfred's happiness. Can you suppose he could -cease to love you, or to respect your father, only because he is -engaged to support a cause, which, though we esteem it unjust, every -loyal subject of Britain is bound to maintain? Rather let us seek -resignation and comfort from heaven, and hope that God may over-rule -the purposes of man for the good of all, and the glory of his name.’ -Morna yielded to the opinion of her aunt, which in her calmer moments -she felt to be just, and at her request tried to compose her agitated -feelings, as she laid her aching head on that bosom which was alike -the sanctuary of her joys and sorrows. Her wearied senses sunk into -repose, and she was unconsciously placed on the couch of rest. This -was scarcely done, when a quick knock was heard at the door. Mrs. -Ashton hastened to attend the summons, and prevent any interruption -from sudden noise. ‘Mr. Percy!’ was her exclamation, ‘is it you? Your -countenance is the omen of evil tidings—are you the herald of recent -disasters?’ ‘Madam, your look tells me you are not ignorant that the -enemy, having gained possession of Georgia, is marching rapidly -towards our capital. I have just received a major's commission, and -orders to march my company to reinforce General Lincoln; but, like the -crusader of old, I come, first to visit the shrine of my tutelar -saint, and bear from its altar the token of conquest and safety. May I -not see Miss Ridgely?’ My mother then related the story of the recent -tidings from England, and the overwhelming effect on her niece's -spirits. Percy remained silent, and his brow lowered with displeasure -for a moment, but his noble nature rose triumphant over the irritation -of national feeling. ‘I must see her,’ he said, with deep emotion; ‘I -must assure her how much I love and admire the sensibility of her -filial piety.’ My mother stept softly into the chamber, and found -Morna sleeping soundly, but with a flushed cheek, indicating so high a -degree of excitement, that she feared the consequences of awaking her. -Mammy Marget, who was watching by her, declared it would be the death -of her if she saw Mr. Percy now. ‘He's always so vilent, talking about -honor and death. It's hardly worth while to lose honor or life -fighting with they mean English, and the runaway niggers they git to -join 'em. Oh no, he'll jist set Miss Morn to crying, for she bleeves -every word he tells her. He can jist leave a message, or a little -keepsake, or something to show he 'ant forgot her; and that he -couldn't do, neither.’ - -“Mammy Marget's advice was certainly wise in this case, and after much -earnest debate, Percy consented to yield to prudent counsel, and with -a heavy heart took his leave. In a few hours he was on his route to -join General Lincoln, who kept in advance of General Prevost, whose -obvious design was to reach Charleston as soon as possible. General -Moultrie, stationed to oppose his passage, found his efforts -ineffectual; he passed with his superior force towards the capital, -while Lincoln marched rapidly towards its relief. He despached in -advance of his army a chosen body of mounted infantry, commanded by -our young hero Percy, to guard the passes to the city, but the little -band used all their efforts in vain. - -“Prevost arrived within cannon shot, and summoned the town to -surrender, on the 12th of May, 1779. But being summoned, did they do -it? No, Lincoln was {494} advancing with a superior force, and the -enemy dared not risk an attack, but prudently resolved to take -possession of the islands of St. James and St. John, where they waited -to be reinforced by the arrival of two frigates. In one of these -vessels was Colonel Ridgely. His regiment was landed on Port Royal -island, where they were commanded to wait further preparations to -begin the attack. Colonel Ridgely's thoughts turned from the scene of -military show towards his daughter, whose image, amidst all the -vicissitudes of his wanderings, was still stamped in living colors on -his heart. He was impelled to encounter every danger, to see her, if -she still lived. A disguise was the only possible means of doing this, -as all communication with the enemy was interdicted by the Americans, -under the severest penalty. His ingenuity suggested the habit of an -English chaplain, whose inoffensive and pious character, had gained -him permission to visit some sick prisoners in the Charleston -hospital. Under cover of night Ridgely passed the sentinels, with the -pretence of administering to a dying prisoner the consolation of -religion. When in the city, he varied the deception a little, -inquiring for the residence of Mrs. Ashton, as a clergyman on holy -duty bound. - -“I feel that I can give you no idea of the scene that ensued, when the -disguise was thrown off, and the person of Colonel Ridgely was -revealed before his astonished sister. ‘My brother!’ was the -exclamation, as she sunk back in her seat, paralyzed with emotion. -Morna caught the electrifying words, and sprung forwards; but ere he -had clasped her in his arms, the rush of feelings had overpowered her -senses, and she lost in momentary insensibility the consciousness of -his presence. Her recollection was soon restored. Her father's -countenance was the first object that met her returning sensibility. -Oh! how many long past and almost forgotten reminiscences seemed to -spring up around her, as she gazed with intense delight on that still -remembered smile. Her spirits rose from their depression; she lost the -fear of coming evil in the endearments of a father's love, and hope -dispelled the dark cloud that had seemed to lower over her. - -“Colonel Ridgely's disposition was one to look on the bright side of -things. He expressed his hope that there would be no further -bloodshed, and that a capitulation, honorable to both sides, would -restore peace to the besieged city. The dawn was almost visible, -before he resumed his habit, to return. Morna's last request was, that -he would not risk a life so dear, if there was the least possibility -of danger or detection. - -“Sir H. Clinton arrived with reinforcements on the 1st of April, soon -after which he summoned the town to surrender; but General Lincoln -declared his intention of defending the place (to which resolution he -was induced by the daily expectation of recruits from Virginia, which -never arrived) whenever hostilities should commence. The batteries of -the enemy were immediately opened on the town. The Americans returned -a brisk, but ineffectual fire. Their numbers were too few to cope with -the united strength of the British army, and the troops so scattered -as to be exposed to be cut off by every fire from the batteries. The -results of this unavailing struggle on the side of the Americans, -caused the final capitulation of Charleston. But this happened too -late to awaken joy or sorrow in the breast of Morna. Her betrothed -lover was one of General Lincoln's aids, and commanded his first -battery. He maintained this post of danger with consummate skill and -bravery, until every man was swept away from around him, and he stood -alone, a distinguished mark for their shot. It was but for a moment, -and he fell, covered with wounds and with glory. General Lincoln, who -was near him in his last moments, sent a message to his family, -informing them that he met death as became an American, and a hero, -fighting in the cause of liberty. - -“Afflictions, it is said, never come alone. The same day that brought -the overwhelming tidings of Percy's fall, intelligence reached my -mother that Colonel Ridgely was mortally wounded. Hostilities having -ceased, he sent under a flag of truce to request the immediate -attendance of his sister and daughter. No time was to be lost; in a -state of mind bordering on distraction, they were hurried towards the -British camp. My mother was a worshipper of God; to Him she looked up -for strength equal to the mighty conflict. But of poor Morna, how -shall I speak? The waves of affliction had well nigh overwhelmed the -slender bark of her existence, and despair alone seemed to nerve her -step, as she was conducted to the door of her father's tent. The -attendant officer seeing them approach, opened the door, and with a -sad countenance informed them that Colonel Ridgely had just expired. A -shriek was the only sound that escaped Morna's lips. She fell -insensible on the floor, and happy would it have been for her if life -had been extinguished with her reason, which from that moment never -resumed its empire. The functions of life gradually revived, and -maintained a feeble and wavering existence for a few weeks; but the -gem of the mind was gone—wild and incoherent fancies filled her -imagination—broken images of past and future joys were confusedly -mingled with phantoms of fear and dread. In her last moments, there -was something mysterious and almost supernatural in the creations of -her imagination. She seemed to have caught the glimpse of a -procession, which she was hastening to join. ‘Mammy Marget,’ she -cried, ‘bring my bridal dress—the procession is waiting for me; to the -church you know we must go to be united: there is Alfred and father -too. Haste! haste!—it is almost in the clouds already, but I must -overtake it!’ Breathless she sunk back, and expired. Her remains were -laid in my mother's garden, and the turf that ‘wraps her slumbering -clay’ was daily moistened with her tears. On the slab that marks the -spot are inscribed Hamlet's words: ‘Lay her in the earth, and from her -fair and unpolluted flesh may violets spring.’” - -Such was the history attached to the PORTRAIT. - -V. - - - - -STANZAS. - -BY JAMES F. OTIS. - - - See, where, fast sinking o'er the hills, - As with a golden halo round, - The setting sun with splendor fills - Those massy piles which lie around - His couch, in crimson glory drest, - Like drapery o'er a monarch's rest. {495} - - Bright, fair, but oh, how fading too - Is all this beautiful array! - A moment given to the view, - Then past, amid the gloom, away: - So, like the gilded things of earth, - Which charm the eye, though little worth! - - And now, eve's glowing star illumes - The chambers of the distant west, - And, scarce discerned, like waving plumes - That flash o'er many a warrior's crest, - There float along the upper air - Thin, fleecy clouds, so clear and fair. - - How sweet to gaze upon their slight, - Transparent forms, changing so oft, - As e'en the Zephyr's gentlest flight - Scatters them with its pinions soft— - Seeming, as down the sky they go, - Like wreaths of gently driven snow! - - And then to trace the full-orbed moon, - As, struggling on her cloudy way, - She travels forth, now wrapped in gloom, - Now bursting forth with undimm'd ray— - Like some high, noble heart, whose pride - Still bears him on, though woes betide. - - - - -LOVE AND CONSTANCY. - -BY E. BURKE FISHER. - - -CHAP. I.—LOVE. - - Oh! how this spring of love resembleth - The uncertain glory of an April day, - Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, - And, by and bye, a cloud takes all away. - -“_Harry, dear Harry, farewell!_” “_God bless you, Mary, we shall meet -again!_”—a stifled sob from the first speaker, and an ejaculation of -manly sorrow from the latter, attested their emotion—the oarsmen -dipped their light blades into the wave, and the little craft obedient -to the impulse rapidly receded from the shore. The youth watched its -progress through the glancing waters, and every ripple it created -seemed to wash upon his heart; a moment, and it ranged under the bows -of a stately vessel, which soon after spread her canvass to the -breeze, and bore down the bay, on her outward course. Evening found -the youth pacing the shore, gazing upon the faint outlines of the -departing ship, and when the niggard robe of night hid her from his -view, then it was that the full sense of his situation fell heavily -upon him—he felt that he was an outcast—an alien, without a single tie -to bind him to life, and with a sensation of wretchedness, known only -to him who has tasted of the bitter chalice of misery—he cast him down -upon the sands, and wept long and bitterly! * * * - - * * * * * - -Who is there who has not heard the melancholy detail, as - - “From his sire's lips glean'd, - Or history's page,” - -of the fierce and destructive tornado, that ushered in the autumnal -equinox of 1787. Its fury was felt by the storm-tossed seaman, as his -frail bark drove onward to destruction, and its disastrous results -might in part be gathered, from the many evidences of its triumph as -strewn along the shores of Cape Cod. The tempest proved as transient -as it was violent, and the sun, that shone out on the morrow of the -storm, steeped its rays in the now tranquil ocean, which, apparently -conscious of the ruin it had wrought, seemed to atone for its mischief -by studied repose. The regular swell of the sea succeeded the raging -billows of the night—the shrill demon of the tempest had retired to -his northern caves, and in his stead, the playful zephyrs of the south -wantoned upon the waters. The hardy wreckers were out upon the beach -as usual, after a night of storm, culling a harvest from the spoils -which the ocean had cast upon their shores. Men, women and children -were engaged in this employment, and so inured had they become to -their somewhat equivocal profession, that whether the object they -inspected was the corpse of the shipwrecked, or a cask of West India, -the same _sang froid_ was evinced, and they proceeded as leisurely to -rifle the garments of the disfigured and ghastly dead, as in breaking -open a sea chest. An unusually well stowed bale had drawn the -attention of the crowd, and they were busily employed in turning over -its contents, when an exclamation of surprise from an idler upon the -strand caused the party to turn in the direction he pointed, and they -beheld the object that had elicited his outcry. Drifting in towards -the land, they saw a floating spar, upon which rode a small lad of -some sixteen or seventeen years, supporting in his arms what seemed -the lifeless form of a female. There was something so noble in this -generous devotion to another's safety in the hour of deadly peril—a -touching display of all that ennobles, in the conduct of one so young, -thus jeopardizing his own doubtful chance of preservation, in the -rescuing from the fierce waters their prey, that even the cold and -sluggish feelings of the men of Barnstable were moved to admiration, -and forgetting personal advantage in the excitement of the moment, -they awaited but the approach of the float within range of their -interference, when they rushed into the surge, and with deafening -plaudits bore the young mariner and his burthen to the land. The boy -relaxed not his hold of his companion, until he had safely deposited -her in the arms of the bystanders, when, throwing one look upon her -wan and lifeless features, he cast his eyes to heaven, and murmuring, -“Thanks, merciful Father! she is saved!” he sank insensible upon the -sand. - -Sympathy—that noblest attribute of the soul, finds as ready response -in the heart of the child of nature, as in the tutored feelings of the -man of civilization; and the lawless wrecker in his course of plunder, -may act as nobly, and feel as proudly the sacred glow of humanity, as -does the sage expounder of moral legislation! The witnesses of the sad -scene we have described, furnished ample illustration of the fact, for -the men of Cape Cod, “albeit, unused to the melting mood,” drew their -hands over their eyes, and their tones were husky as they communed -with each other, while the women, ever alive (in all conditions) to -the dictates of humanity, busied themselves in the attempt to excite -to action the frozen channels of life in the unfortunate maiden. - -The intense pitch to which the sensibilities of her {496} preserver -were strung, precluded him from enjoying the repose he so much -required, and supported by one of the spectators, he stood watching -with silent expectation the efforts at resuscitation practised upon -his companion in suffering. The exertions of the females were at -length crowned with success, the ashy paleness of her brow was crossed -by the flush of returning animation, and before the lapse of another -hour the children of the wreck, who but a short time since were tossed -to and fro upon the capricious waters, found themselves under the -friendly roof, and seated at the hospitable board of Gregory Cox, to -whose dwelling the generous wreckers had borne them. - -The kindly nature of their host, for a long time, taught him -forbearance upon the subject of their painful story, and weeks passed -on before he gently hinted his wish to hear the sad recital, and so -judiciously did the worthy Quaker prosecute his inquiries, that the -detail was given, with scarce the knowledge of the lad, that the -events over which he brooded had been revealed to their sympathizing -friend. His narrative was brief, yet pregnant with misfortune. Thus it -ran. - -The maiden was the daughter of a Frenchman of rank, who had lately -relinquished an official post in the Canadas with the intention of -returning to his native land. He had, with his wife and daughter, -embarked in the vessel commanded by the narrator's sire. Circumstances -connected with the instructions of his owners, had induced the -commander to make for the port of Boston, but contrary winds rendered -nugatory his efforts, and for several days the ship had been beaten -along the coast of Massachusetts, where it was met by the raging -equinox, and destroyed by the combined fury of the winds and waves. So -unforeseen was the shock, and so totally unprepared were the miserable -victims, that the same storm-fed billow which scattered the fragments -of the vessel to the fury of the winds, bore with it the mass of -beings that cowered upon its decks. Borne along by the violence of the -assault, the boy was plunged into the boiling sea, but fortunately -striking a drifting spar as he fell, he had steadied himself upon it, -the only living thing, as he thought, that survived the onset of the -fierce destroyer. As he was thus rocking upon the turbulent waves, a -gleam of lightning, triumphing for a moment over the darkness, gave to -his view the garments of the girl, and with instinctive humanity, he -lifted her from the waters and supported her in his arms, although -aware that he was thereby rendering more hazardous his own ultimate -chances of safety. - -It seemed as if the eye of Omnipotence saw and approved the act, for -in a short time the march of the tempest was stayed, the lashing -billows sank to gentle ripples, and the wild roar of the howling winds -gave way to the soothing breeze, as it swept from the land. During the -remainder of that eventful night of disaster and death, did the young -mariner sustain the insensible form of his companion, and although no -signs of returning consciousness rewarded his care, yet, buoyant with -the hope of a generous and daring spirit, he clung to his position -until the coming of Aurora revealed the shores of Barnstable, towards -which his sailless and unseamanlike craft was rapidly drifting. The -rest has been already shown. - -Time rolled on! Weeks resolved themselves into months, and months -became absorbed in years, yet the circumstances of the wreck, as -detailed in the journals of the day, brought no claimant for the girl. -As to the stripling, his only relative was that parent whom he had -seen meet a watery grave, and he knew that he stood alone in the -world, with no one to sympathize with the misery that racked his -bosom, save the orphan partner of his perils; and when he looked upon -her budding loveliness, thus left to waste neglected, and without the -fostering care of maternal watchfulness, he vowed to be to her all -that a brother could, or a parent might be. The isolation of his -destiny had rendered him an enthusiast upon the one subject of his -charge, so that, when in the gay flush of innocent girlhood, she -shared his joys and mingled her tears with his, his feelings became -concentred in devotion, which the world calls _love_, but for which -_affection_, pure as seraphs might glory in avowing, would be the more -fitting term. In the absence of other channels to vent his feelings -she became the cynosure of his loftiest imaginings, his more than -sister. Happy in her youth, and time-seared to the loss she had -sustained, _Mary Destraix_ loved her preserver with a sister's -tenderness; and when, after the lapse of years, there came one who -called himself her uncle—her father's brother—the joy with which she -sprang to his embrace was merged in tears, when the probability of her -separation from her brother crossed her mind, as the stranger -announced his intention of returning with her immediately to the -castellated abode of her ancestors, in the sunny plains of Marne. - -“And Harry—my brother Harry, shall he not go with us?” she asked -inquiringly, gazing into the stern face of her new-found relative. - -The Frenchman turned to the spot, where stood the subject of the -query. He had heard the story of the youth, and liked not the -question; and as he glanced, not at the noble countenance and manly -bearing, but the rustic apparel of the stripling, his dislike to a -further intimacy between the pair was increased. The stranger was lord -of Marne, and had breathed the courtly air of the Louvre, and he could -see nothing worthy of consideration in the mere fact, that a rough and -untutored rustic should peril his life for a maiden of noble blood. -Tendering the youth a purse well stocked with Louis, he signified his -disinclination to rank him among the members of his voyage home. The -indignant recipient took the proffered gold, advanced a step, and -dashing the gift at the feet of its aristocratic giver, rushed from -the scene. - -“Harry, my noble, generous preserver,” sobbed a voice at his side, as -he stood upon the rude piazza that overlooked the ocean, “think not so -meanly of me, as that for broad lands and empty honors I would forsake -you! Harry, my brother, I will not go!” - -“Not so, Mary Destraix,” was the answer of him she addressed—the -bitterness of his feelings rising paramount to the usual joyousness of -his tones when he spoke to her—“Are you not the daughter of a peer of -France, called to fulfil a bright and envied destiny? Would you so -forget your illustrious ancestry, as to forego their claims upon you -as their descendant, to follow the fortunes of one, who was even cast -from the ocean as unworthy to tenant its caves?”—and the boy laughed -in his agony. - -“Look there!” he continued, addressing the stranger {497} who had -followed his niece—“Look at yon cradle of storms!” and he enforced his -words, by pointing out towards the quiet waters, which lay steeped in -the phosphorescent tintings of a summer's eve. “Where were the vassals -of your house that they stepped not in to the rescue of their master? -Will the great deep give up its prey for gold? Though the blood of -Charlemagne runs in your veins, that act—that crowning act, of -offering lucre in exchange for life—would sink you to a level with the -veriest serf!”—and drawing up his form, now moulded into the fair -proportions of nineteen summers, he gave back the haughty glance of -the Frenchman with one equally fierce, and turned to the weeping -maiden. - -The result of their conference was such as lovers' conferences usually -are. The mind of Mary was open to the fact, that her feelings towards -her preserver were merged in a fonder tie than a sister's, and a -promise of constancy, immutable to time and circumstance—an -interchange of tokens—a kiss, the first that ever consecrated their -mutual affections, and _Harry Harwood_ sought his couch that night—so -late boiling with the fiercest passions—now calm and full of hope— - - Congenial hope! thy passion-kindling flower, - How bright—how strong in youth's confiding hour! - -The going down of the succeeding sun found Harry weeping upon the -beach alone. - - -CHAP. II.—CONSTANCY. - - “Mulier cupido, quod dicit amanti - In vento, et rapida scribere oportet aqua.”—_Catullus_. - -There were banquetting, and revelry within the princely halls of -Versailles, and the dulcet sounds of woman's voice accorded well with -the rich breathings of lute and harp. The effulgence of a thousand -lights streamed upon the beauties of the court of Louis, as they stood -ranged in their dream-like loveliness at the footstool of the queenly -Austrian. The rich swell of vocal melody—the tread of the dancers, as -they moved in the stately _Pavon_, or lascivious waltz—the laugh of -the witty, as jest and repartee rang through the lofty dome—_all_ -typifyed an epoch of pleasure, and absence from cares such as _then_ -existed in the _converzaziones_ of Maria Antoinette, but which too -soon gave way before the ruthless onset of revolutionary reformation, -covenanted in the destruction of these very halls, and sealed in the -blood of royalty. - -The park, and alleys of the gardens, echoed with the laughter of -joyous and happy spirits, and the flowery groves, and trelliced -arbors—fit spot for love's communion—were made this night the trysting -spot of many a youthful pair, while the gentle breeze as it swept -through the leafy paradise, carried upon its wings -confessions—reciprocal disclosures—vows, and protestations, baseless -all—aye, baseless as the courier by which they were borne away! - -“Beautiful Mary, you wrong me, every way you wrong me, by your unjust -suspicions. The _Deperney_ may be as fascinating as you describe her, -but I own not her power! The _Canaille_ of the _National Assembly_ may -be won by her lures, but _Marmonti_ wears no colors save those of the -fair Destraix!” - -“Hold, impertinent! Know you not that the Lady Deperney is my friend, -and beware how you speak of the members of the Assembly, or I shall -send you to republican America, there to learn more fitting terms, by -which to designate the leaders of the people!” - -“That I may also gain some tidings of your lover of Barnstable,” was -the laughing rejoinder of her companion. “Your uncle tells strange -stories of that same youth, and I am half inclined to be jealous of -some certain passages that occurred, in the _tete-à-tete_ you wot of.” - -“Aye! my gallant deliverer from the raging billows of the Atlantic.” -For a moment, there came associations of a painful nature, across her -mental vision, and she felt herself checked in her levity: it was but -for a moment, for in the next, she smilingly tapped the mercurial -Frenchman upon the shoulder as she answered, “Nay, you should not be -too severe upon my youthful follies—the boy saved me from a watery -death, and in the hour of parting, there might have been things -spoken, prompted more by gratitude than prudence—besides I was so -young!” - -“But what if the boy should clothe this pretty romance with the sober -hues of reality, and come to claim his rights? What would the heiress -of Marne think, if, at the levee of our gracious sovereign, her -quondam lover should step forward, and demand her as his bride?” - -“Rest contented on that score, knight of the tristful countenance,” -laughingly responded the fair one; “the lad has too much sense to -attempt any flight of the kind; his modesty and wits would teach him -that in so doing he was transgressing the bounds of discretion.” - -“And yet, if he could survey the ripened loveliness of the flower he -saved when in its budding helplessness,” urged the gallant Marmonti, -bending his lips to the hand of his companion, “and feel no wish to -claim it for his trans-Atlantic bower, he must be indeed a Stoic; and -I take it, that his is a warmer spirit than voluntarily to purge his -memory of the recollection of an action that must come coupled with -the charms of the rescued floweret. By the bones of the immortal -Henri! but the little I have heard of thy deliverance, and the heroism -that achieved it, have taught me a brother's love for this same—how -call you the youth?” - -“Harley—No—Harwood; ay, that is his name—but, methinks, a glimpse of -him would tend marvellously to lessen thy brotherly feelings. He had -but little of knightly bearing, and his speech and actions savored -somewhat of his nautical training. I would that he were here?” - -There was a rustling in the adjacent shrubbery—a hasty step was heard -upon the gravelled avenue, and as the intruder dashed swiftly by, -there came words upon the ear of the late speaker, breathed in tones -she remembered but too well. “And this is Mary Destraix, and it is -thus she speaks of Henry Harwood! Great God, how I have been duped!” -The footsteps died away in the distance, and before she could rally -from the shock, the speaker was gone. - -The sword of Marmonti was drawn from its sheath, but the convulsive -grasp of the conscience-stricken girl withheld him from pursuit; and -when he inquiringly bent his gaze upon her countenance, its expression -was so death-like and cold, that fearing she was ill, (for he -understood not the purport of the stranger's exclamation,) he hastily -returned to the saloon. - -{498} During the remainder of the evening, it was the subject for -comment that the favorite of the queen was grave and abstracted, and -that her brow, usually lighted up with the joy of an untroubled -spirit, was crossed with darker hues than were wont to sully it. Even -Marmonti strove in vain to restore her depressed spirits, but it would -not do; the words she had heard in the garden clogged her soul, bowing -it down to remorse and anguish. Memory led her away from these scenes -of hollow semblance to the shores of Massachusetts—to that eventful -night, when, in her feebleness, she battled with the adverse waters. -Again she was listening to the oft-repeated story of the garrulous -wreckers, as they painted, in their blunt honesty of speech, the -daring courage and generous conduct of the youthful mariner, as, after -having laid her gently upon the beach, he uttered that prayer of -thanksgiving for her safety. As fancy's finger pointed out these -episodes of her past existence, and she reflected upon the return she -had made—that she had spoken of him as a thing of scorn, and that he -had heard her! the swelling waves of contrition irrigated her selfish -soul, and she retired to her chamber, for that night redeemed from the -trammels of coquetry and ingratitude. Dismissing her maid, she sat -down in an embrasure of her apartment, but was disturbed from her -reverie by the entrance of her attendant, who placed beside her a -pacquet, bearing her address, and again retired. Hastily breaking the -seal, she opened its folds, in doing which a braid of hair escaped -from therein and fell to the ground. The contents of the epistle were -disjointed in character, and evidenced a bruised and saddened spirit. -The writer was Harwood. - -“I will not upbraid you, Mary, although you have crushed my fondest—my -dearest hopes! Fool that I was, I dreamed that the Mary of my boyhood -was still the same—that what she _professed_ in other days, she would -prove in my ripened years—that her gentle spirit yet retained its -recollection of one with whom was spent the darkest portion of her -brief existence! Do you remember that night when the demon of the -storm swept the bosom of the dark Atlantic, and I bore you——but no! -not that; but surely you still retain the memory of that kind, good -old man, who took us in our destitution and gave us a home, and who, -when we were seated at his social board, would moralize upon our -melancholy story, and bid us love one another, for it seemed as if -Providence so willed it in the arrangement of our destinies. And oh! -how often, when wandering along the shores of Barnstable, have we -mingled our tears when we looked out upon the great sea, the sepulchre -of all we loved, and cheated Sorrow of its triumph, in gilding with -Hope's brightest pencillings a radiant and sunny future—and then, that -evening, when in the holy hush of nature, and in the presence of none -save our God, you vowed remembrance, and gave me a ringlet of your own -raven hair. I return it, Mary, for I may not retain it after the fatal -proofs of your feelings towards me, which inadvertently I overheard -this night. Alas! that such things should be—that you, whom I have -loved—how fervently and deeply let my present agony pourtray, should -speak of me as of one——but I will not upbraid, but bless you, Mary; -even in your heartlessness will my prayers be as fervent for your -welfare, as when in other years I watched your girlhood beyond the -ocean. Farewell! Heiress of Marne, farewell—_forever!_” - -Her attendants, upon entering their mistress' chamber on the ensuing -morning, found her lying insensible upon her couch, the letter of -Harwood compressed within her grasp. - -Did she awake to better feelings, and was the film of ingratitude and -deceit rent from her heart? Alas! that selfishness should prevail over -the finer impulses of our nature, and the perspective of a coronet in -woman's eye sway ascendant over the homely aspect of humble wedlock! -Who was Henry Harwood, that he should aspire to the hand of the -favorite of Marie Antoinette, and on the plea of having performed a -trifling act of humanity, _dare_ thus to address the loveliest woman -in the Court of Louis? One month, and Marmonti, amid the beauty and -chivalry of France, and honored by the presence of royalty, wedded the -fair Destraix! - -Marmonti's lineage was noble—ay, princely! In his veins there ran the -tide of the House of Bourbon. Marmonti was the friend of his king! - -And had the flight of time wrought no change in the fortunes of _the -boy of the wreck_? In a land like ours, industry and perseverance eke -out their reward, and fostered by the liberal and equalizing spirit of -our institutions, Harwood's concentrated energies found ample -opportunity to develop themselves. His tale won for him the favorable -notice of a philanthropist, and his integrity and devotion to the -sternest duties, gained him his friendship—so that the homeless, -beggared stripling of a few years past, found himself embarked upon -the sea of commerce, aided by friendly winds, on his course to fortune -and esteem; and although he could urge no pretensions to ancestral -honors, yet in republican America, where aristocracy is but the idle -misnomer of faction, and man is judged by the standard of his moral -excellence, Harwood became one of her genuine aristocracy—one of her -merchant nobles! - -The bells that rung out the consummation of the nuptial rites, -tortured not the ears of the jilted lover—he was ploughing the waves -on his return. - - -CHAP. III.—REVERSES. - - “For mortal pleasure—what art thou in truth? - The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below.” - -There was slaughter in the streets of Paris! Revolution,—not the -revolution of a shackled and indignant people rising to assert their -rights,—but of a wild mob, - - “The scum - That rises upmost when a nation boils,” - -stalked in the palaces of the mighty, desecrating their ancestral -domes, and treading down with demoniac fury the trophied honors of -their sires. Faction—lawless and unprincipled faction—usurped the -tribunals of justice—its acts were the dethronement of kings, ratified -in the blood of princes. The headless trunk of the Bourbon was cast -beneath the feet of his people in their fury, and to weep for him was -to share his fate! The regal Antoinette too—the fairest, yet alas! the -most hapless of the daughters of Lorraine—was dragged to the accursed -block, and in rapid succession her chivalrous defenders kissed the -guillotine, reeking with the blood of their sovereigns. The fell tiger -Anarchy, was abroad in Gallia, and his fangs rent asunder the {499} -life-strings of all who owned not his sway, while the wild shouts that -ushered in the blood-washed republic was mingled with the wail of -France for her slaughtered and dishonored chivalry. - -Marmonti witnessed the decapitation of his royal relative, and heard -from his cell the cry that told the murder of the queen. A blank of a -few days ensued—he was dragged from his dungeon—a dash in the records -of the criminal tribunal, and all that remained of Frederick, Duke of -Marmonti, was his lifeless and mangled corpse. Did the wife of -Marmonti share the grave of her lord? - -Seated in the oriel of an apartment in the _Palais du Ministéres des -Affaires des Etrangéres_, was a lady clothed in a suit of sables. The -year was in its decline, and the melancholy aspect of the external -world served to deepen the gloom that sat throned upon the features of -the mourner. Ever and anon the hoarse roar of the multitude in the -adjacent _place_ swept into the room, as some popular leader vented -his oratory; or from the Boulevard below the window, there would -ascend the voices of the patriotic artizans, as they repeated in -stunning chorus, - - “Aux armes citoyens, formons nos battaillons - Marchons; qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons!” - -She shuddered as these sounds broke upon her ear, and when from the -_Place Vendome_ there darted a thousand artificial meteors, aided in -effect by the discharge of artillery, she shrouded her face with her -hands and wept convulsively. - -The door was thrown open and a visiter announced, but absorbed in -grief she heeded not the tidings. The visiter advanced until within a -few feet and paused, as if awaiting her attention, but still she noted -not his proximity. - -“Lady,” murmured the stranger—God of heaven! could it be _his_ -voice?—“Duchess of Marmonti, will you not speak to your friend?” -_Yes_, those tones were _his_; his whom in her girlhood she had such -cause to love and honor, whom in her womanhood she had slighted and -defamed. And what did he here? Had he heard of her misfortunes, and -was his errand to the wretched that he might triumph in her -wretchedness? The passions of her race stirred within her as she -caught at this opinion, and throwing back the dishevelled ringlets -from her care-worn features she raised her flashing eyes to the face -of the speaker; but the saddened look and pitying glance that met her -gaze, spoke not joy but sorrow for her misery, and again her head was -hidden from her companion's view. - -“Mary”—and the voice of the speaker was fraught with emotion—“Mary,” -and as if that name conjured up old and familiar associations, he -seated himself beside her; a tear filled in his eye and dropped upon -the hand he pressed within his own. _That tear!_ It opened the -floodgates of memory, and told a brother's love. The sufferer saw not -in the being before her, the man she had so deeply injured in his -richest affections, and leaning her head upon his shoulder, she poured -forth her grief, even as she was wont to do in earlier, happier years. -Time rolled refluently in its channels, and her companion was once -more the Harry of Barnstable and she again Mary Destraix. Cheated by -the phantom of happiness the kindly demeanor of Harwood created, she -wept the more; but her tears were not wrung from the heart—and when in -the outpourings of his sympathy he spoke of her departure from Paris -and its associations, and painted with brotherly fervor the comfort -and safety that awaited her in his distant home, she raised her eyes -beaming with gratitude and essayed to speak, but her emotions were too -strong for the cold medium of words, and she could only thank him with -her tears. - -The influence of Harwood, through his country's ambassador, was -sufficient to obtain from the new government of France a passport of -safe conduct for the widow of the revolutionary victim, so that the -only object of his coming being now accomplished, the pair quitted its -shores. In her home in the western world the expatriated Duchess found -an effectual asylum from the contingencies that threatened her during -her continuance in the French capital; and as she noted the frank and -urbane deportment of her host, her mind regained its wonted vigor and -her countenance its healthful hues: not but that at times, when the -sad and tragic scenes through which it had been her destiny to pass -came across her brain, there came an icy sensation upon her heart, but -she triumphed over her misfortunes, and would have been even selfishly -happy was it not that when she reflected upon her conduct towards -Harwood a sense of shame possessed her mind; but his own actions aided -to dispel such feelings and sear her heart to their impression, and -she became as tranquil as the exigencies of her situation would -warrant. - -_As to him_—experience had taught him a lesson never to be forgotten. -He had periled his happiness upon the fickle sea of human affections, -and had met disappointment as the product; and although when he gazed -upon the surpassing beauty of her, his first—his only love—he felt as -he did on that day when he watched from the beach of Cape Cod her -departure from the scenes of her girlhood; yet the revelations of -woman's faith he had obtained in the royal gardens of Versailles, -nerved his heart against further invasion from the son of Venus. It -had worn away the enthusiasm of his earlier years, and left him still -alive to the deference which woman in any and all circumstances has a -right to claim, but callous to her lures; so that when in the course -of time the mercurial passions of the French people had become -shackled by the wisdom and tyranny of the giant-minded Corsican, and -that politic ruler deemed it expedient to annul the decree against the -house of Marne and invited its only living representative to return to -her family possession, Harwood at once counselled her acceptance of -the proffered restitution, and despite her avowed astonishment and -reluctance, hastened the arrangements for her departure. - -“She will wed again,” soliloquized the merchant, as he turned from -gazing upon the bark which was conveying her to “the land of the -vine.” “She will wed again; and surrounded by minions and parasites, -and in the possession of gewgaw honors, be happier than as the wife of -one who has nothing to offer but honest affections and an humble -home,” and with a sigh he quitted the quay. - -Years brought another change in the dynasties of France. The imperial -diadem was rent from the brow of Napoleon, and _he_—“the man of a -thousand thrones”—left to point the moral of his own ambition upon the -sea girt rock of Helena. The Bourbon sat again upon {500} the throne -of his sires, and with him the fortunes of his followers loomed in the -ascendant. The predictions of Harwood had been in part fulfilled, for -the relict of Marmonti was again a bride, and a leader in the -brilliant circles that shone in the zodiac of the restoration. I have -said _in part_—for, had her change of fortunes brought corresponding -happiness?—We shall see. - -The merchant read the announcement in the Parisian journals, and there -was bitterness in the train of reflections which accompanied the -perusal. Throwing aside the paper he indulged in long and melancholy -musings upon this fresh instance of her versatility of principles, so -glaringly developed in a second marriage. A letter was placed in his -hands at the moment, and carelessly breaking the wax he held it -unread, his mind still wandering upon the _on dit_ from whence his -reverie; but a vagrant glance at the superscription at length rivetted -his attention, and he eagerly devoted himself to scanning its -contents. - -“Congratulate me, my dear friend,” _he read_, “for I am the happiest -of women. Our gracious sovereign is the idol of his people, and the -times of wit and gaiety are revived in the capital. You will see by -the publications of the day that I am again wedded; and although I do -not feel for my present husband the strong affection which I -entertained for the first, and which is buried with him, still I think -I shall love him, for he strives to render me happy by indulgence in -my every wish. His loyalty throughout the period of his monarch's -exile, his unswerving zeal and bravery in the field, have endeared him -to the king, who has been pleased to reward his faithful services with -honors and preferment. My own introduction at court gained the -favorable notice of his majesty, who smilingly assured me that my -misfortunes should not be forgotten. And now, my friend, the storms -that have hitherto overclouded the sun of my life are forever -dispersed, and the future is full of promise. The court is -re-established at Versailles—but I forget that between us Versailles -is an interdicted name. _The garden scene!_ Ah, how you would be -amused to hear the envious demoiselles of the court rallying me upon -that little incident, but I only laugh at them and”—— - -The idle levity with which she alluded to a period of such painful -interest, jarred upon his excited feelings. “What an escape I have -had!” he murmured, as with vacant eye he watched the blaze of the -epistle as it scorched and blackened in the grate, where it had -accidentally fallen. “Can she be indeed a faithful type of her sex? -Nay, that is impossible; and yet”— He paused and left the blank -unfilled. - - * * * * * - -Gentle readers, you whose grey hairs are the results of sorrowful -experience as well as time, have been taught that it is not expedient -at all times to give utterance to our opinions; and you, also, -romantic lingerers on the shores of boyhood, have yet to learn that be -your experience what it may, as it is with religion so also with -woman; and he who tilts against either is warring with established -usage, and will be buried in the ruins of his own creation. Thence it -is that I, having performed my duty as an historian, wish not to hinge -a moral upon my labors, leaving it for you to draw such inferences as -you may deem most wise. But ere I leave you, I would state that the -score of years that have passed away since the occurrence of the -events recorded above, have wrought little change in the two principal -personages of my story. Age has, it is true, somewhat marred the -beauty of the _Countess Malvoli_, but her eager pursuit after pleasure -is as keen as ever, while the merchant of Boston is still a bachelor, -and has even been known in some of his cloudy moments, to assert—in -the language of the Volscian Satirist— - - “Nulla fere causa est, in qua non fœmina litem - Moverit.” - - - - -TO J—— S——. - -(NOW OF ALABAMA.) - - - Brother and friend, I greet thee!—tho' thy dwelling - Be far from friends and from thy home of youth, - Thoughts of thy best-loved ones and thee, are swelling - Within my heart, in sadness and in truth. - - I greet thee from the land, where death has broken - Some links of love's bright chain, but where the ties - Of blood still bind thee, and this worthless token - Is warm with truth's and friendship's fadeless dyes. - - Thou wert to me, _indeed_, a friend and brother— - As such I loved thee, such I still must deem; - Distance and time, with me, can never smother - The deep, full flowing of affection's stream. - - I know thee!—Nature's magical refining - Has given thy soul what art can ne'er bestow— - A warmth, a depth of tenderness, inclining - Even to romance—what few will ever know. - - I felt, when with thee, that no shade of feeling, - No touch of truth, no thought of loftier aim, - Could ever be to thee a vain revealing— - That with thy mind my own could kindred claim. - - Thou saidst that thou shouldst hail with greater pleasure - This page,[1] when it contained some trace of me— - Say, wilt thou by this humble tribute measure - The fond regard I cherish still for thee? - - May all this world can give, best worth possessing, - Fame, fortune, friends, and length of days be thine; - And may the Christian's hope, that surest blessing, - Add grace to years, and gild thy life's decline. - - Farewell!—Time's restless tide is rushing o'er us— - It cannot fade the past to mem'ry dear; - But its dark waters may, perchance, restore us - Much we have loved, and lost, and sighed for here. - -E. A. S. - -_Virginia, June 26, 1836_. - -[Footnote 1: Southern Literary Messenger.] - - - - -PARADISE LOST. - - -There exists a prose version of Milton's Paradise Lost, which was -innocently translated from the French version of that epic. One Green, -also, published a new version of the poem into blank verse. - - -{501} - - -LETTER TO B——.[1] - -[Footnote 1: These detached passages form part of the preface to a -small volume printed some years ago for private circulation. They have -vigor and much originality—but of course we shall not be called upon -to endorse all the writer's opinions.—_Ed._] - - -It has been said that a good critique on a poem may be written by one -who is no poet himself. This, according to _your_ idea and _mine_ of -poetry, I feel to be false—the less poetical the critic, the less just -the critique, and the converse. On this account, and because there are -but few B——'s in the world, I would be as much ashamed of the world's -good opinion as proud of your own. Another than yourself might here -observe, “Shakspeare is in possession of the world's good opinion, and -yet Shakspeare is the greatest of poets. It appears then that the -world judge correctly, why should you be ashamed of their favorable -judgment?” The difficulty lies in the interpretation of the word -“judgment” or “opinion.” The opinion is the world's, truly, but it may -be called theirs as a man would call a book his, having bought it; he -did not write the book, but it is his; they did not originate the -opinion, but it is theirs. A fool, for example, thinks Shakspeare a -great poet—yet the fool has never read Shakspeare. But the fool's -neighbor, who is a step higher on the Andes of the mind, whose head -(that is to say his more exalted thought) is too far above the fool to -be seen or understood, but whose feet (by which I mean his every-day -actions) are sufficiently near to be discerned, and by means of which -that superiority is ascertained, which _but_ for them would never have -been discovered—this neighbor asserts that Shakspeare is a great -poet—the fool believes him, and it is henceforward his _opinion_. This -neighbor's own opinion has, in like manner, been adopted from one -above _him_, and so, ascendingly, to a few gifted individuals, who -kneel around the summit, beholding, face to face, the master spirit -who stands upon the pinnacle. - - * * * * * - -You are aware of the great barrier in the path of an American writer. -He is read, if at all, in preference to the combined and established -wit of the world. I say established; for it is with literature as with -law or empire—an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne -in possession. Besides, one might suppose that books, like their -authors, improve by travel—their having crossed the sea is, with us, -so great a distinction. Our antiquaries abandon time for distance; our -very fops glance from the binding to the bottom of the title-page, -where the mystic characters which spell London, Paris, or Genoa, are -precisely so many letters of recommendation. - - * * * * * - -I mentioned just now a vulgar error as regards criticism. I think the -notion that no poet can form a correct estimate of his own writings is -another. I remarked before, that in proportion to the poetical talent, -would be the justice of a critique upon poetry. Therefore, a bad poet -would, I grant, make a false critique, and his self-love would -infallibly bias his little judgment in his favor; but a poet, who is -indeed a poet, could not, I think, fail of making a just critique. -Whatever should be deducted on the score of self-love, might be -replaced on account of his intimate acquaintance with the subject; in -short, we have more instances of false criticism than of just, where -one's own writings are the test, simply because we have more bad poets -than good. There are of course many objections to what I say: Milton -is a great example of the contrary; but his opinion with respect to -the Paradise Regained, is by no means fairly ascertained. By what -trivial circumstances men are often led to assert what they do not -really believe! Perhaps an inadvertent word has descended to -posterity. But, in fact, the Paradise Regained is little, if at all, -inferior to the Paradise Lost, and is only supposed so to be, because -men do not like epics, whatever they may say to the contrary, and -reading those of Milton in their natural order, are too much wearied -with the first to derive any pleasure from the second. - -I dare say Milton preferred Comus to either—if so—justly. - - * * * * * - -As I am speaking of poetry, it will not be amiss to touch slightly -upon the most singular heresy in its modern history—the heresy of what -is called very foolishly, the Lake School. Some years ago I might have -been induced, by an occasion like the present, to attempt a formal -refutation of their doctrine; at present it would be a work of -supererogation. The wise must bow to the wisdom of such men as -Coleridge and Southey, but being wise, have laughed at poetical -theories so prosaically exemplified. - -Aristotle, with singular assurance, has declared poetry the most -philosophical of all writing[2]—but it required a Wordsworth to -pronounce it the most metaphysical. He seems to think that the end of -poetry is, or should be, instruction—yet it is a truism that the end -of our existence is happiness; if so, the end of every separate part -of our existence—every thing connected with our existence should be -still happiness. Therefore the end of instruction should be happiness; -and happiness is another name for pleasure;—therefore the end of -instruction should be pleasure: yet we see the above mentioned opinion -implies precisely the reverse. - -[Footnote 2: Spoudiotaton kai philosophikotaton genos.] - -To proceed: ceteris paribus, he who pleases, is of more importance to -his fellow men than he who instructs, since utility is happiness, and -pleasure is the end already obtained which instruction is merely the -means of obtaining. - -I see no reason, then, why our metaphysical poets should plume -themselves so much on the utility of their works, unless indeed they -refer to instruction with eternity in view; in which case, sincere -respect for their piety would not allow me to express my contempt for -their judgment; contempt which it would be difficult to conceal, since -their writings are professedly to be understood by the few, and it is -the many who stand in need of salvation. In such case I should no -doubt be tempted to think of the devil in Melmoth, who labors -indefatigably through three octavo volumes, to accomplish the -destruction of one or two souls, while any common devil would have -demolished one or two thousand. - - * * * * * - -Against the subtleties which would make poetry a study—not a -passion—it becomes the metaphysician to reason—but the poet to -protest. Yet Wordsworth and Coleridge are men in years; the one imbued -in contemplation from his childhood, the other a giant in {502} -intellect and learning. The diffidence, then, with which I venture to -dispute their authority, would be overwhelming, did I not feel, from -the bottom of my heart, that learning has little to do with the -imagination—intellect with the passions—or age with poetry. - - * * * * * - - “Trifles, like straws, upon the surface flow, - He who would search for pearls must dive below,” - -are lines which have done much mischief. As regards the greater -truths, men oftener err by seeking them at the bottom than at the top; -the depth lies in the huge abysses where wisdom is sought—not in the -palpable palaces where she is found. The ancients were not always -right in hiding the goddess in a well: witness the light which Bacon -has thrown upon philosophy; witness the principles of our divine -faith—that moral mechanism by which the simplicity of a child may -overbalance the wisdom of a man. - -We see an instance of Coleridge's liability to err, in his Biographia -Literaria—professedly his literary life and opinions, but, in fact, a -treatise _de omni scibili et quibusdam aliis_. He goes wrong by reason -of his very profundity, and of his error we have a natural type in the -contemplation of a star. He who regards it directly and intensely -sees, it is true, the star, but it is the star without a ray—while he -who surveys it less inquisitively is conscious of all for which the -star is useful to us below—its brilliancy and its beauty. - - * * * * * - -As to Wordsworth, I have no faith in him. That he had, in youth, the -feelings of a poet I believe—for there are glimpses of extreme -delicacy in his writings—(and delicacy is the poet's own kingdom—his -_El Dorado_)—but they have the appearance of a better day recollected; -and glimpses, at best, are little evidence of present poetic fire—we -know that a few straggling flowers spring up daily in the crevices of -the glacier. - -He was to blame in wearing away his youth in contemplation with the -end of poetizing in his manhood. With the increase of his judgment the -light which should make it apparent has faded away. His judgment -consequently is too correct. This may not be understood,—but the old -Goths of Germany would have understood it, who used to debate matters -of importance to their State twice, once when drunk, and once when -sober—sober that they might not be deficient in formality—drunk lest -they should be destitute of vigor. - -The long wordy discussions by which he tries to reason us into -admiration of his poetry, speak very little in his favor: they are -full of such assertions as this—(I have opened one of his volumes at -random) “Of genius the only proof is the act of doing well what is -worthy to be done, and what was never done before”—indeed! then it -follows that in doing what is _un_worthy to be done, or what _has_ -been done before, no genius can be evinced: yet the picking of pockets -is an unworthy act, pockets have been picked time immemorial, and -Barrington, the pick-pocket, in point of genius, would have thought -hard of a comparison with William Wordsworth, the poet. - -Again—in estimating the merit of certain poems, whether they be -Ossian's or M’Pherson's, can surely be of little consequence, yet, in -order to prove their worthlessness, Mr. W. has expended many pages in -the controversy. _Tantæne animis?_ Can great minds descend to such -absurdity? But worse still: that he may bear down every argument in -favor of these poems, he triumphantly drags forward a passage, in his -abomination of which he expects the reader to sympathize. It is the -beginning of the epic poem “_Temora_.” “The blue waves of Ullin roll -in light; the green hills are covered with day; trees shake their -dusky heads in the breeze.” And this—this gorgeous, yet simple -imagery—where all is alive and panting with immortality—this—William -Wordsworth, the author of Peter Bell, has _selected_ for his contempt. -We shall see what better he, in his own person, has to offer. -Imprimis: - - “And now she's at the pony's head, - And now she's at the pony's tail, - On that side now, and now on this, - And almost stifled her with bliss— - A few sad tears does Betty shed, - She pats the pony where or when - She knows not: happy Betty Foy! - O Johnny! never mind the Doctor!” - -Secondly: - - “The dew was falling fast, the—stars began to blink, - I heard a voice, it said——drink, pretty creature, drink; - And looking o'er the hedge, be—fore me I espied - A snow-white mountain lamb with a—maiden at its side, - No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone, - And by a slender cord was—tether'd to a stone.” - -Now we have no doubt this is all true; we _will_ believe it, indeed we -will, Mr. W. Is it sympathy for the sheep you wish to excite? I love a -sheep from the bottom of my heart. - - * * * * * - -But there _are_ occasions, dear B——, there are occasions when even -Wordsworth is reasonable. Even Stamboul, it is said, shall have an -end, and the most unlucky blunders must come to a conclusion. Here is -an extract from his preface— - -“Those who have been accustomed to the phraseology of modern writers, -if they persist in reading this book to a conclusion (_impossible!_) -will, no doubt, have to struggle with feelings of awkwardness; (ha! -ha! ha!) they will look round for poetry (ha! ha! ha! ha!) and will be -induced to inquire by what species of courtesy these attempts have -been permitted to assume that title.” Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! - -Yet let not Mr. W. despair; he has given immortality to a wagon, and -the bee Sophocles has transmitted to eternity a sore toe, and -dignified a tragedy with a chorus of turkeys. - - * * * * * - -Of Coleridge I cannot speak but with reverence. His towering -intellect! his gigantic power! He is one more evidence of the fact -“que la plupart des sectes ont raison dans une bonne partie de ce -qu'elles avancent, mais non pas en ce qu'elles nient.” He has -imprisoned his own conceptions by the barrier he has erected against -those of others. It is lamentable to think that such a mind should be -buried in metaphysics, and, like the Nyctanthes, waste its perfume -upon the night alone. In reading his poetry I tremble—like one who -stands upon a volcano, conscious, from the very darkness bursting from -the crater, of the fire and the light that are weltering below. - - * * * * * - -{503} What is Poetry?—Poetry! that Proteus-like idea, with as many -appellations as the nine-titled Corcyra! Give me, I demanded of a -scholar some time ago, give me a definition of poetry? -“Tres-volontiers,”—and he proceeded to his library, brought me a Dr. -Johnson, and overwhelmed me with a definition. Shade of the immortal -Shakspeare! I imagined to myself the scowl of your spiritual eye upon -the profanity of that scurrilous Ursa Major. Think of poetry, dear -B——, think of poetry, and then think of—Dr. Samuel Johnson! Think of -all that is airy and fairy-like, and then of all that is hideous and -unwieldy; think of his huge bulk, the Elephant! and then—and then -think of the Tempest—the Midsummer Night's Dream—Prospero—Oberon—and -Titania! - - * * * * * - -A poem, in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having, for -its _immediate_ object, pleasure, not truth; to romance, by having for -its object an _indefinite_ instead of a _definite_ pleasure, being a -poem only so far as this object is attained; romance presenting -perceptible images with definite, poetry with _in_definite sensations, -to which end music is an _essential_, since the comprehension of sweet -sound is our most indefinite conception. Music, when combined with a -pleasurable idea, is poetry; music without the idea is simply music; -the idea without the music is prose from its very definitiveness. - -What was meant by the invective against him who had no music in his -soul? - - * * * * * - -To sum up this long rigmarole, I have, dear B——, what you no doubt -perceive, for the metaphysical poets, _as_ poets, the most sovereign -contempt. That they have followers proves nothing— - - No Indian prince has to his palace - More followers than a thief to the gallows. - - - - -THE SCIENCE OF LIFE. - -BY M. CAREY. - - -1. If you be so exceptious and pettish, as to question every word you -hear said of you, you will have few friends, little sense, and much -trouble. - -2. Neglect not manners as if they were of little importance. They are -frequently what the world judges us by, and by which it decides for or -against us. A man may have virtue, capacity and good conduct, and yet -by roughness be rendered insupportable. - -3. Broach not odd opinions to such as are not fit to hear them. If you -do, you will do them no good by it, perhaps hurt; and may very well -expect discredit and mischief to yourself. An ill placed paradox, and -an ill timed jest have ruined many. - -4. To have a graceful behavior, it is necessary to have a proper -degree of confidence; and a tolerably good opinion of yourself. -Bashfulness is boyish. - -5. Think how many times you have been mistaken in your opinions in -times past, and let that teach you in future not to be positive or -obstinate. - - - - -ANTHOLOGIA. - -BY M. CAREY. - - -1. On a lady of sixty marrying a youth of seventeen. - - Hard is the fate of every childless wife, - The thoughts of barrenness annoy her life. - Troth, aged bride, by thee 'twas wisely done - To choose a child and husband both in one. - -2. Composition of an Epigram. - - What is an epigram? A dwarfish whole, - Its body brevity and wit its soul. - -3. Lurking Love. - - When lurking love in ambush lies, - Under friendship's fair disguise: - When he wears an angry mien, - Imitating strife and spleen: - When, like sorrow, he seduces, - When, like pleasure, he amuses: - Still, howe'er the parts are cast, - It is but lurking love at last. - -4. The Farmer's Creed. - - Let this be held the farmer's creed: - For stock look out the choicest breed— - In peace and plenty let them feed— - Your land sow with the best of seed— - Enclose and drain it with all speed, - And you will soon be rich indeed. - -5. On a Slanderous Coquette. - - Hast thou not seen a lively bee, - Rove through the air, supremely free, - Its slender waist, and swelling breast, - In nature's beauteous colors drest, - While on its little, pointed tongue, - All Hybla's luscious sweets were hung: - Such Nancy is—but, oh the thing, - Wears, like the bee, a poisonous sting. - -6. On Content. - - It is not youth can give content, - Nor is it wealth can fee; - It is a dower from heav'n sent, - But not to thee or me. - - It is not in the monarch's crown - Though he'd give millions for 't— - It is not in his lordship's frown - Nor waits on him to court. - - It is not in a coach and six, - It is not in a garter; - 'Tis not in love or politics, - But 'tis in Hodge the Carter. - -7. On a Dandy. - - They say, my friend, that you admire - Yourself with all a lover's fire. - Men who possess what they desire - Like you, are happy fellows. - But you can boast one pleasure more, - While blest with all that you adore, - That no one will be jealous. - - -{504} - - -_Editorial_. - - - - -CRITICAL NOTICES. - - -HOUSE OF LORDS. - -_Random Recollections of the House of Lords, from the year 1830 to -1836. By the author of “Random Recollections of the House of Commons.” -Philadelphia: Republished by E. L. Carey & A. Hart._ - -This is an exceedingly interesting volume, written by Mr. Grant, a -young Scotch reporter—a man of sound sense, acute observation, and -great knowledge of mankind. Its manner is correct, fluent, and -forcible—occasionally rising into a high species of eloquence. It has -too, that rare merit in compositions of this nature—the merit of -strict impartiality—an impartiality so rigidly observed, that it is -nearly impossible to form, from any thing comprehended in the book -itself, an estimate of the political principles of the writer. - -The work commences, in pursuance of the author's plan adopted in his -book on the other House of Parliament, with an account of the interior -of the building in which the Lords assembled prior to its partial -destruction by fire in October 1834. This account is full of interest. -“The present house,” says the author, “is a small, narrow apartment. -Last year it was but very imperfectly lighted. It is more cheerful -now, owing to the new windows added to it during the recess. It is -incapable of containing more than two hundred and fifty of their -lordships with any degree of comfort. It is right to mention, however, -that it is but seldom a greater number are present, and it is not -often there are so many.” - -Chapter II is occupied with the forms, rules, regulations, &c. of the -House, and is also very entertaining. Among other things, we have here -a denial of the common assertion that the Lord Chancellor carries the -Great Seal before him when advancing to the Bar of the House to -receive a bill sent up by the Commons. His Lordship, we are told, very -gravely, merely carries before him the bag in which it is deposited -when he receives it from the King, or when, on his retirement from -office, he delivers it up into his Majesty's hands. This bag, we are -farther informed, is about twelve inches square, is embroidered with -tassels of gold, silver, and silk, and has his Majesty's arms on both -sides. The Great Seal itself is made of silver, and is seven inches in -diameter. We do not understand the manner in which the Seal is said to -be divided into two parts, and attached to the letters patent. The -impression is six inches in diameter, and three quarters of an inch -thick. On every new accession we learn that a new Seal is struck, and -the old one cut into four pieces and deposited in the Tower. In this -chapter we have the following characteristic anecdote of King William. -The _empressement_ with which the narrator dwells upon the wonderful -circumstance of the monarch's actually reading a letter “without -embarrassment, or the mistake of a single word,” is an amusing -instance of the mystifying influence of “the divine right” and its -accompaniments, upon the noddles of its devotees. The idea, too, of -the King's asking what are the words in his own speech, is -sufficiently burlesque. - - -Of his extreme good nature and simplicity of manners, he gave several -striking proofs at the opening of the present session. The day was -unusually gloomy, which, added to an imperfection in his visual -organs, consequent on advanced years, and to the darkness of the -present House of Lords, especially in the place where the throne is -situated, rendered it impossible for him to read the _Royal Speech_ -with facility. Most patiently and good-naturedly did he struggle with -the task, often hesitating, sometimes mistaking, and at others -correcting himself. On one occasion he stuck altogether, when, after -two or three ineffectual efforts to make out the word, he was obliged -to give it up, when turning to Lord Melbourne, who stood on his right -hand, and looking him most significantly in the face, he said, in a -tone sufficiently loud to be audible in all parts of the house, “Eh, -what is it?” The infinite good nature and bluntness with which the -question was put, would have reconciled the most inveterate republican -to monarchy in England, so long as it is embodied in the person of -William the Fourth. Lord Melbourne having whispered the obstructing -word, the King proceeded to toil through the speech, but by the time -he got to about the middle, the Librarian brought him two wax tapers, -on which he suddenly paused, and raising his head, and looking at the -Lords and Commons, he addressed them on the spur of the moment in a -perfectly distinct voice, and without the least embarrassment or the -mistake of a single word, in these terms: - -_My Lords and Gentlemen_, - -I have hitherto not been able, from want of light, to read this speech -in the way its importance deserves; but as lights are now brought me, -I will read it again from the commencement, and in a way which I trust -will command your attention. - -He then again, though evidently fatigued by the difficulty of reading -in the first instance, began at the beginning, and read through the -speech in a manner which would have done credit to any professor of -elocution. - - -What a running satire on _form_ is the following! - - -No noble Lord must, on any occasion, or under any circumstances, -mention the name or title of any other noble Lord. If he wishes to -refer to any particular Peer, he must do so in some such phraseology -as the following: “The noble Duke, or the noble Marquis who has just -sat down”—“the noble Earl at the head of his Majesty's -Government”—“the noble and learned Lord”—“the noble Lord that spoke -last”—“the noble Viscount that spoke last but one”—“the noble Baron -that spoke last but two,” &c. &c. - - -What a world we live in, when such and similar things are related in a -volume such as this, by a man of excellent sense, with a gravity -becoming an owl! - -Chapter III consists of “Miscellaneous Observations,” contrasts the -general deportment of the House of Lords with that of the House of -Commons, and rejoices that the art of cock-crowing is yet to be -learned by the Peers, and that their Lordships have as yet afforded no -evidence of possessing the enviable acquirement of braying like a -certain long-eared animal, yelping like a dog, or mewing like the -feline creation. It includes also some scandalous accounts of the -unconquerable somnolency of a certain Ministerial Duke, and a member -of the Right Reverend Bench of Bishops. - -Chapter IV is entitled “_Scenes in the House_,” and gives a detailed -report of two of the most extraordinary of these _scenes_—one -occurring in April 1831, on occasion of the King's dissolving -Parliament—the other in July 1834, when the Duke of Buckingham thought -proper to make some allusions to the “potations pottle deep” of Lord -Brougham, which were not exactly to the mind of his Lordship. The rest -of the book is {505} occupied with admirable personal sketches of most -of the leading members, and is subdivided into _Late Members_, -embracing Lord King and Lord Enfield—_Dukes of the Tory Party_, viz: -Dukes of Cumberland, Wellington, Gordon, Newcastle, Buckingham, -Northumberland and Buccleugh—_Marquises of the Tory Party_, including -the Marquises of Londonderry, Wellesley, and Salisbury—_Earls of the -Tory Party_, the Earls of Eldon, Wicklow, Limerick, Winchelsea, Roden, -Aberdeen, Haddington, Harrowby, Rosslyn, and Mannsfield—_Barons of the -Tory Party_, Lords Wynford, Lyndhurst, Ellenborough, Fitzgerald and -Vessey, Ashburton, Abinger, Wharncliffe and Kenyon—_Peers who have -Seats in the Cabinet_, viz: Lord Melbourne, Marquis of Lansdowne, Lord -Holland, and Lord Duncannon—_Dukes of the Liberal Party_, the Dukes of -Sussex, Leinster, and Sutherland—_Marquises of the Liberal Party_, the -Marquises of Westminster, Cleveland, Anglesea, Clanricarde, and -Conyngham—_Earls of the Liberal Party_, Earls Gray, Durham, Radnor, -Carnarvon, Mulgrave, Burlington, Fife, and Fitzwilliam—_Barons of the -Liberal Party_, Lords Plunkett, Brougham, Denman, Cottenham, -Langsdale, Hatherton, and Teynham—_Neutral Peers_, the Duke of -Richmond and the Earl of Ripon—and lastly, the _Lords Spiritual_, -under which head we have sketches of the Archbishops of Canterbury and -Dublin, and the Bishops of Exeter, London, Durham, and Hereford. The -whole of these sketches of personal character are well executed and -exceedingly diverting—some, of a still higher order of excellence. The -portrait of Lord Brougham, in especial, although somewhat exaggerated -in the matter of panegyric, is vividly and very forcibly depicted, and -will be universally read and admired. The book concludes in these -words. - - -It is a fact worthy of observation, that with the single exception of -Lord Brougham, no man that has, of late years, been raised from the -Lower to the Upper House, has made any figure in the latter place. On -the contrary, they all seem to be rapidly descending, as public -speakers, into obscurity. In addition to Earl Spencer and Lord -Glenelg, I may mention the names of Lord Denman, Lord Abinger, Lord -Ashburn, Lord Hatherton, &c. In fact, there is something in the very -constitution of their Lordships, as a body, which has a strong -tendency to discourage all attempts at oratorical distinction. - - -SIGOURNEY'S LETTERS. - -_Letters to Young Ladies. By Mrs. L. H. Sigourney. Second Edition. -Hartford: Published by Wm. Watson._ - -We have to apologize for not sooner calling the attention of our -readers to these excellent _Letters_ of Mrs. Sigourney—which only -to-day we have had an opportunity of reading with sufficient care to -form an opinion of their merits. Our delay, however, is a matter of -the less importance, when we consider the universal notice and -approbation of the public at large. In this approbation we cordially -agree. The book is, in every respect, worthy of Mrs. Sigourney—and it -would be difficult to say more. - -The _Letters_ (embraced in a duodecimo of two hundred and twelve -pages,) are twelve in number. Their subjects are, _Improvement of -Time_—_Domestic Employments_—_Health and Dress_—_Manners and -Accomplishments_—_Books_—_Friendship_—_Cheerfulness_—_Conversation_— -_Benevolence_—_Self-Government_—_Utility_—and _Motives to -Perseverance_. Little has been said on any one of these subjects more -forcibly or more beautifully than now by Mrs. Sigourney—and, -collectively, as a code of morals and _manner_ for the gentler sex, we -have seen nothing whatever which we would more confidently place in -the hands of any young female friend, than this unassuming little -volume, so redolent of the pious, the graceful, the lofty, and the -poetical mind from which it issues. - -The prose of Mrs. Sigourney should not be compared, in its higher -qualities, with her poetry—but appears to us essentially superior in -its _minutiæ_. It would be difficult to find fault with the -construction of more than a very few passages in the _Letters_—and the -general correctness and vigor of the whole would render any such -fault-finding a matter of hyper-criticism. We are not prepared to say -whether this correctness be the result of labor or not—there are -certainly no traces of labor. The most remarkable feature of the -volume is its unusually extensive circle of illustration, in the way -of brief anecdote, and multiplied reference to -authorities—illustration which, while apparently no more than -sufficient for the present purpose of the writer, gives evidence, to -any critical eye, of a far wider general erudition than that possessed -by any of our female writers, and which we were not at all prepared to -meet with in one, only known hitherto as the inspired poetess of -Natural and Moral Beauty. - -Would our limits permit us we would gladly copy entire some one of the -_Letters_. As it is, we must be contented with a brief extract, (on -the subject of Memory,) evincing powers of rigid thought in the -writer. Few subjects are more entirely misapprehended than that of the -faculty of Memory. For a multiplicity of error on this head Leibnitz -and Locke are responsible. That the faculty is neither primitive nor -independent is susceptible of direct proof. That it exists in -conjunction with each primitive faculty, and inseparable from it, is a -fact which might be readily ascertained even without the direct -assistance of Phrenology. The remarks of Mrs. Sigourney apply, only -collaterally, to what we say, but will be appreciated by the -metaphysical student. - - -I am inclined to think Memory capable of indefinite improvement by a -judicious and persevering regimen. Were you required to analyze it to -its simplest element, you would probably discover it to be a _habit of -fixed attention_. Read, therefore, what you desire to remember, with -concentrated and undivided attention. Close the book and reflect. -Undigested food throws the whole frame into a ferment. Were we as well -acquainted with our intellectual, as with our physical structure, we -should see undigested knowledge producing equal disorder in the mind. - -To strengthen the Memory, the best course is not to commit page after -page verbatim, but to give the substance of the author, correctly and -clearly in your own language. Thus the understanding and memory are -exercised at the same time, and the prosperity of the mind is not so -much advanced by the undue prominence of any _one faculty_ as by the -true balance and vigorous action of _all_. Memory and understanding -are also fast friends, and the light which one gains will be reflected -upon the other. - -Use judgment in selecting from the mass of what you read the parts -which it will be useful or desirable to remember. Separate and arrange -them, and give them in charge to memory. Tell her it is her duty to -keep them, and to bring them forth when you require. {506} She has the -capacities of a faithful servant, and possibly the dispositions of an -idle one. But you have the power of enforcing obedience and of -overcoming her infirmities. At the close of each day let her come -before you, as Ruth came to Naomi, and ‘beat out that which she hath -gleaned.’ Let her winnow repeatedly what she has brought from the -field, and ‘gather the wheat into the garner’ ere she goes to repose. - -This process, so far from being laborious, is one of the most -delightful that can be imagined. To condense, is perhaps the only -difficult part of it; for the casket of Memory, though elastic, has -bounds, and if surcharged with trifles, the weightier matters will -find no fitting place. - -While Memory is in this course of training, it would be desirable to -read no books whose contents are not worth her care: for if she finds -herself called only occasionally, she may take airs like a froward -child, and not come when she is called. Make her feel it as a duty to -stand with her tablet ready whenever you open a book, and then show -her sufficient respect, not to summon her to any book unworthy of her. - -To facilitate the management of Memory, it is well to keep in view -that her office is threefold. Her first effort is to _receive_ -knowledge; her second to _retain_ it; her last to _bring it forth_ -when it is needed. The first act is solitary, the silence of fixed -attention. The next is also sacred to herself, and her ruling power, -and consists in frequent, thorough examination of the state and order -of the things committed to her. The third act is social, rendering her -treasures available to the good of others. Daily intercourse with a -cultivated mind is the best method to rivet, refine, and polish the -hoarded gems of knowledge. Conversation with intelligent men is -eminently serviceable. For, after all our exultation on the advancing -state of female education, with the other sex, will be found the -wealth of classical knowledge, and profound wisdom. If you have a -parent, or older friend, who will, at the close of each day, listen -kindly to what you have read, and help to fix in your memory the -portions most worthy of regard, count it a privilege of no common -value, and embrace it with sincere gratitude. - - -We heartily recommend these _Letters_ (which the name of their author -will more especially recommend,) to the attention of our female -acquaintances. They may be procured, in Richmond, at the bookstore of -Messrs. Yale and Wyatt. - - -THE DOCTOR. - -_The Doctor, &c. New York: Republished by Harper and Brothers._ - -The Doctor has excited great attention in America as well as in -England, and has given rise to every variety of conjecture and -opinion, not only concerning the author's individuality, but in -relation to the meaning, purpose, and character of the book itself. It -is now said to be the work of one author—now of two, three, four, -five—as far even as nine or ten. These writers are sometimes thought -to have composed the _Doctor_ conjointly—sometimes to have written -each a portion. These individual portions have even been pointed out -by the supremely acute, and the names of their respective fathers -assigned. Supposed discrepancies of taste and manner, together with -the prodigal introduction of mottoes, and other scraps of erudition -(apparently beyond the compass of a single individual's reading) have -given rise to this idea of a multiplicity of writers—among whom are -mentioned in turn all the most witty, all the most eccentric, and -especially all the most learned of Great Britain. Again—in regard to -the nature of the book. It has been called an imitation of Sterne—an -august and most profound exemplification, under the garb of -eccentricity, of some all-important moral law—a true, under guise of a -fictitious, biography—a simple jeu d'esprit—a mad farrago by a -Bedlamite—and a great multiplicity of other equally fine names and -hard. Undoubtedly, the best method of arriving at a decision in -relation to a work of this nature, is to read it through with -attention, and thus see what can be made of it. We have done so, and -can make nothing of it, and are therefore clearly of opinion that the -_Doctor_ is precisely—nothing. We mean to say that it is nothing -better than _a hoax_. - -That any serious truth is meant to be inculcated by a tissue of -bizarre and disjointed rhapsodies, whose _general_ meaning no person -can fathom, is a notion altogether untenable, unless we suppose the -author a madman. But there are none of the proper evidences of madness -in the book—while of mere _banter_ there are instances innumerable. -One half, at least, of the entire publication is taken up with -palpable quizzes, reasonings in a circle, sentences, like the nonsense -verses of Du Bartas, evidently framed to mean nothing, while wearing -an air of profound thought, and grotesque speculations in regard to -the probable excitement to be created by the book. - -It appears to have been written with the sole view (or nearly with the -sole view) of exciting inquiry and comment. That this object should be -fully accomplished cannot be thought very wonderful, when we consider -the excessive trouble taken to accomplish it, by vivid and powerful -intellect. That the _Doctor_ is the offspring of such intellect, is -proved sufficiently by many passages of the book, where the writer -appears to have been led off from his main design. That it is written -by more than one man should not be deduced either from the apparent -immensity of its erudition, or from discrepancies of style. That man -is a desperate mannerist who cannot vary his style _ad infinitum_; and -although the book _may_ have been written by a number of learned -_bibliophagi_, still there is, we think, nothing to be found in the -book itself at variance with the possibility of its being written by -any one individual of even mediocre reading. Erudition is only -certainly known in its _total_ results. The mere grouping together of -mottoes from the greatest multiplicity of the rarest works, or even -the apparently natural inweaving into any composition, of the -sentiments and manner of these works, are attainments within the reach -of any well-informed, ingenious and industrious man having access to -the great libraries of London. Moreover, while a single individual -possessing these requisites and opportunities, might through a rabid -desire of _creating a sensation_, have written, with some trouble, the -Doctor, it is by no means easy to imagine that a plurality of sensible -persons could be found willing to embark in such absurdity from a -similar, or indeed from any imaginable inducement. - -The present edition of the Harpers consists of two volumes in one. -Volume one commences with a _Prelude of Mottoes_ occupying two pages. -Then follows a _Postscript_—then a _Table of Contents to the first -volume_, occupying eighteen pages. Volume two has a similar _Prelude -of Mottoes_ and _Table of Contents_. The whole is subdivided into -Chapters Ante-Initial, Initial and {507} Post-Initial, with -Inter-Chapters. The pages have now and then a typographical -_queerity_—a monogram, a scrap of grotesque music, old English, &c. -Some characters of this latter kind are printed with colored ink in -the British edition, which is gotten up with great care. All these -oddities are in the manner of Sterne, and some of them are exceedingly -well conceived. The work professes to be a Life of one Doctor Daniel -Dove and his horse Nobs—but we should put no very great faith in this -biography. On the back of the book is a monogram—which appears again -once or twice in the text, and whose solution is a fertile source of -trouble with all readers. This monogram is a triangular pyramid; and -as, in geometry, the solidity of every polyedral body may be computed -by dividing the body into pyramids, the pyramid is thus considered as -the base or essence of every polyedron. The author then, after his own -fashion, may mean to imply that his book is the basis of all solidity -or wisdom—or perhaps, since the polyedron is not only a solid, but a -solid terminated by _plane faces_, that the _Doctor_ is the very -essence of all that spurious wisdom which will terminate in just -nothing at all—in a hoax, and a consequent multiplicity of _blank -visages_. The wit and humor of the _Doctor_ have seldom been equalled. -We cannot think Southey wrote it, but have no idea who did. - - -RAUMER'S ENGLAND. - -_England in 1835. Being a Series of Letters written to Friends in -Germany, during a Residence in London and Excursions into the -Provinces. By Frederick Von Raumer, Professor of History at the -University of Berlin, Author of the “History of the Hohenstaufen,” of -the “History of Europe from the end of the Fifteenth Century,” of -“Illustrations of the History of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth -Centuries,” &c. &c. Translated from the German, by Sarah Austin and H. -E. Lloyd. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea and Blanchard._ - -This work will form an æra in the reading annals of the more -contemplative portion of Americans—while its peculiar merits will be -overlooked by the multitude. The broad and solid basis of its -superstructure—the scrupulous accuracy of its _data_—the disdain of -mere _logic_ in its deductions—the _generalizing_, calm, -comprehensive—in a word, the _German_ character of its philosophy, -will insure it an enthusiastic welcome among all the nobler spirits of -our land. What though its general tenor be opposed at least apparently -to many of our long cherished opinions and deeply-rooted prejudices? -Shall we less welcome the truth, or glory in its advancement because -of its laying bare our own individual errors? But the England of Von -Raumer will be sadly and wickedly misconceived if it be really -conceived as militating against a Republicanism _here_, which it -opposes with absolute justice, in Great Britain, and Prussia. It will -be sadly misconceived if it be regarded as embracing one single -sentence with which the most bigoted lover of abstract Democracy can -have occasion to find fault. At the same time we cannot help believing -that it will, _in some measure_, be effectual in diverting the minds -of our countrymen, and of all who read it, from that perpetual and -unhealthy excitement about the forms and machinery of governmental -action which have within the last half century so absorbed their -attention as to exclude in a strange degree all care of the proper -_results_ of good government—the happiness of a people—improvement in -the condition of mankind—practicable under a thousand forms—and -without which all forms are valueless and shadowy phantoms. It will -serve also as an auxiliary in convincing mankind that the origin of -the principal social evils of any given land are _not_ to be found -(except in a much less degree than we usually suppose) either in -republicanism or monarchy or any especial method of government—that we -must look for the source of our greatest defects in a variety of -causes totally distinct from any such action—in a love of gain, for -example, whose direct tendency to social evil was vividly shown in an -essay on _American Social Elevation_ lately published in the -“Messenger.” In a word, let this book of Von Raumer's be read with -attention, as a study, and _as a whole_. If this thing be done—which -is but too seldom done (here at least) in regard to works of a like -character and cast—and we will answer for the result—as far as that -result depends upon the deliberate and unprejudiced declaration of any -well-educated man. We agree cordially with the opinion expressed by -Mrs. Austin in her Preface to this American imprint. The book is the -most valuable addition to our stock of knowledge about England and her -institutions which America has ever received or which, in the ordinary -course of things she is likely to receive. - -Of Professor Von Raumer it is almost unnecessary for us to speak—yet a -few words may not be amiss. He is a man of unquestionable and lofty -integrity—the most highly esteemed living historian—second to none, -living or dead, in all the high essentials of the -historiographer—profoundly versed in moral and political science—and -withal, a lover, and a connoisseur of art, and fully aware of its vast -importance in actuating mankind, individually, and nationally. He is a -member of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin, and _Councillor_ of the -Court Theatre in which he labors to keep up the moral influence of -that establishment as a school of art. He has constantly opposed -absolutism in every form—especially the absolutism of exclusive -political creeds. “If,” says the Conversations Lexicon, “the much -talked of _juste milieu_ consists in endless tacking between two -opposite principles, Raumer belongs rather to one of the extremes than -to that. But if the expression is taken to denote that free and -neutral ground on which a man, resting upon the basis of justice, and -untrammelled by party views, combats for truth proved by experience, -careless whether his blows fall to the right or the left—then Raumer -unquestionably belongs to the _juste milieu_.” He has written the -_History of the Hohenstaufen and their Time_—a history richer than the -richest romance—a work _On the Prussian Municipal System_—a work _On -the Historical Development of the Notions of Law and -Government_—_Letters from Paris in 1830_, a series of papers printed -precisely as they were written to his family, and evincing a spirit of -foresight nearly amounting to prophecy—so accurately were his -predictions fulfilled—_Letters from Paris in Illustration of the -History of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries_—a _History of -Europe from the End of the Fifteenth Century_, in six volumes, of -which one is yet to be published—a _History of the Downfall of -Poland_—in which although employed and paid by his {508} government he -did not hesitate to accuse that government of injustice—_Six Dialogues -on War and Commerce_—_The British System of Taxation_—_The Orations of -Æschines and Demosthenes for the Crown_—_CCI Emendationes ad Tabulas -Genealogicas Arabum et Turcarum_—_Manual of Remarkable Passages from -the Latin Historians of the Middle Ages_—_Journey to Venice_—_Lectures -on Ancient History_—and some other works of which we have no account. -The present _Letters_ are printed just as the author wrote them from -day to day. We are even assured that some mistakes have been suffered -to stand with a view of showing how first impressions were gradually -modified. - -Mrs. Austin, the translator, however, has taken some liberties in the -way of omission, which cannot easily be justified. Some animadversions -on her friend Bentham are stricken out without sufficient reason for -so doing. We learn this as well by her own acknowledgment as by -ominous breaks in particular passages concerning the great -Utilitarian. The latter portion of the book is translated by H. E. -Lloyd. - -The plan of Von Raumer's work embraces, as may well be supposed, a -great variety of themes—the political topics of the day and of all -time—the present state and future prospects of England—comparative -views of that country, France, and Prussia—descriptions of scenery -about London, localities, architecture, &c.—social condition of the -people—society in high life—and frequent disquisitions on the state of -art and musical science. We will proceed, without observing any -precise order, to speak of some portions which particularly interested -us. The book, however, to be properly appreciated, should be read and -thoroughly studied. - -It appears that although Raumer was received with the greatest -kindness by nearly all the leading men of all parties in Great -Britain, he was treated with neglect if not with rudeness by Lord -Brougham, who remained obstinately deaf to all overtures at an -introduction. It does not appear from the course and tenor of these -_Letters_ that the harshness with which the traveller so frequently -speaks of his Lordship, had its origin in this rude treatment. It is -more probable that the rude treatment had its source in the knowledge -on the part of Lord Brougham, that Raumer could expose many of his -falsities in relation to municipal law and some other matters -concerning Prussia. His Lordship's _Report on the State of Education_ -is especially the theme of frequent censure. - - -The person (says our author) who judges the Prussian institutions most -dogmatically is Lord Brougham. He says “It may matter little what -sentiments are inculcated on all Prussian children by their _military_ -chiefs; but it would be something new in _this_ country systematically -to teach all children, from six to fourteen years of age, the -doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance, the absolute -excellence of its institutions, and the wickedness and iniquity of -every effort to improve them.” If the noble lord, in the excitement of -debate, and the flow of his eloquence, let such notions and words -escape him, we cannot wonder; but that, when called on by a -parliamentary committee to give a dispassionate, true testimony, he -should have uttered things so entirely false, nay, so utterly absurd, -cannot in any way be justified, or even excused. Sir Robert Peel -compassionately intimates that our school-children are tormented by -theologians, and Brougham places them under the rod and cane of the -corporal. That our military arrangements are a school of freedom, and -for freedom, and the very antipodes of the English recruiting and -flogging system, may, perhaps, be more unintelligible to an -Englishman, than all the theological and scientific curiosities of -Oxford to a German. But what have military arrangements to do with our -schools? If Lord Brougham has read any thing but the title-page of -Cousin's work, he may and must know that all he said about the -Prussian schools was entirely visionary, and could only serve to -mislead those who believed him. The doctrine of passive obedience and -non-resistance, so long upheld by certain parties in England, is not -known in our schools even by name; and if any Professor at Oxford -should venture to speak of church and state as, thank heaven, any -Prussian Professor is at liberty to do, it would certainly be said—the -heretic brought church and state into danger. In our schools and -universities we know of no theological intolerance, no exclusion of -Dissenters, no idolatry of what exists for the moment, no forced -subscriptions; yet we are not by this alienated from Christianity, but -hold fast to the imperishable diamond of the Gospel without converting -it into an amulet with thirty-nine points. In Prussia, then, it would -seem the wickedness and impiety of every attempt to improve civil -institutions is systematically enforced! In Prussia, which, without -any boasting of journals and newspapers, silently effected the -greatest reforms, and rose from a state of abject degradation, like a -phœnix from its ashes—the aversion and opposition between citizens and -soldiers is abolished; the system of the defence of the country is -easy, yet general and powerful; the regulations of commerce and of -duties of custom freer than in any other part of Europe; the peasants -are converted into land-owners; a municipal system introduced -twenty-seven years ago, which England is now copying; and schools and -universities placed on so firm a basis that the calumnies of Lord -Brougham can only recoil on his own head. From the descriptions of -what is called the Prussian compulsory system, one would be inclined -to believe that the children were coupled together like hounds, and -driven every morning with blows to be trained! Should a parent be so -wicked as not to give his children any education, and purposely keep -them from school and church, the law justly gives the magistrates a -right of guardianship. This remote threat may have had a salutary -effect in individual cases, but I have never heard of the actual -application of outward compulsion—_obtorto collo_. Morality, sense of -honor, general custom, conviction of the great advantage of a careful -education, suffice among us to excite all parents _voluntarily_ to -send their children to school. In perfect accordance with our school -laws it is considered as equally sinful to withhold nourishment from -their minds as from their bodies. If we duly appreciate the spirit of -the laws, cavils about the letter fall away; but even the letter has -had a wholesome influence, and without the application of corporal -restraint, in promoting the intellectual emancipation of the people. - - -Our author's letter on the _Finances_ of Great Britain will be read -with surprise and doubt by many, but with respect by all. He commences -with an analysis of finance in general, and with a brief survey of -many financial distresses which are as old as history itself. His -remarks on the absence of all finance in the middle ages will arrest -attention. In these days men had no money, and yet did more than in -modern times—they effected every thing, and we can effect nothing, -without the circulation of the “golden blood.” Every individual in -those days, garnered, says Raumer, without the medium of money, what -he wanted; and the whole was entirely kept together by ideas. It is -only since Machiavelli—since the power of the middle ages was lost in -the feudal and ecclesiastical systems, that we have had to seek a new -public law, and a science of {509} _Finance_. In regard to England, -our author runs through all the most important epochs of its monied -concerns, and shows effectually that she has no reason to tremble at -present. He alludes to what is called the enormous burden of her -taxes, and of her debt—whose interest is more than 30,000,000_l._ per -annum—far more than half of its revenue, and more than four years -revenue of the whole Prussian monarchy! He admits, for the sake of -argument, that England must sink under this intolerable pressure, and -become bankrupt—but the public debt and its interest, he says, would -then at once be annihilated. To the assertion that this remedy is -worse than the disease, and would produce a degree of distress much -exceeding what is now complained of, he replies, that such an -assertion is a direct acknowledgment that the expenditure of the -enormous interest above-mentioned is salutary. He proceeds with the -affirmation that all the public debts being the property of -individuals, there are cases in which this private property _cannot -remain inviolate without sacrificing the whole_—and in this way, a -reduction or annihilation of the debt must take place. He refers, for -illustration, to the _Redemption Bonds_ of Vienna, and to Solon's -_Seisachtheia_, and says, there can be no reason for doubting that -England would as well survive such abrupt annihilation of her national -debt as many other states have done—among whom are Athens, Rome, -France, and Austria. He remarks, that Englishmen may as well rejoice -that the country has such immense capital, as lament that it is -burthened with so many debts—for _every debt is there a capital_. If -these debts were of so little value that the price of stock indicated -the loss, instead of the profit—if the interest could only be paid by -new loans—if the debts were due to fund-holders _out of the country_, -England would be in a desperate condition in the event of bankruptcy. -But, he observes, if all the national debt were abolished, there -would, in fact, as regarded the _whole_ national wealth, be no change -whatever. The stockholders would lose, of course, a revenue of -30,000,000_l._; but, on the other hand, taxes might be abolished to -the same amount. Individuals would be ruined—the nation not at all. He -shows clearly, however, by statements officially certified by Sir -Robert Peel, that England has very little need of apprehending a -national bankruptcy—and that since 1816 she has reduced the principal -of her debt by no less than $616,000,000. Certainly no state in Europe -can boast of a similar progress. - -Von Raumer presents a vivid picture of the miseries of Ireland. - - -When I recollect (says he, after some distressing narrations,) the -well-fed rogues in the English prisons, I admire, notwithstanding the -very natural increase of Irish criminals, the power of morality—I -wonder that the whole nation does not go over and steal, in order to -enjoy a new and happier existence. And then the English boast of the -good treatment of their countrymen, while the innocent Irish are -obliged to live worse than their cattle. In Parliament they talk for -years together whether it is necessary and becoming to leave $100,000 -annually in the hands of the pastors of 526 Protestants, or $10,759 to -the pastors of 3 Protestants, while there are thousands here who -scarcely know they have a soul, and know nothing of their body, except -that it suffers hunger, thirst and cold. Which of these ages is the -dark and barbarous—the former, when mendicant monks distributed their -goods to the poor, and, in their way, gave them the most rational -comfort; or the latter, when rich (or bankrupt) aristocrats can see -the weal of the church and of religion, (or of their relations) only -in retaining possession of that which was taken and obtained by -violence? All the blame is thrown on agitators, and discontent -produced by artificial means. What absurdity! Every falling hut causes -agitation, and every tattered pair of breeches a _sans culotte_. Since -I have seen Ireland, I admire the patience and moderation of the -people, that they do not (what would be more excusable in them than in -distinguished revolutionists, authors, journalists, Benthamites, -baptized and unbaptized Jews,) drive out the devil through Beelzebub, -the Prince of the Devils.... I endeavored to discover the original -race of the ancient Irish, and the beauty of the women. But how could -I venture to give an opinion? Take the loveliest of the English -maidens from the saloons of the Duke of Devonshire or the Marquis of -Lansdowne—carry her, not for life, but for one short season, into an -Irish hovel—feed her on water and potatoes, clothe her in rags, expose -her blooming cheek and alabaster neck to the scorching beams of the -sun, and the drenching torrents of rain—let her wade with naked feet -through marshy bogs—with her delicate hands pick up the dung that lies -in the road, and carefully stow it by the side of her mud -resting-place—give her a hog to share this with her; to all this, add -no consolatory remembrance of the past, no cheering hope of the -future—nothing but misery—a misery which blunts and stupifies the -mind—a misery of the past, the present, and the future—would the -traveller, should this image of wo crawl from out of her muddy hovel, -and imploringly extend her shrivelled hand, recognize the noble maiden -whom a few short weeks before he admired as the model of English -beauty?... And yet the children, with their black hair and dark eyes, -so gay and playful in their tatters—created in the image of God—are in -a few years, by the fault of man and the government, so worn out, -without advantage to themselves or others, that the very beasts of the -field might look down on them with scorn.... Is what I have said -exaggerated, or perhaps, merely an unseasonable and indecorous -fiction? or should I have suppressed it, because it may offend certain -parties? What have I to do with O'Connell and his opponents? I have -nothing either to hope or to fear from any of them; but to declare -what I saw, thought, and felt, is my privilege and my duty. _Discite -justitiam, moniti, et non temnere divos!_ - - -Our author speaks of the dissolution of the Union as of a measure -which would and should naturally be opposed by any person who has -never seen Ireland, and who considers the case merely in a general and -theoretical point of view—but allows that he can easily conceive how -well-disposed persons may rely on this alternative as the most -efficient remedy. He does not, however, approve of the demand—although -he goes even farther than O'Connell. His propositions are nearly as -follows: First, that provisions should be equally made for the schools -and churches of the Protestants and Catholics, out of the church -property already existing or to be created. Secondly, that the tithes -should be abolished—that is, as a mode of taxation—not the tax itself. -It is observed, that to deprive the church of its due, and to make a -present of it, without any reason, to the landlord, would not only be -an act of injustice, but would operate to the prejudice of the poor -tenants, since the clergyman has not so many means to distrain the -cattle as the temporal landlord, and generally is less willing to -employ them. Thirdly, that poor laws should be introduced, taking care -to avoid their abuses. This idea is in opposition to that of -O'Connell, who dreads the misapplication of the laws as in England. -Von {510} Raumer acknowledges the _difficulty_ of introducing them, -but insists upon the _necessity_. The difficulty proceeds from the -want of a wealthy middling class in the country—the true basis of all -finance. To obviate this want, he insists—Fourthly, upon a law -respecting absentees. He denies the injustice of such law, and rejects -as false that notion of private property which would impose on the -land owner no duties, while it gives him unconditional rights. He does -not, however, propose compelling the absentees to return home, but to -pay more to the poor-tax than those who are present. “Is this -impossible?” he asks—“have not the Catholics borne for centuries -higher taxes than the Protestants? This was possible, _without -reason_; and therefore the other would be very possible, _with good -reason_.” He suggests—Fifthly, the complete abolition of the system of -tenants at will, and the conversion of all these tenants at will into -proprietors. “On reading this,” he says, “the Tories will throw my -book into the fire, and even the Whigs will be mute with astonishment. -The whole battery of pillage, jacobinism, and dissolution of civil -society, is discharged at me; but it will not touch me—not even the -assertion that I would, like St. Crispin, steal leather in order to -make shoes for the poor. Even the Radicals ask with astonishment, how -I would work this miracle. There is a Sybilline book, a patent and yet -hidden mystery, how this is to be effected; and there is a magician -who has accomplished it—the Prussian Municipal Law, and King Frederick -William III of Prussia.” Granting that his proposal should be rejected -unless both parties are gainers, our author proceeds to show that, -both parties will be so. That those who are raised to the class of -land-owners would gain, is evident. That the present proprietors would -gain, he asserts, is proved from the fact, that in the long run, the -tenant-at-will is able to produce and to pay less than he who has a -long lease, the latter less than the hereditary farmer, and the -hereditary farmer less than the proprietor. The subject is discussed -very fully and clearly in another letter on _English Agriculture_. - -Professor Von Raumer makes a proper distinction between the nature and -consequences of English agitation, and the agitation of many -continental countries. In these latter we find anticipative and -preventive polices—especially in France. When a _movement_ breaks out -under a government employing this system, it is because the preventive -means are exhausted, and thus every thing rushes at once into disorder -and irretrievable confusion. A similar _movement_, however, in -England, (and the remark will apply equally to the United States, -although Von Raumer does not so apply it,) is suffered to gather -strength and flourish until the _overt act_, and the citizen who -dwells under the influence of the preventive system, would of course, -in observing us, expect the same irretrievable confusion to ensue with -us as with him. If our own government, or that of England, should -attempt to interfere before the overt act, the administration would -meet with no support. But when the _movement_ has grown to an open -violation of the laws, the case is different indeed. “In short,” says -our author, “what is regarded abroad as the beginning of a revolution, -is, in reality, the crisis, and is, in a very different sense than in -France, _le commencement de la fin_.” - -Much of our traveller's time, while in Great Britain was passed in -close intimacy with her statesmen. Of Russell, Spring Rice, Sir Robert -Peel, and O'Connell, he speaks in terms of evident respect. From many -passages in which he mentions the latter, we select the following. - - -I suddenly conceived the project of going straight from P—— to his -antagonist—to——(H—— will be furious) to Daniel O'Connell. I found him -in a small room, sitting at a writing table covered with letters, in -his dressing gown. I began with apologies for intruding upon him -without any introduction, and pleaded my interest in the history and -fate of Ireland, and in his efforts to serve her. When I found he had -read my Historical Letters I felt on a better footing. I could not -implicitly accept his opinion concerning Elizabeth (which he has -borrowed from Lingard) as a good bill. We agreed, however, on the -subject of the much disputed and much falsified history of the -Catholic conspiracy of 1641.... I am also perfectly of his opinion, -that the tenants at will—those serfs—are in a worse condition in -Ireland than any where, and that, both with regard to moral and -intellectual culture, or physical prosperity, their position is not -comparable to that of our thrice happy proprietary peasants. I told -him that what he desired for Ireland had long been possessed by the -Catholics of Prussia: and that hatred and discontent had expired with -persecution.... The English Ministry first made this man a giant: but -he is a giant too, by the strength of his own mind and will, in -comparison with the Lilliputians cut out of reeds, which we call -demagogues; and which are forced to be shut up in the Kopenick -hot-house, or put under a Mainz forcing-glass to rear them into any -size and consideration.... Thank God, however, the governments of -Germany do not prepare the ground for universal discontent. If this -prevailed, and prevailed with justice, O'Connells must of necessity -arise.... Your dissertation on the greatness or smallness of German -demagogues (I hear you say) is quite superfluous: you had much better -have described to us what that arch agitator and rebel, O'Connell, -looks like—What he looks like? A tall gaunt man, with a thin face, -sunken cheeks, a large hooked nose, black piercing eye, malignant -smile round the mouth, and, when in full dress, a cock's feather in -his hat, and a cloven foot. ‘That is just what I imagined him!’ cries -one. But, as it happens, that is just what he is not. On the contrary, -he has a round, good-natured face. In Germany he would be taken for a -good, hearty, sturdy, shrewd farmer: indeed he distinctly reminded me -of the cheerful, sagacious, and witty old bailiff Romanus, in Rotzis. - - -At page 391, Von Raumer alludes to some notices of his historical -works in the British Quarterlies. He complains of injustice done him -in a review of his “_Letters from Paris in 1830_.” The Reviewer states -that our traveller did not court society, and that he professes to -have seen and become acquainted only with what strikes the eyes of -every observer in the streets, tavern, and theatre. This is denied by -Von Raumer, who declares his chief associates to have been “wealthy -merchants and distinguished literati, old and new peers, members of -the Chamber of Deputies, the most celebrated diplomatists, and three -of the present ministers of Louis Philippe.” - -The remarks of our author upon _Art_, (in the extensive German -signification of the word) are worthy of all attention and bespeak an -elevated, acute, and comprehensive understanding of its properties and -capabilities. Many pages of the work before us are devoted to comments -upon the Architecture, the Painting, the Stage, and especially the -Music of England, {511} and these pages will prove deeply interesting -to a majority of readers. At pages 143 he thus speaks of Mrs. Sloman. - - -Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Sloman, a fiendish shrew, who must have been the -torment of her husband's life long before the predictions of the -witches. Even in the sleeping scene she betrayed only fear of -discovery and punishment; and the exaggerated action, the rubbing of -the hands, and seeming to dip them in water, and the rhetorical ‘_to -bed!_’ were very little to my taste.... To sum up my impression of the -whole—an excess of effort, of bustle, and of accentuation, with every -now and then, by way of clap-trap, a violent and yet toneless -screaming. Exactly those passages in which these stage passions were -the most boisterous and distressing were the most applauded. There is -not a single well-frequented German theatre (such as those of Vienna, -Berlin or Dresden) in which so bad a performance as this would have -been exhibited. - - -Our traveller is in raptures with Windsor, and censures the tasteless -folly of Buckingham house. Of the Italian opera in England he speaks -briefly and contemptuously—nor does the national music find any degree -of favor in his eyes. His criticisms on sculpture and painting are -forcible and very beautiful. In some observations on the attic -bas-reliefs, and the works from the Parthenon and Phigalia, to be -found in the British Museum, he takes occasion to collate the higher -efforts of Grecian art with the rudeness of Roman feeling, and the -still more striking rudeness of the German and Italian schools of the -fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. His remarks here are too forcible -and too fresh to be omitted. - - -These schools (the German and Italian) were, it is true, internally -impelled by Christianity towards the noblest goal of humanity and of -art, but they have unsuitably introduced the doctrine of election even -into these regions. To the beautiful forms pardoned by God are opposed -the ugly bodies of the non-elect; to the healthy, the sick; to the -blessed, the damned. In theology, in philosophy, in history, this dark -side of existence may be employed at pleasure, but when it appears in -art I feel hurt and uncomfortable.... This _caput mortuum_ may be -wholly separated. It should evaporate and become invisible. Not till -this is accomplished can we place Christian art above Greek art, as -the Christian religion above the Greek religion. A great confusion of -ideas still prevails, in considering and judging of these things. How -often have modern works of art been praised in reference to the -doctrine, and ancient works reprobated for similar reasons. But the -demoniac is not a suitable subject for art, merely because he is -mentioned in the Bible; or a Venus to be rejected, because the worship -of the goddess has ceased.... Music without discord is unmeaning and -tedious, and painting and sculpture likewise need such discord. But -every musical discord is necessarily resolved, according to the rules -of art—while painters and sculptors often leave their dissonances -unresolved, and eternized in stone. In every discord I feel its -transition into euphony. It is but a motion, a creation of harmony; -but no musician would ever think of affirming that to sing out of tune -is ever permitted, much less that it is necessary in his art. The -combats of the Centaurs and Lapithæ display a chain of discords, which -originate, advance, and develop themselves—one could set them to music -without violating the rules and euphony of the science. But were we to -attempt a similar musical transposition with many celebrated statues, -we should break all the strings of the instrument by the violence of -the effort. - - -We had noted many other passages for comment and extract—(especially a -lively Philippic against Utilitarianism on pages 398, 399, an account -of Bentham's penitentiary, and other matters) but we perceive that we -are already infringing upon our limits. This book about England will -and must be read, and will as certainly be relished, by a numerous -class, although not by a majority, of our fellow-citizens. The author, -we rejoice to hear, has engaged to translate into his own language the -Washington Papers of Mr. Sparks. We will only add that Professor Von -Raumer has the honor of being called by the English organ of the High -Church and Ultra Tory Party, “a vagrant blackguard unfit for the -company of a decent servants' hall.” - - -MEMOIRS OF AN AMERICAN LADY. - -_Memoirs of an American Lady. With Sketches of Manners and Scenery in -America, as they existed previous to the Revolution. By the author of -“Letters from the Mountains.” New York: published by George Dearborn._ - -This work has been already a favorite with many of our readers—but has -long been out of print, and we are glad to see it republished. Mrs. -Grant of Laghan is a name entitled to the respect and affection of all -Americans. The book, moreover, is full of good things; and as a -memorial of the epoch immediately preceding our Revolution, is -invaluable. At the present moment too it will be well to compare the -public sentiment in regard to slavery, Indian affairs, and some other -matters, with the sentiments of our forefathers, as expressed in this -volume. In Albany and New York it will possess a local interest of no -common character. Every where it will be read with pleasure, as an -authentic and well written record of a most exemplary life. The -edition is well printed on fine paper, and altogether creditable to -Mr. Dearborn. - -Some remarks on slavery, at page 41, will apply with singular accuracy -to the present state of things in Virginia. - - -In the society I am describing, even the dark aspect of slavery was -softened into a smile. And I must, in justice to the best possible -masters, say, that a great deal of that tranquillity and comfort, to -call them by no higher names, which distinguish this society from all -others, was owing to the relation between master and servant being -better understood here than in any other place. Let me not be detested -as an advocate for slavery, when I say that I think I have never seen -people so happy in servitude as the domestics of the Albanians. One -reason was, (for I do not now speak of the virtues of their masters,) -that each family had few of them, and that there were no field -negroes. They would remind one of Abraham's servants, who were all -born in the house, which was exactly their case. They were baptised -too, and shared the same religious instruction with the children of -the family; and, for the first years, there was little or no -difference with regard to food or clothing between their children and -those of their masters. - -When a negro woman's child attained the age of three years, the first -new-year's day after, it was solemnly presented to a son or daughter, -or other young relative of the family, who was of the same sex with -the child so presented. The child to whom the young negro was given, -immediately presented it with some piece of money and a pair of shoes; -and from that day the strongest attachment subsisted between the -domestic and the destined owner. I have no where met with instances of -friendship more tender and generous than that which here subsisted -between the slaves and their masters and mistresses. Extraordinary -proofs of them {512} have been often given in the course of hunting or -Indian trading, when a young man and his slave have gone to the -trackless woods together, in the cases of fits of the ague, loss of a -canoe and other casualties happening near hostile Indians. The slave -has been known, at the imminent risk of his life, to carry his -disabled master through trackless woods with labor and fidelity scarce -credible; and the master has been equally tender on similar occasions -of the humble friend who stuck closer than a brother; who was baptised -with the same baptism, nurtured under the same roof, and often rocked -in the same cradle with himself. These gifts of domestics to the -younger members of the family were not irrevocable; yet they were very -rarely withdrawn. If the kitchen family did not increase in proportion -to that of the master, young children were purchased from some family -where they abounded, to furnish those attached servants to the rising -progeny. They were never sold without consulting their mother, who, if -expert and sagacious, had a great deal to say in the family, and would -not allow her child to go into any family with whose domestics she was -not acquainted. These negro women piqued themselves on teaching their -children to be excellent servants, well knowing servitude to be their -lot for life, and that it could only be sweetened by making themselves -particularly useful, and excelling in their department. If they did -their work well, it is astonishing, when I recollect it, what liberty -of speech was allowed to those active and prudent mothers. They would -chide, reprove, and expostulate in a manner that we would not endure -from our hired servants; and sometimes exert fully as much authority -over the children of the family as the parents, conscious that they -were entirely in their power. They did not crush freedom of speech and -opinion in those by whom they knew they were beloved, and who watched -with incessant care over their interest and comfort. - - -The volume abounds in quaint anecdote, pathos, and matter of a graver -nature, which will be treasured up for future use by the historian. At -page 321 is a description of the breaking up of the ice on the Hudson. -The passage is written with great power; and, as Southey has called -it, “quite Homeric,” (a fact of which we are informed in the preface -to this edition) we will be pardoned for copying it entire. - - -Soon after this I witnessed, for the last time, the sublime spectacle -of the ice breaking up on the river; an object that fills and elevates -the mind with ideas of power, and grandeur, and indeed, magnificence; -before which all the triumphs of human art sink into insignificance. -This noble object of animated greatness, for such it seemed, I -witnessed; its approach being announced, like a loud and long peal of -thunder, the whole population of Albany were down at the river side in -a moment; and if it happened, as was often the case, in the morning, -there could not be a more grotesque assemblage. No one who had a -nightcap on waited to put it off; as for waiting for one's cloak or -gloves, it was a thing out of the question; you caught the thing next -you that could wrap round you, and run. In the way you saw every door -left open, and pails, baskets, &c. without number set down in the -street. It was a perfect saturnalia. People never dreamt of being -obeyed by their slaves till the ice was past. The houses were left -quite empty: the meanest slave, the youngest child, all were to be -found on the shore. Such as could walk, ran; and they that could not, -were carried by those whose duty would have been to stay and attend -them. When arrived at the show place, unlike the audience collected to -witness any spectacle of human invention, the multitude, with their -eyes all bent one way, stood immoveable, and silent as death, till the -tumult ceased, and the mighty commotion was passed by; then every one -tried to give vent to the vast conceptions with which his mind had -been distended. Every child, and every negro was sure to say, ‘Is not -this like the day of judgment?’ and what they said every one else -thought. Now to describe this is impossible; but I mean to account in -some degree for it. The ice, which had been all winter very thick, -instead of diminishing, as might be expected in spring, still -increased, as the sunshine came and the days lengthened. Much snow -fell in February, which, melted by the heat of the sun, was stagnant -for a day on the surface of the ice; and then by the night frosts, -which were still severe, was added as a new accession to the thickness -of it, above the former surface. This was so often repeated, that in -some years the ice gained two feet in thickness, after the heat of the -sun became such as one would have expected should have entirely -dissolved it. So conscious were the natives of the safety this -accumulation of ice afforded, that the sledges continued to drive on -the ice, when the trees were budding, and everything looked like -spring; nay, when there was so much melted on the surface that the -horses were knee deep in water while travelling on it; and portentous -cracks, on every side, announced the approaching rupture. This could -scarce have been produced by the mere influence of the sun, till -midsummer. It was the swelling of the waters under the ice, increased -by rivulets, enlarged by melted snows, that produced this catastrophe; -for such the awful concussion made it appear. The prelude to the -general bursting of this mighty mass was a fracture lengthwise, in the -middle of the stream, produced by the effort of the imprisoned waters, -now increased too much to be contained within their wonted bounds. -Conceive a solid mass, from six to eight feet thick, bursting for many -miles in one continued rupture, produced by a force inconceivably -great, and, in a manner, inexpressibly sudden. Thunder is no adequate -image of this awful explosion, which roused all the sleepers within -reach of the sound, as completely as the final convulsion of nature, -and the solemn peal of the awakening trumpet might be supposed to do. -The stream in summer was confined by a pebbly strand, overhung with -high and steep banks, crowned with lofty trees, which were considered -as a sacred barrier against the encroachments of this annual -visitation. Never dryads dwelt in more security than those of the -vine-clad elms, that extended their ample branches over this mighty -stream. Their tangled nets laid bare by the impetuous torrents, formed -caverns ever fresh and fragrant, where the most delicate plants -flourished, unvisited by scorching suns or nipping blasts; and nothing -could be more singular than the variety of plants and birds that were -sheltered in these intricate and safe recesses. But when the bursting -of the crystal surface set loose the many waters that had rushed down, -swollen with the annual tribute of dissolving snow, the islands and -low lands were all flooded in an instant; and the lofty banks, from -which you were wont to overlook the stream, were now entirely filled -by an impetuous torrent, bearing down, with incredible and tumultuous -rage, immense shoals of ice; which, breaking every instant by the -concussion of others, jammed together in some places, in others -erecting themselves in gigantic heights for an instant in the air, and -seeming to combat with their fellow-giants crowding on in all -directions, and falling together with an inconceivable crash, formed a -terrible moving picture, animated and various beyond conception; for -it was not only the cerulean ice, whose broken edges combatting with -the stream, refracted light into a thousand rainbows, that charmed -your attention; lofty pines, large pieces of the bank torn off by the -ice with all their early green and tender foliage, were driven on like -travelling islands, amid the battle of breakers, for such it seemed. I -am absurdly attempting to paint a scene, under which the powers of -language sink. Suffice it, that this year its solemnity was increased -by an unusual quantity of snow, which the last hard winter had -accumulated, and the dissolution of which now threatened an -inundation. - - -{513} CAMPERDOWN. - -_Camperdown; or News from our Neighborhood—Being a Series of Sketches, -by the author of “Our Neighborhood,” &c. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & -Blanchard._ - -In “_Our Neighborhood_” published a few years ago, the author promised -to give a second series of the work, including brief sketches of some -of its chief characters. The present volume is the result of the -promise, and will be followed up by others—in continuation. We have -read all the tales in _Camperdown_ with interest, and we think the -book cannot well fail being popular. It evinces originality of thought -and manner—with much novelty of matter. The tales are six in number; -_Three Hundred Years Hence_—_The Surprise_—_The Seven Shanties_—_The -Little Couple_—_The Baker's Dozen_—and _The Thread and Needle Store_. -_Three Hundred Years Hence_ is an imitation of Mercier's “_Lan deux -milles quatre cents quarante_,” the unaccredited parent of a great -many similar things. In the present instance, a citizen of -Pennsylvania, on the eve of starting for New York, falls asleep while -awaiting the steam-boat. _He dreams_ that upon his awakening, Time and -the world have made an advance of three hundred years—that he is -informed of this fact by two persons who afterwards prove to be his -immediate descendants in the eighth generation. They tell him that, -while taking his nap, he was buried, together with the house in which -he sat, beneath an avalanche of snow and earth precipitated from a -neighboring hill by the discharge of the signal-gun—that the tradition -of the event had been preserved, although the spot of his disaster was -at that time overgrown with immense forest trees—and that his -discovery was brought about by the necessity for opening a road -through the hill. He is astonished, as well he may be, but, taking -courage, travels through the country between Philadelphia and New -York, and comments upon its alterations. These latter are, for the -most part, well conceived—some are sufficiently _outré_. Returning -from his journey he stops at the scene of his original disaster and is -seated, once more, in the disentombed house, while awaiting a -companion. In the meantime he is awakened—finds he has been -dreaming—that the boat has left him—but also (upon receipt of a -letter) that there is no longer any necessity for his journey. The -_Little Couple_, and _The Thread and Needle Store_ are skilfully told, -and have much spirit and freshness. - - -ERATO. - -_Erato. By William D. Gallagher. No. I, Cincinnati, Josiah Drake—No. -II, Cincinnati, Alexander Flash._ - -Many of these poems are old friends, in whose communion we have been -cheered with bright hopes for the Literature of the West. Some of the -pieces will be recognized by our readers, as having attained, -anonymously, to an enviable reputation—among these the _Wreck of the -Hornet_. The greater part, however, of the latter volume of Mr. -Gallagher, is now, we believe, for the first time published. Mr. G. is -fully a poet in the abstract sense of the word, and will be so -hereafter in the popular meaning of the term. Even now he has done -much in the latter way—much in every way. We think, moreover, we -perceive in him a far more stable basis for solid and extensive -reputation than we have seen in more than a very few of our -countrymen. We allude not now particularly to force of expression, -force of thought, or delicacy of imagination. All these essentials of -the poet he possesses—but we wish to speak of care, study, and -self-examination, of which this vigor and delicacy are in an -inconceivable measure the result. That the versification of Mr. G.'s -poem _The Conqueror_, is that of Southey's _Thalaba_, we look upon as -a good omen of ultimate success—although we regard the metre itself as -unjustifiable. It is not impossible that Mr. G. has been led to -attempt this rhythm by the same considerations which have had weight -with Southey—whose Thalaba our author had not seen before the planning -of his own poem. If so, and if Mr. Gallagher will now begin anew, in -his researches about metre, where the laureate made an end, we have -little doubt of his future renown. - -It is not our intention to _review_ the poems of Mr. Gallagher—nor -perhaps would he thank us for so doing. They are exceedingly unequal. -Long passages of the merest burlesque, and in horribly bad taste, are -intermingled with those of the loftiest beauty. It seems too, that the -poems before us fail invariably as _entire_ poems, while succeeding -very frequently in individual portions. But the failure _of a whole_ -cannot be shown without an analysis of that whole—and this analysis, -as we have said, is beyond our intention at present. Some detached -sentences, on the other hand, may be readily given; but, in equity, we -must remind our readers that these sentences are _selected_. - -The following fine lines are from _The Penitent_—a poem ill-conceived, -ill-written, and disfigured by almost every possible blemish of -manner. We presume it is one of the author's juvenile pieces. - - Remorse had furrowed his ample brow— - His cheeks were sallow and thin— - His limbs were shrivelled—his body was lank— - He had reaped the wages of sin; - And though his eyes constantly glanced about, - As if looking or watching for something without, - His mind's eye glanced within! - Wildly his eyes still glared about, - But the eye that glared within - Was the one that saw the images - That frightened this man of sin. - -From the same. - - We were together: we had tarried - So oft by some enchanting spot - To her familiar, and which carried - Her thoughts away—where mine were not— - That, ere she knew, the bright, chaste moon - —Not as of old, (when Time was young) - She roamed the woods, in sandal-shoon, - With bow in hand and quiver strung— - But 'mong the stars, and broad and round - The moon of man's degenerate race, - Its way had through an opening found, - And shone full in her face! - She started then, and, looking up, - Turned on me her delicious eyes; - And I, poor fool! I dared to hope, - And met that look with sighs! - -From the “_Wreck of the Hornet_”— - - Now shrank with fear each gallant heart— - Bended was many a knee— {514} - And the last prayer was offered up, - God of the Deep, to thee! - Muttered the angry Heavens still - And murmured still the sea— - And old and sternest hearts bowed down - God of the Deep, to Thee! - -The little ballad “_They told me not to love him_,” has much -tenderness, simplicity, and neatness of expression. We quote three of -the five stanzas—the rest are equally good. - - They told me not to love him! - They said he was not true; - And bade me have a care, lest I - Should do what I might rue: - At first I scorn'd their warnings—for - I could not think that he - Conceal'd beneath so fair a brow, - A heart of perfidy. - - But they forc'd me to discard him! - Yet I could not cease to love— - For our mutual vows recorded were - By angel hands above. - He left his boyhood's home, and sought - Forgetfulness afar; - But memory stung him—and he fought, - And fell, in glorious war. - - _He_ dwells in Heaven now—while _I_ - Am doom'd to this dull Earth: - O, how my sad soul longs to break - Away, and wander forth. - From star to star its course would be— - Unresting it would go, - Till we united were above, - Who severed were below. - -By far the best poem we have seen from the pen of Mr. Gallagher is -that entitled “_August_”—and it is indeed this little piece alone -which would entitle him, _at least now_, we think, to any poetical -rank above the general mass of versifiers. But the ability to write a -poem such as “_August_,” while implying a capacity for even higher and -better things, speaks clearly of present power, and of an upward -progress already begun. Much of the beauty of the lines we mention, -springs, it must be admitted, from imitation of Shelley—but we are not -inclined to like them much the less on this account. We copy only the -four initial stanzas. The remaining seven, although good, are injured -by some inadvertences. The allusion, in stanzas six and seven, to Mr. -Lee, a painter, destroys the _keeping_ of all the latter portion of -the poem. - - Dust on thy mantle! dust, - Bright Summer, on thy livery of green! - A tarnish, as of rust, - Dimmeth thy brilliant sheen: - And thy young glories—leaf, and bud, and flower— - Change cometh over them with every hour. - - Thee hath the August sun - Looked on with hot, and fierce, and brassy face: - And still and lazily run, - Scarce whispering in their pace, - The half-dried rivulets, that lately sent - A shout of gladness up, as on they went. - - Flame-like, the long mid-day— - With not so much of sweet air as hath stirr'd - The down upon the spray, - Where rests the panting bird, - Dozing away the hot and tedious noon, - With fitful twitter, sadly out of tune. - - Seeds in the sultry air, - And gossamer web-work on the sleeping trees! - E'en the tall pines, that rear - Their plumes to catch the breeze, - The slightest breeze from the unfruitful West, - Partake the general languor, and deep rest. - - -LIFE ON THE LAKES. - -_Life on the Lakes: Being Tales and Sketches collected during a Trip -to the Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior. By the author of “Legends of a -Log Cabin.” New York: Published by George Dearborn._ - -The name of this book is in shockingly bad taste. After being -inundated with the burlesque in the shape of Life in London, Life in -Paris, Life at Crockford's, Life in Philadelphia, and a variety of -other _Lives_, all partaking of _caricatura_, it is not easy to -imagine a title more sadly out of keeping than one embracing on the -same page this so travestied word _Life_ and the—Pictured Rocks of -Lake Superior. We have other faults to find with the work. It contains -some ill-mannered and grossly ignorant sneers at Daniel O'Connell, -calling him “the great pensioner on the poverty of his countrymen,” -and making him speak in a brogue only used by the lowest of the Irish, -about “_the finest pisantry in the world_.” The two lithographs, -(Picture Rocks and La Chapelle) the joint work of Messieurs Burford -and Bufford, are abominable in every respect, and should not have been -suffered to disgrace the well printed and otherwise handsome volumes. -In the manner of the narrative, too, there is a rawness, a certain air -of foppery and ill-sustained pretension—a species of abrupt, frisky, -and self-complacent Paul Ulricism, which will cause nine-tenths of the -well educated men who take up the book, to throw it aside in disgust, -after perusing the initial chapter. Yet if we can overlook these -difficulties, _Life on the Lakes_ will be found a very amusing -performance. We quote from the close of volume the first, the -following piquant Indian Story, narrated by an Indian. - - -As our adventures are thus brought, for the day, to a premature close, -suppose I give you an Indian story. If any body asks you who told it -me, say you do not know. - -Many years ago, when there were very few white men on the lake, and -the red men could take the beaver by hundreds upon its shores, our -great father, the president, sent a company of his wise men and his -warriors to make a treaty with the Chippewas. They did not travel, as -the poor Indians do, in small weak canoes; no, they were white -warriors, and they had a barge so great she was almost a ship. The -warriors of this party, like all our great father's warriors, were -exceeding brave; but among them all, the bravest was he whom the white -men called the Major, but the red men called him Ininiwee, or the Bold -Man. He was all over brave—even his tongue was brave; and Waab-ojeeg -himself never spoke bolder words. For a while the wind was fair and -the lake smooth, and the courage of Ininiwee ran over at his mouth in -loud and constant boasting. At last they came to the mouth of Grand -Marais, and here a storm arose, and one of the wise men—he was tall -and large, and, on account of the color of his hair, and _for other -reasons_, the Chippewas called him Misco-Monedo[1]—told the warriors -of our {515} great father to take off their coats and their boots, so -that if the great barge was filled with water, or if she turned over, -they might swim for their lives. The words of Misco-Monedo seemed good -to the warriors, and they took off their coats and boots, and made -ready to swim in case of need. Then they sat still and _silent_, for -the courage of the Major no longer overflowed at his lips; perhaps he -was collecting it round his heart. They sat a long while, but at last -the guide told them, ‘It is over, the warriors are safe.’ Then, -indeed, there was great joy among the white men; but Ininiwee made -haste to put on his coat and his boots, for he said in his heart, ‘If -I can get them on before the other warriors, I can say I am brave; I -did not take off my boots nor my coat; you are cowards, so I shall be -a great chief.’ Ininiwee put on his coat, and then he thought to have -put on his boots; but when he tried, the warrior who sat next him in -the barge shouted and called for the Misco-Monedo. He came -immediately, and saw that Ininiwee, whom they called the Major, in his -haste and in his great fright, was trying to put his boot on another -man's leg. - -[Footnote 1: Red Devil.] - - -RUSSIA AND THE RUSSIANS. - -_Russia and the Russians; or, a Journey to St. Petersburg and Moscow, -through Courland and Livonia; with Characteristic Sketches of the -People. By Leigh Ritchie, Esq. Author of “Turner's Annual Tour,” -“Schinderhannes,” &c. Philadelphia: E. L. Carey and A. Hart._ - -This book, as originally published in London, was beautifully gotten -up and illustrated with engravings of superior merit, which tended in -no little degree to heighten the public interest in its behalf. The -present volume is well printed on passable paper—and no more. The name -of Leigh Ritchie however, is a host in itself. He has never, to our -knowledge, written a bad thing. His Russia and the Russians has all -the spirit and glowing vigor of romance. It is full of every species -of entertainment, and will prove in America as it has in England, one -of the most popular books of the season. In this respect it will -differ no less widely from the England of Professor Von Raumer than it -differs from it in matter and manner, the vivacious writer of -Schinderhannes suffering his own individuality of temperament to color -every thing he sees, and giving us under the grave title of Russia and -the Russians, a brilliant mass of anecdote, narrative, description and -sentiment—the profound historian disdaining embellishment, and busying -himself only in laying bare with a master-hand the very anatomy of -England. It is amusing, however, although by no means extraordinary, -that were we to glean the character of each work from the respective -statements of the two writers in their prefaces, we would be forced to -arrive at a conclusion precisely the reverse. In this view of the case -Leigh Ritchie would be Professor Von Raumer, and Professor Von Raumer -Leigh Ritchie. We copy from the book before us the _commencement_ of a -sketch of St. Petersburg, in which the artist has done far more in -giving a vivid idea of that city than many a wiser man in the sum -total of an elaborate painting. - - -St. Petersburg has been frequently called “the most magnificent city -in Europe,” but the expression appears to me to be wholly destitute of -meaning. Venice is a magnificent city, so is Paris, so is St. -Petersburg; but there are no points of _comparison_ among them. St. -Petersburg is a city of new houses, newly painted. The designs of some -of them may be old, but the copies are evidently new. They imitate the -classic models; but they often imitate them badly, and there is always -something to remind one that they are not the genuine classic. They -are like the images which the Italian boys carry about the -thoroughfares of London—Venuses de Medici and Belvidere Apollos, in -stucco. - -But the streets are wide, and the walls painted white or light yellow; -and from one street opens another, and another, and another—all wide, -and white, and light yellow. And then, here and there, there are -columned façades, and churches, and domes, and tapering spires—all -white too, that are not gilded, or painted a sparkling green. And -canals sweep away to the right and left almost at every turning, not -straight and Dutch-like, but bending gracefully, and losing themselves -among the houses. And there is one vast and glorious river, as wide as -the Thames at London, and a hundred times more beautiful, which rolls -through the whole; and, beyond it, from which ever side you look, you -see a kindred mass of houses and palaces, white and yellow, and -columned façades, and churches, and domes, and spires, gilded and -green. - -The left bank of this river is a wall of granite, with a parapet and -trottoir of the same material, extending for several miles; and this -forms one of the most magnificent promenades in Europe. The houses on -either side look like palaces, for all are white, and many have -columns; and there are also absolute _de facto_ palaces; for instance, -the Admiralty, the Winter Palace, and the Marble Palace, on one side, -and the Academy of Arts, on the other. The water in the middle is -stirring with boats, leaping and sweeping through the stream, with -lofty, old-fashioned sterns, painted and gilded within and without. - -Among the streets, there is one averaging the width of Oxford Street -in London, sometimes less, sometimes a little more. It is lined with -trees, and shops with painted shutters, and churches of half a dozen -different creeds. Its shops, indeed, are not so splendid as ours, nor -are their windows larger than those of private houses: but the walls -are white and clean, sometimes columned, sometimes pillastered, -sometimes basso-relievoed: in fact, if you can imagine such a thing as -a street of _gin-palaces_ just after the painting season—and that is a -bold word—you may form an idea scarcely exaggerated of the Nevski -Prospekt. - -But no analogy taken from London can convey an idea of the—grandeur, I -may venture to say, presented by the vistas opening from the main -street. Here there are no lanes, no alleys, no _impasses_, no -nestling-places constructed of filth and rubbish for the poor. These -lateral streets are all parts of the main street, only diverging at -right angles. The houses are the same in form and color; they appear -to be inhabited by the same classes of society; and the view is -terminated, ever and anon, by domes and spires. The whole, in short, -is one splendid picture, various in its forms, but consistent in its -character. - -Such were my first impressions—thus thrown down at random, without -waiting to look for words, and hardly caring about ideas,—the first -sudden impressions flashed upon my mind by the physical aspect of St. -Petersburg. - -I have said in a former volume of this work, that I have the -custom—like other idlers, I suppose—of wandering about during the -first day of my visit to a foreign city, without apparent aim or -purpose; without knowing, or desiring to know, the geography of the -place; and without asking a single question. Now this is precisely the -sort of view which should be taken of the new city of the Tsars, by -one who prefers the poetry of life to its dull and hackneyed prose. -St. Petersburg is a picture rather than a reality—grand, beautiful, -and noble, at a little distance, but nothing more than a surface of -paint and varnish when you look closer. Or, {516} rather, to amend the -comparison, it is like the scene of a theatre, which you must not by -any means look behind, if you would not destroy the illusion. - -It will be said, that such is the case with all cities, with all -objects that derive their existence from the puny sons of men: but -this is one of those misnamed truisms which are considered worthy of -all acceptation for no other reason than that they come from the -tongue, or through a neighboring organ, with the twang of religion or -morality. - -_London_ does not lose but gain by inspection; although on inspection -it is found to be an enormous heap of dirty, paltry, miserable brick -houses, which, but for the constant repairs of the inhabitants, would -in a few years become a mass of such pitiful ruins as the owls -themselves would disdain to inhabit. Those narrow, winding, dingy -streets—those endless lines of brick boxes, without taste, without -beauty, without dignity, without any thing that belongs to -architecture, inspire us with growing wonder and admiration. The -genius, the industry, the commerce, of a whole continent seem -concentrated in this single spot; and the effect is uninterrupted by -any of the lighter arts that serve as the mere ornaments and -amusements of life. An earnestness of purpose is the predominating -character of the scene—a force of determination which seizes, and -fixes, and grapples with a single specific object, to the exclusion of -every other. The pursuit of wealth acquires a character of sublimity -as we gaze; and Mammon rises in majesty from the very deformity of the -stupendous temple of common-place in which he is worshipped. - -_Venice_ does not lose but gain by inspection; although on inspection -it is found to be but the outlines of a great city, filled up with -meanness, and dirt, and famine. We enter her ruined palaces with a -catching of the breath, and a trembling of the heart; and when we see -her inhabitants crouching in rags and hunger in their marble halls, we -do but breathe the harder, and tremble the more. The effect is -_increased_ by the contrast; for Venice is a tale of the past, a city -of the dead. The Rialto is still crowded with the shapes of history -and romance; the Giant's Steps still echo to the ducal tread; and -mingling with the slaves and wantons who meet on the Sunday evenings -to laugh at the rattle of their chains in the Piazza di San Marco, we -see gliding, scornful and sad, the merchant-kings of the Adriatic. - -St. Petersburg, on the other band, has no moral character to give -dignity to common-place, or haunt tombs and ruins like a spirit. It is -a city of imitation, constructed, in our own day, on what were thought -to be the best models; and hence the severity with which its public -buildings have been criticised by all travellers, except those who -dote upon gilding and green paint, and are enthusiasts in plaster and -whitewash. As a _picture_ of a city, notwithstanding, superficially -viewed—an _idea_ of a great congregating place of the human kind, -without reference to national character, or history, or individuality -of any kind—St. Petersburg, in my opinion, is absolutely unrivalled. - -It would be difficult, even for the talented artist whose productions -grace these sketches, to convey an adequate idea of the scale on which -this city is laid out; and yet, without doing so, we do nothing. This -is the grand distinctive feature of the place. Economy of room was the -principal necessity in the construction of the other great European -cities; for, above all things, they were to be protected from the -enemy by stone walls. But, before St. Petersburg was built, a change -had taken place in the art and customs of war, and permanent armies -had become in some measure a substitute for permanent fortifications. -Another cause of prodigality was the little value of the land; but, -above all these, should be mentioned, the far-seeing, and far-thinking -ambition of the builders. Conquest was the ruling passion of the Tsars -from the beginning; and in founding a new capital, they appear to have -destined it to be the capital of half the world. - -It is needless to exaggerate the magnitude of the city; as, for -instance, some writers have done, by stating that the Nevski Prospekt -is half as wide again as Oxford Street in London. Every thing is here -on a gigantic scale. The quays, to which vessels requiring nine feet -of water cannot ascend, except when the river is unusually high, might -serve for all the navies of Europe. The public offices, or at least -many of them, would hardly be too small, even if the hundred millions -were added to the population of the country, which its soil is -supposed to be capable of supporting. - -Perhaps it may be as well to introduce here, for the sake of -illustration, although a little prematurely as regards the -description, a view of the grand square of the Admiralty. This is an -immense oblong space in the very heart of the city. The spectator -stands near the manège, the building which projects at the left-hand -corner. Beyond this is the Admiralty, with its gilded spire, which is -visible from almost all parts of the metropolis. Farther on is the -Winter Palace, distinguished by a flag, in front of which, near the -bottom of the vista, is the column raised to the memory of Alexander. -Opposite this, on the right hand, is the palace of the Etat Major, and -returning towards the foreground, the War Office. The group in front -are employed in dragging stones for the new Isaak's church, which -stands in the left hand corner, although the view is not wide enough -to admit it. This is to be the richest and most splendid building in -the world; but it has been so long in progress, and is now so little -advanced, that a notice of it must fall to the lot of some future -traveller. Saint Isaak, I believe, is not particularly connected with -Russia, except by his day falling upon the birth-day of Peter the -Great. - -Such is the scale on which St. Petersburg is built; for although this -may be considered the heart of the city, the other members correspond. -The very vastness of the vacant spaces, however, it should be -observed, seems to make the houses on either side look less lofty; -while on the other hand, no doubt the real want of loftiness in the -houses exaggerates the breadth of the area between. But on the present -occasion, any thing like fancy in the latter respect would have been -quite supererogatory. The streets were hardly passable. Here and there -a pond or a morass gave pause to the pedestrian; while the droski -driver was only indebted to his daily renewed experience of the -daily-changing aspect of the ground, for the comparative confidence -and safety with which he pursued his way. The streets, in fact, were -in the same predicament as the roads by which I had reached them; they -had thawed from their winter consistence, and their stones, torn up, -and dismantled by the severities of the frost, had not yet been put -into summer quarters. - -The greater part of the streets are what may be termed pebble-roads, a -name which describes exactly what they are. At this moment, in the -whole city, there are upwards of seven hundred and seventy-two -thousand square sagenes[2] of these roads, while of stone pavement -there are only nine thousand four hundred and fifty, and of wood six -thousand four hundred. - -[Footnote 2: A sagene is seven feet.] - -The wooden pavement, I believe, is peculiar to St. Petersburg, and -merits a description. It consists of small hexagons sawed from a piece -of resinous wood, and laid into a bed formed of crushed stones and -sand. These are fastened laterally into each other with wooden pegs, -and when the whole forms a plain surface, the interstices are filled -with fine sand, and then boiling pitch is poured over all. This pitch -from the porous nature of the wood is speedily absorbed, and on a -quantity of sand being strewed above it, the operation is complete, -and a pavement constructed which is found to be extremely durable, and -which seems to me to suffer much less injury from the frost than the -stone causeway. The honor of the invention is due to M. Gourief; and I -have no doubt he will ultimately see it adopted in most of the great -towns towards the north. - - -{517} - - -SUPPLEMENT. - - -In compliance with the suggestion of many of our friends, and at the -request of a majority of our contributors, we again publish a -supplement consisting of _Notices of the_ “_Messenger_.” We have duly -weighed the propriety and impropriety of this course, and have -concluded that when we choose to adopt it, there can be no good reason -why we should not. Heretofore we have made selections from the notices -received—only taking care to publish what we conceived to be a fair -specimen of the general character of all—and, with those who know us, -no suspicion of unfairness in this selection would be entertained. -Lest, however, among those who do _not_ know us, any such suspicion -should arise, we now publish _every_ late criticism received. This -supplement is, of course, not considered as a portion of the Messenger -itself, being an extra expense to the publisher. - -We commence with the _Newbern (North Carolina) Spectator_—a general -dissenter from all favorable opinions of our Magazine. - - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this periodical has -been on our table for some days, but our avocations have prevented us -from looking into it before to-day. It is as usual, a beautiful -specimen of typography, and sustains Mr. White's acknowledged -mechanical taste. Its contents are various, as may be seen by -referring to another column of to-day's paper, and not more various -than unequal. Some of the articles are creditable to their authors, -while others—indeed a majority of them—would better suit an ephemeral -sheet like our own, which makes no great literary pretensions, than -the pages of a magazine that assumes the high stand of a critical -censor and a standard of correct taste in literature. While its -pretensions were less elevated, we hailed the Messenger as an attempt, -and a successful one, to call forth southern talent and to diffuse a -taste for chaste and instructive reading; and had its conducters been -satisfied with the useful and creditable eminence which the work -attained almost immediately, the Messenger would not only have had a -more extensive circulation, but its labors would have been more -beneficial to the community—the great end at which every periodical -should aim. With the talent available in any particular spot in the -southern country, it is out of the question, truly ridiculous, to -assume the tone of a Walsh, a Blackwood or a Jeffries; and to attempt -it, without the means to support the pretension, tends to accelerate -the downfall of so indiscreet an attempt. We do not wish to be -misunderstood in this remark. We believe, indeed we know, that the -south possesses talent, and cultivated talent too, in as great -abundance perhaps as any population of the same extent so situated; -but the meaning which we intend to convey is, that this talent is -neither sufficiently concentrated, nor sufficiently devoted to -literary pursuits, to be brought forth in support of any single -publication in strength adequate to establish an indisputable claim to -superiority. Without these advantages, however, the Messenger has -boldly put itself forth as an arbiter whose dicta are supreme; and -with a severity and an indiscreetness of criticism, especially on -American works,—which few, if any, of the able and well established -Reviews have ventured to exercise, has been not only unmerciful, but -savage. We admit that the number before, as well as the one preceding, -is more moderate; and this change encourages the hope that justness of -judgment and a dignified expression of opinion will hereafter -characterise the work. The May number, however, is over captious, -unnecessarily devoted to faultfinding, in a few cases. In criticising -“Spain Revisited,” this spirit shows itself. About ninety lines are -occupied in condemnation of the Author's dedication, a very -unpretending one too, and one which will elevate Lieutenant Slidell in -the estimation of all who prefer undoubted evidences of personal -friendship to the disposition which dictates literary hyper-criticism. -The errors of composition that are to be found in the work, -grammatical and other, are also severely handled, we will not say -ably. The following is a specimen. - -“And now, too, we began”—says Spain Revisited—“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”—says the Messenger, “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_’ probably 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.” - -With all deference to the Messenger, we would ask, if it never entered -into the critick's mind that “slouched hat,” “and embroidered jacket” -are here used as generick terms? Lieutenant Slidell evidently intended -that they should be so received: but that he entertained the same -intention respecting “horsemen,” the whole context disproves. Had the -reviewer placed a comma after the word “horsemen,” in the first line -of the paragraph which he dissects, (the relative and verb—_who -were_—being elided, there is authority for so doing,) considered as -parenthetical and illustrative all that follows between that comma and -the one which comes after “spatterdashes,” supplied the personal -relative and the proper verb, which are plainly understood before the -participle “reining,” we presume that this sentence, ill-constructed -as it undoubtedly is, would have escaped the knife, from a conviction -that there are many as bad in the Messenger itself. The only critical -notice which we have had leisure to read since the reception of the -number, is the one which we have named. We may resume the subject in -connexion with the June number. - - -We are at a loss to know who is the editor of the Spectator, but have -a shrewd suspicion that he is the identical gentleman who once sent us -from Newbern an unfortunate copy of verses. It seems to us that he -wishes to be taken notice of, and we will, for the once, oblige him -with a few words—with the positive understanding, however, that it -will be inconvenient to trouble ourselves hereafter with his opinions. -We would respectfully suggest to him that his words, “_while its -pretensions were less elevated we hailed the Messenger as a successful -attempt, &c. and had its conductors been satisfied with the useful and -creditable eminence, &c. we would have had no objection to it_,” &c. -are a very fair and candid acknowledgment that he can find no fault -with the Messenger but its success, and that to be as stupid as itself -is the only sure road to the patronage of the Newbern Spectator. The -paper is in error—we refer it to any decent schoolboy in Newbern—in -relation to the only sentence in our Magazine upon which it has -thought proper to comment specifically, viz. the sentence above (by -Lieutenant Slidell) beginning “And now too we began to see horsemen -jantily dressed in slouched hat, embroidered jacket, &c.” The -_Spectator_ says, “We would ask if it never entered into the critic's -mind that ‘slouched hat’ and ‘embroidered jacket’ are here used as -generic terms? Lieutenant Slidell evidently intended that they should -be so received; but that he entertained the same intention respecting -‘horsemen,’ the whole context disproves.” We reply, (and the Spectator -should imagine us smiling as we reply) that it is precisely because -“slouched hat” and “embroidered jacket” _are_ used as generic terms, -while the word “horsemen” _is not_, that we have been induced to wish -the sentence amended. The _Spectator_ also says, “With the talent -available in any particular spot in the Southern country, it is out of -the question, truly ridiculous, to assume the tone of a Walsh, a -Blackwood, or a Jeffries.” We believe that either Walsh, or -(_Blackwood?_) or alas! Jeffries, would disagree with the Newbern -Spectator in its opinion of the talent of the Southern country—that -is, if either Walsh or Blackwood or Jeffries could have imagined the -existence of such a thing as a _Newbern Spectator_. Of the opinion of -Blackwood and Jeffries, however, we cannot be positive just now. Of -that of Walsh we can, having heard from him very lately with a promise -of a communication for the Messenger, and compliments respecting our -Editorial course, which we should really be ashamed of repeating. From -_Slidell_, for whom the Spectator is for taking up the cudgels, we -have yesterday heard in a similar strain and with a similar promise. -From _Prof. Anthon_, ditto. _Mrs. Sigourney_, also lately reviewed, -has just forwarded us her compliments and a communication. _Halleck_, -since our _abuse_ of his book, writes us thus: “There is no place -where I shall be more desirous of seeing my humble writings than in -the publication you so ably support and conduct. It is full of sound, -good literature, and its frank, open, independent manliness of spirit, -is characteristic of the land it hails from.” _Paulding_, likewise, -has sent us something for our pages, and is so kind as to say of us in -a letter just received, “I should not hesitate in placing the -‘Messenger’ decidedly at the head of our periodicals, nor do I -hesitate in expressing that opinion freely on all occasions. It is -gradually growing in the public estimation, and under your conduct, -and with your contributions, must soon, if it is not already, be known -all over the land.” Lastly, in regard to the disputed matter of Drake -and Halleck, we have just received the following testimony from an -individual second to no American author in the wide-spread popularity -of his writings, and in their universal appreciation by men of -letters, both in the United States and England. “You have given -sufficient evidence on various occasions, not only of critical -knowledge but of high independence; your praise is therefore of value, -and your censure not to be slighted. Allow me to say that I think your -article on Drake and Halleck one of the finest pieces of criticism -ever published in this country.” - -These decisions, on the part of such men, it must be {518} -acknowledged, would be highly gratifying to our vanity, were not the -decision vetoed by the poet of the _Newbern Spectator_. We wish only -to add that the poet's assertion in regard to the Messenger “putting -itself forth as an arbiter whose dicta are supreme,” is a slight -deviation from the truth. The Messenger merely expresses its -particular opinions in its own particular manner. These opinions no -person is bound to adopt. They are open to the comments and censures -of even the most diminutive things in creation—of the very Newbern -Spectators of the land. If the Editor of this little paper does not -behave himself we will positively publish his verses.—_Ed. Messenger_. - - -From the Augusta Chronicle. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The following flattering tribute to the -merits of this Southern periodical, is from the New York Courier and -Enquirer; and, for its liberality and independence, it is scarcely -less creditable to the Messenger, than to the paper from which it is -extracted. The Courier and Enquirer is ever ready to do justice to the -South, in all its relations, and to defend it when assailed, and -therefore richly merits the warm gratitude and liberal patronage of -its people. - -From the Courier and Enquirer. - -“We have received the May number of the Southern Literary Messenger, -and its contents are equal to its reputation. We feel no hesitation in -declaring our opinion that this publication is in every essential -attribute, at the very head of the periodical literature of its class, -in the United States. We do not agree by any means with some of its -literary _conclusions_. For instance, it is very wide of our opinion -on the merits of Halleck, in this very number; but there is a vigor -and manliness in most of the papers that appear in the Messenger, -which we are almost ready to admit, are found _no where_ else in -American periodicals. At all events, it holds a proud post among its -compeers, and its criticisms in particular, though sometimes a little -too tomahawkish, have, generally speaking, a great deal of _justice_ -on their side.” - - -From the National Intelligencer. - -On the subject of the right of instruction, we find in the June number -of the Richmond Literary Messenger, a very able paper, which, as soon -as we can free our columns from the mass of Congressional matter on -our hands, we will spread entire before our readers. The article comes -to us in the shape of a letter to a gentleman in Virginia, and is -understood to be from the pen of that distinguished jurist, Judge -Hopkinson, of Philadelphia. It was elicited by a recent article in the -Richmond Enquirer in defence of the right of mandatory instruction, -and furnishes a luminous and complete refutation of that, amongst the -most mischievous of the fallacies which obtain occasional popularity -in particular States. Hearing of this letter, the publisher of the -Messenger had the good sense and good fortune to obtain a copy of it, -and the manliness to publish it in his valuable journal. In so doing -he has rendered a service to the public, and enriched his pages with -an article which is, itself, worth five years' subscription to the -Messenger. - - -From the Richmond Compiler. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—Every body must remember, that a -very short time ago the attempt to establish a magazine in Virginia, -was looked upon as chimærical in the last degree; and when, at length, -the publication was commenced, in spite of a host of difficulties, its -speedy downfall was universally predicted. Such predictions, no doubt, -tended in a great degree to verify themselves, and are the usual -resources of the enemies of any scheme of the kind. But it is saying a -great deal for the enterprize and talent which have been employed in -the service of the Messenger, that it has not only overcome -difficulties such as no other magazine in the country ever -successfully contended with, but that it has succeeded in attaining to -the very first rank among American monthly periodicals. Since the -commencement of the second volume, there has hardly been a dissenting -voice, in this respect, in the many notices of the journal which have -come under our observation. The _first literary names in the Union_ -(without reference to mere Editorial opinions) have not scrupled -directly to avow their belief, that the Messenger is decidedly the -first of American Journals, and that its Editorial articles and -management in especial, are far superior to those of any magazine in -America, but have suffered these opinions to be published. Here, then, -there can be no suspicion of puffery. Yet in spite of all these -things,—in spite of the energy which has been displayed in getting up -the Journal—in spite of the acknowledged ability with which it is -conducted, and the admitted talents of its principal contributors -(Judge Hopkinson, Professor Dew, Rbt. Greenhow, Heath, Timothy Flint, -Edgar Foe, Judge Tucker, Groesbeck, Minor, Carter, Maxwell and a host -of others)—in spite, too, of the general acknowledgement that such a -publication is an honor to the State, we find our citizens regarding -the work with apathy, if not treating it with positive neglect. Our -public presses, too, we think to blame, in not entering more warmly -into the cause of the _Messenger_. We happen to be aware that these -presses are, one and all, favorably disposed to the Journal and proud -of its success. But they are, in a measure, bound to some _active_ -exertions in its behalf. In such a case as that of the Messenger, -silence amounts to positive dispraise. The public in other States -naturally look to the Richmond presses for opinions in relation to the -magazine, and are at a loss to account for not finding any, except by -supposing some demerit. We are quite sure that Mr. White has neither -any expectation nor desire that we should _puff_ his Journal—that is, -praise it beyond its deserts. Yet we may certainly notice each number -as it appears, expressing freely, although briefly, our opinion of its -deserts. This is nothing more, it appears to us, than our absolute -duty—a duty we owe to the cause of Virginia literature, to Mr. White, -Mr. Poe, and to ourselves. - -The present number, we do not think equal as a whole to the March -number, and still less to that for February—which latter may be safely -placed in comparison with any single number of any Journal in -existence for the great vigor, profundity, and originality of its -articles. Yet we do not mean to say that the number now before us is -not an admirable one, and fully equal to any of our Northern magazines -in its communications, while it far surpasses the best of them in its -Editorial department. - -The first article is “MSS. of Benj. Franklin,” printed from MSS. in -the hand-writing of Franklin himself, and never published in any -edition of his works. It is unnecessary to say more than this to call -public attention to so valuable a paper. “Lionel Granby,” chap. X. is -the next prose article. We like this chapter as well if not better, -than any of the former ones. The writer of these papers is evidently a -man of genius—we might perhaps express our meaning more fully by -saying that he has that degree of genius which enables him to -appreciate, and keenly feel the labors of men of genius. Some of his -detached passages may be considered as very fine. He has, however, no -capacity to sustain a connected narrative of any length, and these -chapters of “Lionel Granby” are consequently replete with the most -ludicrous incongruities. They evince great ignorance of what is called -the world. They are full of a shallow pedantry. Their style is -excessively turgid, ungrammatical, and _inconsequential_. “The -Prairie” is a delightful little sketch of real scenery. “Random -Thoughts” is an excellent article, evincing much true learning and -acumen. Such contributors as the author of this paper are invaluable -to the _Messenger_. “Odds and Ends” is from the pen of Oliver -Oldschool—a former correspondent of the Messenger. We believe Oliver -Oldschool to be Mr. Garnett, the author of many excellent things on -Female Education. His present essay is exceedingly amusing—but -somewhat old fashioned. “The Hall of Incholese” by J. N. McJilton -should not have been admitted into the columns of the Messenger. It is -an imitation of the Editor's tale of Bon-Bon, and like most other -imitations, utterly unworthy of being mentioned in comparison with its -original. Nothing but the most extraordinary talent can render a tale -of this nature acceptable to the present state of the public appetite. -If not exceedingly good, it is always excessively bad. It must be a -palpable hit or it is nothing. The “Lecture on German Literature” is -in every respect worthy of the talents and learning of its author, -George H. Calvert, Editor of the Baltimore American, and the writer of -several popular works. It is a spirited and accurate sketch of German -Literature from its origin to the present day. The Messenger should -secure Mr. Calvert if possible. “Readings with my pencil, No. IV,” is -a very good paper. “American Social Elevation” is the best -communicated article in the present number, and perhaps one of the -best, if not indeed the best (of a similar nature) which has ever -appeared in any Journal in the country. Its philosophy is bold and -comprehensive without being minute—its style fervid and exceedingly -pure. From the initials and place of date, we are led to attribute -this essay to Mr. Groesbeck of Cincinnati. “Verbal Criticisms” is a -good paper, but we cannot agree with the critic in his strictures on -the phrase “being built.” - -The Editorial Department is (as it invariably is,) full, bold, -vigorous and original. The first paper is “Lynch's Law,” and gives the -history and origin, together with a copy of the law. Then follow -Critical Notices. New works are reviewed—of Slidell's, of Professor -Anthon's, of Mrs. Trollope's, of Paulding's, of Walsh's, of Cooper's, -and of Mellen's. Praise and blame are distributed with the soundest -discrimination, and with an impartiality, (even in the case of known -friends,) which it is impossible not to admire; or to impeach. - -The Poetical Department is quite limited. Two pieces by Mr. Poe are -very beautiful, the one entitled “Irene,” in especial, is full of his -rich and well-disciplined imagination. The lines on “Camilla” by -Lambert A. Wilmer, are a perfect gem; full of antique strength and -classic sorrow. - - -From the Baltimore Gazette. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger for April_, has been received rather -late in the day. Though the appearance of the Messenger is -occasionally delayed (from us) longer than we might wish, yet we ever -give it the cordial welcome which a most interesting and worthy friend -never fails to receive at our hands. The present number, we perceive, -contains less than the usual amount of matter, owing to the increase -of the pages of the March number occasioned by the insertion of -Professor Dew's valuable address upon the influence of the federative -republican system of government upon literature and the development of -character. - -The long and able article on Maelzel's Chess Player, contained in this -number, does credit to the close observation and acute reasoning of -its author, who, as the article is published under the editorial head, -we infer is the talented editor himself. The question whether or not -the chess-player is a pure machine, is, we think, completely put to -rest. The nature of the game of {519} chess is such, that no -_machine_, however ingeniously arranged may be its mechanism, could of -itself perform its constantly varying operations. We have never, at -any time, given assent to the prevailing opinion, that human agency is -not employed by Mr. Maelzel. That such agency is employed cannot be -questioned, unless it may be satisfactorily demonstrated that man is -capable to impart intellect to matter: for _mind_ is no less requisite -in the operations of the game of chess, than it is in the prosecution -of a chain of abstract reasoning. We recommend those, whose credulity -has in this instance been taken captive by plausible appearances; and -all, whether credulous or not, who admire an ingenious train of -inductive reasoning, to read this article attentively: each and all -must rise from its perusal convinced that a _mere machine_ cannot -bring into requisition the intellect which this intricate game -demands, but on the contrary that every operation is the result of -human agency, though so ingeniously concealed as to baffle detection, -unless by long continued and close observation. - -This question, so often, and in this instance so ably, examined, was -settled in Baltimore several years ago, by the actual discovery of a -man emerging from the top of the chest or box, on which Mr. Maelzel's -figure moved the chess men, the lid, which moved on a pivot like some -card table covers, being turned on one side. This was seen by two -youths of respectable character, through a window, accidentally open, -in the rear of the room in which Mr. Maelzel's Chess Player was -exhibited. Of the truth of this discovery we are entirely satisfied. - -The Lecture “On the Providence of God in the Government of the World,” -from the original manuscript of Benjamin Franklin, and which has not -hitherto been published in any edition of his works, is properly -entitled to the first place in the columns of the Messenger. The -argument of the Providence of God contained in this lecture, is -admirable for its brevity and conclusiveness. Franklin reasoned well, -and wrote as well as he reasoned. Forming his style after the model of -the most chaste and classic writer of the English language, and -drawing from the resources of a capacious and well stored mind, he -never failed both to please and to instruct his readers. His aim was -to benefit his countrymen; and he wrote for them in a way in which -they could understand, appreciate, and profit by every thing that came -from his pen. The epistles published more than a century ago in his -Pennsylvania Weekly Gazette, contain many valuable hints respecting -domestic economy, some of which might be treasured up with advantage -at the present day; for, generally speaking, economy is not an -American virtue. Two of those epistles, one from Anthony Afterwit, and -the other from Celia Single, have made their appearance in this number -of the Messenger. Neither of them, it seems, has been inserted in any -of the editions of the Doctor's works. - -The article on “Genius” is perhaps more in accordance with our views -than with those of the editor, who seems to think the writer's -inferences lag behind the spirit of the age, and hence deduces the -important conclusion, that his correspondent is not a phrenologist. We -leave both the editor and his correspondent to the enjoyment of their -own respective opinions, while we pass on to entertain ourselves for a -little while in the “March Court” of our sister State. Nugator -describes to the life the scenes of every day occurrence both in and -_around_ a Virginia Court House, and concludes the picture he has so -happily drawn, by introducing the trial of a negro woman for murder, -during the late war, and at the time the British were ascending the -Potomac. - -The article on “Woman,” by Paulina, is sensible and well written—far -more just and philosophical than a vast deal that has been said on -this fair subject. Commend us to the ladies in general, and to Paulina -in particular, for just views of the gentler sex. It is to be hoped -the fair writer may perceive that the subject is not exhausted in a -single essay. - -“Leaves from my Scrap Book,” includes much that is excellent within a -limited space. The writer has improved his naturally correct taste by -close communion with the ancient and modern classics. - -A Tale of Jerusalem, is one of those felicitous “hits,” which are the -forte of Edgar A. Poe. The point, like that of an epigram, lies in the -conclusion. - -The “critical notices” of the present number, evince the usual ability -of the editor in this department; though, what is more to our taste, -not quite so caustic, as hitherto. We accord with the review of the -“Culprit Fay.” The merits of this poem, despite the praise lavished -upon it, when critically sifted, will be found to be like the little -Ouphe himself, rather a small affair. - -Our article has been lengthened so far beyond the usual limits as to -preclude attention to the poetical department. - - -From the Norfolk Herald. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The present number of the -Messenger, although not altogether equal to some previous ones, is -full of highly interesting and valuable matter, and sustains the well -earned reputation of the Journal. The first article is “MSS. of -Benjamin Franklin.” These MSS. are copied from the hand writing of -Franklin himself and have never appeared in any edition of his works. -Among other good things, they include the following question and its -solution. “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?” The second prose article is “Lionel Granby,” a series of papers -which we cannot consider as at all creditable to the Messenger. The -“Prairie” is a very good sketch. “Random Thoughts” are somewhat -pedantic, but make a very excellent article. “Odds and Ends” we fancy -is from the pen of Mr. Garnett; it is full of humor, and will be -generally liked, although we agree with the Richmond Compiler in -thinking it rather too old fashioned. The “Hall of Incholese” is -decidedly bad, and moreover a direct imitation of Mr. Poe's tale of -“Bon-Bon.” The Editor should have refused to admit it in the -Messenger, if for no other reason, on account of its barefaced -flattery of himself. Mr. Calvert's (of the Baltimore American) -“Lecture on German Literature” will be generally read and admired. It -is a well-written and comprehensive essay, evincing intimate -acquaintance with the literature of which he treats. “Readings with my -Pencil, No. IV” by J. F. O. is like all the other numbers, good. -“American Social Elevation” is most admirable: if we mistake not, this -article is from the pen of Professor Dew. “Verbal Criticisms” are -just, but rather common place. - -The “Editorial” of this number is very forcible nod racy as usual. -Among other things we notice an account of the origin of “Lynch's -Law.” The “Critical Notices” embrace all new publications of any -moment, that is, American publications; and we approve of the Editor's -discrimination in not troubling himself, except in rare cases, with -those of foreign countries. The books reviewed are Slidell's “Spain -Revisited,” “Paulding's Washington,” Mrs. Trollope's “Paris and the -Parisians.” Walsh's “Didactics,” Anthon's “Sallust,” Cooper's -“Switzerland” and “Mellen's Poems.” A press of other matters prevented -us from doing what we intended in relation to the last Messenger. We -wished especially to have called public attention to the Editorial -_critique_ on the poems of Drake and Halleck, and the article (also -editorial) on the “Automaton of Maelzel.” Both these pieces are -unanswerable—and perhaps the two best articles of any kind which have -ever appeared in an American Periodical. The essay on the Automaton -_cannot be answered_, and we have heard the Editor challenges a reply -from Maelzel himself, or from any source whatever. The piece has -excited great attention. The poetry of the Messenger improves: there -are some excellent lines in the present number. - - -From the National Gazette. - -The May number of the Southern Literary Messenger contains several -excellent articles. Mr. Calvert's Lecture on the Literature of Germany -may be commended to the attention of all who are either about studying -the German language, or would wish to know something of the authors of -that country. His descriptions, though necessarily brief, are -satisfactory, and his estimates of the comparative merits of the -authors he mentions, are, in general, judicious. The MSS. of Benjamin -Franklin (not in his works) are from the same source which furnished -some for the April number. They will be read with interest by all. The -chapter of Lionel Granby does not advance the thread of the story. It -describes a visit of the hero to Lamb (Elia Lamb,) and pictures his -guests, Coleridge, Godwin, &c. “Odds and Ends” is the title of an -attempt to divide mankind into genera and species, such as have not -yet been named in any work on natural history. It will furnish -amusement and perhaps instruction to the reader. The author (Oliver -Oldschool) is an old correspondent of the Messenger. The essay -entitled “American Social Elevation,” deserves great commendation. How -fatal to the advancement of society too great attention to -money-making and politics is proving in this country, is well -exhibited, and remedies for this are judiciously suggested. A new -account of the origin of Lynch's law is given, which is probably the -true one. - - -From the Baltimore American. - -In the Southern Literary Messenger for April, which reached us a few -days since, the Editor opens the department of “critical notices” with -some spirited and just remarks on the puffing system, as practised in -this country towards native writers, and a vindication of his own -course. He is on the strong side, whatever number or influences may be -arrayed against him, and will do much good even though he run -occasionally into the extreme of severity. Many people really believe, -by dint of reading the repeated praise bestowed on them, that the -marrowless prose fictions and “baseless” verse of the day constitute a -Literature. Let the editor of the Messenger and others, go on purging -their judgment of such crude notions, and assuming a high standard of -literary merit, require substantial qualifications in candidates for -fame, and condemn unsparingly all who do not unite genius with -cultivation, a union indispensable for the production of works of -permanent value. - - -From the Baltimore Athenæum. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The April number of this excellent -periodical is before us, and fully maintains the dignity and -reputation won by its predecessors. We have read it carefully, and -therefore hold ourselves qualified to pronounce judgment on its -general merit. The articles in prose, are _all_ good. We wish we could -say the same of the poetry; which, with the exception of the dramatic -sketch entitled “The Death of Robespierre,” (admirable by the bye, -although we think the writer has caught somewhat of the reflection of -Coleridge,) we say, with the above exception, the poetry, judged by -the Editor's own standard, that of Ideality, does not rank above -mediocrity. The critical notices, together with the brief introductory -essay “On the present state of American criticism,” are in the -Editor's best vein. We like the independent spirit, and critical -acumen, which {520} he evinces in the performance of his duty; and, -however we may at times be induced to differ with him in opinion, yet -we cannot but say, that in general his dissections of “poor devil -authors,” though apparently severe, are well merited. In making this -admission, we do not withdraw any opinion heretofore expressed when we -have differed from the Editor of the Messenger, for, whenever we -dislike an article we shall, (as we have ever done,) speak our mind -fully though in all friendliness. But we assert our conviction, that -judicious criticism, exercised without regard to persons, has been -long wanting. There was a time when American Reviewers _imported_ -their decisions on the works of native authors, and frowned down any -attempt to resist the foreign decree. They have now rushed into the -opposite extreme, the barrier once broken down, the torrent of -adulation has lifted up every man who could fill a book with words; -and changed the current of popular feeling to such an extent, that it -is only by strenuous exertions it can be brought back into its mediate -and true channel. They have given Phæton the reins, and if his steeds -are not checked by a more powerful hand, the most disastrous effects -must inevitably ensue. We, therefore, bid our friends cherish a work -that upholds independent criticism, and pursues the “even tenor of its -way,” the friend of all who deserve its friendship, but the slave of -none. Cherish it we say, that by a more extended circulation it may -fulfil the christian precept, and “go about doing good.” - - -From the Baltimore Athenæum. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger for May_.—This number contains, among -other excellent papers, an address on “German Literature,” by our -townsman, George H. Calvert, Esq., delivered before the Athenæum -Society of Baltimore, on the 11th of February, 1836. The pleasure -derived from a perusal of this admirable lecture was greatly enhanced -by the fact of our having been present at its delivery, and our still -vivid recollection of its varied beauties and excellences, heightened -and rendered impressive by the peculiar manner, emphasis, and -enunciation of the speaker. Of the literature of Germany, deeply -metaphysical, and rich with an abounding store of learning as it is, -we are by far too ignorant, and we owe much to the author of this -address for his labors in opening for us many sources of rich -intellectual enjoyment, in his translations, of which Schiller's Don -Carlos may be named as his most elaborate effort yet published. - -We cannot enter into an analysis of the entire number of the Messenger -before us; it is however highly interesting, as is usual with all the -issues of this Magazine. The paper called “Odds and Ends,” we -recommend to the especial perusal of all who have any desire to reform -their manners and morals. It is a pleasant and well conceived satire. - -Some of the northern critics have intimated that Simms was the editor -of the Messenger. This is an error. It is now edited, as we -understand, by Edgar A. Poe, formerly of this city, a young gentleman -of excellent talents, and untiring industry. He is earning for himself -a fine reputation. - - -From the Baltimore Patriot. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this handsome and -ably conducted periodical has just come to hand. It comes late, but in -the case of this Messenger we may truly say “better late than never;” -tor the tales it tells, and its qualities as a temporary visiter and -companion, must always secure it a cordial reception, however it may -procrastinate its stated journeys, or linger by the way side. The -Southern Literary Messenger is now under the editorial conduct of -Edgar A. Poe, Esq. formerly of this city, and has been so, as we -understand, since the commencement of the second volume. This -gentleman has been, the while, a liberal contributor to its columns, -and this thorough identification with a periodical, marked with -unusual ability and attended with extraordinary success, must be -satisfactory to the editor, and afford ample testimony at the same -time that the conduct of the Messenger is in fit and competent hands. -The May number of the Messenger contains the usual variety, and is -marked with the freshness, spirit, and independence, which are -characteristic of the work. - - -From the Baltimore Patriot. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The April number of this fresh and -spirited periodical has come to hand. Its contents exhibit the usual -variety. The character of this work is now so well established, that -we need not speak to the question of its general merits, and shall -only say that the visits of this “Messenger,” though sometimes tardy -as in the present case, are, to us, always and altogether acceptable. -The number now before us contains a long and ingenious editorial -article, on the _modus operandi_ of Maelzel's Chess Player. - - -From the New Yorker. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The April number of this spirited -Monthly reaches us somewhat later than its date would indicate, yet so -excellent in matter and manner that the reader will easily be induced -to pardon the delinquency. The remarkable typographical neatness of -the Messenger we have frequently alluded to, in glancing rapidly, as -now, at the more intrinsic character of its contents. Some of those of -the present number deserve a more extended consideration than we have -time or space to give them. - -“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” form the opening paper of the -Magazine—three hitherto unpublished though characteristic essays from -the pen of the first eminent philosopher and sage whom America can -claim as her own. ‘A Lecture on Providence’ is replete with the -profound yet perspicuous common sense which was ever so prominent a -feature in the character of the inventor of the lightning-rod; while -the letters of ‘Anthony Afterwit’ and ‘Celia Single’ are in his -lighter vein of humorous utilitarianism which would have done no -discredit to the pen of Addison. (By the way, why have we no -compilation or edition of the Life and Writings of Dr. Franklin at all -commensurate with the dignity of the subject? Such a work would form a -valuable and now desirable addition to American literature.) - -“Genius” is discussed in the succeeding prose paper, and to better -purpose than in the majority of essays on the subject. The writer -maintains that “Genius, as it appears to me, is merely a decided -preference for any study or pursuit, which enables its possessor to -give it the close and unwearied attention necessary to ensure -success.” This proposition is stoutly and ably maintained, and, though -we cannot concur in it fully, we believe it much nearer the truth than -is generally supposed. If true at all, it is a profitable truth, and -should pass into an axiom with all convenient celerity. - -“Some Ancient Greek Authors Chronologically Considered,” is an article -evincing profitably directed research, which we shall copy. - -“March Court” is a sketch so exclusively Virginian, that we can hardly -judge of its merit. - -“The Death of Robespierre” is a dramatic sketch—a species of writing -which we do not properly appreciate. We, who do not worship even -Shakspeare, cannot bow to the sway of his humbler satellites. - -“Woman” is the topic of the succeeding paper—judicious and sensible, -but not very original or forcible, considering that the essayist is a -lady. - -“Leaves from a Scrap Book” will be found among our literary -selections. We regret that its Greek characters and phrases compelled -us to exclude the author's forcible illustration of the disadvantages -under which the earlier poets labor in a comparison with the moderns. -Nothing could be more conclusive. - -The Editorials of the number are ably written, though some pages are -devoted to a solution of the mystery of the Automaton Chess-Player, -doubtless the correct one, viz. that, after all the scrutiny which it -has undergone, there is actually a man concealed in the pretended -machinery. We are not sure that this demonstration, conceding it to be -such, is worth the space it necessarily occupies. - -In the matter of Criticism, the Messenger has involved itself in a -difficulty with some of our Northern periodicals, either party, as is -not unusual in such cases, being just about half right. The Southern -Editor has quite too savage a way of pouncing upon unlucky wights who -happen to have severally perpetrated any thing below par in the -literary line, like the Indian, who cannot realize that an enemy is -conquered till he is scalped, and some of the mangled have no more -policy than to betray their soreness by attempts at retaliation, under -very flimsy disguises, invariably making the matter worse. We think -the Messenger often quite too severe, as in the case of ‘Norman -Leslie,’ but still able and ingenuous. The Poems of Drake and Halleck -are reviewed this month—neither of them after the fashion of an ardent -and awed admirer—but faithfully, fairly, and with discrimination. - -In conclusion, we take pleasure in remarking the fact that the cause -of literature at the South is so flourishing as it appears to be at -present. We believe the whole number of periodicals which may be -distinguished as literary on the other side of the Potomac, has more -than doubled during the last two years, and that their circulation has -increased in at least equal proportion. We rejoice at this state of -things, though it may be justly thought to militate against our own -personal interest. The South has interests and feelings which find -little real sympathy with us, though a profound and respectful -deference elsewhere; and it is right that she should have literary as -well as political journals to maintain those interests and challenge -respect for those feelings. We shall not grudge them a generous -patronage. - - -From the Charlottesville Advocate. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this work has -appeared, with its usual variety of valuable matter. - -Foremost in merit as in place, are more of those MSS. of Dr. Franklin, -which are contained in the April No., and which have never yet been -published in any edition of his works. They seem, all, to have been -communications to a newspaper called the Gazetteer; though we are not -informed whether they actually came forth in its columns or not. One -piece purports to be from a gossipping “young girl about thirty-five,” -who styles herself “Alice Addertongue;” and who makes an ingenious, -(and of course satirical) defence of Scandal. Another consists of some -“Queries to be asked the Junto,” (his club, perhaps;) one of which is, -“Whence comes the dew that stands on the outside of the tankard that -has cold water in it, in the summer time?” The simplicity of this -question would warrant the belief, that the doctor was then but little -advanced in his career of physical knowledge; unless we suppose that -he propounded it only to stimulate some of his friends or readers to -thought. The following question and answer have much of the true -Franklin shrewedness and pungency: “I am about courting a girl I have -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.” - -The Messenger has Chapter X. of “Lionel Granby;” a sort of novel, in -which there has been much to admire; but we are {521} altogether -dissatisfied with the present Chapter, crippling, as it does, several -of the good things said in the Essays of Elia, by making the hero of -the story hear them (and very clumsily retail them) from the lips of -Charles Lamb himself, the real “Elia.” We would advise the writer to -bring his hero _tete à tete_ with no more literary lions, if he can -shew them off to no better advantage than he shews Lamb. What will our -readers think of his talking of “the ‘willie-draughts’ which are -pledged to the memory of boyhood,” meaning an allusion to the -“guid-willie waughts” of Burns, in “Auld Lang Syne?” - -We like such collections of scraps, as are bundled together in the -piece headed “Random Thoughts.” - -“Odds and Ends,” by our old friend Oliver Oldschool, is a whole -gallery of satirical portraits; representing various forms of human -weakness or depravity—sketches of character almost worthy of -Theophrastus, or La Bruyere. Of female characters, the _Tongue-tied, -or Monosyllabic_, the _Bustlers_, the _Tom-boys_, the _Peace-sappers_, -the _Tongue-warriors_, and several other classes, are held up to just -ridicule; and of males, the _Busybodies_, the _Touch-me-nots_, the -_Gastronomes_, the _Devillish Good Fellows_, &c. &c. - -“A Lecture on German Literature,” by George H. Calvert, of Baltimore, -is a pregnant outline of a great deal that is inestimable in the -literary store houses of probably the most enlightened nation (if we -set aside politics) on earth. - -We welcome No. IV. of “Readings with my Pencil,” from a practised pen, -and full, cultivated mind. - -The article headed “Verbal Criticism,” is of a sort which all the -repositories and guardians of Literature ought oftener to contain: -brief reprehensions of too prevalent errors in language; interspersed -with curious philological remarks. - -The somewhat long essay on “Social Elevation” has much that is -praiseworthy, neatness (sometimes force) of style, and in the main, -great justness of thought. Its aim is, to expose and rebuke those two -ruling passions of our countrymen, the _love of money_, and the _love -of political preferment_. It justly and forcibly shews how these -obstruct our progress in knowledge, virtue, liberty, and happiness, by -merging all enlarged patriotism in the most narrowly selfish -considerations. Bent on wealth, half our people forget their country's -weal, in contemplating the increase of their private hoards. Bent on -_rising in the State_ (as it is called,) or on ministering to those -who do wish to rise, the other half sacrifice their country to their -party, or to its leaders. God speed the Essayist in the wide, the -universal dissemination of the views on this subject! - -After all, the “Critical Notices” of the Editor have afforded us by no -means the least pleasure. They are acute, just, and pungent. There is -one thing we particularly like in the criticisms of the Messenger. -While it displays a becoming pride in whatever excellences our country -and its literature possesses, it does not hold itself bound, like many -of our journalists, to applaud every thing that is American, and to -admit the justice of no animadversions upon us and ours, from foreign -tongues or pens. Thus, in an article on Mr. Cooper's “Sketches of -Switzerland,” it joins him in a just _fillip_ to our national vanity, -which has made us believe for many years past, that “the name of _an -American_ is a passport all over Europe,” a boast which Mr. C. says is -refuted by many mortifying tokens wherever an American travels in -Germany, France, Switzerland, or Italy. In a review of Mrs. Trollope's -_Paris and the Parisians_, the Messenger again justly rebukes the same -American weakness, by averring (what we have always upheld) that her -book upon the “Domestic Manners” of America had many more truths than -our self love would let us acknowledge. “We have no patience,” says -the Messenger, “with that atrabilious set of hyper-patriots, who find -fault with Mrs. T.'s _flumflummery_ about the good people of the -Union. The work appeared to us 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.”... “We -do not hesitate to say, 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.” -Of all people on earth, it might be supposed that we, rational -American freemen, would be most ready to bear with unpalatable truths -told us of ourselves, and to profit by the admonitions those truths -involve: that we would most willingly pray - - “O would some Power the giftie gie us, - To see oursels as others see us! - It would frae mony a blunder free us, - And foolish notion.” - -But instead of doing so, we wince, swear, and call names, at the -slightest hint from a foreigner that our country and all belonging to -it, are not the very beau ideal of perfection. It must be thus, if we -would make those advances towards perfection which the true patriot -covets for his country. Pope's precept applies no less to nations than -to individuals— - - “Trust not yourself; but your defects to know, - Make use of _every friend_, and _every foe_.” - -“Paulding's Washington,” “Anthon's Sallust,” “Walsh's Didactics,” -“Mellen's Poems,” and Lieutenant Slidell's “Spain Revisited,” (all -native American works) are reviewed in a manner at once kind, just, -and interesting. - -The Number contains a good deal of original Poetry; the merits of -which we must consign to the judgment of those who have more -pretensions to taste in poetry than we have. - -We wish the Messenger all honor and prosperity—a steadily increasing -list of punctually paying subscribers. - - -From the New Yorker. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—We believe our respected cotemporary -has profited by our advice this month before it reached him, for we -find the June number on our table in much better season than its -predecessors. We mark the improvement with pleasure, even though we -cannot take credit to ourselves for effecting it. A few words on the -papers which compose it. - -“The Right of Instruction” is ably and temperately discussed in the -leading article, which we may safely attribute to the pen of Judge -Hopkinson, of Pennsylvania. The essay denies the right of a -Legislature to instruct authoritatively the U. S. Senators of the -State—or rather, the obligation of the Senators to obey unhesitatingly -such requisition. We shall take cognizance of this subject in another -place at an early day; but, for the present, we must be content with -the remark that the argument drawn from the spirit of the Constitution -and the intent of its framers is formidable, if not conclusive. - -“Perdicaris,” a sketch of the Greek scholar now lecturing on the -literature and polity of his native land, is only remarkable for a -translation of a beautiful little poem ‘from the Romaic of -Christopoulos.’ - -“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” are continued in this number. - -“Losing and Winning” is one of the most quietly affecting and -excellent tales that we have perused for months. Let who will declaim -against the evils wrought by fiction, we are sure that this same story -contains more true practical wisdom—more forcible persuasives to the -paths of virtue and duty, than many a well-intended volume of fact or -direct exhortation. - -“The Swan of Loch Oich” is fair verse, and fair only. - -“Ulea Holstein—A Tale of the Northern Seas,” is touching in its -catastrophe, but not well imagined. The writer is evidently no -veteran. - -We have sometimes fancied we had reason to dislike the poetical -contributions to the Messenger, while we were better suited with the -prose. In the number before us there are three articles in verse—“The -Laughing Girl,” “A Birth-Day Tribute,” and “Thy Home and Mine,”—which -would do credit to any periodical. The Editor is evidently ‘weeding -out’ as well as strengthening his crops of contributors, much to the -advantage of his work. - -“Court Day” and “My First Attempt at Poetry,” are both well done. - -_A Lecture on Education_ concludes the contributed articles, and is -devoted to a portrayal of the parental faults and misdemeanors which -operate as serious obstacles to the inculcation of right principles -and correct ideas in the minds of children. We heartily wish it could -be read and appreciated by all the parents in our country. - -The Editorial Criticisms are spirited but just. “Recollections of -Coleridge,” Colton's “Religious State of the Country,” &c. &c. are -praised without stint; while Col. Stone's unfortunate “Ups and Downs -in the Life of a Distressed Gentleman,” is most unsparingly shown up. -We like the independence, the directness, of the Editor, though he -sometimes contrives to tread emphatically on the corns of an author -for whom we have a tenderness. In the present instance, however, he -has managed to be just right throughout, and our appreciation of his -labors is graduated accordingly. - - -From the National Gazette. - -The number of the Southern Literary Messenger, for June, contains, -among other excellent articles, “A reply to a late article in the -Richmond Enquirer in favor of the mandatory right of a State -Legislature to instruct a Senator of the United States, and supported -by the {522} alleged opinions of King, Jay and Hamilton, as expressed -in the Convention of New York.” It is said to be by “a distinguished -jurist of Philadelphia;” and the signature of H., together with the -internal evidence of the composition, leave no doubt that it is from -the pen of the eminent Judge of our District Court. He concludes the -article with stating that a week or ten days before the death of Chief -Justice Marshall, having called upon that great and good man, the -question of instruction being then in high debate in the papers—he -said to him that he thought the Virginia doctrine of instructions was -inconsistent with all the principles of our government, and subversive -of the stability of its foundations. To this the Chief Justice -replied, in these words—“It is so; indeed, the Virginia doctrines are -incompatible, not only with the government of the United States, but -with _any_ government.” - - -From the Boston Galaxy. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_ is before us. Too much praise cannot -be conceded to the publisher of this Monthly. He started on untried -ground—but has brought forward his forces with such superior skill, -and maintained the combat so manfully, that he has won the entire -victory. The Messenger is an honor to the South. The articles it -contains are for the most part of a superior order, while a spirit -characterizes its editorial department exceedingly gratifying. The -number before us has many most valuable articles; and so long as those -concerned in its publication exert themselves with their present -success, a corresponding flow of patronage must ensue. There is an -original manuscript of Ben Franklin—desirable if only as a matter of -curiosity—a poem by N. P. Willis, furnished by J. F. Otis, to be found -on our outside—an interesting chronology of authors—a story by E. A. -Poe, &c. - - -From the United States Gazette. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—Backward, like every thing else this -spring, the April number of this periodical made its appearance in the -first week in May. It is a good number, and though the reader may -think the variety of its articles not so great as in some of the -preceding, it contains many interesting papers. The first consists of -“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin,” comprising a Lecture upon Providence, -never before published, and two humorous letters in the manner of -those in the Spectator, published originally a hundred years ago in -the Pennsylvania Gazette, and now republished from the original -manuscripts. The article upon Maelzel's Automaton Chess Player is the -most successful attempt we have seen to explain the _modus operandi_ -of that wonderful production. The writer advances a multitude of -reasons to sustain his position, that a human being is concealed in -the box and figure, and might be considered to have achieved complete -success, were it not that an objection at once suggests itself. Could -any human being have played so often and so long without once -betraying himself by a sneeze and a cough? The “March Court” is a racy -sketch, and the writer brings before us the justices, jurors, -counsellors, clients, planters, pettifoggers, constables, cake women, -candidate and jackass, as large as life, to say nothing of the sheriff -running down a man who endeavors to escape, not punishment for some -offence of his own, but the honor of sitting on the jury to decide -upon the guilt of others. Nothing of the kind can be better than the -anecdote in this piece, of the suppression of the British authorities -by the _report_ from the British cannon during the last war. The -dramatic sketch entitled “The Death of Robespierre,” is much to our -taste. The incidents are well told, the language is poetical, and the -versification smooth and harmonious. It is to be hoped that the -readers of the Messenger will hear again from this author. The Essay -on “Woman” is, we conclude from the signature, from a female hand, and -contains just views upon a subject long neglected, but now beginning -to attract a proper share of attention—Female Education. The present -number is smaller than usual, its predecessor having exceeded the -standard, to admit Professor Dew's Address. The subscription list -continues steadily to increase, and includes the names of several -Philadelphians. The citizens of Richmond appear determined to give it -a liberal support, and testify their opinion of its excellence in the -most substantial manner. - - -From the Methodist Conference Sentinel. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—We are indebted to the politeness of -the publisher for the May number of this periodical. We have looked -over some of its articles with pleasure. Among others “Odds and Ends,” -“German Literature,” and “American Social Elevation” are well worthy -of an attentive perusal. The character of this monthly “Messenger” is, -in the general, unexceptionable, and it will, beyond question, exert a -powerful, and, we trust a purifying, influence upon Southern -literature. “The Hall of Incholese” is not only a failure in that -department of literature with which it claims affinity; but it -certainly possesses a character that can reflect but little credit -upon the heretofore well established reputation of the “Messenger.” It -seems neither fit to “point a moral, nor adorn a tale.” If the author -has any desire for distinction in that particular line of writing, it -will be necessary for him to form a more extensive acquaintance with -“the little figure in black” before he can even hope for success. It -would be better however to withdraw from the association altogether. -In objecting to this article, we cannot be understood to object to the -work in which it is found. The “Editorial Notices” are, to us, the -most interesting part of the periodical. We turn to them with -pleasure, in anticipation of an intellectual feast, and we are _never_ -disappointed. Though we sometimes differ with the editor in matters of -taste and opinion, yet we find satisfaction in following the ever -flowing stream of thought along which he leads his readers. We bid it -welcome to our desk, and heartily wish it success. - - -From the Petersburg Constellation. - -_Southern Literary Messenger, for June_.—Our best thanks are due to -the attentive proprietor for his prompt attention in forwarding the -Messenger. As usual, it contains many pleasing articles: the MSS. of -Franklin are literary curiosities. An excellent moral tale, entitled -“Losing and Winning,” adorns the number. Our present limits will not -permit more than these cursory remarks, but if enterprise and talent -are any guaranty for success, Mr. White need feel no alarm for the -ultimate success of his efforts in favor of _Southern_ Literature. Let -the New York Mirror snarl if it will; there are papers in each -Messenger which will outlive all the Norman Leslie “Pencillings by the -Way,” and “Wearies my Love of my Letters?” of its erudite editors. -Kennel a stag-hound with a cur, and the latter will yelp in very fear. - - -From the Winchester Virginian. - -The June number of the _Southern Literary Messenger_ has reached us. -Its contents are of a highly interesting character—among them is a -very able article on the “Right of Instruction,” by a distinguished -jurist of Philadelphia, but one in which the conclusions are not such -as have obtained in Virginia, nor such as we have always inclined to -believe correct. We are rather gratified than otherwise, however, at -the introduction into the Messenger of essays upon such topics. Of the -prose articles, one entitled “Losing and Winning,” by the author of -“Sensibility, &c.” is a most valuable contribution; several others in -the same department are very well written. The poetical articles are -generally in good taste, and the critical notices are, as usual, able, -candid and fearless. The Messenger is taking a higher and still higher -stand among the periodicals of the day. - - -{523} From the New Hampshire Patriot. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—In acknowledging our obligations to the -publisher for the above work, we cannot do less than express our -unqualified approbation of the character, contents and design of the -Messenger. We have often seen it favorably noticed by our brethren of -the corps editorial, as among the first monthly magazines in this -country—by some even placed at the head of the list—but it is only by -an examination and perusal of the numbers before us, that we have -learned to appreciate the justness of their praise. The correctness, -neatness, beauty and elegance of its typographical execution and -appearance, not less than the rich and attractive guise thrown over -its pages by the combined union of wit, genius and learning therein -displayed, certainly surpass any thing to be met with in any similar -periodical within our knowledge. We have not space to detail its -particular merits, and will only remark generally in the words of -another, that the contributions, prose and poetical, are of a high -grade of excellence, the _critiques_ precisely what they should be in -such a work—faithful mirrors, reflecting in miniature the book -reviewed, and exposing alike its beauties and deformities without -favor or affection. We should be glad to enrich our columns by -transferring to them several articles from the Messenger—perhaps -hereafter we may be enabled to do so. At present we can only commend -it to the countenance and patronage of our literary friends. - - -From the Charleston Courier. - -_The Southern Periodicals_.—We have received the April number of “The -Southern Literary Messenger.” It contains, among other articles of -interest, a highly ingenious attempt to show that Maelzel's Chess -Player is not a pure machine, but regulated by mind—by a human agent -concealed within it. - - -From the Louisville City Gazette. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_ is the title of a periodical, -published at Richmond, Virginia, that has no superior, either in the -taste and genius of its contributors, or the beauty of its mechanism. -Its criticisms are prepared with peculiar justness and acumen—not -leaning to the side of mercy, and throwing a protecting veil over the -sins and faults of others, but plainly pointing them out—not screening -the errors of a friend, or sparing the tender places of an enemy. Such -guardians we want to preserve the vigor of American Literature. There -are some nurses so tender and so indulgent, that the children under -their tutelage, either die of a surfeit of sweets, or languish through -their too great care and tenderness. This will never be the case with -our literature while guarded by such vigilant sentinels as the -Southern Literary Messenger. - -We had an opportunity, while conducting a periodical in a neighboring -city, of seeing some of the earlier numbers of the Messenger, and on -such occasions expressed the gratification and pleasure enjoyed in -their perusal. And it is not only well sustained, but improves. Lionel -Granby is kept up with spirit. Edgar A. Poe sprinkles his gems among -the leaves of the Messenger. George H. Calvert, Esq. of the same city, -freights it with the researches of ripe scholarship in the lore of -German Literature. The May number is excellent, and we shall recur to -it often, before it gives place to its successor. - -We are indebted to Mr. White, the publisher, for his present, and -assure him he could not have sent us a budget which would have been -received by us with more pleasure. - - -From the Oxford Examiner. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—He who assumes to himself the province -of amusing and instructing mankind for “a consideration,” is amenable -at all times to just criticisms. The publisher of a newspaper or -journal of any kind, should never feel _hurt_, as a caterer for the -public appetite, if some of those to whom they minister should growl -and find fault. He ought not to claim pre-emption over all other men, -but should be satisfied if he occasionally received an approving nod. -It is always a strong evidence of a want of force of mind to fly in a -passion at the suggestions of a friend, when they are disposed to -disapprove of our acts, although they may be unjust. We make these -preliminary remarks in allusion to a hasty notice we took of the April -number of the Messenger, which the publisher was polite enough to send -us. Our time is generally much occupied, and we perhaps gave that -number and others which have been occasionally handed us by a friend, -rather a hasty perusal. We felt _then_, as we do _now_, that the -editor's criticisms were unnecessarily, perhaps, strictly severe in -some instances. The eagle who towers above all other birds, and even -dares to look upon the sun, would not, unless hard pressed, condescend -to notice the earthly flutterings of a tomtit—he aspires to higher -game. - -We may have done the editor injustice; and we hardly expected him to -send us another number—but perhaps, in his youthful days, he has read -the fable of the gnat and the ox—whether he did or did not, we feel -obliged to him for the May number. - -We have always freely accorded to Mr. White almost unrivalled -excellence as a printer, and we now as freely accord to him the most -unqualified praise for the _matter_ as well as the manner of his last -number. - - -From the Columbia (S. C.) Times. - -We acknowledge the receipt of the May number of that chaste and -interesting publication, the “Southern Literary Messenger,” published -by T. W. White, Richmond, Va. It undoubtedly contains more matter, for -the price, than any other southern publication, and in style, is -altogether unlike the mawkish effusions denominated “literary” with -which our community is so liberally inundated. - - -From the New Hampshire Patriot. - -The _Southern Literary Messenger_, for April, has just reached us, and -though rather late in the day, we cannot omit observing that it is -excellent—well sustaining the high reputation of its predecessors. We -renewedly commend the work to the favor of our literary friends, as -one every way deserving their patronage—in many respects unrivalled by -any similar publication in the country. - - -From the Winchester Virginian. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—We have just received the April No. of -this work, but have barely had time to read the article on “Maelzel's -Chess Player,” which happened to arrest our attention on opening the -book. It is exceedingly well written and interesting. The table of -contents holds out quite a tempting bill of fare. - - -From the Richmond Whig. - -_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this periodical -has just appeared. Though not perhaps equal to some of the preceding -numbers, it is far, very far from being deficient either in -entertainment or instruction. As all the supporters of this work, and -indeed the public generally, have a deep interest in its reputation, -it is not only right, but a duty, to pass an occasional judgment upon -its merits—to commend its various excellences, and to point out in the -spirit of liberal criticism, such faults as may be perceived to exist. -The Messenger, to be extensively and permanently popular, must mingle -the useful with the sweet. It must not only mirror the burning -thoughts and glowing images which teem in the world of fancy, but also -condescend an occasional visit to this dull planet, the Earth. It must -mix familiarly with ordinary mortals, take some interest in their -concerns, and lend a helping {524} hand in the struggles which are now -making against power and corruption. Not that the Messenger should -become a vehicle of mere party politics, but that the great principles -of liberty should be boldly and steadily espoused by its conductors -and those various and important measures which concern the welfare and -happiness of the State, freely and frequently discussed in its pages. -If the Star of this Republic, “the world's last hope,” is destined to -go down in darkness, corruption and misery, literature will either -follow its fate, or be no longer worth cultivating or preserving. As -essentially connected with the great cause of civil liberty, sound -morals ought also to find in the Messenger a constant and able -advocate. Without freedom and virtue, it is difficult to conceive the -existence in any community of a pure and exalted literary taste. Such -articles as the “Hall of Incholese,” by J. N. McJilton, are popular -only with a small number of readers, and are not calculated to -increase the moral reputation of the Messenger. The introduction of -the Evil One, as a familiar in human society—as a social companion in -scenes of revelry, has rather a tendency to throw an air of ridicule -upon the truths of Divine Revelation. Milton indeed pierced the -mysterious veil which shrouds the monarch of darkness, but Milton's -Satan, “high on his throne of state,” is invested with a sublime -terror which forbids the approaches of levity, and leaves behind it no -impression inconsistent with revealed truth. No similar exception, -however, can be taken to any other article in the present number of -the Messenger. The MSS. of Franklin are interesting remains of that -great man—interesting as illustrations of the strong common sense -which peculiarly distinguished him. “Lionel Granby” is one of the best -chapters which has appeared under that title. A novel however, -published at intervals in the pages of a monthly miscellany, -necessarily loses by that circumstance much of its interest. The -author of “Odds and Ends” has attempted with much humor and effect, a -new moral classification of that strange compound animal called Man. -His satire is for the most part just, and his style racy and -agreeable. “Random Thoughts,” saving and excepting one or two smutty -allusions, are excellent. They have an air of freshness and -originality, which is quite delightful, considering how little can be -said which is new upon any subject. The Lecture on “German -Literature,” by Mr. Calvert of Baltimore, now for the first time -published, is highly creditable to its author. It evinces much -classical taste, combined with a spirit of philosophical criticism. -Mr. Calvert is sometimes, however, careless in his style, or rather in -the formation of his sentences, which a good writer should study to -avoid; and the great literary sin of this country, _a propensity to -bombast_—is discernible in some parts of his lecture. Take for example -the following passage, “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._” This would certainly be a very unfair specimen of -the general character of the lecture, and it is the more surprising, -that such a sentence should have escaped the vigilance of the author. -The slightest departure from the simplest mode of expression, if it -does not degenerate into bombast, is almost certain to be attended by -a certain degree of obscurity. The author of the “Hall of Incholese,” -is himself not free from this blemish. The following passage is -entirely unintelligible: “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 meaning might be guessed at by very laborious -study—but popular literature should never levy so severe a tax upon -its subjects. The paper on “American Social Elevation,” contains many -just thoughts and patriotic reflections, expressed in an unusually -agreeable style—and the 4th No. of “Readings with my Pencil,” is quite -passable. The design of the writer is excellent, and deserves to be -imitated. The “Critical Notices,” though in themselves good, are not -generally equal to the Editor's previous efforts. As it was however -permitted to Homer sometimes to nod, so should the really gifted mind -which presides over the Messenger, be allowed occasionally a little -repose. Of the poetry, the writer of this brief notice will say -nothing. Some of it is good—but he is but an indifferent judge. - - -From the New York Weekly Messenger. - -_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The high encomiums which this -periodical has received from all parts of the Union, it most richly -deserves. We have been favored with the five first numbers of the -current (second) volume, and have had an intellectual feast in the -perusal of many articles contained therein. To express our opinion -candidly of the talents and erudition of the worthy editor of this -monthly, would expose us to the charge of plagiarism, because it would -be exactly similar to half a hundred others, who have preceded us in -expressions of approbation. What shall we do then? To go through and -examine every article in five numbers, is more than we have space for. -But we must—we feel bound to say, Virginians especially are indebted -to Mr. White for his _unprecedented_ literary zeal. He ought to meet -with encouragement; in short, we believe he does,—but there should be -an effort made to sustain the undertaking, by a continually increasing -list of _paying_ subscribers. - -If our friends in the city or country wish their table filled with -rich literary food once a month, they should immediately order “The -Southern Literary Messenger,” published by T. W. White, Richmond, Va. -There is one article to which we object, the burlesque, or caricature, -not criticism, on Fay's “Norman Leslie,” but in making only one -objection, we think much is said for the periodical, more than can be -said of any other of the monthlies. We really do think it is as good -as any, if not the very best in these United States. We think so -highly of the Richmond “Messenger,” that if we had the numbers of the -first volume, we would have them neatly bound, and placed in our -library as a literary treasure. - - -From the Norfolk Herald. - -The _Southern Literary Messenger_ for May very gallantly holds it own. -The ‘manuscripts of Franklin’ are well worth publishing. The chapter -of Lionel Granby introduces us into the bodily presence of Lamb and -Coleridge, and the ragged regiment of folios and quartos pass in -review before us. The Lecture on German Literature, by Mr. Calvert of -Baltimore, is a very entertaining discourse on the history of the -poetry and philosophy of that wonderful people; but it is clear that -the author of the lecture has paid more attention to the German than -to the English and those languages from which the English flows. The -paper of Oliver Oldschool is worthy of its author, and we were happy -to see the story of ‘Tang Lang’ appended as a foot-note. The critical -notices are very good for the most part; but then we could hardly -expect Mr. Poe to be sour ere the honey moon be past. What has become -of the remaining numbers of the series of articles on the distinctive -differences of the sexes from the pen of one of the strongest writers -of the Commonwealth? We sincerely hope, that, after such a fair -beginning, the theme has not proved too mighty—if it has, the author -may henceforth ponder well on the advice of Horace. Still we are on -the look out for the essays. - - -*** 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™, -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/69867-0.zip b/old/69867-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 07a2b3d..0000000 --- a/old/69867-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69867-h.zip b/old/69867-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1313e0a..0000000 --- a/old/69867-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69867-h/69867-h.htm b/old/69867-h/69867-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index d6ea171..0000000 --- a/old/69867-h/69867-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8751 +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. 8, July 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;} - .poetry-container {text-align: center} - .poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left} --> - </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. 8, July, 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. 8, July, 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: January 27, 2023 [eBook #69867]</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. 8, JULY, 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> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents.<br> - - - - <i>Crebillon's Electre</i>.<br> -<br> -As <i>we</i> will, and not as the winds will.</small> -</div></div> -<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 8</h3> - -<p><a href="#sect01">MSS. <small>OF</small> J<small>OHN</small> R<small>ANDOLPH</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect02">L<small>ETTER</small> I</a><br> - <a href="#sect03">L<small>ETTER</small> II</a><br> - <a href="#sect04">L<small>ETTER</small> III</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect05">T<small>O A</small> L<small>OCK OF</small> H<small>AIR</small></a>: -by J. Doggett, Jr.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect06">E<small>XAMPLE AND</small> P<small>RECEPT</small></a>: by J. K. Paulding</p> - -<p><a href="#sect07">M<small>ISERIES OF</small> B<small>ASHFULNESS</small></a>: by Marlow</p> - -<p><a href="#sect08">F<small>IRST</small> L<small>OVE</small></a>: by J. C. McCabe</p> - -<p><a href="#sect09">E<small>ROSTRATUS</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect10">B<small>ELLES OF</small> W<small>ILLIAMSBURG</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect11">T<small>HE</small> B<small>ELLES OF</small> W<small>ILLIAMSBURG</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect12">S<small>EQUEL TO THE</small> B<small>ELLES -OF</small> W<small>ILLIAMSBURG</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect13">B<small>RITISH</small> P<small>ARLIAMENT IN</small> 1835.</a> No. I. The House of Commons.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect14">T<small>HIRD</small> L<small>ECTURE</small></a> on the Faults of Teachers</p> - -<p><a href="#sect15">N<small>ATIONAL</small> I<small>NGRATITUDE</small></a>: by Mathew Carey</p> - -<p><a href="#sect16">D<small>IARY OF AN</small> I<small>NVALID</small></a>. No. II: by V.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect17">S<small>TANZAS</small></a>: by James F. Otis</p> - -<p><a href="#sect18">L<small>OVE AND</small> C<small>ONSTANCY</small></a>: by E. Burke Fisher</p> - -<p><a href="#sect19">T<small>O</small> J—— S——</a>: by E. A. S.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect20">P<small>ARADISE</small> L<small>OST</small></a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect21">L<small>ETTER TO</small> B——</a></p> - -<p><a href="#sect22">T<small>HE</small> S<small>CIENCE OF</small> L<small>IFE</small></a>: by M. Carey</p> - -<p><a href="#sect23">A<small>NTHOLOGIA</small></a>: by M. Carey</p> - -<p>E<small>DITORIAL</small> -<br> -C<small>RITICAL</small> N<small>OTICES</small><br> - <a href="#sect24">R<small>ANDOM</small> R<small>ECOLLECTIONS OF THE</small> -H<small>OUSE OF</small> L<small>ORDS</small></a>, from the year 1830 to 1836<br> - <a href="#sect25">L<small>ETTERS TO</small> Y<small>OUNG</small> -L<small>ADIES</small></a>: by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney<br> - <a href="#sect26">T<small>HE</small> D<small>OCTOR</small> &c.</a><br> - <a href="#sect27">E<small>NGLAND</small> in 1835</a>: by Frederick Von Raumer<br> - <a href="#sect28">M<small>EMOIRS OF AN</small> A<small>MERICAN</small> -L<small>ADY</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect29">C<small>AMPERDOWN</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect30">E<small>RATO</small></a>: by William D. Gallagher<br> - <a href="#sect31">L<small>IFE ON THE</small> L<small>AKES</small></a><br> - <a href="#sect32">R<small>USSIA AND THE</small> -R<small>USSIANS</small></a>: by Leigh Ritchie, Esq.</p> - -<p><a href="#sect33">S<small>UPPLEMENT</small></a></p> -<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page461"><small><small>[p. 461]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<hr> -<h3>SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.</h3> -<hr> -<center>V<small>OL</small>. II. RICHMOND, JULY, -1836. N<small>O</small>. VIII.</center> -<hr> -<center><small>T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE -DOLLARS PER ANNUM.</small></center> -<a name="sect01"></a> -<hr> -<br> -<br> -<h4>MSS. OF JOHN RANDOLPH.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>[We have obtained, after much difficulty, from a personal friend of -the late J<small>OHN</small> R<small>ANDOLPH</small> of Roanoke, the MSS. of the annexed <i>Letters</i>, -and are permitted to publish them in the Messenger. We know our -readers will receive them with interest. They throw much novel light -on the character of a man whose genius, however great, has been mostly -an enigma, and show his views on the most interesting of subjects in -the maturity of his life and in the zenith of his reputation.]</small></blockquote> - -<a name="sect02"></a><hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>LETTER I.</center> -<br> -<p>As well as very bad implements and worse eyes will permit me to do it -by candlelight, I will endeavor to make some return to your kind -letter, which I received, not by Quashee, but the mail. I also got a -short note by him, for which I thank you.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>And now, my dear friend, one word in your ear—in the porches of thine -ear. With Archimedes I may cry Ἑυρηκα. Why, what have you -found—the philosopher's stone? No—something better than that. Gyges' -ring? No. A substitute for bank paper? No. The elixir vitæ then? It -is; but it is the elixir of eternal life. It is that peace of God -which passeth all understanding, and which is no more to be conceived -of by the natural heart, than poor St. George<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> can be made to feel -and taste the difference between the Italian and German music. It is a -miracle, of which the person upon whom it is wrought alone is -conscious—as he is conscious of any other feeling—e.g. whether the -friendship he professes for A or B be a real sentiment of his heart, -or simulated to serve a turn.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> His nephew, who is deaf and dumb.</small></blockquote> - -<p>God, my dear friend, hath visited me in my desolation; in the hours of -darkness, of sickness, and of sorrow: of that worst of all sickness, -sickness of the heart, for which neither wealth nor power can find or -afford a cure. May you, my dear friend, find it, where alone it is to -be found! in the sacred volume—in the word of God, whose power -surpasseth all that human imagination (unassisted by his grace) can -conceive. I am now, for the first time in my life, supplied with a -motive of action that never can mislead me—the love of God and my -neighbor—because I love God. All other motives I feel, by my own sad -experience, in my own person, as well as in that of numerous -“<i>friends</i>,” (so called) to be utterly worthless. God hath at last -given me courage to confess him before men. Once I hated -mankind—bitterly hated them—but loved (like that wretched man Swift) “John or -Thomas.” Now, my regard for individuals is not lessened, but my love -for the race exalted almost to a level with that of my <i>friends</i>—I am -obliged to use the word. I pretend to no sudden conversion, or new or -great lights. I have stubbornly held out, for more than a Trojan -siege, against the goodness and mercy of my Creator. Yes—Troy town did -not so long and so obstinately resist the confederated Greeks. But -what is the wrath of the swift-footed Achilles to the wrath of God? -and what his speed to the vengeance of Heaven? and what are these -even, to the love of Jesus Christ, thou son of David? I had often -asked, but it was not with sufficient humility; or, perhaps, like the -Canaanitish woman, God saw fit to try me. I sought, but not with -sufficient diligence—at last, deserted in my utmost need, (not indeed -like Darius, great and good—for I could <i>command</i> service, such as we -too often pay to God—lip service and eye service,) desolate and -abandoned by all that had given me reason to think they had any -respect and affection for me, I knocked with all my might. I asked for -the crumbs that otherwise might be swept out to the dogs, and it was -opened to me, the full and abundant treasury of his grace. When this -happened I cannot tell. It has broken upon me like the dawn I see -every morning, insensibly changing darkness into light. My slavish -fears of punishment, which I always knew to be sinful, but would not -put off, are converted into an humble hope of a seat, even if it be -the lowest, in the courts of God. Yes, at last I am happy—as happy as -man can be. Should it please God to continue his favor to me, you will -see it—not only on my lips, but in my life. Should he withdraw it, as -assuredly he will, unless with his assistance I humbly endeavor by -prayer and self-denial, and <i>doing</i> of his word as well as hearing it, -to obtain its continuance, <i>mine</i> will only be the deeper damnation. -Of this danger I am sensible, but not afraid. I mean slavishly afraid. -He that hath not quenched the smoking flax, who has snatched me as a -brand from the burning, will not, I humbly yet firmly trust, cast me -back into the furnace. I now know the meaning of words that before I -repeated, but did not comprehend. I am no Burley of Balfour, but I -have been, as I thought, on the very verge and brink of his disease; -but I prayed to God to save me, and not to suffer me to fall a prey to -the arts and wiles of Satan, at the very moment I was seeking his -reconcilement.</p> - -<p>I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak the words of truth and -soberness. I have thrown myself, reeking with sin, on the mercy of -God, through Jesus Christ his blessed Son and our (yes, my friend, -<i>our</i>) precious Redeemer; and I have assurance as strong as that I now -owe nothing to your Bank, that the debt is paid—and now I love God, -and with reason. I once hated him, and with reason too, for I knew not -Christ. The only cause why I should love God is his goodness and mercy -to me <i>through Christ</i>. But for this, the lion and the sea-serpent -would not be more appalling to my imagination, than a being of -tremendous and indefinite power, who made me what I am—who wanted -either the will or the ability to prevent the existence of evil, and -punishes what is inevitable. This is not a God, but a Devil, and all -unbelievers in God tremble and believe in this Devil that they -worship—such worship <span class="pagenum"><a name="page462"><small><small>[p. 462]</small></small></a></span> -as it is, in his place. I have been looking -over some of my marginal pencilled notes on Gibbon, and rubbing them -out. I had thought to burn the book, but the Quarterly Review and -Professor Porson have furnished the antidote to his poison, whether in -the shape of infidelity or obscenity. See Review of Gibbon's -posthumous works.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>Chains are the portion of revolted man,<br> - Stripes and a dungeon: and his body serves<br> - The triple purpose. In that sickly, foul,<br> - Opprobrious residence he finds them all.<br> - - - - <i>Cowper's Task</i>.</small> -</div></div> - -<p>God hath called me to come out from among them—worshippers of Mammon -or of “Moloch-homicide,” or “Chemos, the obscene dread of Moab's son,” -“Peor his other name:”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“Lust hard by Hate,”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>and I will come, so help me God!</p> - -<p>Is it madness to prefer your new house in fee simple, to a clay -cottage, of which I am tenant at will, and may be turned out at a -moment's warning, and even without it, and out of which <i>I know</i> I -must be turned in a few years certainly?</p> - -<p>It is now midnight. May God watch over our sleep—over our helpless, -naked condition, and protect us as well from the insect that carries -death in his sting, as from the more feared but not so obvious dangers -with which life is beset; and if he should come this night (as come he -will) like a thief, may we be ready to stand in his presence and plead -not our merits, but his stripes, by whom we are made whole.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>J. R.</small> of <small>R.</small> </div> - -<p><small>P. S.</small> I was not aware of the length to which my sermon would extend. -Let me entreat you again to read Milton and Cowper. They prepared me -for the “Sampson” (as Rush would say) among the medicines for the soul.</p> - -<blockquote><i>Roanoke, August 25, 1818</i>.</blockquote> - -<a name="sect03"></a><hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>LETTER II.</center> -<br> -<p>M<small>Y</small> G<small>OOD</small> F<small>RIEND</small>—I am sorry that Quashee should intrude upon you -unreasonably. The old man, I suppose, knows the pleasure I take in -your letters, and therefore feels anxious to procure his master the -gratification. I cannot, however, express sorrow, for I do not feel -it, at the impression which you tell me my last letter made upon you. -May it lead to the same happy consequences that I have experienced, -which I now feel in that sunshine of the heart, which the peace of -God, that passeth all understanding, alone can bestow.</p> - -<p>Your imputing such sentiments to a heated imagination, does not -surprise me, who have been bred in the school of Hobbes, and Bayle, -and Shaftesbury, and Bolingbroke, and Hume, and Voltaire, and Gibbon; -who have cultivated the sceptical philosophy from my vain-glorious -boyhood—I might almost say childhood; and who have felt all that -unutterable disgust which hypocrisy, and cant, and fanaticism, never -fail to excite in men of education and refinement, superadded to our -natural repugnance to Christianity. I am not, even now, insensible to -this impression; but as the excesses of her friends (real or -pretended) can never alienate the votary of liberty from a free form -of government, and enlist him under the banners of despotism, so -neither can the cant of fanaticism, or hypocrisy, or of both—for so -far from being incompatible, they are generally found united in the -same character, (may God in his mercy preserve and defend us from -both!) disgust the pious with true religion.</p> - -<p>Mine has been no sudden change of opinion. I can refer to a record -showing, on my part, a desire of more than nine years standing to -partake of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper; although, for two and -twenty years preceding, my feet had never crossed the threshold of the -house of prayer. This desire I was restrained from indulging, by the -fear of eating and drinking unrighteously; and although that fear hath -been cast out by perfect love, I have never yet gone to the -altar—neither have I been present at the performance of divine service, -unless indeed I may so call my reading the Liturgy of our Church and -some chapters of the Bible to my poor negroes on Sundays. Such -passages as I think require it, and which I feel competent to explain, -I comment upon, enforcing as far as possible, and dwelling upon those -texts especially that enjoin the indispensable accompaniment of a good -life as the touchstone of the true faith. The sermon from the mount, -and the Evangelists generally—the Epistle of Paul to the Ephesians, -chap. vi,—the general Epistle of James, and the first Epistle of -John—these are my chief texts.</p> - -<p>The consummation of my <i>conversion</i>—I use the word in its strictest -sense—is owing to a variety of causes, but chiefly to the conviction, -unwillingly forced upon me, that the very few friends which an -unprosperous life (the fruit of an ungovernable temper) had left me, -were daily losing their hold upon me in a firmer grasp of ambition, -avarice, or sensuality. I am not sure that to complete the -anti-climax, avarice should not have been last; for although, in some -of its effects, debauchery be more disgusting than avarice, yet as it -regards the unhappy victim, this last is more to be dreaded. -Dissipation, as well as power or prosperity, hardens the heart, but -avarice deadens it to every feeling but the thirst for riches. Avarice -alone could have produced the slave trade. Avarice alone can drive, as -it does drive, this infernal traffic, and the wretched victims of it, -like so many post-horses whipped to death in a mail-coach. Ambition -has its cover-sluts, in the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious -war; but where are the trophies of avarice? The handcuff, the manacle, -and the blood-stained cowhide! What man is worse received in society -for being a hard master? Who denies the hand of a sister or daughter -to such monsters?—nay, they have even appeared in “the abused shape of -the vilest of women.” I say nothing of India, or Amboyna—of Cortes, or -Pizarro.</p> - -<p>When I was last in your town I was inexpressibly shocked, (and perhaps -I am partly indebted to the circumstance for accelerating my -emancipation,) to hear, on the threshold of the temple of the least -erect of all the spirits that fell from heaven, these words spoken:</p> - -<p>“I don't want the Holy Ghost (I shudder while I write,) or any other -spirit in me. If these doctrines are true, [St. Paul's] there was no -need for Wesley and Whitfield to have separated from the church. The -Methodists are right, and the Church wrong. I want to see the old -church,” &c. &c.—that is, such as this diocese was under Bishop -<i>Terrick</i>, when wine-bibbing <span class="pagenum"><a name="page463"><small><small>[p. 463]</small></small></a></span> -and buck-parsons were sent out to -preach “a dry clatter of morality,” and not the word of God, for -sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco. When I speak of <i>morality</i>, it is -not as condemning it. Religion includes it, but much more. Day is now -breaking, and I shall extinguish my candles, which are better than no -light—or if I do not, in the presence of the powerful king of day they -will be noticed only by the dirt and ill-savor that betray all human -contrivances—the taint of humanity. Morality is to the Gospel not even -as a farthing rush-light to the blessed sun.</p> - -<p>By the way, this term Methodist in religion is of vast compass and -effect—like <i>Tory</i> in politics—or <i>Aristocrate</i> in Paris, “with the -lamp-post for its second,” some five or six and twenty years ago. <i>Dr. -Hoge?</i>—“a Methodist parson.” <i>Frank Key?</i>—“a fanatic,” (I heard him -called so not ten days ago,) “a Methodistical whining,” &c. &c. -<i>Wilberforce?</i>—“a Methodist.” <i>Mrs. Hannah More?</i>—“ditto.” It ought -never to be forgotten, that real converts to Christianity on opposite -sides of the globe, agree at the same moment to the same facts. Thus -Dr. Hoge and Mr. Key, although strangers, understand perfectly what -each other feels and believes.</p> - -<p>If I were to show a MS. in some unknown tongue to half a dozen -persons, strangers to each other, and natives of different countries, -and they should all give me the same translation, could I doubt their -acquaintance with the strange language? On the contrary, can I, who am -but a smatterer in Greek, believe an impostor, who pretends to a -knowledge of that tongue, and who yet cannot tell the meaning of τυπτο?</p> - -<p>I now read with relish and understand St. Paul's Epistles, which not -long since I could not comprehend, even with the help of Mr. Locke's -Paraphrase. Taking up, a few days ago, at an “Ordinary,” the Life of -John Bunyan, which I had never before read, I find an exact -coincidence in our feelings on this head, as well as others.</p> - -<p>Very early in life I imbibed an absurd prejudice in favor of -Mahomedanism and its votaries. The Crescent had a talismanic effect on -my imagination, and I rejoiced in all its triumphs over the Cross, -(which I despised,) as I mourned over its defeats; and Mahomet the 2d -himself did not more exult than I did when the Crescent was planted on -the dome of St. Sophia, and the Cathedral of the Constantines was -converted into a Turkish Mosque. To this very day I feel the effects -of Peter Randolph's Zanga on a temper naturally impatient of injury, -but insatiably vindictive under insult.</p> - -<p>On the night that I wrote last to you, I scribbled a pack of nonsense -to Rootes, which serves only to show the lightness of my heart. About -the same time, in reply to a question from a friend, I made the -following remarks, which, as I was weak from long vigilance, I -requested him to write down, that I might, when at leisure, copy it -into my diary. From it you will gather pretty accurately the state of -my mind.</p> - -<blockquote>“It is my business to avoid giving offence to the world, especially in -all matters merely indifferent. I shall therefore stick to my old -uniform, blue and buff, unless God see fit to change it for black. I -must be as attentive to my dress and to household affairs, as far as -cleanliness and comfort are concerned, as ever—and indeed more so. Let -us take care to drive none away from God, by dressing Religion in the -garb of Fanaticism. Let us exhibit her as she is, equally removed from -superstition and lukewarmness. But we must take care, that while we -avoid one extreme, we fall not into the other—no matter which. I was -born and baptized in the Church of England. If I attend the Convention -at Charlottesville, which I rather doubt, I shall oppose myself then, -and always, to every attempt at encroachment on the part of the -Church—the Clergy especially—on the rights of conscience. I attribute, -in a very great degree, my long estrangement from God, to my -abhorrence of Prelatical pride and Puritanical preciseness; to -Ecclesiastical tyranny, whether Roman Catholic or Protestant—whether -of Harry V, or Harry VIII—of Mary or Elizabeth—of John Knox, or -Archbishop Laud—of the Cameronians of Scotland, the Jacobins of -France, or the Protestants of Ireland. Should I fail to attend, it -will arise from a repugnance to submit the religion, (or church) any -more than the liberty of my country, to foreign influence. When I -speak of my country, I mean the Commonwealth of Virginia. I was born -in allegiance to George III—the Bishop of London (<i>Terrick!</i>) was my -diocesan. My ancestors threw off the oppressive yoke of the mother -country, but they never made me subject to <i>New</i> England in matters -spiritual or temporal—neither do I mean to become so, voluntarily.”</blockquote> - -<p>I have been up long before day, and write with pain from a sense of -duty to you and Mrs. B., in whose welfare I take the most earnest -concern. You have my prayers. Give me yours, I pray you. Adieu!</p> - -<div align="right"><small>J. R.</small> of <small>R.</small> </div> - -<p><small>P. S.</small> You make no mention of Leigh. I was on the top of the pinnacle -of Otter this day fortnight—a little above the Earth, but how far -beneath Heaven!</p> - -<blockquote><i>Roanoke, Sept. 25, 1818</i>.</blockquote> - -<a name="sect04"></a><hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>LETTER III.</center> -<br> -<p>Your obliging promptitude deserved my speedier thanks, but you will -excuse me I am sure, my dear sir, when you learn that I have been for -several days confined to my chamber by something very like <i>angina -pectoris</i>. It is the most distressing sensation I ever felt, although -not the most painful. It is during a remission of its attack that I -take up my pen to put some of my nothings upon paper.</p> - -<p>Yesterday was a sore day (as I hear) for the War Department. The -official statements from that bureau were exposed in a most mortifying -manner, and on the question in committee of the whole to strike out -the first section of the obnoxious bill [i.e. to reject it] the court -mustered but five or seven affirmatives—and this after the combined -exertions of several of the leading members, as they are called, in -favor of the motion.</p> - -<p>My question to Mrs. B. related to a book that I had lately read with -some amusement—Melincourt. It is not new, but I had not happened to -meet with it before. I have been trying to read Southey's Life of -Wesley for some days. Upon the whole, I find it a heavy work, although -there are some very striking passages, and it abounds in curious -information. From 279 to 285, inclusive, of the second volume is very -fine. Yesterday I was to have dined with Frank Key, but was not well -enough to go. He called here the day before, and we -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page464"><small><small>[p. 464]</small></small></a></span> had much -talk together. He perseveres in pressing on towards the goal, and his -whole life is spent in endeavors to do good for his unhappy fellow -men. The result is, that he enjoys a tranquillity of mind, a sunshine -of the soul, that all the Alexanders of the earth can neither confer -nor take away. This is a state to which I can never attain. I have -made up my mind to suffer like a man condemned to the wheel or the -stake—and, strange as you may think it, I could submit without a -murmur to pass the rest of my life “in some high, lonely tower, where -I might outwatch the Bear with thrice great Hermes;” and exchange the -enjoyments of society for an exemption from the plagues of life. These -press me down to the very earth, and to rid myself of them I would -gladly purchase an annuity and crawl into some hole, where I might -commune with myself and be still.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>I am glad that the pretty Mrs. F——h is so comfortably established at -Mrs. Kemp's. Do I understand you correctly that the C——'s, Rootes, -Gilmer, and Mr. Burwell are of the same party? I should like very much -to join it, for (to say nothing of the ladies) R. and G. are two of my -favorites. I could be somewhat less miserable there, I am sure, than I -find myself here.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>If I possessed a talent that I once thought I had, I would try and -give you a picture of Washington. The state of things is the strangest -imaginable, but I am like a speechless person who has the clearest -conception of what he would say, but whose organs refuse to perform -their office. There is one striking fact that one can't help seeing at -the first glance—that there is no faith among men: the state of -political confidence may be compared to that of the commercial world -within the last two or three years.</p> - -<p>I read Mr. Roane's letter with the attention that it deserves. Every -thing from his pen on the subject of our laws and institutions excites -a profound interest. I was highly gratified at the manner in which it -was spoken of in my hearing by one of the best and ablest men in our -house. It is indeed high time that the hucksters and money-changers -should be cast out of the Temple of Justice. The tone of this -communication belongs to another age; but for the date, who could -suppose it to have been written in this our day of almost universal -political corruption? I did not read the report on the lottery case. -The print of the Enquirer is too much for my eyes: and besides I want -no argument to satisfy me that the powers which Congress may exercise -where they possess exclusive jurisdiction, may not be extended to -places where they possess only a limited and concurrent jurisdiction. -The very statement of the question settles it, and every additional -word is but an incumbrance of help.</p> - -<p>And now, my dear sir, you may be glad to come to an end of this almost -interminable epistle. Shut up in my little “chair-lumbered closet” -this cold day, without a soul to speak to or a book to read, you have -become the victim of my desolate condition. Indeed, if I had a book I -could not read it, having exercised my eyes so unmercifully on John -Wesley, that I do not see what I am writing—at least not distinctly. -My best regards to Mrs. B. I wish I could provoke her to talk. When -you see Dudley, tell him I have been trying to write to him for -several days; and when you see Mr. Cunningham, present me most kindly -to him and <i>his house</i>.</p> - -<div align="right">Sincerely yours, - <br> -<small>J. R.</small> of <small>R.</small> </div> - -<blockquote><i>Washington, January, 1821</i>.</blockquote> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect05"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>TO A LOCK OF HAIR.</h4> - -<center><small>BY J. DOGGETT, Jr.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Bright auburn lock! which like the wing<br> - Of some kind angel sweeping by,<br> - Shinest in the sun a glossy thing,<br> - As soft as beams from beauty's eye,<br> - Thou dost recall, sweet lock, to me,<br> - All of the heaven of memory.<br> -<br> - Thou once did'st shade a marble brow,<br> - Where beauty raised her polish'd throne;<br> - Methinks I gaze upon it now<br> - And listen to a silver tone—<br> - Which floats from lips in notes as sweet<br> - As angel's greetings when they meet.<br> -<br> - Fair lock! I'd rather hold with thee<br> - A silent, blissful, strange commune,<br> - Than join that boisterous gaiety<br> - Which seems of happiness the noon:<br> - For thou dost whisper, shining hair,<br> - Peace comes not, rests not, <i>is</i> not there. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><i>Philadelphia, June, 1836</i>.</blockquote> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect06"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>EXAMPLE AND PRECEPT.</h4> - -<center><small>BY J. K. PAULDING.</small></center> -<br> - -<p>A fine fashionable mother, one beautiful spring morning, walked forth -into the city, leading by the hand a little child of five or six years -old. The former was dressed in all the fantastic finery of the times; -she had a pink bonnet, ornamented with a bird of paradise, shaded with -huge bows of wide ribbon; sleeves which caused her taper waist to -appear like lean famine supported on either side by overgrown plenty; -her gown was of such redundancy of plaits and folds, that a whole -family might have been clothed from its superfluities; and while with -one hand she led the little girl along, in the other she held a -cambric handkerchief worked with various devices, and bordered with -rich lace, reported to have cost fifty dollars. The little child was -dressed as fine as its mother, for she unfortunately had light curly -hair, and was reckoned a beauty.</p> - -<p>They passed a toy-shop, and the child insisted on going in, where she -laid out all the money she had in various purchases that were of no -use whatever, in spite of the advice of her mother, who alternately -scolded and laughed at her for thus wasting her allowance on things so -useless. The child seemed to reflect for a few moments, and thus -addressed her mother:</p> - -<p>“Mother, what is the use of those great sleeves you wear?”</p> - -<p>The mother was silent, for the question puzzled her.</p> - -<p>“Mother, what is the use of that fine bird on your hat?”</p> - -<p>The mother was still more at a loss for a reply.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page465"><small><small>[p. 465]</small></small></a></span> -<p>“Mother, what is the use of having a worked handkerchief, -bordered with lace, to wipe your nose?”</p> - -<p>“Come along,” cried the mother somewhat roughly, as she dragged the -little girl out of the toy-shop, “come along, and don't ask so many -foolish questions.”</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect07"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>MISERIES OF BASHFULNESS.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>A modest woman dressed out in all her finery is the most tremendous -object of the whole creation.—<i>She Stoops to Conquer</i>.</small></blockquote> -<br> - -<p>Of all the evils which harass the human family, none is perhaps more -tormenting or more difficult to be removed, than bashfulness—a feeling -sufficient in itself to blast the most promising hopes, and render -comparatively useless the most brilliant abilities. To this evil, from -earliest recollection, I have been painfully subject, and to its -influence upon my character and habits, may be traced the many -difficulties I have met with in my passage through life. Gifted by -nature with a mind of no ordinary caste, which my modest and retiring -disposition, while it precluded me from the enjoyment of society, -induced me to cultivate, at an early age I had acquired a large fund -of useful and polite information. This circumstance induced my parents -to send me to the University of ——, then the most flourishing -institution in the country. The first term after my arrival passed off -drearily enough, but after becoming familiarized to the habits of my -fellow students, and to the customs of the institution, I became -better satisfied with my situation. Nothing of importance occurred -until the time appointed for the examinations came on. I had applied -myself with assiduity and vigilance, and flattered myself that I had -completely mastered the exercises appointed for the occasion. Among -the candidates for graduation there was an individual whom I shall -designate by the name of C——, and whose connection with my narration -compels me to mention him. He was the son of a southern planter, of -immense fortune, and to a person of almost faultless beauty united -great liberality, which his princely fortune enabled him to stretch to -its farthest limits. As may be imagined he was quite a lion among the -students and ladies.</p> - -<p>Towards this individual I conceived a certain feeling of dislike from -my first introduction, which a more intimate acquaintance with his -character ripened into hatred. He was proud and overbearing in his -deportment towards his inferiors, and even amidst his immediate -friends and acquaintance he possessed a certain haughty and imperious -bearing, indicative of the exalted opinion he entertained respecting -his own merits. His mind was not remarkable for strength, nevertheless -he had some shrewdness or cunning, which the vulgar are apt to mistake -for talents. As I have before observed, the time for the annual -examination had arrived, and no culprit in the gloomy walls of Newgate -dreaded the fatal toll of St. Sepulchre's bell—the gloomy herald of -many a sinner's entrance into eternity—more than I did the arrival of -the hour when our exercises were to commence. A large number of ladies -and gentlemen had been invited, and among the number was my father.</p> - -<p>At length the University bell tolled the appointed hour, and we were -drawn up on a stage in front of the assembly, from which we were -concealed by a curtain, as yet down. At a given signal the curtain -rose and presented to our view a numerous concourse of both sexes, -among whom I distinguished my father seated on the front row of seats, -prepared no doubt to witness his son's triumph. A sight of his -countenance served to increase the confidence I had in my powers, and -to dispel the embarrassment I felt on the occasion. The student at the -head of the class answered the question put to him with perfect ease -and composure—so did the second. I stood third; as soon as my name was -called by the examining professor, I felt the blood rush with such -velocity to my face as nearly to cause blindness—my brain reeled—my -eyes swam—and although I perfectly understood the question, my -confusion was so great as to hinder utterance. The question was passed -to the next, who was C——; he answered it. The mingled shame, -mortification, and rage I suffered, are indescribable. I retired from -the contest, and the prize which I could have gained was awarded to my -abominated enemy. I returned home with my mortified father, who -persuaded me to endeavor to overcome the painful and unfortunate -failing, which he perceived would blight my future prospects, by -mixing largely in society. In pursuance of this advice, soon after my -arrival in my native town, I determined to attend a large party, at -the residence of one of my mother's fashionable friends. I suffered -acutely from the time I received the invitation till the appointed -night. At length it arrived, and I, attired in my best suit, with no -aristocratic touch, rung the door bell. The servant ushered me into a -large and splendidly furnished room but partially filled. The courage -I had summoned for the occasion, like Bob Acre's, “oozed as it were -from the palms of my hands,” and I remained standing in the door-way -as immovable as if (instead of the gay and fashionable assembly who -were gazing at my strange appearance with so much astonishment,) the -Gorgon Medusa had turned upon me her petrifying look. The harmonious -note which at that moment stole from Bennett's eloquent cremona, -diverted their attention from my person and restored me to something -like consciousness. I advanced into the room, and was cordially -greeted by mine host and his lady, who were old friends of my family. -The dancing now commenced, and the rooms gradually filling placed me -in a rather more comfortable situation. I was, however, far from being -easy. In order, as I thought, to calm my perturbed spirits, I seated -myself on a sofa, situated in a corner of one of the rooms. I had -remained there but a short time, when the voice of some one engaged in -earnest conversation striking upon my ear, I turned my attention in -that direction and perceived my late triumphant enemy C——, conversing -in an animated strain with Miss ——, the only daughter of the wealthy -and hospitable owner of the mansion in which we were passing the -afternoon. Miss —— was evidently much pleased with the subject as well -as the manner of the speaker, and he seemed inclined to make the best -possible use of the advantage he had gained. They were however joined -by a large number of ladies, who in their anxiety to reach Miss —— -completely surrounded me. Yes—I who would sooner march to the cannon's -mouth, or attempt to scale the fortress of Gibraltar, than face a -female, was literally blockaded—totally -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page466"><small><small>[p. 466]</small></small></a></span> surrounded by decidedly -“the most awful things in nature,” a company of full dressed women. -C—— was perfectly at ease, and enjoyed heartily the dismay and confusion -under which I labored. Perceiving that the only possible chance of -escaping, would be speedy action, I endeavored instinctively to effect -a retreat, but in vain. As I arose, I encountered the huge sleeve of a -female attired “in all the glaring impotence of dress,” which impeded -my egress. On attempting to return, I ran foul of a talkative little -creature, and left her minus of about half of her head dress. The -little lady was in a rage; however, there was no time for delay—so I -gave her no apology. At length I reached my seat on the sofa, on which -several ladies had seated themselves. After some time, I endeavored to -enter into conversation with the damsel who sat next me, hoping that -it would afford me some alleviation; but the attempt was abortive. My -tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and refused to utter whatever -ideas I might have had in my brain—through which passed in rapid -succession, the last opera—the fancy ball—Shakspeare—Moliere, &c. &c., -without affording its wretched owner a theme on which to commence a -conversation. In vain I made strenuous exertions to collect my -scattered thoughts—the attempt increased my confusion. At last the -approach of a servant with a waiter of refreshments opened a passage -through which I dashed. The exulting laugh of C—— reached my ear, as I -cleared the little crowd collected around him. In my passage through -the room I met a servant bearing a freshly opened bottle of -Champaigne. Seizing a glass brimfull with the sparkling liquor I -tossed it off—another, and another—and then “a change came o'er the -spirit of my dream.” I was immediately changed from the bashful and -timid character in which I had hitherto appeared, to the bold, -impudent, easy man of the world. An almost irresistible desire to make -female acquaintances seized me, and I was determined to indulge it. -Meeting a friend at the moment, I requested him to give me an -introduction to every lady in the house. At this sweeping request my -friend was surprised beyond measure, knowing well my former -disposition. However, not being able to refuse, he led me up to a -fresh, rosy-looking Miss, and gave the necessary introduction. I -bowed, and in doing so nearly lost my equilibrium. I, however, -succeeded in gaining my footing, and commenced conversing. By this -time, I had given such unequivocal indications of the effect my -Champaigne potation had produced, as to induce my friend to withdraw -me from my fair acquaintance and insist upon my taking leave of the -“festive scene.” But what man has been known to take good advice when -he is at all inebriated. I refused to retire, and to disprove the -suspicions of my friend, I determined to dance the next cotillion. In -accordance with this resolve I wended my way through the crowd till I -discovered the lady to whom I had been introduced, and solicited the -pleasure of her hand. We stood up to a double cotillion, and at that -moment the music struck up. The animating and delightful sensations -produced by the wine began to subside, and my mind commenced gradually -to comprehend the almost insurmountable difficulties of the situation -in which my rashness had placed me. I had no more idea of dancing than -a bear just caught from the woods, and as for the figure of the dance, -I would sooner have attempted to solve the hieroglyphics inscribed -upon an Egyptian obelisk. Every moment developed new difficulties, and -fresh obstacles were cast in my way by every second's reflection. Oh! -how bitterly did I repent the many opportunities I had omitted of -learning the trifling (in the abstract, yet important in reality,) -accomplishment which I so much needed then. However, it was now too -late to retreat, and I was about to dash forth and perform some random -capers, when my companion checked me with the information that my time -to dance had not yet come on. To increase the awkwardness of my -situation, I discovered myself to be corporeally tipsy, though -mentally sober. I was therefore afraid to move, lest I should evince -my unlucky and disagreeable situation. As a <i>dernier resort</i>, I -resolved to watch the graceful and easy movements of my companions in -the dance, and, if possible, to gain some slight information -concerning my unenviable employment. At last my turn came round, and -with bent knees and clenched hands I advanced. In attempting to make a -flourish which was to have been followed by a bow, I lost my balance, -and tumbled at full length upon the floor. The roar of laughter which -this feat called forth still rings in my ears, and a recollection of -the scene always covers my cheeks with blushes. I arose from my -incumbent posture and hastily excusing myself to my partner, rushed -from the house, heartily wishing for “a lodge in some vast -wilderness.”</p> - -<div align="right">M<small>ARLOW.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect08"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>FIRST LOVE.</h4> - -<center><small>BY J. C. McCABE.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - There is a thought, still beautiful, though years have roll'd along,<br> - Which stirs the wave of memory, and wakes her wonted song—<br> - Which rustles 'mid the heart's dead flowers like midnight's mournful breeze,<br> - And dove-like spreads its soothing wing o'er passion's stormy seas.<br> - No crime can dim its purity—no cloud obscure its ray;<br> - But like the temple's altar light, its steady beams will play,<br> - All sweetly hovering o'er the soul, like spirit from above——<br> - O, 'tis the thought—the holy thought—of boyhood's early love!<br> -<br> - When years have wrinkled o'er his brow, and furrows traced his cheek,<br> - And his once glad voice is trembling now in lapses faint and weak;<br> - How thoughtful is his glance, as on his slowly rolling tears,<br> - There floats along that fairy form he loved in boyhood's years.<br> - And then—O then, that heart (like harp hung up in ruined hall,<br> - Untouch'd, save when the night-winds sweep along the mould'ring wall,)<br> - It gives a wild tone from its chords, the pilgrim lone to tell,<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page467"><small><small>[p. 467]</small></small></a></span> - Though desolate it still can yield to melody's sweet spell.<br> -<br> - Oh, cast him on the stormy sea, when Death rides on the surge,<br> - And sea-nymphs chant around his head a melancholy dirge,<br> - While struggling with the giant waves, from their embrace to flee,<br> - That lov'd one's voice is whispering of halls beneath the sea.<br> - And as far down he swiftly sinks, and billows o'er him foam,<br> - A thousand phantasies appear, and o'er his vision come;<br> - But <i>one will</i> keep its vigil there, though storm and tempest sweep,<br> - Unmoved, though burst upon by all the billows of the deep.<br> -<br> - Go place him in the battle's front, where death and carnage meet,<br> - And his country's flag unsullied is his warrior-winding sheet;<br> - When from his heart is oozing fast the darkly purple tide,<br> - And victory's shout a moment fills his dying eye with pride—<br> - The wild and lingering look he casts, as heaven's own arch of blue,<br> - Like the vision of a summer dream, fades slowly from his view,<br> - Speaks—clearly speaks—of vision'd joys—of home beheld once more—<br> - Of the image of the one-loved form in sorrow bending o'er.<br> -</div></div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect09"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>EROSTRATUS.</h4> -<br> -<center>I.</center> - -<p>Early in the afternoon of an autumn day, in the first year of the -hundred and fifth Olympiad, the keeper of the light-house which then -marked the entrance of the harbor of Ephesus, announced the approach -of a vessel, which, from its size and proportions, he decided to be -from Corinth or Athens. Crowded, as the port of Diana's favorite city -at that time was, with sails from every maritime town in the -Mediterranean, where commerce was cultivated, the arrival of a vessel -was an event of hourly occurrence, yet the news of the approach of -this spread rapidly through the city. The magistrate left the bench, -the merchant forsook his warehouse, and the mechanic dropped his -tools. All hastened to the quay. It was expected that this vessel -brought the news of the results of the Olympic games. With such -rapidity the lusty rowers plyed their oars, that the most experienced -eye could scarcely decide whether the approaching bark carried three -or four banks. The helms-man was singing the prize verses of the -games, in which all the oars-men joined at intervals as a chorus. Soon -she neared sufficiently for the pilots, who stood upon an eminence, to -decide that she was the Sphynx of Corinth. She presently came within -speaking distance, and the name of the victor in the poetic contest -was demanded. “Leonidas of Mægara,” was the reply. Other questions -succeeded until the Sphynx was moored in the harbor, and then -followed, amidst the embraces of friends and relatives, more minute -inquiries and particular replies touching the events of the games, -which then excited an interest in every land where the Greek tongue -was spoken, of which the moderns can form but little conception. -Preparations for the customary sacrifices to Diana of the Ephesians, -Neptune, and the Winds, in grateful return for the prosperous voyage, -were quickly made.</p> -<br> -<center>II.</center> - -<p>The crowds which shortly before covered the spacious quays had nearly -all dispersed, when a young man for whom no one appeared to wait, and -who had sought no one in the joyful multitude, stepped on shore, -bearing all his baggage in a small scrip. His countenance wore an -expression of the deepest melancholy, which could not have escaped -notice, had not the sighs which broke from his breast, and the half -dried tears which stained his cheeks, sufficiently testified that his -bosom shared none of the general joy. Instead of seeking his home, he -bent his steps along the quays, and shortly gained the suburbs, -passing rapidly through which, he sought the open country. Here -throwing himself upon the ground, he gave way to the most passionate -expressions of sorrow. “Cursed folly” he exclaimed “that induced me to -believe that glory was to be obtained by merit, and that the applauses -of the crowd could be won by him who has no gold in his purse to -purchase their praises. Cursed be the books of the Philosophers which -teach”—“Erostratus,” exclaimed a young man who, unobserved, had -approached and gazed on him with astonishment, “what mischance has so -disordered you, that instead of seeking your friend's house, I find -you embracing our mother earth, and outshining our first tragedians? -Is this a specimen of some successful drama which you have been -composing, or”—“Metazulis,” said Erostratus, “cease these ill-timed -pleasantries. I have just returned from the Olympic games”—“I know -it,” interrupted Metazulis. “I was from home when the Sphynx arrived, -and had I not learned from our neighbor Polisphercon that you and he -had been fellow passengers, I should have assured myself that the -charms of Corinth had proved stronger than your patriotism. Excuse my -interruption, and pardon a friend's inquiring why these tears? why -this anguish? Have you returned without that heart, which you once -vowed to Diana should never leave your keeping, and without the -blue-eyed maiden who has robbed you of it?” “No Metazulis,” replied -his friend, forcing a melancholy smile, “my heart is safe as though -blue-eyed maidens had never been—but I went to Olympia, puffed up with -the senseless expectation of gracing my brow with the wreath of -poetry, which now encircles the head of a wealthy churl who feasted -the judges. <i>His</i> name is celebrated through the cities of Greece; -<i>mine</i> is unmentioned, save as that of the deluded Ephesian who dared -to put his doggrel in competition with the rich strains of the rich -Leonidas. But I forever forswear”—“Forswear nothing” cried Metazulis. -“Be not discouraged by a single failure. The next judges may be -honester, and in four years the strengthened wings of your muse will -achieve higher flights.” “And Leonidas may become richer,” said -Erostratus. “How often, how often,” -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page468"><small><small>[p. 468]</small></small></a></span> -said Metazulis, “have I had -to censure my friend's faint heart, discouraged at the slightest -disappointment! Who ever swam a river at a single stroke? Make my -house your home. Let poetry continue your study. My sister's lyre -shall accompany your odes. We will strive to put off the partiality of -friends, and play the critics upon your works. I warrant not a spot -shall meet the eye in the next production you lay before the Olympic -Judges.” Putting his arm into that of Erostratus, who offered no -resistance, he led him to the city.</p> -<br> -<center>III.</center> - -<p>Henceforth the streets of Ephesus rarely echoed to the footsteps of -Erostratus. Immured in the house of the friendly Metazulis, his whole -soul was occupied with the ardent hope of gaining the prize for poetry -at the next Olympic games. The encouragement of Metazulis and Lesbia, -had fanned into a flame the spark of ambition not to be extinguished -in his breast. Every day did his impatience increase, and nightly, -upon retiring to his couch, would he reckon that a day less was -between him and immortal glory. The poems and odes which fell from his -pen, fell not faster than they were wedded to music by the -enthusiastic Lesbia. Unhappy Lesbia! it was not in thy nature to -behold such kindred genius and remain unmoved! A fire was in thy -breast, bright and unquenchable, save by death! Poor Lesbia! Her -admiration of the poet blinded her to the most glaring defects of the -poetry, and the living Erostratus, whom she daily saw, seemed to her -superior to all the poets who had sung since the days of Deucalion.</p> - -<p>Four years rolled by in poetry, music, and, though neither seemed -conscious of it, in—love. The hymn to Ceres, upon which Erostratus now -builds his hopes, is completed, and pronounced perfect by Metazulis, -and Lesbia. Lesbia gives her brother and his friend the parting -embrace, and with her scarf, waves them again and again farewell from -the terraced roof. She is not to see Erostratus again until his brows -are shaded with the crown of victory. Prosperous winds wafted on their -course Erostratus and his friend, who had left his home and his -sister, to share with his adopted brother the first triumphs of -success. A few days were spent in luxurious Corinth by the travellers, -and postponing a more ample view until their return, they departed for -Olympia, where they arrived after a journey, which to Erostratus -seemed to occupy an age.</p> -<br> -<center>IV.</center> - -<p>With the usual ceremonies the games were opened, and the first, -second, and third days devoted to chariot races and the athletic -exercises. The fourth day was assigned to the claimants of the palm -for poesy. Erostratus was the first competitor who rose. His feelings -at first overpowered him, but a look from Metazulis, a burst of -applause from the countless multitude, and more than all, a thought of -the moment when he should lay the meed of victory at the feet of -Lesbia, encouraged him. His voice was at first low and indistinct, but -as the plaudits increased, he became more animated, and towards the -close, the delivery was worthy of the poem. The hymn being ended, the -lengthened shouts dispelled all fear of failure from his mind, and he -fancied he already felt the olive wreath upon his temples. A single -competitor appeared to contest with him the prize, many having -withdrawn upon the conclusion of his ode. Cratinus of Platæa arose, as -soon as the applause began to subside. Four times had the crown been -decreed to Cratinus, and he now aspired the fifth time to that honor. -The hitherto unconquered Cratinus began, and scarcely had he recited -twenty lines, when even Metazulis admitted in his heart the -superiority of this poem to that of his friend. Cratinus was loudly -cheered, and in justice would have been more so, had not a large -proportion of the audience been prepossessed in favor of Erostratus. -Applause well merited followed the conclusion of the Judgment of -Paris, (such was the theme of Cratinus) and then a breathless silence -succeeded, whilst the judges compared their opinions. We cannot -describe the anxiety of Erostratus in this interval. He trembled, a -cold sweat bedewed his body, and leaning upon the breast of his -friend, his life seemed to hang upon the decision. The presiding judge -at length arose and delivered the award. The crown was decreed to -Cratinus; and Erostratus fell senseless in Metazulis' arms. For a long -time he remained insensible, and his friend was beginning to fear that -his hopes and his life had terminated together, when he began to -revive; but having murmured “the crown, the crown,” he fell into a -second swoon. So great an effect had the destruction of his long -cherished hopes produced upon him, that for some days there appeared -scarcely a possibility of his recovery. During this time Metazulis -wrote to his sister the following letter.</p> - -<blockquote>“Weep with me Lesbia. Our friend has failed, Cratinus, of Platæa has -obtained the prize, Erostratus is dangerously ill. The physicians bid -me hope—I have none. Should he recover from the fever which now -threatens to terminate his life, what a life will be his! If, contrary -to my expectations, he should survive this shock, may our love to him -be redoubled! Let it be our care to smooth his path to the grave, -which, broken hearted as he is, can be but short. Farewell.”</blockquote> -<br> -<center>V.</center> - -<p>The medical attendants were not disappointed. A month having elapsed, -Erostratus left the couch of sickness; but another passed by before -Metazulis thought his strength sufficient to warrant his proposing -their return. Erostratus made no opposition. The love he felt for -Lesbia, (with which the ravings of his delirium had acquainted -Metazulis,) urged his return, although he felt that he scarcely dared -appear before her. The task of diverting his mind from the sad -recollections which occupied it, was painful and difficult. Metazulis -proposed visiting the curiosities of nature, and the celebrated works -of art, which lay contiguous to their route. To this Erostratus made -no objection, but his eye, ones so delighted with all that was -beautiful and sublime, now gazed upon them without pleasure. Metazulis -left Corinth in the first vessel which departed, anxious to see his -sister, and to bear his friend from Greece, where every thing -conspired to bring to his mind his failures. Far different were the -feelings with which Erostratus had entered Corinth, and now bade it a -final farewell. They reached Ephesus. Metazulis found none of his -domestics awaiting his return; but what was their anxiety, their -horror, upon finding the house closed, and the door-posts marked with -the insignia of death! They hastily opened the door. All is silence -and desolation. Erostratus rushes to the sitting room, where he had -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page469"><small><small>[p. 469]</small></small></a></span> -parted from Lesbia. Mctazulis following, arrives to see him fall -senseless upon the couch, whereon reposed the dead body of his sister, -at whose head sat the motionless domestics, murmuring the prayers for -the departed.</p> -<br> -<center>VI.</center> - -<p>In a month after the ashes of Lesbia had been consigned to the tomb, -those of Metazulis were laid beside them. The wealth of Metazulis was -now the property of Erostratus, but could gold purchase peace for his -anguished soul? Never was he seen to smile, and his solitary hours -(and how few of his hours were not solitary?) were passed in grief and -lamentation. The love of immortality remained inextinguishable in his -breast, and he resolved upon an achievement which should give his name -a place in the page of history; and in the moments of his phrenzy, he -imagined that the name of Lesbia would appear in the record with his, -and that this would be accepted by her shade as an atonement on his -part, for the fate in which her love for him had involved her. In the -middle of a dark and tempestuous night, he applied a torch to that -temple, the boast of Ephesus, the wonder of the world! The Greek -historians of after days asserted that the goddess was in Macedon -attending to the birth of Alexander. Her fane was destroyed and -reduced to a mass of blackened ruin. Erostratus unhesitatingly avowed -himself the incendiary, and the rack could force no reply from him but -the cry “I did it for immortality.” He was condemned to be burnt to -death, and expired in the most dreadful torture, with a smile upon his -countenance and the name of Lesbia upon his lips. The magistrates, -lest his desire of an immortal memory should be gratified, denounced -death upon all who should pronounce his name, that it might be blotted -out forever.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>About twenty years subsequently, a citizen of Ephesus, and his friend -from Athens, were walking upon the shore of the sea, a few miles from -the former city. There were a number of young Ephesians exercising -themselves in athletic sports upon the sands, at whom they looked for -a while, and then passed on. After a few steps they stopped to examine -something over which the sea was breaking near the shore. A few human -bones blackened and mouldering met their gaze. “Near this spot,” said -the Ephesian, “we burnt Erostratus.” “Who was he?” replied the -Athenian, “I do not remember to have ever heard of him.” The Ephesian -made no reply but hurried his friend on board a small fishing boat, -and put to sea. It was long before the Athenian could obtain an -explanation of this singular conduct from his agitated friend. The -Ephesian at length reminded him of the edict, and avowed that the -forbidden name had escaped his lip, and been overheard by the youths -who were near them. A vessel bound to Greece picked them up. The -Ephesian settled in Attica, never daring to return to his native -country. The greater portion of the incidents recorded above were -communicated by him to his friend, and the tale, corroborated by -others, became well known throughout Greece; but at Ephesus, no one -for centuries dared to utter the forbidden name of Erostratus.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect10"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG.</h4> - -<blockquote><small>[We have rather accidentally met with these two poems, <i>The Belles of -Williamsburg</i>, and the <i>Sequel to the Belles of Williamsburg</i>, both -written and circulated in that place in 1777. These pieces are -believed to have been either composed by two different gentlemen, or -to have been the joint production of both. As we cannot, however, -assign to each his due share, we do not think ourselves at liberty to -mention their names—which (although the authors in question are now no -more,) are still distinguished names in Virginia.]</small></blockquote> - -<a name="sect11"></a><hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>THE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG.</center> -<br> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Wilt thou, advent'rous pen, describe<br> - The gay, delightful, silken tribe,<br> - That maddens all our city;<br> - Nor dread, lest while you foolish claim<br> - A near approach to beauty's flame,<br> - Icarus' fate may hit ye.<br> -<br> - With singed pinions tumbling down,<br> - The scorn and laughter of the town,<br> - Thou'lt rue thy daring flight;<br> - While every miss with cool contempt,<br> - Affronted by the bold attempt,<br> - Will, tittering, view thy plight.<br> -<br> - Ye girls, to you devoted ever,<br> - The object still of our endeavor<br> - Is somehow to amuse you;<br> - And if instead of higher praise,<br> - You only laugh at these rude lays,<br> - We'll willingly excuse you.<br> -<br> - Advance then each illustrious maid,<br> - In order bright to our parade,<br> - With beauty's ensigns gay;<br> - And first, two nymphs who rural plains<br> - Forsook, disdaining rustic swains,<br> - And here exert their sway.<br> -<br> - Myrtilla's beauties who can paint?<br> - The well turned form, the glowing teint,<br> - May deck a common creature;<br> - But who can make th' expressive soul<br> - With lively sense inform the whole,<br> - And light up every feature.<br> -<br> - At church Myrtilla lowly kneels,<br> - No passion but devotion feels,<br> - No smiles her looks environ;<br> - But let her thoughts to pleasure fly,<br> - The basilisk is in her eye<br> - And on her tongue the Syren.<br> -<br> - More vivid beauty—fresher bloom,<br> - With teints from nature's richest loom<br> - In Sylvia's features glow;<br> - Would she Myrtilla's arts apply,<br> - And catch the magic of her eye,<br> - She'd rule the world below.<br> -<br> - See Laura, sprightly nymph, advance,<br> - Through all the mazes of the dance,<br> - With light fantastic toe;<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page470"><small><small>[p. 470]</small></small></a></span> - See laughter sparkle in her eyes—<br> - At her approach new joys arise,<br> - New fires within us glow.<br> -<br> - Such sweetness in her look is seen,<br> - Such brilliant elegance of mien,<br> - So jauntie and so airy;<br> - Her image in our fancy reigns,<br> - All night she gallops through our veins,<br> - Like little Mab the fairy.<br> -<br> - Aspasia next, with kindred soul,<br> - Disdains the passions that control<br> - Each gentle pleasing art;<br> - Her sportive wit, her frolic lays,<br> - And graceful form attract our praise,<br> - And steal away the heart.<br> -<br> - We see in gentle Delia's face,<br> - Expressed by every melting grace,<br> - The sweet complacent mind;<br> - While hovering round her, soft desires,<br> - And hope gay smiling fan their fires,<br> - Each shepherd thinks her kind.<br> -<br> - The god of love mistook the maid,<br> - For his own Psyche, and 'tis said<br> - He still remains her slave;<br> - And when the boy directs her eyes<br> - To pierce where every passion lies,<br> - Not age itself can save.<br> -<br> - With pensive look and head reclined,<br> - Sweet emblems of the purest mind,<br> - Lo! where Cordelia sits;<br> - On Dion's image dwells the fair—<br> - Dion the thunderbolt of war,<br> - The prince of modern wits.<br> -<br> - Not far removed from her side,<br> - Statira sits in beauty's pride,<br> - And rolls about her eyes;<br> - Thrice happy for the unwary heart,<br> - That affectation blunts the dart<br> - That from her quiver flies.<br> -<br> - Whence does that beam of beauty dawn?<br> - What lustre overspreads the lawn?<br> - What suns those rays dispense?<br> - From Artemisia's brow they came,<br> - From Artemisia's eyes the flame<br> - That dazzles every sense.<br> -<br> - At length, fatigued with beauty's blaze,<br> - The feeble muse no more essays<br> - Her picture to complete;<br> - The promised charms of younger girls,<br> - When nature the gay scene unfurls,<br> - Some happier bard shall treat. -</div></div> -<br> -<a name="sect12"></a><hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>SEQUEL TO THE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG.</center> -<br> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Ye bards that haunt the tufted shade,<br> - Where murmurs thro' the hallowed glade,<br> - The Heliconian spring—<br> - Who bend before Apollo's shrine,<br> - And dance and frolic with the nine,<br> - Or touch the trembling string—<br> -<br> - And ye who bask in beauty's blaze,<br> - Enlivening as the orient rays<br> - From fair Aurora's brow,<br> - Or those which from her crescent shine,<br> - When Cynthia with a look benign,<br> - Regards the world below—<br> -<br> - Say, why, amidst the vernal throng,<br> - Whose virgin charms inspired your song<br> - With sweet poetic lore,<br> - With eager look th' enraptured swain,<br> - For Isidora's form in vain,<br> - The picture should explore.<br> -<br> - Shall sprightly Isidora yield,<br> - To Laura the distinguished field,<br> - Amidst the vernal throng?<br> - Or shall Aspasia's frolic lays<br> - From Leonella snatch the bays,<br> - The tribute of the song?<br> -<br> - Like hers I ween the blushing rose,<br> - On Sylvia's polished cheek that glows,<br> - And hers the velvet lip,<br> - To which the cherry yields its hue,<br> - Its plumpness and ambrosial dew<br> - Which even Gods might sip.<br> -<br> - What partial eye a charm can find,<br> - In Delia's look, or Delia's mind,<br> - Or Delia's melting grace,<br> - Which cannot in Miranda's mien,<br> - Or winning smile or brow serene,<br> - A rival beauty trace?<br> -<br> - Sweet as the balmy breath of spring,<br> - Or odors from the painted wing<br> - Of Zephyr as he flies,<br> - Brunetta's charms might surely claim,<br> - Amidst the votaries of fame,<br> - A title to the prize.<br> -<br> - What giddy raptures fill the brain,<br> - When tripping o'er the verdant plain,<br> - Florella joins the throng!<br> - Her look each throbbing pain beguiles,<br> - Beneath her footsteps Nature smiles,<br> - And joins the poet's song.<br> -<br> - Here even critic Spleen shall find,<br> - Each beauty that adorns the mind,<br> - Or decks the virgin's brow;<br> - Here Envy with her venomed dart,<br> - Shall find no vulnerable part,<br> - To aim the deadly blow.<br> -<br> - Could such perfection nought avail?<br> - Or could the fair Belinda fail<br> - To animate your lays?<br> - For might not such a nymph inspire<br> - With sportive notes the trembling lyre<br> - Attuned to virgin praise?<br> -<br> - The sister graces met the maid,<br> - Beneath the myrtle's fragrant shade,<br> - When love the season warms;<br> - Deluded by her graceful mien,<br> - They fancied her the Cyprian queen,<br> - And decked her with their charms.<br> -<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page471"><small><small>[p. 471]</small></small></a></span> - Say then why thus with heedless flight,<br> - The panegyric muse should slight<br> - A train so blythe and fair,<br> - Or why so soon fatigued, she flies<br> - No longer in her native skies,<br> - But tumbles through the air. -</div></div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect13"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>BRITISH PARLIAMENT IN 1835.</h4> - -<h5>NO. I.</h5> - -<center>THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></center> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Translated from a number of -the <i>Revue des Deux Mondes</i>.</small></blockquote> -<br> - -<p>The chambers in which the British Parliament are accustomed to -assemble, have nothing of the theatrical aspect of the halls for -political exhibition built in France for the representations of its -representative government.</p> - -<p>Let us enter the chamber of the Commons. Here you see no amphitheatre -for the ladies, no boxes for the Peers, nor for the <i>corps -diplomatique</i>. A narrow gallery, only, is reserved for the reporters, -and another, more spacious, is open to the public. Here are no costly -marbles, no statues, no gilding. It is truly nothing but a chamber—a -vast apartment, of greater length than width, without ornaments of any -sort—indeed, perfectly naked.</p> - -<p>Conceive that we are looking from the public gallery.</p> - -<p>Directly before us, at the bottom, is a sort of sentry-box, surmounted -by the royal arms. There, in an arm chair covered with green leather, -sits the speaker, in his black robe and greyish mittens, solemnly -dressed out in an immense wig, the wings of which fall to his waist.</p> - -<p>At his feet is a narrow table, at which the principal clerk is seated, -supporting on his two hands a large face, smiling impurturbably under -a little <i>perruque</i> that hangs over his head in the form of a -horse-shoe.</p> - -<p>The benches on which the members sit, are ranged rectilinearly in -different divisions, to the right and left, and in front of the -speaker. Every one places himself in the position that is most -agreeable to himself, and sits, or stands, at his pleasure. Every -member wears his hat, except when addressing the speaker. Every one -speaks from the place in which he finds himself at the moment. It is -not to the house, however, but to the speaker that they must address -themselves.</p> - -<p>The simple and country-like habits of the house are well suited to the -character of representatives of the people. It proves that the Commons -meet not to take part in a show, but to discharge the business of the -country.</p> - -<p>At three o'clock the speaker enters the chamber, preceded by the chief -of the ushers, the mace on his shoulder, and followed by a -sergeant-at-arms, with a sword at his side, and dressed in black after -the French fashion. Arrived at his chair, the speaker first counts the -members present. If there be forty, the session is opened, and the -chaplain repeats his prayers, to which every member listens, standing -and uncovered, with his face towards the back of his bench.</p> - -<p>Generally the first hours are consumed in matters of minor importance. -Local and private bills are discussed. The benches begin to be filled -between eight and nine in the evening. The house is rarely full before -midnight. From this period till two in the morning, they discuss great -questions, such as are likely to bring on an important vote.</p> - -<p>Such are the English. They distrust, beyond all reason, the frivolity -of their own minds. They consider it always dangerous to embark in -grave affairs, if their dinner has not been stored away to serve as -ballast. It is indispensable that they should meditate and mature -their opinions and their eloquence, while engaged in drinking their -wine and grog.</p> - -<p>When simple Mr. Brougham (the period of his greatest glory) Lord -Brougham never came to the House of Commons until he had emptied three -bottles of Port. It was at the bottom of his glass that he found -calmness, wisdom, and discretion. But since his elevation to the House -of Lords, his lordship is forced to speak fasting. It is in -consequence of this change that he is now always intoxicated. The -sobriety of his stomach produces the intemperance of his tongue and of -his brain.</p> - -<p>The invariable prolongation of its sittings late into the night, is -the cause that the House of Commons never assembles on Saturday. -Encroachment on the Sabbath would otherwise be an inevitable -legislative sacrilege; and we must admit, that it would be with but -bad grace that the Parliament alone should violate the Puritanical -laws which it so rigorously maintains, and which prescribe, during the -twenty-four hours of that sacred day, the most absolute and universal -idleness.</p> - -<p>Two words of personal statistics at present.</p> - -<p>The House of Commons contains four hundred and seventy-one members for -England, twenty-nine for Wales, fifty-three for Scotland, and a -hundred and five for Ireland—in all, six hundred and fifty-eight. On -important occasions, very few fail to appear at their posts. Six -hundred and twenty-two voted, at the commencement of this session, on -the election of the present speaker. Mr. Abercromby, elected by the -opposition, obtained a majority of but eight votes over Sir Charles -Manners Sutton, the candidate of the then ministry.</p> - -<p>You observe that the chamber is divided into two parts, almost equal -in size. On one side, the ministry and the reformers; on the other, -the conservatives, forming the present opposition.</p> - -<p>Each of these grand divisions may perhaps be subdivided. Among the -reformers or whigs, radical reformers, pure radicals, and -repealers;<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> among the conservatives, the old tories and the -demi-conservatives. Such subdivisions, however, are useless. It is no -easy thing to distinguish these different shades of opinion. Besides, -they are every day becoming gradually less distinct, and will soon -present but two parties.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> The <i>repealers</i> are Irish members advocating the repeal -of the union between Ireland and England.</small></blockquote> - -<p>In the first place, are there any whigs? Are the whigs a party? I -answer, no. There are some great noblemen, some minister-lords, whose -ancestors were whigs, but they themselves are not. To continue the -leaders of a true political party, they have been forced to become -radicals, and to make themselves interpreters and advocates of the -popular wants. What has been <span class="pagenum"><a name="page472"><small><small>[p. 472]</small></small></a></span> -the result? The whigs and the -radicals are absorbed, the one in the other. Seeing so many liberal -concessions obtained by England, the Irish Catholics have followed the -example of the liberals; they have put off their extreme demands; they -have ceased to contend for the repeal of the union. Under the orders -of O'Connell, they march behind the ministerial troops, and sustain -them so as to prevent their falling back, come what may.</p> - -<p>In the camp of the opposition there is the same fusion. Sir Robert -Peel has dressed all the tories in the uniform of conservatives. Even -the little irresolute batallion of Lord Stanley, has recently, with -its chief, assumed the new livery of the defenders of the church and -of the throne. The <i>tiers-parti</i> has not been more successful on the -side of the Manche than on the Parisian.</p> - -<p>The question, then, is simply and plainly raised. It is the great -question that is to be decided between the old society and the new, -the same that was raised in France in 1789; only, if the throne is -wise, here the whole war may be finished on the floors of Parliament.</p> - -<p>The field of battle is now before the reader. You have the army of -reformers and that of the conservatives in the presence of each -other—each recognizing but one watchword, but one standard; the first, -stronger and bolder, but having too many leaders, and a rear guard -more impatient to arrive in action than the principal body; the -second, more compact, better disciplined, and more obedient to its -only chief.</p> - -<p>Great as may be the exasperation on each side, you will rarely ever -observe the belligerent parties, even in their hostilities, depart -from their habits of chivalrous loyalty.</p> - -<p>There is a sort of Parliamentary law of nations established in the -house.</p> - -<p>The opposition never takes advantage of the absence of a minister to -interrogate his colleagues on matters foreign to their own -departments.</p> - -<p>Nor will a minister ever introduce a bill without notice; the -courtesy, in this respect, is extremely great between the two parties. -Challenges are regularly exchanged; the day and the hour are both -fixed. If any member mentions his inability to attend at the appointed -time, the motion is hurried or delayed to suit his convenience.</p> - -<p>If the question should be one of importance, and the decision -doubtful, whatever urgent business may call a member away, he will not -desert his post, unless he is enabled to find among his adversaries -some one equally desirous to absent himself. They make an arrangement -then that both shall stay away, and this double contract is always -held sacred.</p> - -<p>In their struggles, though often violent, the blows are always -generous, and aimed in front. However, the noise of the interruptions -by which approbation or discontent is expressed, would astonish and -terrify a stranger—above all, one unaccustomed to the discordance of -English pronunciation. The sound is unusual, striking, and the more -astonishing, as at first you are unable to tell whence it proceeds. -There are six hundred men, seated, uttering savage cries of joy or -anger, their bodies all the while remaining immovable, their features -preserving their usual phlegmatic and calm expression. These tumults -produce quite a fantastic effect. <i>Hear! hear!</i> is the cry of -satisfaction and encouragement. Listen to the speaker!—his discourse -penetrates and touches the soul of the question; let us listen to -him—hear him. <i>Spoke!—spoke!</i> indicates impatience, ennui, lassitude. You -abuse your privilege—you have said enough—you have spoken! This -reproach is imperative—it is rarely resisted. <i>Order! order!</i> is the -call to order; it is a summons to the speaker to notice and reprimand -the offending member who has passed the boundaries of propriety—for, -to the speaker alone belongs the right to pronounce judgment on such -occasions.</p> - -<p>The speaker centres in himself the omnipotence of the chamber of which -he is the representative. His authority is supreme, within as well as -without the walls of the Parliament house. His situation renders him a -personage of very high importance. He has his official palace, he -holds his <i>levees</i>, to which none are admitted unless in court dress. -Singular inconsistency! the very same Commoners who enter booted, -spurred, with their over-coats and their hats on, into their own hall, -would find the doors of their own speaker closed against them, if they -should present themselves without ruffles and dressed <i>à la -Française</i>. This rigorous particularity is unreasonable. Mr. Hume, -however, in a recent attack upon this absurd etiquette, found himself -unable to succeed against the powerful prejudice by which it is -upheld. The sound sense of his objections only passed for radical -folly. Thus it is that with the English the ancient forms of etiquette -have deeper root than even their old abuses. You may be certain that -they will have reformed the church, the aristocracy, and perhaps the -crown itself, before the grotesque wigs of their magistrates. Their -entire revolution will have been completed, while their new liberty -will be still distinguished by the manners and dress of the <i>ancien -regime</i>.</p> - -<p>In England, the real and undeniable sovereignty is in the House of -Commons. The British peerage is a mere phantom, a little more -respectably clothed than that of France, but quite as much of a -phantom. Still this very British Peerage, which is condemned to obey -the Commons and register their edicts, preserves all the appearances -of supremacy! It continues to command the Commons to appear at its -bar, who regularly obey this summons, preceded by their speaker! And -when the Lords, seated in their own chamber, have signified the royal -assent to the wishes of the Commons, the latter withdraw, bowing as -they go out! The real upper or superior chamber consents to be called -and to appear always as the inferior.</p> - -<p>How much do I prefer to these ceremonious <i>levees</i> of the British -speaker, the popular balls of the president of the French Chamber of -Deputies, where no orders are given to the guards to prevent the entry -of persons not in costume! Above all, I like those numbered letters of -invitation—the four hundred and fifty-nine first for the -representatives of the people, and then the four hundred and sixtieth -for the Duke of Orleans, as the first peer of the realm, and so on for -the rest. In France the peerage comes after the people!</p> - -<p>It is much to be regretted that the French do not remove the abuses -themselves, as they do their names and customs. Their system is -different from the English, but it is very doubtful if it be the best. -The latter are always very respectful subjects; they kneel -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page473"><small><small>[p. 473]</small></small></a></span> down -at the feet of royalty in supplicating it to take their will for its -pleasure. The former hold themselves erect and firm before their -monarch, who leads them by the nose, suffering them all the while to -proclaim themselves at their ease, the true sovereigns of the kingdom.</p> - -<p>Mr. Abercromby, the present speaker, by no means solicited the honor -of the chair which, at the opening of the session, was decreed him by -the first act of the reformers. Constrained to maintain, in the name -of the house, the privileges of that body, he represents that assembly -with all the dignity that his grotesque wig will permit. Happily he -has thick grey eye-brows, which harmonize extremely well with his -light-colored official <i>perruque</i>. In spite of the enormous quantity -of hair that overshadows his person, there is nothing savage in his -appearance; on the contrary, a mild and affable dignity eminently -distinguishes him; his manners are marked by a noble ease; he also -speaks well, and his full and sonorous voice is admirably suited to -the station which he occupies as president of a large and popular -assembly.</p> - -<p>The conservatives will never forgive him for having, even -involuntarily, dethroned their candidate. They regret the airs of a -superannuated dandy, and the old-fashioned elegance of Sir Charles -Manners Sutton, who, having grown old in the chair, had been long -accustomed to regard toryism with a favorable eye. It is true that Mr. -Abercromby, an avowed partizan of the reformers, has not, in -consequence of his acceptance of the speakership, become the -inexorable censor of his radical friends. So that when O'Connell, -provoked by some imprudent noblemen, branded them with epithets never -to be effaced, Mr. Abercromby was guilty of the heinous crime of not -interposing to check the vengeance of the outraged orator. -Impartiality, according to the tories, would consist in permitting -their attacks, without allowing the insulted or injured party the -rights of defence.</p> - -<p>I have now given you a general and hasty sketch of the leading -characteristics of the house; it only remains for me to carry you to -one of its sittings. We will select the occasion of the presentation -of the bill for the reform of the English and Welch Corporations, -which was, after a month of argument, finally voted. On the evening of -the 5th of June, then, it was known that Lord John Russell was to -introduce his bill in the Commons. What was to be the nature of this -measure, so long promised and so impatiently expected on one side, and -so much feared on the other? Curiosity in London was at its height; it -was the third day of the Epsom races! No matter! Every one returned to -the city—horses were abandoned for politics. As early as twelve the -crowd began to encumber the environs of Westminster, pressing towards -the gates of the palace of the Parliament. With great difficulty I -succeeded in squeezing myself into the public gallery.</p> - -<p>At three, prayers being said, the speaker having counted with the end -of his little flat three-cornered hat the members in attendance, and -more than forty being present, the session opened.</p> - -<p>There was at first a long discussion of a bill regulating the -distribution of water in the parish of <i>Mary-le-bone;</i> the debate was -of but little interest, though Mr. Henry Lytton Bulwer, Mr. Hume, and -Sir Francis Burdett look frequent part in it. My attention was fixed -on their persons, if not on their discourses.</p> - -<p>Mr. Henry Lytton Bulwer is a young radical who leads a life altogether -aristocratic. He is renowned for the elegance of his grooms and of his -vehicles. Nobody wears a black frock so short and so tight. He speaks -well and easily, with a voice somewhat unpleasant, his head elevated -and thrown back after the fashion of men of small stature. He is the -elder brother of the novelist, and is himself the author of a work on -France, in which he judges of French manners, society, politics and -literature with a degree of insane ignorance hardly less disgusting -than the <i>naïve</i> buffoonery of Lady Morgan. It is a distinguishing -characteristic of the English, to write without knowledge, observation -or study on every country they pass through. It is a pity that a man -of common sense and intelligence such as Mr. Henry Lytton Bulwer, -should have made his literary <i>debut</i> by so vulgar a piece of national -<i>gaucherie</i>.</p> - -<p>There is nothing about the person of Mr. Hume that would strike you; -he looks like a good-natured, unaffected, broad-shouldered countryman, -independent in his character, and utterly careless of fashion. His -mere manner, to say nothing of his words, expresses invincible -aversion to all ceremony. His appearance does not belie his character. -His enunciation has all the ease, firmness, and roughness of his -opinions. One of the chief priests of radicalism—an inexorable and -incorruptible reformer, he has sworn never to sit, but on the benches -of the opposition; it is from fidelity to his oath, not from sympathy, -as you might well conclude, that he now sits in the ranks of the -conservatives.</p> - -<p>Sir Francis Burdett differs from Mr. Hume both in his air, height, and -figure. Picture to yourself a long body, about five feet ten inches, -in white velvet breeches, with boots turned down at the top, and a -blue frock. A white vest, a white cravat, a little bald, flat head, -well powdered, will complete the portrait. The fate of public men who -outlive themselves, is often singular. Sir Francis Burdett, ten years -since, was as fashionable as his dress. He was the favorite of -Westminster—the popular orator of the House of Commons. He caused -himself to be imprisoned in the Tower, for having dared to speak too -boldly against royalty. Now he is suspected by the people—they suspect -him of voting with toryism. They despise him, they accuse him of -versatility. “But,” he replies, “it is you, perhaps, who have changed. -Reformers formerly, you are now radicals! Tories in my day, you are -now reformers! I have preserved my opinions and my dress!” Well! the -error is with you, Sir Francis Burdett; you should have changed also, -or not have lived to become old. If you had died at the proper time, -perhaps you might now have your statue of bronze near that of Canning, -in Westminster square. Who knows if to-morrow the same people who -formerly carried you in triumph, may not ornament your white breeches -with the mud of the streets leading to the Parliament house?</p> - -<p>At last the discussion touching the waters of Mary-le-bone draws to a -close. The house having to vote on this unlucky bill, the galleries -for the reporters and the public were cleared. This is the custom of -Parliament; decisions never take place but with closed doors.</p> - -<p>When I returned to the gallery, the hall presented -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page474"><small><small>[p. 474]</small></small></a></span> quite an -altered appearance. The less piece was finished—the great one was -about to commence. The ranks on the right and left grew thicker every -moment—each member hastened to his post.</p> - -<p>Lord John Russell, the official commander in chief of the reformers, -had appeared on the ministerial benches, to the right of the speaker. -By his side, you observed his principal aides-de-camp, the Chancellor -of the Exchequer, Mr. Spring Rice, with a large bald forehead, and the -countenance of a Satyr, the most ready, if not the ablest speaker in -the cabinet; Lord Morpeth, secretary for Ireland, a large young man -whose premature grey hairs, appear at a distance to be of a light -yellow, looking like a timid and blushing youth; Lord Palmerston, an -old bloated dandy, whose fat face seems to swell itself out between -his thick whiskers with more satisfaction since he is no longer led by -the nose by Talleyrand—Lord Palmerston, who has not wished to be made -a peer since his last return to power, pretending that his eloquence -has a more open field in the Commons than it could have in the House -of Lords.</p> - -<p>In front of the ministerial group, and separated from it only by the -table of the clerks, sits Sir Robert Peel, surrounded also by his -conservative aids, among whom you may distinguish Lord Granville -Somerset the quasimodo of Westminster, whose double hump does not -prevent him from being one of the most alert to sound the Protestant -tocsin against Popery.</p> - -<p>Here and there you may have observed other distinguished members of -the house; Daniel O'Connell, the great O'Connell, calm and absorbed in -the reading of some new book, of which he is cutting open the leaves, -in the midst of his sons, his nephews, and his Irish Catholics, who -form what is called <i>his tail;</i> a tail, if you please, but one which -leads the head of the state. After them, Lord Stanley, the young heir -of the house of Derby, that ambitious and disappointed <i>elegant</i>, who -has yet only in heart deserted the benches of the reformers.</p> - -<p>Next you have remarked two young men standing up, and differing as -much in their height and figure as in their opinions; but equally -celebrated, each one in his own way, in the world, and who, in -consequence, deserve to be described.</p> - -<p>The first is Viscount Castlereagh, son of the Marquis of Londonderry, -a mad conservative like his father, but less simple and possessed of -much more discretion. Thin and pitiful in his person, without figure -and without talent, it is not in the house that he really exists; in -the saloons of the west end is his true atmosphere—it is there alone -that his stupidity finds the air that it can respire. Lord Castlereagh -is one of the chiefs of the new school which has regenerated English -fashion. This school is entirely different from that of Brummell, -which founded its distinction upon dress. The new fashionables of the -sect of the noble lord, affect, on the contrary, entire negligence in -the dress, and the greatest freedom of manners. Nothing is brilliant -in their equipages, nor in the style of their servants. Their vehicles -are of dark colors and sombre liveries; for themselves extreme -simplicity in appearance. No flowered vests; no gold or silver lacing -about them; no jewels; at the most the end of a gold chain at the -button of a black coat; an engraved ring betraying some mysterious -sentiment known to the whole city. Add to this the most refined -impertinence of vanity, a sublime contempt for every one not of the -exclusive circle into which they alone find admission, and an -ambitious senseless jargon. Lord Castlereagh is the perfect type of -this first and principal class of London fashionables.</p> - -<p>The second, Mr. Edward Lytton Bulwer, the well known author of -<i>Pelham</i> and other novels, is, like his brother, an avowed radical. He -is large, and would, did he not stoop and hold himself in other -respects badly, appear to advantage. His hair is thick, light, and -curly. His long inexpressive countenance, and his large moist and -fixed eyes, scarcely reveal the writer of genius. I suppose it is in -some measure the incontestible success of his writings that has opened -to him the doors of that exclusive society, with which he is very much -at home. For the style of his costume he is indebted to old -traditionary fashions. You will rarely ever meet him but with his -bosom open, the skirts of a luxuriant surtout lined with velvet or -silk floating to the wind, with the rest of his dress of clear -brilliant shades, and varnished boots, brandishing some cane encrusted -with a rich head. He would remind you of those <i>parvenus</i> of bad taste -who encumber the <i>avant</i> scenes of the opera at Paris. I do not deny -the really interesting character of some of the novels of Mr. Bulwer, -though they are in other respects so wretchedly written; but it seems -to be that he acted very ridiculously in endeavoring to exaggerate -their real value, at the expense of exhibiting the absurd vanity -betrayed in every page of the sad rhapsodies he has recently published -under the title of the <i>Student</i>. I would however sooner pardon him -for this last work, than an act of his of which I have been informed. -A young American called on him the other day, with letters of -introduction. “I am delighted to see you, sir,” said Mr. Bulwer, “but -I will tell you beforehand that it will be difficult for me often to -have that honor; I have already more acquaintances than my leisure -will allow me to cultivate, and, in conscience, it is to them that I -owe the moments at my disposal.” Do you not discover in this piece of -politeness something that even surpasses the characteristic amiability -of the English? The English do not ruin themselves by hospitality. If -a stranger is introduced to them by letters of introduction, they give -him a heavy and long dinner, with a supper for dessert; then, having -stuffed him with roast beef and filled him with Port and grog, and -having spared no pains to cram him, they take their leave of him; and -if the unfortunate individual survives this cheer, their doors are -afterwards closed against his entrance. Sir Walter Scott, who was -perhaps as great a novelist as Mr. Bulwer, did not consider himself -exempt from the common duties of politeness and attention to visitors -who happened to be introduced to him. So far from it, he treated them -with much more hospitality than is the custom in England; it is true, -however, that Sir Walter, though a great novelist, was not a great -<i>fashionable</i>.</p> - -<p>There also you may have recognized Doctor Bowring searching about, -running up and down, from one bench to another, shaking the hand of -every member who will allow him to do so. The doctor is well known in -Paris; and as he did not quite waste his time in promenading the -streets of that capital, he soon discovered that charlatanism was one -of the most powerful means of success. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page475"><small><small>[p. 475]</small></small></a></span> -He took the most direct -route to attain his end, and proceeded straight to the journals. The -French journalists, when one knows how to deal with them, are -complacency itself. In a short time no one was talked of but Doctor -Bowring. The doctor did not take a single step that was not duly -registered; it was Doctor Bowring here, and Doctor Bowring there, -every where the doctor; and the honest public of the French capital, -deafened by these trumpet-tongued praises, took him for some -extraordinary important personage. On this side of the channel we -better understand the puffs of the press, so that every body laughed, -I assure you, when this Doctor Bowring was strutting through France, -so splendidly decked out with the importance which he had purchased -from the newspapers of Paris. He returned to London, but without this -glorious mantle. That had been detained at the custom house as a sort -of prohibited French merchandise. In fine, the doctor remains just -what he was before, that is to say a reformer, anxious to profit by -reform, a pale disciple of the utilitarian school of Lord Brougham; a -sort of travelling clerk of the foreign office, speaking sufficiently -well three or four living languages; a poet, who furnishes some -stanzas of ordinary poetry to the magazines; as for the rest, the very -best physician in the world.</p> - -<p>It was now near six; no one remained to be heard; the moment had -arrived for opening the lists. According to the order of the motions -for the day, the speaker gave the floor to the minister of the home -department. Suddenly the waves of the assembly subsided; a profound -silence ensued; Lord John Russell rose to speak.</p> - -<p>Lord John Russell, third son of the Duke of Bedford, is extremely -small, scarcely five feet high; the smallness of his person almost -renews his youth; one would hardly suppose him forty-five years of -age, as he really is. A head large about the forehead, and small -towards the chin, forming a sort of triangle; chesnut-colored hair, -short and thin; large eyes surmounted by well arched brows; a -countenance pale, calm, soft and phlegmatic, marked by a sort of -half-concealed cunning, are the features that would alone strike you. -His manner of speaking is in perfect harmony with his modest and quiet -exterior. His voice is weak and monotonous, but distinct. In speaking, -his body is scarcely more animated than his discourse. All his action -consists in gliding his left hand behind his back, seizing the elbow -of his right arm, and balancing himself indefinitely in that position.</p> - -<p>Lord John Russell expresses himself plainly and without effort; his -language is cold and dry, but clear and concise. An author more -concise than elegant, his style of writing exhibits itself in his -off-hand speeches. He has nothing of the tiresome volubility of -Thiers, who is minister of the home department in France; he says no -more than is necessary, while he says every thing that he wishes. His -sarcasm though frozen, is not the less sharp. The blade of his -poignard does not require to be made red hot to inflict a deep wound. -He has none of those sudden flashes which electrify and inflame an -assembly; his light is of that peaceable and steady nature that -illuminates and guides. His mind is a serious one, full of -appropriate, condensed, and well resolved reflections.</p> - -<p>In less than an hour he had unrolled the whole plan of his bill, and -concisely explained its principles and details, not without letting -fly some well sharpened arrows against the corrupting influence of the -tories over the municipal constitution, the reform of which he -demanded.</p> - -<p>As soon as Lord John Russell had resumed his seat, and in the midst of -the various murmurs which his speech had excited, Sir Robert Peel rose -to address the speaker.</p> - -<p>The ex-first lord of the treasury is of moderate height; his figure -would be elegant, but for the fatness which has already begun to -render it heavy; his dress is neat and studied without being dandyish; -his manner would not convict him of the approach of fifty; his regular -features have an expression of contemptuous severity; he seems to -affect too much the manners of a great man; natural distinction has -more ease and carelessness about it.</p> - -<p>Moreover, studied affectation is also the prevailing characteristic of -his oratory. Gesture and language both betray his ambitious -affectedness. He has more of the actor than becomes a public speaker. -It is irksome to see him agitate, struggle, and throw himself -incessantly about. I do not like to see a statesman exhibit so much -acquaintance with the positions of an elocutionist. It may be well -enough by one's own fireside to cross one leg over another and to play -with the guineas in the pockets of one's pantaloons. One may play with -his collar in a drawing room, or throw back the skirts of his frock, -without any great impropriety; but in public, and, above all, in -places devoted to the solemn discussion of the laws of a nation, this -style of flirting manners is by no means appropriate. Sir Robert -abuses the purposes for which his hands and arms were given him. One -almost loses his words in the incessant agitation of his person.</p> - -<p>In other respects I will acknowledge that his elocution is spirited, -easy, and intellectual; he may be listened to with pleasure. I am -always well pleased with the manner in which he applies his rhetorical -skill to public affairs. He has every thing which the art of speaking -can give him; but the warmth which animates him is always artificial. -The true fire of conviction which is so naturally communicated from -the speaker to his audience, is always wanting. There is no sincerity -about him. He is an ambitious tory in disguise, who, in order to seize -again the golden reins of government, has hypocritically cloaked -himself under the mantle of a reformer, and who would pass over to the -radicals with his arms and baggage, if there was any chance of -remounting by their aid to the power which he covets, and of securing -himself in its enjoyment.</p> - -<p>In accepting, with ample reservations, the principle of the bill, Sir -Robert Peel, in answer to the sharp insinuations of Lord John Russell, -made several witty and amusing observations, which diverted a good -deal the house.</p> - -<p>The minister replied in a few polite but firm observations. The -serenity of the noble lord is perfectly unchangeable. He is as calm -when defending himself, as when attacking his adversaries. I consider -this political temperament as the most desirable for a statesman -actively engaged in public affairs. Such coolness disconcerts the fury -of one's assailants. One is never worsted in a combat when he retains -such undisturbed self-possession.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page476"><small><small>[p. 476]</small></small></a></span> -<p>Some remarks on the details of the bill were made by different -members. No one having opposed its introduction, the members began to -move off. It was already night, and the hour for dinner; the candles -were not yet lit; the house rose in a body.</p> - -<p>An individual in a brown curly wig, and dressed in a blue frock, whose -broad shoulders and athletic form displayed great personal strength, -descended from the ministerial benches, and stepped in the centre of -the hall. The sound of his voice called every one back. Silence -ensued. This was the great Irishman, the <i>giant agitator</i>, as he is -called—a giant they may well call him. This energetic old man has -alone more youth and life than all the young men in the Commons -together, than the whole chamber itself.</p> - -<p>The darkness of the evening was not sufficiently great to conceal him -from my view. I see him now before me, erect on his large feet, his -right arm extended, and his body inclined forwards; I seem to hear him -speak. His remarks were not long; he said but a few words, but all his -power was condensed in them. The lion fondled while he growled. His -approbation was imperative and threatening. “So the bill has only -looked to England and Wales! Must Ireland then be always forgotten, -that its turn never comes but after the other countries of the United -Kingdom? Has it not enough of venal and corrupt municipalities? -Nevertheless, he would support openly and with all his strength, the -plan of ministers. It was a noble and glorious measure; he wished for -nothing more for Ireland.”</p> - -<p>He did not wish for more, that is to say, he did not order more for -Ireland. The wishes of O'Connell are not to be despised. In -consequence, Mr. Spring Rice hastened to satisfy him. “He need not -give himself any uneasiness,” said the Chancellor of the Exchequer; -“the government would equally do justice to Ireland. It should -likewise have its corporations reformed, and perhaps during the same -session.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks!” murmured O'Connell, mixing himself with the crowd of members -pouring out of the hall; “I will remember this promise for Ireland.”</p> - -<p><i>Ireland!</i> you should have heard him pronounce its name with that -excited, trembling accent, so full of tenderness, which emphasizes and -lingers on every syllable of the beloved word; you should have heard -him, to comprehend the power of his irresistible eloquence. Pure love -of country lends one a super-human strength. A just cause, honestly -and warmly embraced, is an irresistible weapon in hands capable of -wielding it.</p> - -<p>I am not surprised that desperate conservatives, seeing their -tottering privileges ready to be trodden under the feet of O'Connell, -should treat him as an agitator, madman, destroyer. But how is it, -that among the reformers themselves, he has so many inconsistent -admirers, who will never pardon him for the bitter violence and -inexorable severity of his speeches? Do these moderate and quiet men -believe that honeyed phrases, and the submission of prayers, would -have obtained the redress of even the least of the Irish griefs? No! -had he not struck roughly and pitilessly, the old edifice of -usurpation and intolerance would be still entire. Let him go on—let -him be pitiless; he has made an important breach in the walls—let him -level them with the ground. To overthrow such things is not -destruction; it is but the clearing of the ground to build up public -liberty.</p> - -<p>O'Connell is unquestionably the best speaker, and the ablest -politician in Parliament. Friends or enemies, every one acknowledges, -at least to himself, that he is the master-spirit; thus he is the true -<i>premier</i>. The members of the cabinet are nothing but puppets, dressed -up for show, and worked by his agency. His influence over the masses -of the people is also immense and universal. He is not the popular -idol in Ireland only, but also in England and Scotland. Long life to -him! the hopes and future welfare of three nations are centered in his -person.</p> - -<p>I have nothing further to say of the sitting of the 5th of June, -except to remark, that a sufficient number of working members were -left in the room to continue for many hours the despatch of business -of secondary importance. It is but justice to the House of Commons to -state, that great political questions do not retard the execution of -local and private business. They will often get through in a single -night, more work than the French Chamber of Deputies would in a month -of thirty days.</p> - -<p>You have seen that the opposition of the conservatives gave way before -the corporations bill. It was not without deep mortification, as you -may imagine, but prudence rendered it indispensable. It is necessary, -at any sacrifice, to assume the appearance of not hating too violently -the principles of reform. The plan is not without cunning.</p> - -<p>But the opposition counts with confidence on regaining its ground on -the question of Irish tithes and their appropriation. It is on this -question that it has halted and offers combat. “We have abundantly -proved,” say their proclamations, “that we are reasonable reformers, -but our love of change cannot induce us to sacrifice the church.” And -their church, that ungrateful and unnatural daughter, which has denied -and plundered its mother, invokes with all its power the old -prejudices of the Protestants to the aid of its champions; it sounds -the tocsin with its bells taken from Catholic steeples. Every where it -stations its bishops in its temples without altars, and makes them -preach a new crusade against Catholicism. Hear them: Of the -innumerable religious sects which encumber the three kingdoms, taking -them in alphabetical order, from the Anabaptists to the Unitarians, -there is not one so hateful and dangerous as the Catholic church. The -Popish sect is the only one that endangers the state, the throne and -the property of individuals. It is necessary to burn again the Pope in -effigy and in processions, as formerly under the reign of Queen -Elizabeth; and it would not be bad to burn on the same occasion that -impious majority in the Commons, who wish to appropriate a part of the -Protestant tithes in Ireland to the education of the poor of all -religions! God be praised, the selfish and insensate voice of the -conservatives has only cried in the desert. Their fanaticism will not -succeed against the general good sense of the nation. Within as -without the chamber, their defeat is inevitable. To use the beautiful -metaphor of Mr. Shiel, the first Irish orator after O'Connell, the -church of Ireland will be the cemetery of toryism and Protestant -intolerance.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect14"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page477"><small><small>[p. 477]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THIRD LECTURE</h4> - -<blockquote><small>Of the Course on the Obstacles and Hindrances to Education, arising -from the peculiar faults of Parents, Teachers and Scholars, and that -portion of the Public immediately concerned in directing and -controlling our Literary Institutions.</small></blockquote> -<br> - -<center><i>On the Faults of Teachers</i>.</center> - -<p>It will be recollected, my friends, that my last effort was to expose -the vices and faults of parents, so far as they obstruct the progress -of education. Those of instructers shall next be exhibited, since they -are certainly entitled at least to the second in rank in their power -to do mischief. I might sum up all <i>their</i> faults in one sweeping -condemnation, by saying that they render the persons guilty of them -enemies to themselves, to their professional brethren, and to the -public. But specifications are wanting, and such I propose to give, as -minutely and distinctly as I can.</p> - -<p>In the first place, they injure themselves by the style and language -often used when they tender their services to the public. The -expressions are frequently such as to encourage the idea, already too -prevalent, that <i>they</i> are the only party to be obliged—<i>they alone</i> -to be the receivers of favors never to be adequately compensated. -Whereas the truth is, if they are really fit for their business, and -desirous to perform it faithfully, they never receive the millionth -part of a cent for which they do not make a most ample return—a -return, the real value of which can never be measured by mere dollars -and cents. But the language in which they seek or acknowledge -employment, often expresses a degree of humility below the lowest -gospel requirement—a doubt of their own qualifications to teach, -which, if true, ought forever to exclude them from the class of -instructers. It sometimes, in fact, deserves no better name than a -servile begging for patronage, as if they considered it a species of -gratuitous alms. Ought it to be wondered at, when this is the case, -that the public should understand them literally, and treat them -accordingly? If they avoid this extreme in tendering their services, -it by no means follows, as a necessary consequence, that they should -run into the other, which is also very common, of making themselves -ridiculous by extravagant pretensions. The middle course in this, as -in many other things, is best. Let them always state plainly and -explicitly, without exaggeration, what they believe they can do—their -willingness to make the attempt with persevering fidelity, and the -pecuniary compensation expected for their services. If this were -always fairly and fully done, there could not be even the shadow of a -pretext on the part of any who might then choose to accept their -offers, for underrating their labors, and talking or acting as persons -who had conferred obligations beyond all requital, by giving much more -than they had received, or could be paid. When teachers are treated in -this way, it is, in a great measure, their own fault, and it arises -chiefly from the causes just stated. To render their intercourse with -their employers what it ought to be, and what it certainly might -become, there should be not only a feeling of entire reciprocity of -benefit as to the money part of their dealings, but a mutuality of -respect and esteem well merited on both sides. This kind of regard can -never be felt towards teachers who receive such civilities as may be -paid to them, like unexpected and unmerited favors; for if they -themselves do not appear to hold their own profession in the honor to -which it is justly entitled, who else can they expect to rate it any -higher?</p> - -<p>In the second place, teachers are often enemies to their professional -brethren in the jealousy manifested towards each other—in a restless -and ill-restrained propensity to depreciate each other's -qualifications, and a too frequent co-operation with the slandering -part of the community, when they find the children sent to them from -other schools ignorant and ill-disposed, to ascribe it all to the -defective manner in which they have been taught, rather than to the -real and very frequent causes of incapacity, bad temper, or bad early -habits. By such practices, many foolishly imagine that they are -promoting their own particular interests, when, in fact, they are -deeply injuring the general interests of the whole class of teachers, -by contributing to impair the public confidence in all schools -whatever. For what can more effectually do this with the majority of -mankind, than to hear those who set up for their instructers in -morals, as well as in general science, continually finding fault with -each other, or silently acquiescing in its being done by persons not -of their own profession? Such conduct places them in this desperate -dilemma; if what each says of every other be false, the public must -think them all base calumniators: if it be true, the conclusion is -inevitable that they are all incapable; and either alternative would -speedily and most deservedly strip the whole of employment.</p> - -<p>Lastly, teachers are often enemies to the public in so many -particulars that I scarcely know with which to begin; not that I mean -to charge them with being intentionally so—for it frequently happens -with the best people in the world, that they are among the last to see -their own greatest defects. Some of the faults of teachers may be -considered as belonging exclusively to themselves, and for which they -can find no excuse whatever in the faults of others—such, for example, -as the two first enumerated. But those which I have now to expose, are -so intimately blended with the faults of their employers, of their -children, and of that portion of the world with which they are more -immediately connected, that, like the reciprocating action of the -various parts of certain mechanical contrivances, these faults must be -viewed as causing each other. Thus, the parental fault of blindness to -their children's defects, both natural and moral, and their consequent -injustice to the instructers who ever blame or punish them, give birth -to the equally fatal fault in teachers of carefully avoiding every -hint of incapacity, and studiously concealing the ill-conduct of their -pupils, because well aware that they probably will not be believed. If -compelled to make communications on so perilous and ungrateful a -subject, they are so softened and frittered away, as to produce a far -less pardonable deception than entire silence, since a sensible parent -would ascribe the last to its proper motive, when the glossing and -varnishing process might lead them entirely astray. The same knowledge -of the self-delusion, and consequent injustice of parents, leads -teachers to the frequent commission of another fault, in which they -often engage their particular friends as participators. At their -public examinations (where they have any) they contrive a sort of -Procrustes' bed, which all their pupils are made to fit, but rather by -the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page478"><small><small>[p. 478]</small></small></a></span> -stretching than by the lopping process. This is usually -managed so adroitly, that the public will see numerous goodly -advertisements, with many imposing signatures, taking their rounds -through all the newspapers, by which it clearly appears that every -scholar in the school, however numerous they may be, even to the -youngest child, performed to the entire satisfaction and admiration of -all who saw or heard them. It is utterly impossible that these -examinations, if fairly made, could have any such uniform and -favorable result; for the difference of natural capacity alone must -inevitably produce a great inequality of performance in the pupils. -Every body with five grains of experience, knows that many other -causes are constantly operating to increase this inequality. Such -reports, therefore, of examinations, fail entirely with the -reflecting, well-informed part of the community, to produce any thing -but ridicule, disgust, or pity, while the ignorant and inexperienced -are most unjustifiably imposed upon. The most deceived of any will -generally be the parents who are absent, whose natural partiality for -their own children so blinds their judgment, as to make them believe -in any eulogium bestowed upon them, however extravagant. Little else -is ever accomplished by these truly delusive spectacles, unless it be -most injuriously to inflate the vanity of the poor pupils. The desire -to be puffed in the newspapers, and talked about in public, is -substituted for the love of learning for its own sake, and thereby one -of the most important objects of education is greatly obstructed. -<i>This is</i>, or <i>ought to be</i>, to excite in all persons under pupilage -an ardent desire to gain knowledge, because they love it for itself, -and for the power which it confers of promoting human happiness.</p> - -<p>The reciprocal faults just stated in teachers and parents, co-operate, -not to promote in any way, but to destroy the great ends of -instruction, so far at least as they can contribute to the work of -destruction. Let it not be understood, from the foregoing remarks, -that I am opposed to public examinations in all schools whatever; -although I certainly wish it to be understood that, as generally -managed, they are worse than useless. But I do object to them -altogether in schools for females—unless, among our other marvellous -advances towards perfectibility, we should take it into our heads to -make lawyers, doctors, statesmen, and soldiers of our daughters, -instead of modest, unassuming, well-informed, home-loving, and -virtuous matrons. <i>Then, indeed</i>, it will be necessary to give them -that kind of early training, continually aided by public examinations -at school, which will inure them to the public gaze, and enable them, -in due time, to meet the searching eyes of multitudes with unabashed -hardihood of countenance; and entirely divested of such a very -needless incumbrance as that retiring, timid, indescribable modesty, -heretofore deemed one of the most lovely, fascinating, and precious -traits of the female character. I will not go so far as to assert that -none can possess this trait who have been accustomed to be publicly -examined—for I have the happiness to know many from whose hearts -neither this ordeal, nor all the other corrupting influences of the -world united, have had power to banish those admirable principles and -qualities which constitute at once the most endearing ornaments and -highest glory of their sex. But I <i>will say</i>, that they are -exceptions, forcibly illustrating the truth of the general principle, -which is, that modesty, or indeed any other good quality, <i>must</i>, in -the end, be destroyed by causes continually operating to work its -destruction.</p> - -<p>Another sore evil of incalculable extent, in relation to this subject -of education, is the frequent discordance between the precepts and the -lessons which must necessarily be taught in all well-regulated -schools, and the examples witnessed, the opinions heard, and the -habits indulged in at home. This often places conscientious teachers -in a most puzzling and painful dilemma, from which many shrink -altogether, while others vainly endeavor to compromise the matter in -such a manner, as completely to <i>nullify</i> (if I may use a very current -phrase) every effort to do good. The dilemma is, that in discharging -the duty to the child, the parent, although indirectly, is unavoidably -condemned, every time the teachers warn their pupils, as they -continually ought to do, against any of the faults and vices most -prevalent in society. Desperate, indeed, and almost hopeless, is the -task of teaching, when this most deplorable, but very common case -occurs. For what is the consequence of imparting virtuous principles -and habits to the children, admitting the possibility of it, where -none but vicious examples have been seen under the parental roof? -Their eyes are inevitably opened to the wretched moral destitution of -those to whom, under God, they owe their existence; and they are thus -plunged into a state of perpetual suffering, if not actual misery—for -the better the children become, the greater will be their distress and -affliction at the condition of their parents. What fathers or mothers -are there, having either hearts to feel or understandings to discern -the awful responsibilities they live under in regard to their -children, but must tremble at the bare thought of setting them bad -examples, and thus becoming a source of double misery to their own -offspring—misery <i>here</i>, even if they escape the contagion of these -vicious parental practices and habits—and misery <i>hereafter</i>, should -they be so deeply infected as to prove irreclaimable?</p> - -<p>Another highly pernicious fault, of which multitudes of teachers are -guilty, is continually to act as if they took upon themselves no other -responsibility than that of a mere formal attendance in their schools -for the number of hours prescribed, to hear prescribed lessons -repeated in a parrot-like manner. Any thought of being accountable for -the influence exerted in forming the characters of so many -fellow-beings, seems never to enter their minds, although this is -beyond all calculation the most important part of the whole process of -education.</p> - -<p>Another fault of frequent occurrence among instructers is, to have -such an overweening, extravagant sense of their own dignity, as to be -incessantly on the watch for offences committed against it. Thus even -a single muscular contortion of a pupil's face, whether natural or -accidental, and even if he be but nine or ten years old, will be -construed into a most grievous and flagrant insult, not to be expiated -but by some signal punishment, usually of a corporeal kind, and -inflicted in such a manner as to prove that the operators are rather -working off their own wrath than endeavoring to cure the scholar's -defects. By this truly ridiculous sensitiveness, they are certain so -to expose themselves as either to become laughing-stocks or objects of -scorn and contempt to all their older scholars, or of the most -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page479"><small><small>[p. 479]</small></small></a></span> -perfect hatred to the younger ones. In all such cases these teachers -become real nuisances—for the injuries done by such conduct to the -tempers of their pupils, far exceed any possible benefit they can gain -at such schools.</p> - -<p>There are some faults of teachers which greatly impair, if they do not -entirely destroy, a proper subordination among their scholars. One is -the want of a dignified manner, equally removed from a proud, haughty, -imperious demeanor, and too much familiarity. Another is the excessive -fear of offending the parents, and perhaps losing the pupils, by -complaint. In every case of the kind, the child, of course, escapes -all effectual reproof or adequate correction, especially if the parent -be very wealthy, very weak, or extensively connected with what are -usually called “<i>great people</i>.” Invidious distinctions are thus -created in such schools, and the influence of all punishment is lost, -even over those upon whom it may be inflicted, sometimes in double or -quadruple proportions, to compensate for the omission in the cases of -the favored culprits.</p> - -<p>Another fault, little, if any less destructive of the influence which -teachers should possess over their pupils, is their general -carelessness in the all-essential duty of striving to convince their -scholars that they are really and deeply interested, both as social -beings and as christians, in leading their juvenile minds to the -sublimest heights of knowledge and virtue. No instructer who fails to -do this, whatever may be his or her other qualifications, can possibly -succeed well in the main objects of education. They may, indeed, cram -their pupils' heads with words, and even get into them a very showy -stock of ideas; but in regard to the great, vital principles of human -action, <i>piety and virtue</i>, these pupils will be in little better -condition, as to true moral worth, than so many automata, having the -power of uttering articulate sounds, and repeating what they have been -taught, but devoid of all generous, benevolent, and virtuous motives -of conduct. The notion constantly present to their minds will be, that -they pay their money for a quantum of reluctant service, to a selfish -and mercenary being, whose constant study is, to perform no more of -such service than barely sufficient to secure the pupils' continuance -at school, for the sake of the pecuniary compensation alone. Ought -there to be any wonder if the scholars themselves, under such -circumstances, contract the same selfishness, the same base love of -lucre, which they find often so productive of profit, and which they -believe to be the governing principle of their teacher's conduct? -Should the general propensity to extravagance in the use of money, so -fatally common among young people, or their better feelings imbibed at -home, protect them from contracting principles similar to those of -such instructers, they are in danger of adopting another opinion -equally destructive of the chance of deriving intellectual or moral -improvement from any school whatever. This is, a firm belief that the -whole class of teachers are destitute of every thing like generous and -noble sentiments, and are consequently utterly undeserving of -deference, respect, esteem, or affection.</p> - -<p>Another thing which greatly impairs the influence of teachers with -their pupils, is the very common practice of giving way to their own -faults and bad habits in the presence of their scholars. Those who -take upon them to instruct others in practical duties, must so act on -all occasions as to be able to say, “<i>Not only do as I tell you, but -do as I do;</i>” for without good examples in teachers, all their -precepts go for nothing, or will be obeyed from no other principle but -fear.</p> - -<p>Another fault much too common among teachers, is, that many will enter -into the profession, who are exceedingly deficient in all the -requisite qualifications; and whose sole object is to support -themselves at other people's expense, while preparing for some other -pursuit, to which the business of teaching is made a kind of -convenient stepping-stone. For all the mechanic arts—even the most -simple—a particular training and appropriate education is deemed -essential. But for that most difficult of all arts, next to governing -a nation—I mean the art of preparing youth successfully to fulfil all -their various duties in life—no peculiar adaptation of talent seems -ever to be looked for; no course of study or instruction, specially -suited to this all important profession, is scarcely any where -systematically pursued, or required. We will not trust even a tinker -to mend a hole in a dish or basin, unless we believe that he has been -regularly bred to his business; yet we fear not to trust both the -souls and bodies of our children—both their temporal and eternal -happiness—to persons of whom we often know nothing, but that they -profess to teach a few sciences, a foreign language or two, and -possibly some ornamental art; as if the mere professing to do these -things was necessarily accompanied by the full power and skill to -accomplish that infinitely greater object of all education—the forming -the hearts, minds, and principles of youth, to the love of knowledge -and the practice of virtue! This last all important qualification, -without which every other will be unavailing, is so far from being the -inseparable concomitant of what is usually called “learning,” that it -is rarely ever found in those who have had no practical experience in -teaching: not that practice alone will give it, for it seems to be the -result of a combination of circumstances and qualities not often -uniting in the same person. These are—perfect self-control—great -benevolence—much forbearance—a quickness in distinguishing all the -various shades and diversities of character in children—sound judgment -in selecting the best means of instruction—with unwearied perseverance -in applying them. Many an humble mother, who scarcely understands even -the meaning of the terms grammar, science, and literature, possesses -vastly more of this highly essential art, than thousands of the most -erudite scholars; and are as far superior to them for all the most -valuable purposes of education, as Sir Isaac Newton was to Swift's -ideal clown, whom he represents as ignorantly calling this -incomparable philosopher, “one Isaac Newton, a maker of sun dials.” -Not that I would undervalue learning in teachers; no, very far from -it, for a large portion of it is indispensable. But I mean to assert, -that <i>there is a peculiar art of teaching</i>, not necessarily connected -with, nor the result of, what is usually called learning. It is the -art, as I before remarked, of forming the hearts, minds and principles -of children, to the love of knowledge and to the practice of virtue, -which mere learning can never confer. It is an art, in fact, which -must have for its basis strong natural sense and feelings—a heart full -of the milk of human kindness—sound, moral, and religious principles—a -clear, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page480"><small><small>[p. 480]</small></small></a></span> -discriminating judgment, a considerable portion of -scholastic learning, and some practical experience. Those alone who -possess and love to exercise this art, are capable of imparting “that -education which bears upon the machinery of the human mind, which is -truly practical—that which breaks up the ‘fallow ground’ of the human -heart—that which brings forth the fruits of intelligence and virtue.” -In other words, (to borrow the language of an admirable article on -popular education, in a late North American Review,) every teacher, -when entering upon the discharge of his duties, should be able most -conscientiously “to say with himself—‘now, <i>my</i> business is to do what -is in my power, to rear up for society intelligent and virtuous men -and women: it is not merely to make good arithmeticians or -grammarians, good readers or writers, good scholars who shall do -themselves and me credit—this, indeed, I have to do; but it is still -farther, to make good members of society, good parents and children, -good friends and associates; to make the community around me wiser and -happier for my living in it: my labor, in fine, must be, to ingraft -upon these youthful minds that love of knowledge and virtue, without -which, they cannot be happy, nor useful, nor fitted for the greatest -duties; and without which, indeed, all their acquisitions will soon -drop like untimely blossoms from the tree of life.’”</p> - -<p>We bind lads to hatters, shoemakers, and tailors, to learn their -trades, lest our miserable bodies and limbs should not receive their -due share of decoration—nay, we often make the mere fashion of these -decorations an object of the most anxious concern, of the deepest -imaginable interest; while the artizans who are to adorn our minds -with <i>their</i> appropriate embellishments, are left to pick up their -qualifications as they may; frequently too, they are persons without -any inclination, or talents, or temper, or principles, to fit them for -this all important business; and not unfrequently, with so slender a -stock of the requisite knowledge and learning, as to be much more -suitable subjects for <i>receiving</i>, than for imparting instruction. -True it is, that such charlatans and impostors are soon found out; but -they contribute greatly to degrade the profession, and do infinite -mischief in other respects; for they are free to roam every where, -without any testimonials of their fitness, and rarely fail to find -some new field for their fatal empiricism.</p> - -<p>Another crying fault among teachers is, that many still make rods and -sticks their chief—if not the sole reliance, for restraining their -pupils from doing what they prohibit, or for compelling them to do -what they command; as if the only sure method of informing the mind, -or curing the deep-rooted diseases of the soul, was by the barbarous -quackery of bruising the head, or scarifying the body. Under the old -<i>regime</i>, there were some punishments, (possibly still in use) of -which it is hard to say, whether the cruelty or folly was greatest. -For instance—one was to beat the collected ends of the fingers with an -implement, sometimes made like a butter stick, at other times like a -broad, flat rule. This served the double purpose of inflicting the -first punishment, and for administering a second, which was to smack -the palms of the open hands until they were often black and blue with -bruises. I can speak experimentally of a <i>third</i> punishment, not less -novel, I believe, than ingenious; but whether it was ever practised by -any other than a master of my own, (God rest his soul!) “this deponent -sayeth not.” It was unquestionably a favorite one with him, and well -do I remember it, having occasionally suffered it in my own person. -There was one thing which the scholars thought much in its favor—it -could only be conveniently applied in the season for fires, as it -consisted in igniting the end of a stick, extinguishing the blaze -after a sufficient quantity of charcoal was formed, and then smoking -the boys' noses, who were compelled to stand as still as statues, from -the dread of something still more painful. How it may be with such of -my school fellows and fellow sufferers as are still living, I cannot -tell; but I confess my own nostrils have always taken unusual alarm at -smoke ever since, although it has been more than forty years since -they have received any in this way. What could have been our worthy -tutor's object I never could conjecture, unless it might have been to -give himself lessons in physiognomy, while contemplating the various -contortions into which he could throw the human countenance, by the -application of so simple, so cheap an agent, and thus coming at a -better knowledge of the dispositions and characters of his pupils. I -have it from several unquestionable authorities, that other -punishments, still more cruel, irrational, and unjustifiable, <i>were -once</i>, if they are not yet, common in some schools. Among these, I -will here mention one, which a highly estimable gentleman told me, -that he himself saw inflicted on his own brother, many years ago, in a -celebrated eastern school, which was always full to overflowing. The -poor little fellow, for some offence not recollected, was actually -suspended from the floor by his thumbs, and suffered to hang so long, -that several weeks elapsed before he recovered the perfect use of his -hands. This was kept a profound secret from the father, doubtless -through fear of their barbarous tyrant, lest he should inflict some -equally cruel punishment on the informer.</p> - -<p>In proof of farther deficiency in the requisite qualifications to -perform, even what teachers themselves often promise—to say nothing of -what the public have a right to expect from all who profess to teach—I -will notice two or three advertisements which I myself saw several -years ago. The schools, by the way, no longer exist. I rely upon these -public annunciations as conclusive evidence of incompetence, because, -with ample time to prepare such notices, if persons who offer to -undertake the business of instruction, do not, even with the -assistance of friends, put forth an advertisement in passable English, -the failure is a clear demonstration, that much more is promised than -the individual is capable of performing. The first advertisement -contained a promise “to teach English Grammar <i>orthöepically</i>.” The -second notice informed all whom it might concern, that the gentleman -would “<i>learn</i>” (instead of teach) all children all the branches which -he enumerated, comprehending nearly the whole circle of sciences; but, -notwithstanding this palpable proof, that he was ignorant of his own -language, he soon obtained from seventy to eighty pupils. The third -advertisement proclaimed, that all the various branches in which -instruction was given by the subscribers, “were taught upon <i>reasoning -principles</i>.” Many more examples might be given of public promises to -teach, which were falsified by the very terms in which they were made, -but these, I hope, will suffice. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page481"><small><small>[p. 481]</small></small></a></span> -For this evil of incompetent -teachers there seems to be no corrective but public opinion. This, -however, must be more enlightened—must be better educated, before it -can interpose effectually. Something, perhaps, might be beneficially -done, by a law forbidding any persons from acting as teachers without -certificates of fitness from well qualified judges. This is done in -other countries, and in some parts of our own, as to the professions -both of law and medicine. But in these parts, as with us, it would -seem as if bodily health and property were esteemed of infinitely -higher value, than all the faculties of the mind and endowments of the -soul put together. These last are left defenceless—so far, at least, -as <i>law</i> is concerned: the glorious privileges of ignorance are in all -respects equal to those of knowledge, as regards the right to teach, -or rather <i>to attempt</i> its exercise: and he who proposes to vend -nonsense—nay, mental poison, like the vender of damaged goods and -quack medicines, stands precisely on the same footing with the wisest, -the best man, and the fairest and the most honest dealer in the -nation. Not a solitary obstacle exists to the success of either, but -the difficulty of procuring customers, and this is easily overcome, -simply by the proclamation of “cheap goods! cheap physic! cheap -schooling!” It has been said in vindication of such unrestrained, and -often highly pernicious practices, that “every one has a right to do -as he pleases with his own.” But this is true, only so long as we do -nothing injurious either to ourselves or to others. The first species -of injury is clearly, undeniably prohibited by the laws of God, the -last is forbidden both by God and man. But we violate both divine and -human laws, in offering to undertake so sacred a trust as that of -teaching, if we know ourselves to be incapable of fulfilling it; and -the parent who accepts such offer, incurs still deeper guilt, if he -either knows or strongly suspects the incompetency of those who make -it. Another argument is, that no person, however unfit, should be -prevented from attempting to teach, because, if really incapable, this -will soon be discovered; and, of course, such would-be teacher would -get no employment. But those who use such arguments appear to forget -entirely, that until our whole population be far better educated, than -at present, the merest pretender to science and literature, who ever -made the offer to instruct others, will always have some pupils sent -to him “<i>upon trial</i>,” (as I have often heard it said,) especially if -care be taken to call the new establishment “<i>a cheap school</i>.” The -inevitable consequence of this <i>sending upon trial</i>, is, that the -whole time the experiment lasts, is literally thrown away, if nothing -worse. The poor children, who are the defenceless victims of the -process, sustain the immediate loss; and indirectly, the public at -large is injured to the full amount of the deficiency of that -knowledge which the pupils might have gained under suitable -instructers, and which might avail them, at some future period, to -serve their country in some useful capacity or other. <i>If knowledge be -power, time is wealth</i>, and wealth too, of the most precious kind; -since to misapply it ourselves, or wilfully to make others do it, -whose conduct our duty requires us to direct, is to expose to -forfeiture our <i>own</i> chance of happiness in both worlds, and to place -<i>them</i> in similar danger.</p> - -<p>Even among very competent teachers, there is frequently a fault of -very pernicious tendency, in which they are encouraged, particularly -by those who patronize them. It is often, probably, committed without -design to deceive; but in this, as in many other matters, innocence of -intention does not prevent the mischief of the act. Dr. South, I -believe, somewhere says, “Hell itself is paved with good intentions.” -The fault to which I allude is, that they, and their friends for them, -often promise <i>too much</i>. Thus the teachers make out a very specious -and flourishing epitome of their respective institutions, promising at -one and the same time, both to shorten the period of instruction, and -to augment the stock of knowledge imparted, in some most surprising -manner, by means of various wonder-working contrivances. Upon this, -probably, some partial and over zealous friends are consulted. These, -in order to repay the compliment paid to their judgment, feel bound to -flourish away in their turn; when, behold, the joint product of this -mutual flattery is a marvellous statement running through our public -journals, by way of epilogue to the prospectus of these schools, -representing the conductors of them as all so many Edgeworths, -Pestalozzis, and Fellenburgs; their pupils all docile and talented; -or, if perchance a stray black sheep should get among them, it is -speedily made as white as the best of them, either by the force of -example, or by an admirable system of rules and regulations of such -sovereign potency, as to effect <i>that</i> for a school, in a few weeks or -months, which all the moral and religious teachers who have existed -since the birth of our Saviour, have failed to accomplish for the -christian world in eighteen hundred and thirty-six years. In these -magic seminaries, by the wonder-working inventions of their -conductors, all the crooked paths of education are speedily made -straight—all the rough places smooth, and every old difficulty, which -in times of yore, rendered the business of teaching and learning so -irksome, tedious and puzzling, is made to vanish with a “presto, -begone, thou mischievous imp of exploded and despised antiquity!” All -the movements of these modernized and Utopian institutions, are -represented as going on like clock-work, smooth as oil, and regular as -the planetary system itself. Here, are never to be heard of any -unmanageable children—any dunces—any mules who <i>can</i>, but <i>will not</i> -learn. Here the fabled Parnassus is realized, with all its charming -prospects of verdant slopes, odoriferous flowers, delicious fruits, -and immortalizing laurels: and here, the splendid portals of the -august temple of science bear upon their ample fronts, the -soul-cheering invitation of, “ask and ye shall have, knock and they -shall be opened unto you;” the mere reading alone of which, is to -obtain for the scholars as ready an admittance to all their -exhaustless treasures, as the repetition of the cabalistic word -“sesame,” used to gain into the robber's cave of the Arabian Nights' -Entertainments. These truly marvellous facilities invented by us -moderns, to expedite the manufacture of profound scholars and -immaculate moralists, as far surpass the clumsy contrivances of our -ancestors, to accomplish the same ends, as that most palatable -expedient for teaching the famous Martinus Scriblerus his alphabet, -exceeded in ingenuity and delectable adaptation to the designed end, -every other scheme devised for a similar purpose. It consisted simply, -in coaxing the little genius to eat his letters cut out of -gingerbread. Oh! the profundities and the altitudes of these -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page482"><small><small>[p. 482]</small></small></a></span> -wondrous improvements! when shall we all learn to estimate them as -they deserve? Not that I mean to deny the real advances made in the -arts of teaching, as well as in the general system of education. These -certainly have been very great, and are justly entitled to much -praise. But I believe the facts will warrant me in asserting, that -they fall far short of what they are generally represented to be; and -that, if stripped of all exaggeration, of all false pretension, so as -to be estimated exactly for what they are worth and no more, they will -be found to have gained more in show than use: in other words, that -they are, in no small degree, calculated to make vain, superficial -pretenders to true knowledge, rather than profound scholars and real -proficients in any art or science whatever—unless it be in the art of -puffing, which seems now to have reached its acme of perfection. If -the amount of these improvements were nearly equal to what is claimed -for them, we should scarcely be able to walk along the streets of our -towns and cities, without running our heads against such men as -Pythagoras, Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato. But what is the plain, -stubborn matter of fact? Why, that it is very doubtful, whether the -number of such illustrious men (if such can be found at all,) now -bears an equal proportion to the present population of the world, that -the number did to the population of the period in which the -philosophers just mentioned immortalized their names. There must be -some reason for this, if true, as I confidently believe it to be; and -it must lie much deeper, and have much more force, than the zealous -advocates for the vast superiority of modern over by-gone times in the -arts of teaching, will be willing to allow. May it not be found in the -remarkable fact, that in ancient times, no men occupied a more -elevated rank than <i>teachers</i>, while the all important business of -teaching youth was confined to men of the highest order of talent—the -most profound knowledge, and the greatest respectability of character; -whereas, in our days, this indispensable occupation—this profession, -so vitally necessary to human happiness, is permitted to be exercised -by any one who chooses to attempt it? Nay, more, in these times, men -of the highest order of talent and greatest acquirements, very rarely -devote themselves to it. Hence, in public estimation, it has fallen -nearly into the lowest ranks, whereas it once held, and ought again to -occupy at least an equal grade with the highest of all the -professions. None, I presume, will deny that the proportion of human -talent is much the same in all ages. But education being the great -moving power which enables this talent to exert itself efficaciously, -the evidences of this exertion must always increase both in number and -degree, if the modes of culture improve as fast as the subjects -increase, upon whom they are to be exercised. Is this the fact?—<i>if it -is</i>, where are the proofs in regard to the present times? Let those -who have them bring them forward. There can be no doubt that a most -delightful and fascinating picture might be given of the present state -of society by any one who would exhibit all the good which is to be -found in it, leaving entirely out of view every thing which is bad. -But this last must even grow worse in education, as in every thing -else, if it be not exposed with an unsparing hand.</p> - -<p>Having spoken, as some perhaps may think too harshly, of the fault -committed by teachers who claim for themselves any great and novel -discovery in teaching, let me endeavor equally to expose those who -tempt them to the commission. It is with modes of instruction as with -schools themselves—the newest are generally believed to be the best; -and this seems often to be taken for granted, even by those who ought -to know better. Not that novelty alone should constitute a valid -objection to any thing; but surely it never should be considered of -itself a sufficient recommendation to any scheme or project, the -obvious design and effect of which will be, to subvert something long -established and well approved. Yet in regard to schools, it is often -sufficient to insure abundant patronage to utter strangers who offer -to instruct young persons of either sex, if they will only profess to -teach <i>old things</i> in a <i>new way</i>, or something purporting to be -altogether new, and will dignify with the name of “<i>system</i>” what they -are pleased to claim as a method of their own, or of some person -equally unknown to the solicited patrons or patronesses. This -fascinating term “<i>system</i>” settles all doubts, and the new broom -sweeps all before it. I say not this with the slightest view of -discouraging the establishment of new schools. Nothing, indeed, is -farther from my thoughts—for I wish with all my heart that a good one -could be fixed in every neighborhood throughout the United States. But -the remarks have been made to inculcate the absolute necessity for -avoiding all precipitation in the choice of schools, and for adopting -some better measure of their merits than their own pretensions. It is -true that parents and guardians must run some risk in sending to any -school whatever, not immediately under their own eyes, and well known -to them. But surely such risk need not be near so great as it often -is, if they would always seek something beyond mere novelty in making -their choice. How, and from whom, to seek is the great difficulty; for -the characters of schools and their teachers are among the most -uncertain things in the world—since they depend infinitely more on the -prejudices and partialities of those who undertake to give them, than -on their own real merits. Thus the parents and guardians of children -who are either too stupid or too perverse to learn, will almost always -ascribe their want of information to the teachers, and censure them in -the most unqualified terms. On the other hand, where great progress -has been made by the pupils, their friends and relatives will be -equally profuse in praising their instructers. Strangers who are to -decide, will rarely ever consider, or even inquire what is the -relative situation of the eulogizers and censurers in regard to the -schools and their teachers whose characters are given; although it is -obvious, on the slightest reflection, that we cannot possibly judge -correctly of any opinions affecting the reputation of others, without -knowing thoroughly the motives of the persons who deliver these -opinions, as well as their credibility. There is another important -circumstance affecting the character of schools, which is very rarely -attended to as it should be. The last to which the pupils go, although -it be only for a few months or weeks, bears all the blame, or receives -all the praise, for whatever habits they are found to possess—for -whatever knowledge or ignorance may be discovered in them. It never -appears for a moment to cross the brains of these character-coiners, -that habits, either good or bad, cannot possibly be of such quick -growth; or that much <span class="pagenum"><a name="page483"><small><small>[p. 483]</small></small></a></span> -ignorance cannot be removed, nor much -knowledge imparted, within a period utterly insufficient for -communicating even the simplest elements of moral and scientific -instruction.</p> - -<p>The last fault which I shall notice among teachers, is, their not -unfrequent practice of endeavoring to make a kind of compromise -between that system of instruction based upon the unchangeable, -eternal principles of the Gospel of Christ, and that which is -preferred by the world at large. Few things, if any, can differ more; -few in fact, are so utterly irreconcileable to each other: yet many -teachers act as if they believed that their amalgamation must be -attempted, cost what it may. The mere worldly portion of society, who -compose a most fearful majority in every country, must be persuaded -that their children will be educated according to their own principles -and views; while the religious part of the community, small as it -seems by comparison, must likewise be regarded as worthy of the -teacher's attention. It is easy to infer what must be the result of -any attempt to form this oil and water amalgam—this hotchpotch of -contrarieties, where the worldly influence preponderates so much. The -morality of the pupils will very rarely, if ever, reach beyond the -external man, as it is not implanted in its only appropriate soil—the -heart. Its cardinal maxim will be—not the admirable christian rule of -“doing as you would be done by,” but—“do as others do; always wear a -specious outside; ever keep well with the world, by conforming to all -its fashionable practices;” while their religion will consist almost -solely, in a mere formal and reluctant attendance at places of public -worship, and in a seeming abstinence from scandalous vices.</p> - -<p>It may be alleged as some small excuse perhaps, for this compromising -spirit in teachers, that a very large portion of those who employ them -are really incompetent to decide correctly, either how or what their -children should be taught, although such persons are often most apt to -interfere with the teacher's views; and are most liable to be governed -by their own prejudices and passions rather than by reason and -judgment. If the instructer, in any case, subjects his principles to -their guidance, he degrades himself, he loses his self-respect by -offending against his own conscience; on the other hand, if he obeys -<i>that</i>, he risks the loss of their patronage by offending against -their self-conceit, and few there are with moral courage enough to -brave this danger. To what source therefore can we look with any -rational hope of success for that reform in teachers—in schools—and in -the relative merits of the matters taught, which is so demonstrably -essential both to individual and national happiness? The disease is in -a vitiated public opinion; and where are the moral physicians who have -hardihood enough to attempt, and influence sufficient to administer -the necessary remedies?</p> - -<p>In my endeavors to expose the faults of parents, I gave one female -example of ignorant interference with teachers. Having again just -spoken of this pernicious practice, let me here cite an instance of a -father, whose power to direct will best appear after the following -statement. I once breakfasted, some thirty years ago, with one of -those utterly incompetent parents, accompanied by two fine-looking -little boys, apparently about eleven and twelve years of age. The -father was more than half drunk, early as it was in the morning, and -told me, with a look of most ineffable self-complacency, that “he had -brought his boys from school to town, to see”—what think you, my -friends? why, “a negro hanged,” adding, “that it had always been <i>his -opinion</i>, you could not too soon <i>give boys a knowledge of the world -by showing them everything that was to be seen</i>.” Can we wonder that -this world should be what it is, when such animals in the form of men, -direct the education of so large a portion of it? They possess the -legal right of directing, and none can control them. The consequence -is, that thousands of youths who might have proved ornaments and -blessings to their country, are utterly lost to every valuable purpose -in life.</p> - -<p>To judge better how far it is possible for teachers to mingle a -worldly with a Christian system of instruction, let us endeavor -briefly to state what we believe to be the only true and justifiable -objects of education. These are—to insure, as far as human means can -accomplish it, that there shall be “sound minds in sound bodies;” -which can only be effected by fully developing the powers of both. If -this be true, and not a rational man in the world, I think, will deny -it, the merit of every plan of instruction must depend on its -competency to achieve this great purpose by the direction which it -gives to natural talent, and by its power to restrain or encourage the -natural dispositions; to inculcate every species of useful knowledge; -and to perfect all those corporeal powers, the exercise of which is -essential to the procurement of health and the means of subsistence. -Unless all these be done, and judiciously too, there cannot possibly -be, <i>sound minds in sound bodies</i>. There may be abundance of science, -a great knowledge of languages, a splendid assortment of -accomplishments; but so far as depends upon scholastic instruction, -there will be few or none of those great principles of human conduct -which are to bear us triumphantly through all the perils both moral -and physical of the present life, and lead us to heaven. The -fashionable systems of the present day, can no more accomplish this, -than they can teach children to fly. Religious principle, constantly -demonstrated by religious practice, must, aye <i>must</i> be the first and -last thing taught and required; or all the science and literature of -the schools will be utterly unavailing to human happiness. But how -many schools have we, where this is done? How many are there wherein -not even <i>a pretence</i> is made of either public or private worship—of -either moral or religious instruction? Numerous, deplorably numerous -are the instances in which the poor pupils are all left to seek God or -not, according to their own fancies; and where the miserable pretext -for such criminal neglect is, that the Liberals of the present times, -than whom, by the way, there are no greater bigots upon earth—bigots I -mean in <i>unbelief</i>—would probably deem it an improper interference -with the religious creeds of the scholars, if one word were ever -uttered about religion at all. Every thing of the kind they denounce -as sectarian—even Christianity itself; as if there was not just as -much sectarianism in infidelity, as among any sect of Christians to be -found in the world. Nay more, as if the dangers of error in either -party were not most fearfully greater on their side than on the side -of the Christians.</p> - -<p>The foregoing faults are not confined to boy schools; but too often -appear in female schools also. In regard to these last, there is one -peculiar fault committed by -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page484"><small><small>[p. 484]</small></small></a></span> -many teachers which cannot be too -much exposed. If much retirement be essential to successful study, -nothing can well be more preposterous, than frequently to give girls -the choice between the attractions of company and those of their -schoolrooms: for not one in a hundred will then choose the latter. The -great mischief of this indulgence is, that not only their places of -study, but the studies themselves are brought into continual danger of -becoming both irksome and disgusting to them. If it be said that they -must go into company to form their manners, the answer is, that even -manners may be too dearly bought. But admitting their high value, the -teachers should be the exemplars of their pupils in <i>this</i> as in other -matters, or they are not entirely fit for their office. It may also be -added, that manners formed by much company-keeping are not such as -would be most sought after in a wife—the destined head, and greatest -ornament of a domestic circle: for if these manners have become the -subject of much admiration, the possessor is rarely ever known to be -content, unless she can have many other spectators besides her husband -and family to witness their display. Wonderful indeed, would it be, if -women who were trained one half their lives to acquire some -accomplishment for the sake of having it admired, should be perfectly -satisfied to spend the other half with only a husband, and now and -then a relation or two to act the part of admirers. I will not deny -that what are called “elegant manners,” can rarely be acquired without -mixing much with good society. It is also admitted that there is -nothing in their acquirement at all incompatible with the attainment -of all other good qualities or acquisitions; and that many of the most -agreeable and estimable women are to be found among those who have -seen most of the world. But are these most likely to be happy in the -retirement of that domestic life, which is the destiny of ninety nine -women in a hundred? <i>If they are not</i>, then far too much has been -sacrificed for “elegant manners.” <i>If they are</i>, should we not see -many more of them to unsettle our faith in the truth of the general -rule, that all who are destined to spend the longest portion of their -existence in private life, should necessarily be so educated, as to -acquire a decided preference for it, or we do them a great and -irreparable injury by giving them a different taste? That such -education is altogether incompatible with that which requires much -going into company, as one of its essential parts, seems to me as -clear as the light of a meridian sun in a cloudless day. It is -scarcely in human nature for young ladies who have reigned as the -belles of society, as idols in public, to become exemplary, happy -matrons in private life. The two characters are so entirely unlike, -their tastes, their highest gratifications so entirely dissimilar, -that the same persons can rarely, if ever, fill both characters. <i>When -they do they are moral wonders.</i> The natural modesty of the sex, which -always inclines them to shun rather than to seek general admiration; -and consequently to prefer home, with all its tranquil pleasures, and -rational enjoyments, to the bustle, the notoriety and highly exciting -gratifications of the world, will not be altogether subdued in every -case, by what is called a fashionable education; but assuredly, there -is nothing in any part of the whole process calculated to give this -greatest charm of the female character its proper culture and highest -embellishment. This embellishment is <i>piety</i> towards God, and active -benevolence towards the whole human race. Let me not be -misunderstood—let me never be deemed so illiberal, so inexperienced, as to believe -that no ladies fashionably educated, can be pious or benevolent, or -happy in private life; <i>no, far from it;</i> but I do assert that the -whole tendency of fashionable education is to prevent their being -either. It is, in truth, as little suited to the things of time, as to -those of eternity. A very brief argument, I think, will prove this -assertion to be true.</p> - -<p>If the general principle of adapting the early education of our -children to the profession we expect them to follow—to the situations -and circumstances in which we think it likely they will be placed—be -correct in every case, where <i>boys</i> are concerned; why, in the name of -common sense, should it be incorrect in regard to <i>girls?</i> Are <i>they -alone</i> to be trained for <i>one thing</i>, while they are probably destined -for <i>another?</i> Is it not the height of cruelty, as well as injustice, -to give them tastes and expectations which can be gratified only for a -few months, perhaps for a year or two, after which they will almost -certainly have to spend the remainder of their lives, however long, in -nearly utter destitution of the opportunities, if not the means also, -to use and to realize these parental gifts? Desperate surely is the -folly, or far above all reason is the wisdom of such a plan; if indeed -the only legitimate plan of all education be—permanently to promote -the real happiness of the individuals educated.</p> - -<p>Few, I believe, if any, will deny, that the common fault just pointed -out—of so illy adapting the education of girls to the situations in -which they will probably be placed, deserves all the reprehension -which can be bestowed upon it. But those who are most apt to commit -it, are often guilty of another, if possible still worse. For the same -falsely calculating spirit which neglects to provide for the domestic -happiness of the child, so far as that can be secured by the culture -of tastes, sentiments, and habits suitable for domestic life, will -often exert parental influence and authority, after what <i>they</i> call -education is finished, to wed the poor victims of their mismanagement -to some husband who is deemed a good match, (to use a slang phrase -among matrimonial negotiators,) solely on account of his wealth. After -making it almost absolutely necessary to the happiness of the helpless -daughter that she should marry a man of polished manners, refined -taste and liberal education, she is forcibly united to one entirely -destitute of all these accomplishments—to one who will snore an -accompaniment to her sweetest music—will gaze, if he looks at all, -“with lack-lustre eye,” on her finest paintings; and flee from her -elegant dancing to the gambling house and the bottle: to one in fine -whose capability of participating with her in the pleasures of -reading, or of literary conversation, will probably be but a few -grades above that of the most illiterate clown. Such, alas! is too -often the reward of a fashionable education; especially in cases where -in procuring it, the fortunes of the poor girls have all been expended -with confident anticipations that ample compensation would be found in -the wealth of their future husbands. It not unfrequently happens that -one of the effects of this worldly training is, to make the girls full -as great calculators as their parents in regard to matrimonial -connexions. When this occurs, they well deserve all the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page485"><small><small>[p. 485]</small></small></a></span> misery -that so often follows a marriage contracted from such mercenary and -truly despicable motives; although the parents themselves if they had -their due, would undergo tenfold suffering for having been the -original cause of the calamity, in first placing their daughters where -such principles were to be imbibed; and afterwards co-operating with -might and main to encourage their very complying teachers in -accomplishing so glorious a work.</p> - -<p>My purpose in commencing this lecture, was to confine it solely to the -“faults of teachers;” but I have been led insensibly to blend with -them certain parental faults. Although this is a departure from the -order which I had prescribed to myself, I hope it may serve to -strengthen all my objections to the faults of both parties; since the -influence and authority of parents superadded to the exertions of -teachers in a wrong course, must be incalculably more dangerous and -fatal. It has been forcibly remarked in regard to some of the -practical evils of a certain government, that, “if men <i>suffer</i>, what -matters it, whether it be by the act of a licensed or an unlicensed -robber—a Janizary or a Jonathan Wild.” And well may it be asked in -relation to the practical defects of our systems of education, what -matters it whether they are legalized as in corporate schools, or -submitted to as in private ones, or whether parents or teachers are -most to blame for them, so long as they are quietly suffered to work -all the mischief which they so constantly produce? However innocent -either, or both parties may be of intentional harm to the sufferers -from these defects, their influence on human happiness is not -therefore the less baneful. Innocence of intention, which I doubt not -may generally be pleaded in this case, is no excuse, but a great -aggravation of the evil, since there can be no hope of any remedy -until the perpetrators of the mischief can be convinced of its real -character, its full extent, and that they alone are its authors—that -they only have both the power and the right to apply the proper -corrective. If <i>they</i> would take the matter in hand; if <i>they</i> would -co-operate earnestly and perseveringly in a right course, only for a -few years, the moral condition of our society would soon be as -different from what it now is, as our fondest hopes could possibly -anticipate. The vast improvement which such co-operation might effect, -the incalculable private and public blessings it would certainly -produce, cannot, I believe, be better illustrated on my part, than by -giving you in conclusion, the last two paragraphs of the excellent -article on popular education already quoted from the North American -Review for January. In speaking of the absolute necessity of -inculcating moral and religious principles as the groundwork of all -really useful education, the author remarks:</p> - -<p>“There are few departments of scholastic instruction, whether higher -or lower, that may not be found to yield constant suggestions for -virtuous and religious excitement. The teacher who should skilfully -avail himself of such opportunities, would produce effects upon -society the most extensive and lasting, and the most delightful. Sir -James Mackintosh says of Dugald Stewart, and we can scarcely conceive -of a higher eulogium, that ‘few men ever lived perhaps who poured into -the breasts of youth a more fervid and yet reasonable love of liberty, -of truth and of virtue. How many (he adds) are still alive, in -different countries, and in every rank to which education reaches, -who, if they accurately examined their own minds and lives, would not -ascribe much of whatever goodness and happiness they possess to the -early impressions of his gentle and persuasive eloquence.’ Few men -indeed possess the powers or opportunities of the Edinburgh Professor. -But, to every instructer of youth, a sphere is opened for the exertion -of the noblest talents and virtues. It is a most mischievous and -absurd idea, but one that has prevailed, if it do not still prevail, -that such a man is not required to possess great talents—that he may -be a dull and plodding man—that he may be dull in his moral -sensibility—that he need not be a religious man—and yet may very well -discharge the duties of his station. But if heaven has given to any -man talent and enthusiasm, or virtue, or piety, let him know that it -is all wanted <i>here</i>, and that he can scarcely choose a nobler field -for its action. Let a man enter this field, therefore, not to go -through the dull round of prescribed duty; let him throw himself into -this sphere of action with his whole mind and heart—with every wakeful -energy of thought and kindling fervor of feeling; to think and to act, -to devise and to do, all that his powers permit, for the minds that -are committed to him; to develope and exhaust his whole soul in this -work; to labor <i>for</i> and <i>with</i> his pupils—to win their affection—to -quicken in them the love of knowledge, to inspire with every noble -impulse the breast of ingenuous youth; to raise up sound scholars for -literature, and devoted pastors for the church, and patriotic citizens -for the country, and glorious men for the world: let him do <i>this</i>, -and none shall leave brighter signatures upon the record of honored -and well spent lives. Let him do <i>this</i>, and whether he sit in the -chair of a university or in the humblest village school—whether as a -Stewart or a Cousin, or as an Oberlin or Pestalozzi, he may fill the -land with grateful witnesses of his worth, and cause a generation -unborn to rise up and call him blessed.</p> - -<p>“To the friends of education, as well as to the actual laborers in its -cause, let us say in fine, <i>press onward</i>. The spread of knowledge has -given birth to civil liberty; the increase and improvement of -knowledge must give it stability and security. The fortunes of the -civilized world are now embarked in this cause. The great deeps are -breaking up, and the ark that is to ride out the coming storm must -have skill engaged in its construction, and wisdom to preside at its -helm. The warfare of opinion is already begun; and for its safe -direction, knowledge <i>must</i> take the leading staff. In <i>this</i> war, not -the mighty captain but the schoolmaster, is to marshal the hosts to -battle. It is <i>he</i> that is to train the minds which are to engage in -this contest. It is <i>he</i> that is to train up orators and legislators, -statesmen and rulers; and <i>he</i> too is to form the body politic of the -world. Would the free spirits of the world look to the defence and -hope of their cause? It is no dubious question where they must look. -Their outposts are <i>free schools;</i> their citadels are <i>universities;</i> -their munitions are <i>books;</i> and the mighty engine that is to hurl -destruction upon the legions of darkness, is the <i>free press</i>. Other -ages have struggled with other weapons; but the panoply of <i>this</i> age -<i>must be knowledge;</i> the gleaming of <i>its</i> armour must be the light -that flashes from the eye of free, high minded public opinion. Call -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page486"><small><small>[p. 486]</small></small></a></span> -this complimenting, call it complaisance to the base multitude, -call it visionary speculation, call it what you will—but the doctrine -is true: and, over the liberties of the world, whether prostrate or -triumphant, <i>that truth</i> must arise brighter and brighter for ever.”</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect15"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>NATIONAL INGRATITUDE.</h4> - -<center><small>BY MATHEW CAREY.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<p>Every American, actuated by a due regard for the honor of his country, -must feel deep regret at one feature in the proceedings of our -government, which is equally impolitic and discreditable. I mean the -neglect, or, what is near akin to neglect, the very long delay of an -acknowledgment of those brilliant services, which not only add lustre -to the national character, but often produce the most solid, -substantial advantages. In this respect, I am afraid, we are more -delinquent than any other nation in Christendom—so far, at least, as -regards delay. This conduct is, I say, discreditable, as it manifests -a deficiency of gratitude, one of the noblest of national virtues.</p> - -<p>It is, moreover, impolitic, and may often produce most pernicious and -disastrous results in moments of difficulty and danger. There is a -vast difference between the efforts of two men, in such crisis, one of -whom may rationally anticipate having his merits duly appreciated, and -to a certain extent remunerated, if he perform any very gallant or -brilliant exploit—the other almost equally certain, that do what he -may, he will probably be overlooked altogether, or, if his exploit be -commemorated, it will be after a tedious delay of ten, fifteen or -twenty years. In such great emergencies, as I referred to above, the -former is stimulated to volunteer his services as one of a forlorn -hope, where the chances are twenty to one against his escape—the -other, if detailed for the service, will doubtless perform his duty, -but will have had little temptation to offer himself as a volunteer.</p> - -<p>Doubtless such considerations have great influence on the conduct of -British military and naval officers. Whenever they perform any very -signal or glorious exploit, they are morally certain of due and prompt -attention being paid them. With us, if an officer victoriously defends -a fort against an overwhelming superior force, as Colonel Croghan -did—if he intrepidly destroy an important vessel of war, belonging to an -enemy, and by that glorious act spread the fame of his country in -remote nations, as Decatur, and his brave companions did—if he defeat -a numerous army, as Scott and Brown have done—if he preserve a vessel -of war by a rare union of ardor, tact, and energy, as Hull did when -pursued by a fleet—if he capture or destroy an entire fleet, as Perry -and M’Donough have done—what is his reward? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps -after a lapse of ten, a dozen, or twenty “lingering, lagging years” of -suspense, he is, at a time when the exploit by which it was earned is -almost forgotten, rewarded with a gold-hilted sword!</p> - -<p>By-the-bye, swords are, except for officers in actual service, a very -injudicious mode of testifying national gratitude. To such officers -they may be very appropriate, as they may carry them on their persons, -and their appearance will recall the recollection of the action for -which they were awarded.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> But a service of plate, which might not -cost as much as a gold-hilted sword, lying on a sideboard, or used by -the party in his entertainments, would more effectually tend to -gratify that laudable pride and ambition, which, say what we may, have -a powerful tendency to produce almost every thing estimable in human -conduct.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Lieutenant Webster, in a letter received from him some -years since, corroborated this idea: “I keep the sword generally in my -closet, unless a friend should request to see it.”</small></blockquote> - -<p>Of the striking cases in our history, which have called forth, and -which justify these strictures, I shall present those of General -Starke, Commodore Decatur, and Lieutenant Webster.</p> -<br> - -<center><i>General Starke</i>.</center> - -<p>That the acknowledgment of the Independence of the United States by, -and the treaty of alliance with, France, accelerated the -acknowledgment on the part of Great Britain, is a point admitted on -all hands. Those arrangements with France probably saved the country -the horrors of two or three years additional warfare—and this at a -time when its resources were nearly exhausted, and a fearful gloom had -for a long time pervaded the horizon.</p> - -<p>It is equally true, that the battle of Saratoga and the capture of a -powerful, well-disciplined army, commanded by an enterprising general, -decided the hitherto wavering councils of Louis XVI. to admit the -United States into the fellowship of nations.</p> - -<p>Should there be any doubts on the subject, they will be removed by an -attention to the chronology of that period.</p> - -<p>Dr. Franklin arrived in Paris, in December, 1776, and used his utmost -endeavors to obtain an acknowledgment of American Independence from -month to month, in vain. He was fed with those vague promises, of -which courtiers can be so lavish, but which, however specious, mean -little or nothing. At length was fought the important battle of -Saratoga, on the 17th of October, 1777. The news probably reached the -Court of Versailles early in December. The treaties of alliance and -acknowledgment of independence were signed on the 7th of February, -1778, after a lapse of only eight or nine weeks from the arrival of -that intelligence. This time was probably employed in concocting the -terms and was by no means too much for such a mighty business.<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small> -Could the Jew Apella, for a moment, doubt the cause that led that -court to the recognition of American Independence?</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> “In the midst of this supposed gloomy state of affairs in -America, the news of the surrender of the British army commanded by -General Burgoyne, to that of the Americans under General Gates, at -Saratoga, on the 17th October, 1777, arrived in France; and at the -very moment when the French cabinet was as yet undecided in regard to -the steps to be adopted relative to the United States. This memorable -event immediately turned the scale, and fixed the French nation in -their attachment to the infant republic.”—<i>Memoirs of Franklin</i>, p. -382.</small></blockquote> - -<p>This preface appeared necessary to shed a proper blaze of light on the -glorious battle of Bennington, the turning point of the war to the -northward, which directly led to the triumph at Saratoga, and to the -capture of the bombastic British commander. National gratitude could, -at its utmost stretch, scarcely overpay an achievement pregnant with -such all-important consequences.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page487"><small><small>[p. 487]</small></small></a></span> -<p>General Carleton, who commanded the British forces in Canada, -being regarded as not sufficiently energetic, was superseded by -General Burgoyne, who stood in high estimation for energy, military -skill and bravery. How far he answered expectation remains to be seen. -He started from Canada early in December, 1776, and met with little -resistance in his destructive and marauding career some hundred miles, -till he arrived at Saratoga.</p> - -<p>He issued his braggart proclamation on the 6th of December, in which -he denounced extermination, through the instrumentality of the hordes -of Indians, whom he had in his pay, against all who dared oppose his -Majesty's arms. The prospect to the north was then to the last degree -gloomy—defeat and disaster had marked the progress of the Americans. -Those were “times that really tried men's souls.” Despondency had -spread extensively. General Schuyler, who commanded the northern army, -gives an appalling description of the state of things. “The torpor, -criminal indifference, and want of spirit which so generally prevail, -are more dangerous than all the efforts of the enemy.” On the 4th of -July he resumes the subject—“We have not above four thousand -continental troops; if men, one-third of whom are negroes, boys, and -men too aged for the field, and indeed for any other service, can be -called troops. The States, whence these troops came, can determine why -such boys, negroes, and aged men were sent. A great part of the army -took the field in a manner naked, without blankets, ill armed, and -very deficient in accoutrements.”</p> - -<p>Such was the deplorable state of affairs to the north, a few weeks -previous to the time when Starke made his appearance on the arena. -General Burgoyne, being considerably straitened for provisions of -every kind, and having learned, by his spies, that there was a large -supply of flour, corn, and cattle, collected at Bennington, guarded -only by militia, of whom he entertained great contempt, despatched a -body of five hundred Germans with one hundred Indians, under the -command of Colonel Baum, to seize them. The Germans, being heavily -armed, and the roads greatly obstructed, were several days in marching -between thirty and forty miles.</p> - -<p>General Starke, who had for some time previously employed all his -influence and energies in collecting as many militia as possible, -commenced an attack on Baum's troops, immediately on their arrival; -but, after a short struggle, had to retire to some little distance; -meanwhile, Baum, finding his situation perilous, fortified himself -within a double breast-work, and sent for assistance to Burgoyne. On -the other hand, Starke, having received a reinforcement on the 16th of -August, renewed his attack on Baum; and, notwithstanding the strength -of his defences, and the bravery of his troops, carried the -fortifications, and made prisoners of all that were not killed. This -battle was just ended when a reinforcement of five hundred Germans, -under Breyman, made its appearance. The Americans, though extremely -fatigued by the assault, and a battle of two hours, attacked the new -enemies with such determined bravery, that their efforts were crowned -with a most complete victory, after a hard fought battle of several -hours. The results of the two battles were, the capture of about seven -hundred prisoners, one thousand stand of arms, four brass -field-pieces, twelve brass drums, two hundred and fifty dragoon -swords, four ammunition wagons, eight loads of baggage, and twenty -horses. Among the prisoners was Colonel Baum, who shortly afterwards -died of his wounds. There were killed in the two battles about three -hundred men, of whom, it is supposed, one third were Americans.</p> - -<p>As a reward for this glorious triumph of patriotism and heroic -bravery, Congress <i>liberally passed a resolution of thanks to General -Starke and his brave soldiers! and promoted him to the rank of -brigadier-general!</i> W<small>ERE NOT THESE THANKS AND PROMOTION ABUNDANT -REWARD</small>?</p> - -<p>Whether this veteran received a pension or not, cannot now be -ascertained. But be that as it may, he was, in his old age, I believe -about ninety, reduced to penury. On the 18th of March, 1818, forty -years after his exploits, he petitioned Congress for a pension -(perhaps an additional one.) The petition was referred, in the House -of Representatives, to a committee, who reported a bill on the 19th, -which, conformably with the usual procrastinating routine of Congress -proceedings,<small><small><sup>3</sup></small></small> lay over untouched for five weeks, till the 18th of -April, when it was passed and sent to the Senate, who referred it to -the committee on pensions, who reported it that day, without -amendments. It was read in committee of the whole, on Monday the 20th, -and agreed to <i>with amendments</i>. It being against the rules of the -Senate to pass a bill the same day on which it has undergone -amendments, Mr. Fromentin moved to suspend the rule. But, regardless -of the services, the claims, and the sufferings of the hero, the -motion, alas! was rejected—Congress adjourned next day—and, of course, -the bill was lost. Next session it passed. Starke received one year's -pension, but died before another came around—covered with glory, but -steeped in penury!!</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>3</sup></small> To this general censure, there was one remarkable -exception. The bill, to render members of Congress salary officers, at -the rate of fifteen hundred dollars per annum, was hurried forward -with an engine of high pressure. It was read the first and second -time, March 6th, 1815—the third time, and passed the 9th. Received and -read first time in Senate, the 11th, second time 12th, third time, and -passed, the 14th. Laid before the President, and passed, the 18th. -Thus, this bill, so extremely obnoxious, was hurried through, from its -initiation till its final ratification in twelve days.</small></blockquote> -<br> - -<center><i>The Capture and Destruction of the Philadelphia frigate</i>.</center> - -<p>History furnishes few instances of heroic daring—ardent -zeal—unconquerable energy—and nice tact and skill, equal to the capture and -destruction of the frigate Philadelphia, in the harbor of Tripoli—and, -all the circumstances of the case duly considered, it may be doubted -whether any thing superior to it can be found on record. Never was -there a much more hazardous enterprize—never was there a greater -disparity between the means of attack and the means of defence. -Indeed, it must be confessed, that all the dictates of prudence were -opposed to the undertaking. But I will not enfeeble the interest of -the reader, by attempting to describe the affair, when it is so -transcendently better done in the glowing and eloquent speech of the -Hon. Mr. Robbins, one of the senators from the State of Rhode Island.</p> - -<p>“The Philadelphia was captured from the barbarians when she was, and -after she had long been, in their secure possession, in their own -harbour, and under the guns of their own fort, and where she was kept -fully <span class="pagenum"><a name="page488"><small><small>[p. 488]</small></small></a></span> -manned and armed, as their pride, as well as defence, and -where she was a monument at once for barbarian triumph, and for -American humiliation. <i>This protecting fort was armed with more than a -hundred guns, and backed, it was said, by an army in camp of twenty -thousand men.</i> The banks of the harbor were <i>lined with land-batteries -throughout, and armed also with more than a hundred guns</i>, and its -waters were guarded by a thousand seamen. Still this little gallant -band, the recaptors, in the dead of night, with Decatur at their head, -made their way to this frigate, boarded her, cut down every barbarian -on board, or drove him over her sides into the water; then, in -obedience to orders to set fire to her in different parts, they burnt -her down to the water's edge, and made their retreat in safety; and -<i>all this in the face and fire of the artillery of that fort and of -those land-batteries</i>.</p> - -<p>“Let it be recollected that this daring enterprise was out of the -routine of the regular naval service; it was, indeed, permitted, but -not directed by the commanding officer on that station; it was wholly -a volunteer enterprise. It was originally suggested by the gallant and -ever-to-be-lamented Decatur, then a lieutenant, and but a youth, as it -were. He saw that the thing was practicable to spirits daring like his -own, and that the achievement, though full of danger, would be full of -honor. He saw the brilliant page it would make in history; but he did -not foresee that it would be but the title-page to that volume of -brilliant exploits, which subsequently were to illustrate our naval -annals, of which this was to be the precursor and animating model. He -soon collected his volunteer band of congenial spirits, all young, -like himself, and, like him, burning with a thirst for distinction. -Confiding in themselves, they went to the enterprise, confident of -success, and did realize what to colder minds would seem but the dream -of romance. It is pleasing to note the number of our naval heroes, who -afterwards so much distinguished themselves in our naval battles, who -gave their juvenile and first proofs of heroism in this heroic -enterprise.”</p> - -<p>Thirty-two years have elapsed since this achievement took place, and -the halls or Congress have, probably, witnessed twenty or thirty -frivolous debates on this simple question, whether a great, a -powerful, a wealthy nation, lying under heavy obligations to some of -its heroic citizens, should honorably discharge the debt, or, through -an unworthy species of chicane, delay or evade the payment—debates, -which, in addition to the dishonor they inflicted on the nation, -probably cost full as much as would have satisfied the claimants, and -rescued them from the distress and embarrassments caused by the delay -of justice. A delay of justice is often equivalent to a denial of it, -and, for aught we know, it may be somewhat the case in the present -instance. The justice of the claim has, I apprehend, never been -disputed. The difficulty, so far as I understand the subject, is on -the apportionment of the sum acknowledged to be due, among the -different claimants. But what character would an individual deserve, -who owed a sum of money to a number of persons, and delayed, or -refused to pay any of them, under pretence that he could not precisely -fix their respective quotas? Would he not be set down, and with -justice, as a sharper. And are the rules of morality less obligatory -on nations than on individuals?</p> - -<p>If a proper disposition to do justice prevailed with Congress, the -difficulty might have been easily obviated, by passing an act awarding -the whole sum to the mass of the captors, subject to an apportionment -by an arbitration, or by a jury.</p> - -<p>If the widow of the illustrious Decatur, and her fellow-claimants, -whoever they may be, are not common paupers, supported by eleemosynary -aid—are not tenants of hospitals, or alms-houses—their escape from -this frightful result, attaches no merit to those majorities whose -cold-blooded and heartless votes are recorded against the act of -paramount justice involved in this question.</p> -<br> - -<center><i>Lieutenant Webster and Lieutenant Newcomb</i>.</center> - -<p>It cannot for a moment be doubted that the gallant attack on the -British, in their attempt on Baltimore, by a six gun battery, called -Fort Patapsco, and by another small battery called Fort Covington, the -former commanded by Lieutenant Webster, and the latter by Lieutenant -Newcomb, were the chief means of saving the city from capture. The -British contemplated a simultaneous attack by land and water; and, -while the troops were landing at North Point, a flotilla, consisting -of sixteen ships including five bomb vessels, proceeded up the -Patapsco. At one o'clock, A. M. on the 14th of September, 1814, twelve -hundred picked men were detached with scaling ladders, to land on the -south side of the city. They had eluded Fort M’Henry by a somewhat -circuitous route. As they approached the shore, the two small forts, -of whose existence, it is believed, they were ignorant, opened a most -destructive fire upon them, which sunk some of their barges, and -killed many of their men. These unexpected disasters wholly deranged -all their plans, and made them retreat in a state of discomfiture. In -their retreat they came within gunshot of Fort M’Henry, which raked -them with great havoc.</p> - -<p>Had they passed the two small forts, and debarked their men at the -contemplated point, nothing could have saved Baltimore from falling a -prey to those who had so recently taken Washington; and sharing in the -ignominious fate of that city, as, even without this co-operation, the -former, Baltimore, was in most imminent danger.</p> - -<p>For this invaluable service, which would be cheaply purchased by -millions of dollars, the two Lieutenants received the thanks of the -City of Baltimore, and each a gold-hilted sword, which cost between -three and four hundred dollars. To Lieutenant Webster, whose -circumstances were humble, a donation of an equal sum in <i>l'argent -comptant</i> would have been infinitely more useful. Sometime afterwards -he opened a grocery store, nearly opposite the Indian Queen, in Market -street, the principal thoroughfare in Baltimore, a city which was so -largely indebted to him, and whose inhabitants ought to have vied with -each other in their encouragement of him. But, alas! so slender was -their support, that he was unable to maintain himself by his business, -and finally failed. What has become of him since, I have no means of -ascertaining with precision, but have some reason to believe that he -is now in the service of the United States.</p> - -<center><small>“Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend!”</small></center><br> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect16"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page489"><small><small>[p. 489]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<h4>DIARY OF AN INVALID.</h4> - -<center>NO. II.</center> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>THE PORTRAIT.</center> - -<p>My life, during the last three years, has been as variable as the -seasons. My own habits and manner of existence often remind me of -those gregarious birds, whose mysterious and far off voices we hear, -singing the requiem of dying pleasure, as they journey from one -climate to another. As soon as I have made an agreeable settlement in -one place, and begin to enjoy the sympathies of society, (for believe -me, gentle reader, my heart was not cast in the misanthrope's mould,) -either a blast from the north, or a fiery dart from the south, warns -me that I am out of my proper latitude. On consulting with my -physician on the fittest location for my approaching winter quarters, -he suggested Charleston, in South Carolina, as offering the twofold -advantage of a regular and mild temperature of climate, and all the -pleasures arising from intercourse with the most polished and -interesting society in the United States. Knowing something of the -querulous, desponding disposition attendant on protracted disease, he -encouraged me to the removal, by remarking that he had himself spent a -winter in that city, under circumstances much more depressing; and he -could truly say, he retained none but the most delightful -reminiscences of the place or its inhabitants. He had formed many -valuable and enduring friendships among its citizens, and on some of -them he should confer a favor, by recommending his friend to their -hospitable courtesies. He furnished me with several letters of -introduction; among them was one to Col. H. B. Ashton; in handing me -which, he paused, exclaiming with enthusiastic emotion, “Oh! that I -could take the place of this letter—that I could grasp again that -hand, the pledge of as true a heart as ever beat in a human breast.” -He continued—“His address you will readily ascertain, as he is a man -of some distinction there. You have only to forward <i>this</i>, and I will -warrant that you never repent the trouble of presenting it.”</p> - -<p>On the first day of November, I took passage in a commodious packet, -bound from New York to Charleston. The day of embarkation was fine, -and my feelings of regret, on leaving my native city, gave place to an -exhilarating superiority, as, in clearing her port, I saw her proud -ramparts spurn the encroaching billow, while the flag of every nation -swept by me, seeking her free and rich commerce.</p> - -<p>We had a fair and pleasant voyage to Charleston, which (except in -contrast with my own <i>imperial city</i>,) I should pronounce both an -interesting and handsome looking town from its harbor. On landing, I -had more than enough very civil offers to take me to the best hotel, -in the best coach, on the very best terms. This matter was soon -settled, and away I was whirled into the heart of the town, and set -down before a spacious and ancient looking building, not exhibiting -all the Corinthian ornament of our northern style of architecture, but -sumptuous in its accommodations. There was an ease and an elegance in -all its “appointments,” very gratifying to the flesh, as I can say -from experience. Either I was in the humor to be pleased with every -thing, or every thing was in the humor to please me. The very -attendants, to the lowest menial, evinced the most perfect delight in -waiting my pleasure, or doing my bidding; unlike our northern gentry, -who by their impertinent <i>empressement</i>, show that they are working -“for a <i>consideration</i>.”</p> - -<p>The first morning after my arrival opened with smiles so bland, that I -was tempted to walk to the post office and deposit my letters of -introduction; for I soon learnt that the etiquette here is not to -force yourself upon the acquaintance of any one. The following day -brought a number of calls in answer to my letters. The gentlemen were -all courteous and prepossessing, but none came up exactly to my idea -of Ashton. It was late in the evening, and I was getting a little -miffed, that my claims on his attention had not been acknowledged with -the promptitude my importance demanded, when a quick rap at the door -announced a visiter. Before I had time to smooth down my ruffled -temper into any thing like complacency, in walked a tall and elegant -gentleman, who, addressing me, said, “May H. Ashton claim the -privilege of a friend, in greeting Mr. M—— with a heartfelt shake of -the hand?” He went on to say, that an unexpected call into the country -had prevented his receiving intelligence of my arrival until late in -the evening, which, he remarked, must account for his apparent -neglect. But as soon as I saw the man, every unworthy thought was -gone. He could not be mistaken. Nature had set her stamp upon him, as -one of her <i>premium</i> productions, when she makes the moral attributes -correspond and harmonize in beautiful proportions with noble external -lineaments. He had passed the zenith of life, being then perhaps sixty -years old, yet time had not extinguished the fires of youth; tempered -and mellowed in the school of experience, they beamed still in the -smile of benevolence, and were practically illustrated in every -virtue. I could dwell on the charming traits of his character -forever—but lest I should tire my reader, I will hasten on to the incident -which gave rise to the following interesting narrative.</p> - -<p>It was soon settled, that I should spend as much of my leisure time as -I found agreeable, at the house of my new friend. He gave me a sort of -running history of what I might expect to encounter, of noise and -confusion, in a castle populous with brats of all ages and sizes; but, -concluded he, “good humor, like charity, hides all their failings, in -my eyes, at least.” With these prepossessions, you will not be -surprised to learn, that I found his family not only pleasant, but -interesting. Mrs. Ashton was a lady, whose polished and dignified -manners showed that she had moved in the select circle of society, -which she still adorned by the charms of her conversation and the -sweetness of her disposition. Her two eldest sons were settled in -life, and the youngest daughter at a boarding school; but the six -little rioters of grand-children were sufficiently <i>uproarious</i>, to -show that the tranquillity of the house must not depend on silence.</p> - -<p>I had, on my first entrance into the saloon, remarked a <small>PORTRAIT</small>, -which, with many others, adorned the room, but which, though it hung -in a much less conspicuous light, had, from the first moment I beheld -it, irresistibly attracted my attention. Its subject was a young lady, -apparently not more than sixteen years old. Whenever the conversation -flagged, or my thoughts -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page490"><small><small>[p. 490]</small></small></a></span> -were free, my eyes insensibly turned to -the charmed spot, and there they would rest, while with a strange -delight, my mind would busy itself in trying to define, and to gift -with “a local habitation and a name,” the deep, overpowering -sympathies its beauty awakened in the mind of the beholder. I can -speak of the effect on my feelings, but words would be inadequate to -express its surpassing loveliness. In beholding it, I could only -exclaim, in the celebrated words of Burke, “There surely never lighted -on this globe a more delightful vision.” To describe the features -separately, would give you no idea of the bewitching harmony of the -whole expression. “Her eyes dark charm 'twere vain to tell.” Their -light seemed as emanated from the celestial world, and while you were -gazing on it, your soul appeared to catch something of the beatific -vision. And yet this heavenly being seemed not sublimated beyond the -affections of earth—No, the rainbow of hope and love looked as it were -spanning a dark cloud, which might blot it out forever. This -fascination continued from day to day, and yet no remark or inquiry -was made as to the original of the portrait. I felt as if there were -something mysterious or sacred about it, and that it would be -intruding into the sanctuary of private feelings, to show any -curiosity on the subject. None of the family ever alluded to it, -though they must have observed the deep interest with which I regarded -it.</p> - -<p>One evening, after all the little nurslings were hushed, we sat as -usual, telling over, with the garrulity of age, the events of “by-gone -days.” Ashton's talent for animated narrative was of the first order, -and the hours flew on the wings of delight, when I could get him to -dilate on the revolutionary struggles at the south. Of those times his -mind retained the faint recollections of childhood, but his memory was -stored with volumes of their kindling and heart-stirring facts, which -seemed to possess double interest, when told by the patriot and the -sage. His early fancies had been fed with this “ancient lore” from the -fountain of a mother's love and a mother's instructions. Listening to -her stories of the self-denial, hardships and dangers, our ancestors -encountered in the path to freedom, his soul had become transformed -into their image; and now, the spirits of Laurens, and Rutledge, and -Sumpter, seemed to stalk before me, while he rehearsed their deeds.</p> - -<p>I inquired if any members of his own immediate family were engaged in -the war? “None,” he replied, “but its evils were felt in almost every -family, and its consequences, like those of other civil wars, were -often destructive to domestic peace and happiness. Such was the case -in our own house. I have remarked the fixed attention with which you -have gazed on a female portrait in my saloon. It is not often I lift -the veil which conceals the story of one whose fate was so intimately -linked with the tenderest feelings of my own heart; but I see that -your sympathies are already interested, and if you desire it, I will -give you a brief sketch of the original of the portrait, referring, -where my recollections fail, to my mother's memoranda.” I expressed my -high gratification at his offer, and he proceeded to relate the -following particulars.</p> - -<p>“Morna Ridgely was the only child of Colonel Charles Ridgely, an -officer in the forty-second regiment of British light infantry. He was -the younger son of a noble family in Northumberland; and, as usual in -such cases, the laws of entail excluded him from the advantages of -patrimony, leaving him to choose between the church and the army. He -possessed a gallant, noble, and sincere disposition, and scorned the -idea of making ‘merchandise of the gospel;’ but to fight his country's -battles, to bring glory to Old England, was quite congenial to his -feelings. His choice was made, and he was to go into the army as soon -as a vacancy occurred in the regiment. Meantime, he was pursuing his -studies at the University of Edinburgh, where many of the younger -branches of English nobility are sent.</p> - -<p>“It was here that he formed an attachment to a lovely young Scottish -maiden, by the name of Morna Donald. Her father had been the leader of -a clan, which had often made incursions on the border, and, of course, -his name was in ‘ill odor’ with the English gentry of the neighboring -lands. But the gentle Morna bloomed in unstained purity and innocence, -the brightest flower on Scottish heath—and she gave the ‘jewel of her -heart’ to the gallant and open hearted Ridgely, not dreaming how soon -it would be withered by the cold blight of scorn and unkindness.</p> - -<p>“All his family, except my mother, spurned poor Morna as the daughter -of a savage rebel, and declared they felt it a disgrace to receive her -into their houses. Ridgely's feelings were wounded in the keenest -manner by this treatment, and he would have sunk under the -mortification, but for the soothing affection of my mother, between -whom and himself there existed the warmest and most confidential -intimacy. She proffered her heart and her house to receive the forlorn -Morna, who found her bosom the ark of safety and repose, amidst the -storms by which she was buffetted. About this time his commission was -obtained, but the regiment not being called into service, the young -couple, at my mother's solicitation, remained with her during the -first year of their marriage. The spirits of the young bride had -received a shock of disappointment from which they never recovered. -She was calm and resigned, but the thrill of pleasure which once gave -joy to her heart and beauty to her countenance, was gone never to -return. Sadness preyed on her health, but her friends looked forward -in hope to the interesting period when a mother's cares and a mother's -love should win her spirit back to hope and happiness.</p> - -<p>“How fallacious are human expectations! The same wave that cast the -little orphan on the shores of time, bore the mother to the ocean of -eternity. With a smile of perfect confidence, she gave the bud of -promise into the arms of my mother, saying, this is yours, the last -gift of the dying Morna—a precious pledge of her unwavering trust in -your affection. And most faithfully was that pledge redeemed by my -mother! from that moment did the little Morna lie in her bosom, and -receive all the tenderness of maternal care. Having a few months -previously lost her only child, an infant twelve months old, all her -tenderness was now centred in her new charge, whose beauty and -sprightliness promised to repay all her attention.</p> - -<p>“Ridgely was ordered to join his regiment and proceed to Ireland, -where a rebellion had recently broken out. In departing, he bathed the -little orphan with his tears, and renewed the gift to his sister, not -knowing that he should ever behold her more. The child grew; the -charms of her mind and person fast unfolded in the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page491"><small><small>[p. 491]</small></small></a></span> sunshine of -my mother's love, and she soon became the joy and pride of her heart. -Her father returned to England when she was four years old, and had -the long wished for happiness of clasping his beloved child, the image -of his lost wife, to his bosom; and the shattered fragments of his -heart were gathered again around his infant daughter. How gratifying -to him, to see how powerfully she felt the tie of birth! The highest -boon she could ask, was to sit on her father's knee, and lean her -bright check on his heart, while she persuaded him to stay with her, -and she would love him ‘as much as aunt Ashton.’ Among the ‘dire -chimeras’ of the nursery, she had heard many tales of the ‘wild -Irish,’ and her little heart beat with anxious fears for her father's -safety; she could not be quieted until he promised not to go among -them any more.</p> - -<p>“But now the young Morna was herself to be the adventurer. Major -Ashton (my father) was commanded to embark with his regiment for the -American colonies. This was unexpected and sad news to my dear -parents; but there was no time to parley. The yoke of servitude began -to sit uneasily on the necks of the colonists, under the growing -demands of government—and an increased army was necessary to enforce -submission. With decision and promptitude worthy of a better cause, my -father obeyed the summons. The military hero is bred in the school of -suffering and self-denial. A separation from all the endearments of -social and domestic life, he considers one of the necessary -consequences of the service, and he submits with dignity. Such was the -conduct of Colonel Ridgely, in parting with his only child. His tears -fell on her cheek, while with trembling fingers he threw back the -thick curls from her forehead, that he might behold all of a face so -lovely and so beloved. It was happy for Morna that she could not -comprehend the fullness of his agony. She knew that she was her -father's darling, and her heart beat in unison with his as far as she -understood his feelings; but the page of the future is gilded with -bright hues in childhood, and she readily yielded to the soothing -assurances of her aunt, that either she would return to England, or -her father be sent to America. So she was comforted, and her thoughts -were diverted by the wonderful and mysterious preparations (as it -seemed to her) her aunt was making to go away. In the course of a -month she bade adieu to the white cliffs of Albion; and after a -tedious voyage of thirty-eight days, Morna's uncle pointed out to her -the distant shores of the western world. She gazed on the prospect -with wonder-waiting eyes, for she had never thought of any land so far -from her home and country.</p> - -<p>“Major Ashton's troops were landed at Boston; but as that post was -well supplied, the reinforcements were stationed in the various -commercial towns along the seaboard, to enforce compliance with the -new system of taxation. He was ordered to Charleston, in South -Carolina; and after a stormy cruise of ten days arrived in harbor and -disembarked his forces, making Charleston his head quarters. For the -sake of brevity, I must pass over many intervening circumstances, and -even years, not necessary to the main interest of my story. I must not -omit, however, to mention that my mother was called, the second year -of her residence here, to experience the bitterest of all calamities, -in the death of her beloved husband, who fell a victim to the fever of -the climate. I was an infant at that time, but I can imagine the -desolation of her soul, left a widow, and a stranger in a foreign -land; and my earliest recollections of her are associated with times, -when she sat silent, and almost unheeding my importunity to know what -made her weep so much. I find a letter from Colonel Ridgely to my -mother, written during that year, informing her that his regiment -would sail in a few days for the East Indies, to relieve another, -which was suffering greatly from disease. ‘It is uncertain,’ he says, -‘how long we may continue on this station, though the present prospect -is, that we shall only act as a temporary relief.’ He speaks of his -dear child, and the anxious and melancholy thoughts that fill his -mind, when he reflects on the distance and the time that must separate -him from her.</p> - -<p>“But time, as it passed the young Morna, had a dove's wing. Her bark -of happiness was borne smoothly and joyfully down the current of life. -Young hope spread her sail, and no cloud dimmed the bright horizon. -The toys of childhood were gradually laid aside for the pleasures and -occupations of intellectual cultivation. My mother, while she guarded -against the perversion of the superior talents of her pupil, spared no -expense in adorning her mind with every lasting and lovely -accomplishment. But of all adornings, she considered that of a meek -and quiet spirit to be of greatest price, having learned it in the -school of sad experience; and to this end she labored with the -waywardness of childhood and the vanity of youth, believing that they -who sow in hope will reap in joy. And such was her recompense. The -natural sensibilities of her niece were exquisite: she trembled lest -by taking a wrong direction they should prove the scourge of her life. -Byron says,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>——‘Our young affections run to waste,<br> - Or water but the desert.’</small> -</div></div> - -<p>Far otherwise was it with my lovely cousin. Many sweet and endearing -instances of her goodness my memory still retains. She was my mother's -almoner to the cottages of the poor. On these errands I was frequently -her companion; and though my wayward and loitering step exercised her -patience in no small degree, she never chid me in any voice but that -of love, or denied me any innocent gratification, however great the -self-denial it imposed on her. You will not wonder that she was the -idol of the indigent and helpless. Among this mass of people, the -African slaves excited her warmest sympathy—evinced in benevolence of -the most practical sort. Instead of joining her schoolmates on -holidays in selfish recreations, she would petition her aunt to carry -some nice soup to aunt Dinah, or to read the bible to blind Betty who -loved to hear it so much. I believe they looked upon her as a -ministering angel; something celestial compounded of a purer flesh and -blood than sinful mortals, ‘God bless and love you Miss Morn; you are -too pretty for this world!’ was their usual salutation.</p> - -<p>“When my mother arrived in Charleston, she sought out a faithful -servant as a nurse for her young family. Margaret was her name, which -we soon contracted into the endearing appellative of ‘Mammy Marget.’ -She was the most devoted and faithful servant I ever knew. I loved and -venerated her next to my mother. She doated on my cousin; with -watchful fidelity she <span class="pagenum"><a name="page492"><small><small>[p. 492]</small></small></a></span> -guarded her health and happiness so far as -her limited sphere extended, and was rewarded with the deep and tender -attachment of a grateful heart.</p> - -<p>“In her school, Morna was a general favorite. Arbitress in every -disagreement, her candor and disinterested kindness could admit no -appeal from its fair and equal decision. With Mary Percy, one of her -classmates, a girl of congenial tastes and feelings, she was very -intimate. The rocks and dells in these environs still bear memorials -of their merry gambols and rambles amongst the wild luxuriance of -nature. Alfred Percy, also, the brother of the young lady, and two -years older, was frequently one of the party, and performed wonders of -agility and bold adventure in various feats of climbing, leaping, and -swimming, any of which he would carry to the utmost extent of -possibility to oblige or amuse Morna. In a short time he had so won -her admiration as to be her beau ideal of all that was noble and -elegant: however, she was not the girl to be fascinated on a slight -acquaintance. The current of her affections ran in too deep a channel -to be ruffled by the wing of every bird that flitted over it. My -mother's experienced eye discerned the growing attachment of Percy -towards her lovely niece, and while she would not have influenced her -decision in a matter where the affections are so deeply interested, -she hoped the time might come when she would not be insensible to the -love of one so worthy of her heart and her choice.</p> - -<p>“We must turn from the visions of youth and the dream of love to our -political horizon, which now grew darker and darker. Our colonies had -reached the lowest point of oppression and injustice; they felt the -burden intolerable; and rising, threatened to heave off the weight -that was crushing them. You recollect the affair at Lexington struck -the first note of revolt, which was re-echoed by most of the States in -the Union. South Carolina was, perhaps, at that time, the most loyal -of all to the British government; but even here there were not a few -whose hearts swelled with indignation at her tyrannical exactions. My -mother's feelings on this subject were identified with those of the -suffering colonists, and she felt that if she had a son able to do his -country service, she would buckle on his armor, and speed him with her -prayers, in the cause of freedom and suffering humanity.</p> - -<p>“After the first shock of resistance, you recollect the States were -unanimous in the cause of liberty; though the scene of war was, during -the first part of the contest, confined to the Northern and middle -States, and our arms were generally successful wherever valor and -dexterity could supply the want of superior numbers and discipline. -How did the courageous youth of South Carolina burn to join their -brethren of the North in the struggle for liberty! The hot valor of -young Percy, like that of his namesake of poetic fame, spurred him on -to rush into the marshalled ranks, from which he could scarcely be -withheld by the sober forecast of his father, who foresaw that the -tide of battle was already tending towards the south.</p> - -<p>“Information was at length received, that a British squadron had been -fitted out for the reduction of Charleston; and, detained by -unfavorable weather, was lying at Cape Fear. This gave the Americans -time to strengthen their fortifications, so as to make an attack from -the seaboard extremely difficult. In the month of June, 1776, the -squadron anchored off the bar. What a moment of thrilling anxiety was -this to every true American heart in the place! The land forces were -commanded by Cornwallis and Clinton; the naval by Sir Peter Parker. -The provincial forces were commanded by General Lee. Our young hero -Percy, was honored with a lieutenancy in his army. It was some days -before the British troops could disembark, owing to the impediment in -crossing the bar. At length, however, they effected a landing on Long -Island, and prepared for an attack. Percy's post was in the select -division, placed on the main land, opposite Sullivan's island, the -only successful point of attack.</p> - -<p>“The evening before the expected battle he called at my mother's, -still the spot of peculiar attraction whenever a moment of leisure -allowed him the indulgence of his warmest and tenderest feelings. She -candidly expressed her fears for his safety, knowing the dangerous -post he would occupy, and his fearless intrepidity. She charged him to -remember how many hearts would throb with deep interest for him on -that eventful day, and concluded by hoping that discretion would -temper his courage. He replied with restrained emotion, ‘I hope, dear -madam, I am not insensible to your regard, and that of many kind -friends; but there is one whose interest and sympathy I would rather -win than the world besides.’ He looked towards Morna, but she was -gone. He followed her retreating footsteps to her favorite alcove. -‘Morna,’ he said, assuming the manner of their childhood's freedom, ‘I -have heard you say, courage should be your second requisite in a hero. -I come to ask a token from you as an incentive to valor to morrow.’ -‘Would you desire a higher,’ she answered, ‘than the cause of your -country? Oh, Alfred, it is not your honor or courage that is in -danger, but your life.’ ‘Then give me this bright tress, which has -escaped from its bondage, to remind me that you are among those who -care for my safety. It will be the first and brightest charm my heart -ever wore.’ Morna spoke not: how could she? But her lover read the -confession of her heart in the ‘many colored Iris’ which filled her -eye. You may imagine the scene that followed, when the fervor and -faith of young hearts are pledged on the eve of doubtful battle. The -hour of separation came, and Percy was taking his leave of her he -loved best, with a countenance of hope unclouded by doubt or fear. He -whispered to Morna, in going, ‘Remember the token, the talisman of -protection and favor to the knight without fear and without reproach.’ -‘Noble Percy!’ exclaimed Mrs. Ashton, ‘you were never formed to wear -the chain of slavery.’ Morna, too, felt proud of her lover; but in the -moment of her exultation, she thought of the perils to which his life -must be exposed, and the dark omen of dread dimmed the bright star of -her destiny. My mother, while she evinced the warm sympathy which all -the circumstances of the newly awakened feelings in her niece's bosom -were calculated to inspire, endeavored to calm them by pointing to the -bright side of the picture, and urging her to look forward with -patient hope to the probably successful issue. But Mammy Marget, who -felt, perhaps, quite as much in whatever distressed her young -mistress, with the characteristic propensity of narrow-minded -ignorance, sought to lay the blame of her tears on somebody, and who -so probably the cause as Percy. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page493"><small><small>[p. 493]</small></small></a></span> -‘Mas Alfred, he's always so -violent, he must be the most foremost of any, no place will do for him -but the hottest. Why not put some of the raggamuffins, as the British -calls the militia, in that dangerous place, they mean creters don't -care—jist as live shoot down a clever young man like him as a dog. -But, maybe this don't comfort you, Miss Morn, my pretty dove, so I -won't say no more but the truth, and that is, he's as ginerous as you; -for but t'other day, he ask me, Mammy Marget, how you do these hard -times? I tell him, well as other folks I reckon, I only wish we had -some of that good sugar and coffee that them mean English is -squandering out yander, with their white sarvants to tend'm, struttin' -about like peacocks in their finery. Then I see the fire in his eye, -and he say, bridling up jest like him, I would not fill my mouth with -any of their good things; but as it does not hurt your conscience, -take this and buy some, (and he give me ever so much money,) they will -be <i>mean enough</i>, as you say, to extort upon the penury of a poor -slave. That's jist what he say, I knowed what he meant in spite of his -high larnt words, and thinks I, I'll remember 'em to tell Miss Morn.’</p> - -<p>“You recollect the entire failure of this first expedition against -Charleston, owing to the inability of the land and naval forces to -unite in the attack. The American batteries sustained the fire from -the fleet with unmoved firmness, and Percy won laurels by his -intrepidity and presence of mind. The enemy seeing it impossible, in -present circumstances, to gain footing, left Charleston harbor with -all their forces; and during the two succeeding years, no further -attempt was made to reduce this place.</p> - -<p>“About this time a letter came to my mother, under the British -passport. It was from Colonel Ridgely from whom she had received no -intelligence for ten years. It informed her, that the state of affairs -in America had recently recalled his regiment from India, with the -design of transporting that, and several others, to the southern -colonies, to oppose the combined forces of France and America. He -lamented the occasion of his visit to a land where his tenderest and -most cherished hopes were centered. He spoke of the necessity to which -the ministry, by their harsh and unjust exactions had reduced the -American colonies, of taking up arms in self-defence. Not even -Chatham's eloquence could arrest the storm, though he had predicted -with a prophet's inspiration, that the final issue would be the infamy -of its originators, and the everlasting degradation of England. As an -officer in his majesty's service, he said honor and loyalty forbade -him to withdraw from the duties imposed on him, however his own -individual feelings and opinions might prompt him to retire from the -combat.</p> - -<p>“You may well conceive with what mingled emotions of hope and -disappointment the bosoms of a daughter and sister were filled on -reading this letter. Morna's first words were, ‘Dear aunt, shall I -live to see my beloved father in the ranks of my country's enemies? -No, the grave would be far preferable—can nothing avert it? O! how -shall I meet Alfred? His high soul will revolt at an alliance with the -daughter of his country's enemy. Write to him, dear aunt, immediately -for me, and release him from every obligation.’ ‘My beloved child,’ -replied she, ‘I must first chide your generous haste, which would -destroy both your own and Alfred's happiness. Can you suppose he could -cease to love you, or to respect your father, only because he is -engaged to support a cause, which, though we esteem it unjust, every -loyal subject of Britain is bound to maintain? Rather let us seek -resignation and comfort from heaven, and hope that God may over-rule -the purposes of man for the good of all, and the glory of his name.’ -Morna yielded to the opinion of her aunt, which in her calmer moments -she felt to be just, and at her request tried to compose her agitated -feelings, as she laid her aching head on that bosom which was alike -the sanctuary of her joys and sorrows. Her wearied senses sunk into -repose, and she was unconsciously placed on the couch of rest. This -was scarcely done, when a quick knock was heard at the door. Mrs. -Ashton hastened to attend the summons, and prevent any interruption -from sudden noise. ‘Mr. Percy!’ was her exclamation, ‘is it you? Your -countenance is the omen of evil tidings—are you the herald of recent -disasters?’ ‘Madam, your look tells me you are not ignorant that the -enemy, having gained possession of Georgia, is marching rapidly -towards our capital. I have just received a major's commission, and -orders to march my company to reinforce General Lincoln; but, like the -crusader of old, I come, first to visit the shrine of my tutelar -saint, and bear from its altar the token of conquest and safety. May I -not see Miss Ridgely?’ My mother then related the story of the recent -tidings from England, and the overwhelming effect on her niece's -spirits. Percy remained silent, and his brow lowered with displeasure -for a moment, but his noble nature rose triumphant over the irritation -of national feeling. ‘I must see her,’ he said, with deep emotion; ‘I -must assure her how much I love and admire the sensibility of her -filial piety.’ My mother stept softly into the chamber, and found -Morna sleeping soundly, but with a flushed cheek, indicating so high a -degree of excitement, that she feared the consequences of awaking her. -Mammy Marget, who was watching by her, declared it would be the death -of her if she saw Mr. Percy now. ‘He's always so vilent, talking about -honor and death. It's hardly worth while to lose honor or life -fighting with they mean English, and the runaway niggers they git to -join 'em. Oh no, he'll jist set Miss Morn to crying, for she bleeves -every word he tells her. He can jist leave a message, or a little -keepsake, or something to show he 'ant forgot her; and that he -couldn't do, neither.’</p> - -<p>“Mammy Marget's advice was certainly wise in this case, and after much -earnest debate, Percy consented to yield to prudent counsel, and with -a heavy heart took his leave. In a few hours he was on his route to -join General Lincoln, who kept in advance of General Prevost, whose -obvious design was to reach Charleston as soon as possible. General -Moultrie, stationed to oppose his passage, found his efforts -ineffectual; he passed with his superior force towards the capital, -while Lincoln marched rapidly towards its relief. He despached in -advance of his army a chosen body of mounted infantry, commanded by -our young hero Percy, to guard the passes to the city, but the little -band used all their efforts in vain.</p> - -<p>“Prevost arrived within cannon shot, and summoned the town to -surrender, on the 12th of May, 1779. But being summoned, did they do -it? No, Lincoln was <span class="pagenum"><a name="page494"><small><small>[p. 494]</small></small></a></span> -advancing with a superior force, and the -enemy dared not risk an attack, but prudently resolved to take -possession of the islands of St. James and St. John, where they waited -to be reinforced by the arrival of two frigates. In one of these -vessels was Colonel Ridgely. His regiment was landed on Port Royal -island, where they were commanded to wait further preparations to -begin the attack. Colonel Ridgely's thoughts turned from the scene of -military show towards his daughter, whose image, amidst all the -vicissitudes of his wanderings, was still stamped in living colors on -his heart. He was impelled to encounter every danger, to see her, if -she still lived. A disguise was the only possible means of doing this, -as all communication with the enemy was interdicted by the Americans, -under the severest penalty. His ingenuity suggested the habit of an -English chaplain, whose inoffensive and pious character, had gained -him permission to visit some sick prisoners in the Charleston -hospital. Under cover of night Ridgely passed the sentinels, with the -pretence of administering to a dying prisoner the consolation of -religion. When in the city, he varied the deception a little, -inquiring for the residence of Mrs. Ashton, as a clergyman on holy -duty bound.</p> - -<p>“I feel that I can give you no idea of the scene that ensued, when -the disguise was thrown off, and the person of Colonel Ridgely was -revealed before his astonished sister. ‘My brother!’ was the -exclamation, as she sunk back in her seat, paralyzed with emotion. -Morna caught the electrifying words, and sprung forwards; but ere he -had clasped her in his arms, the rush of feelings had overpowered her -senses, and she lost in momentary insensibility the consciousness of -his presence. Her recollection was soon restored. Her father's -countenance was the first object that met her returning sensibility. -Oh! how many long past and almost forgotten reminiscences seemed to -spring up around her, as she gazed with intense delight on that still -remembered smile. Her spirits rose from their depression; she lost the -fear of coming evil in the endearments of a father's love, and hope -dispelled the dark cloud that had seemed to lower over her.</p> - -<p>“Colonel Ridgely's disposition was one to look on the bright side of -things. He expressed his hope that there would be no further -bloodshed, and that a capitulation, honorable to both sides, would -restore peace to the besieged city. The dawn was almost visible, -before he resumed his habit, to return. Morna's last request was, that -he would not risk a life so dear, if there was the least possibility -of danger or detection.</p> - -<p>“Sir H. Clinton arrived with reinforcements on the 1st of April, soon -after which he summoned the town to surrender; but General Lincoln -declared his intention of defending the place (to which resolution he -was induced by the daily expectation of recruits from Virginia, which -never arrived) whenever hostilities should commence. The batteries of -the enemy were immediately opened on the town. The Americans returned -a brisk, but ineffectual fire. Their numbers were too few to cope with -the united strength of the British army, and the troops so scattered -as to be exposed to be cut off by every fire from the batteries. The -results of this unavailing struggle on the side of the Americans, -caused the final capitulation of Charleston. But this happened too -late to awaken joy or sorrow in the breast of Morna. Her betrothed -lover was one of General Lincoln's aids, and commanded his first -battery. He maintained this post of danger with consummate skill and -bravery, until every man was swept away from around him, and he stood -alone, a distinguished mark for their shot. It was but for a moment, -and he fell, covered with wounds and with glory. General Lincoln, who -was near him in his last moments, sent a message to his family, -informing them that he met death as became an American, and a hero, -fighting in the cause of liberty.</p> - -<p>“Afflictions, it is said, never come alone. The same day that brought -the overwhelming tidings of Percy's fall, intelligence reached my -mother that Colonel Ridgely was mortally wounded. Hostilities having -ceased, he sent under a flag of truce to request the immediate -attendance of his sister and daughter. No time was to be lost; in a -state of mind bordering on distraction, they were hurried towards the -British camp. My mother was a worshipper of God; to Him she looked up -for strength equal to the mighty conflict. But of poor Morna, how -shall I speak? The waves of affliction had well nigh overwhelmed the -slender bark of her existence, and despair alone seemed to nerve her -step, as she was conducted to the door of her father's tent. The -attendant officer seeing them approach, opened the door, and with a -sad countenance informed them that Colonel Ridgely had just expired. A -shriek was the only sound that escaped Morna's lips. She fell -insensible on the floor, and happy would it have been for her if life -had been extinguished with her reason, which from that moment never -resumed its empire. The functions of life gradually revived, and -maintained a feeble and wavering existence for a few weeks; but the -gem of the mind was gone—wild and incoherent fancies filled her -imagination—broken images of past and future joys were confusedly -mingled with phantoms of fear and dread. In her last moments, there -was something mysterious and almost supernatural in the creations of -her imagination. She seemed to have caught the glimpse of a -procession, which she was hastening to join. ‘Mammy Marget,’ she -cried, ‘bring my bridal dress—the procession is waiting for me; to the -church you know we must go to be united: there is Alfred and father -too. Haste! haste!—it is almost in the clouds already, but I must -overtake it!’ Breathless she sunk back, and expired. Her remains were -laid in my mother's garden, and the turf that 'wraps her slumbering -clay' was daily moistened with her tears. On the slab that marks the -spot are inscribed Hamlet's words: ‘Lay her in the earth, and from her -fair and unpolluted flesh may violets spring.’”</p> - -<p>Such was the history attached to the <small>PORTRAIT</small>.</p> - -<div align="right"><small>V.</small> </div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect17"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>STANZAS.</h4> - -<center><small>BY JAMES F. OTIS.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - See, where, fast sinking o'er the hills,<br> - As with a golden halo round,<br> - The setting sun with splendor fills<br> - Those massy piles which lie around<br> - His couch, in crimson glory drest,<br> - Like drapery o'er a monarch's rest.<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page495"><small><small>[p. 495]</small></small></a></span> -<br> - Bright, fair, but oh, how fading too<br> - Is all this beautiful array!<br> - A moment given to the view,<br> - Then past, amid the gloom, away:<br> - So, like the gilded things of earth,<br> - Which charm the eye, though little worth!<br> -<br> - And now, eve's glowing star illumes<br> - The chambers of the distant west,<br> - And, scarce discerned, like waving plumes<br> - That flash o'er many a warrior's crest,<br> - There float along the upper air<br> - Thin, fleecy clouds, so clear and fair.<br> -<br> - How sweet to gaze upon their slight,<br> - Transparent forms, changing so oft,<br> - As e'en the Zephyr's gentlest flight<br> - Scatters them with its pinions soft—<br> - Seeming, as down the sky they go,<br> - Like wreaths of gently driven snow!<br> -<br> - And then to trace the full-orbed moon,<br> - As, struggling on her cloudy way,<br> - She travels forth, now wrapped in gloom,<br> - Now bursting forth with undimm'd ray—<br> - Like some high, noble heart, whose pride<br> - Still bears him on, though woes betide. -</div></div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect18"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LOVE AND CONSTANCY.</h4> - -<center><small>BY E. BURKE FISHER.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<center><small>CHAP. I.—LOVE.</small></center> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>Oh! how this spring of love resembleth<br> - The uncertain glory of an April day,<br> - Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,<br> - And, by and bye, a cloud takes all away.</small> -</div></div> - -<p>“<i>Harry, dear Harry, farewell!</i>” “<i>God bless you, Mary, we shall meet -again!</i>”—a stifled sob from the first speaker, and an ejaculation of -manly sorrow from the latter, attested their emotion—the oarsmen -dipped their light blades into the wave, and the little craft obedient -to the impulse rapidly receded from the shore. The youth watched its -progress through the glancing waters, and every ripple it created -seemed to wash upon his heart; a moment, and it ranged under the bows -of a stately vessel, which soon after spread her canvass to the -breeze, and bore down the bay, on her outward course. Evening found -the youth pacing the shore, gazing upon the faint outlines of the -departing ship, and when the niggard robe of night hid her from his -view, then it was that the full sense of his situation fell heavily -upon him—he felt that he was an outcast—an alien, without a single tie -to bind him to life, and with a sensation of wretchedness, known only -to him who has tasted of the bitter chalice of misery—he cast him down -upon the sands, and wept long and -bitterly! * * *</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>Who is there who has not heard the melancholy detail, as</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small> -“From his sire's lips glean'd,<br> - Or history's page,”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>of the fierce and destructive tornado, that ushered in the autumnal -equinox of 1787. Its fury was felt by the storm-tossed seaman, as his -frail bark drove onward to destruction, and its disastrous results -might in part be gathered, from the many evidences of its triumph as -strewn along the shores of Cape Cod. The tempest proved as transient -as it was violent, and the sun, that shone out on the morrow of the -storm, steeped its rays in the now tranquil ocean, which, apparently -conscious of the ruin it had wrought, seemed to atone for its mischief -by studied repose. The regular swell of the sea succeeded the raging -billows of the night—the shrill demon of the tempest had retired to -his northern caves, and in his stead, the playful zephyrs of the south -wantoned upon the waters. The hardy wreckers were out upon the beach -as usual, after a night of storm, culling a harvest from the spoils -which the ocean had cast upon their shores. Men, women and children -were engaged in this employment, and so inured had they become to -their somewhat equivocal profession, that whether the object they -inspected was the corpse of the shipwrecked, or a cask of West India, -the same <i>sang froid</i> was evinced, and they proceeded as leisurely to -rifle the garments of the disfigured and ghastly dead, as in breaking -open a sea chest. An unusually well stowed bale had drawn the -attention of the crowd, and they were busily employed in turning over -its contents, when an exclamation of surprise from an idler upon the -strand caused the party to turn in the direction he pointed, and they -beheld the object that had elicited his outcry. Drifting in towards -the land, they saw a floating spar, upon which rode a small lad of -some sixteen or seventeen years, supporting in his arms what seemed -the lifeless form of a female. There was something so noble in this -generous devotion to another's safety in the hour of deadly peril—a -touching display of all that ennobles, in the conduct of one so young, -thus jeopardizing his own doubtful chance of preservation, in the -rescuing from the fierce waters their prey, that even the cold and -sluggish feelings of the men of Barnstable were moved to admiration, -and forgetting personal advantage in the excitement of the moment, -they awaited but the approach of the float within range of their -interference, when they rushed into the surge, and with deafening -plaudits bore the young mariner and his burthen to the land. The boy -relaxed not his hold of his companion, until he had safely deposited -her in the arms of the bystanders, when, throwing one look upon her -wan and lifeless features, he cast his eyes to heaven, and murmuring, -“Thanks, merciful Father! she is saved!” he sank insensible upon the -sand.</p> - -<p>Sympathy—that noblest attribute of the soul, finds as ready response -in the heart of the child of nature, as in the tutored feelings of the -man of civilization; and the lawless wrecker in his course of plunder, -may act as nobly, and feel as proudly the sacred glow of humanity, as -does the sage expounder of moral legislation! The witnesses of the sad -scene we have described, furnished ample illustration of the fact, for -the men of Cape Cod, “albeit, unused to the melting mood,” drew their -hands over their eyes, and their tones were husky as they communed -with each other, while the women, ever alive (in all conditions) to -the dictates of humanity, busied themselves in the attempt to excite -to action the frozen channels of life in the unfortunate maiden.</p> - -<p>The intense pitch to which the sensibilities of her -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page496"><small><small>[p. 496]</small></small></a></span> preserver -were strung, precluded him from enjoying the repose he so much -required, and supported by one of the spectators, he stood watching -with silent expectation the efforts at resuscitation practised upon -his companion in suffering. The exertions of the females were at -length crowned with success, the ashy paleness of her brow was crossed -by the flush of returning animation, and before the lapse of another -hour the children of the wreck, who but a short time since were tossed -to and fro upon the capricious waters, found themselves under the -friendly roof, and seated at the hospitable board of Gregory Cox, to -whose dwelling the generous wreckers had borne them.</p> - -<p>The kindly nature of their host, for a long time, taught him -forbearance upon the subject of their painful story, and weeks passed -on before he gently hinted his wish to hear the sad recital, and so -judiciously did the worthy Quaker prosecute his inquiries, that the -detail was given, with scarce the knowledge of the lad, that the -events over which he brooded had been revealed to their sympathizing -friend. His narrative was brief, yet pregnant with misfortune. Thus it -ran.</p> - -<p>The maiden was the daughter of a Frenchman of rank, who had lately -relinquished an official post in the Canadas with the intention of -returning to his native land. He had, with his wife and daughter, -embarked in the vessel commanded by the narrator's sire. Circumstances -connected with the instructions of his owners, had induced the -commander to make for the port of Boston, but contrary winds rendered -nugatory his efforts, and for several days the ship had been beaten -along the coast of Massachusetts, where it was met by the raging -equinox, and destroyed by the combined fury of the winds and waves. So -unforeseen was the shock, and so totally unprepared were the miserable -victims, that the same storm-fed billow which scattered the fragments -of the vessel to the fury of the winds, bore with it the mass of -beings that cowered upon its decks. Borne along by the violence of the -assault, the boy was plunged into the boiling sea, but fortunately -striking a drifting spar as he fell, he had steadied himself upon it, -the only living thing, as he thought, that survived the onset of the -fierce destroyer. As he was thus rocking upon the turbulent waves, a -gleam of lightning, triumphing for a moment over the darkness, gave to -his view the garments of the girl, and with instinctive humanity, he -lifted her from the waters and supported her in his arms, although -aware that he was thereby rendering more hazardous his own ultimate -chances of safety.</p> - -<p>It seemed as if the eye of Omnipotence saw and approved the act, for -in a short time the march of the tempest was stayed, the lashing -billows sank to gentle ripples, and the wild roar of the howling winds -gave way to the soothing breeze, as it swept from the land. During the -remainder of that eventful night of disaster and death, did the young -mariner sustain the insensible form of his companion, and although no -signs of returning consciousness rewarded his care, yet, buoyant with -the hope of a generous and daring spirit, he clung to his position -until the coming of Aurora revealed the shores of Barnstable, towards -which his sailless and unseamanlike craft was rapidly drifting. The -rest has been already shown.</p> - -<p>Time rolled on! Weeks resolved themselves into months, and months -became absorbed in years, yet the circumstances of the wreck, as -detailed in the journals of the day, brought no claimant for the girl. -As to the stripling, his only relative was that parent whom he had -seen meet a watery grave, and he knew that he stood alone in the -world, with no one to sympathize with the misery that racked his -bosom, save the orphan partner of his perils; and when he looked upon -her budding loveliness, thus left to waste neglected, and without the -fostering care of maternal watchfulness, he vowed to be to her all -that a brother could, or a parent might be. The isolation of his -destiny had rendered him an enthusiast upon the one subject of his -charge, so that, when in the gay flush of innocent girlhood, she -shared his joys and mingled her tears with his, his feelings became -concentred in devotion, which the world calls <i>love</i>, but for which -<i>affection</i>, pure as seraphs might glory in avowing, would be the more -fitting term. In the absence of other channels to vent his feelings -she became the cynosure of his loftiest imaginings, his more than -sister. Happy in her youth, and time-seared to the loss she had -sustained, <i>Mary Destraix</i> loved her preserver with a sister's -tenderness; and when, after the lapse of years, there came one who -called himself her uncle—her father's brother—the joy with which she -sprang to his embrace was merged in tears, when the probability of her -separation from her brother crossed her mind, as the stranger -announced his intention of returning with her immediately to the -castellated abode of her ancestors, in the sunny plains of Marne.</p> - -<p>“And Harry—my brother Harry, shall he not go with us?” she asked -inquiringly, gazing into the stern face of her new-found relative.</p> - -<p>The Frenchman turned to the spot, where stood the subject of the -query. He had heard the story of the youth, and liked not the -question; and as he glanced, not at the noble countenance and manly -bearing, but the rustic apparel of the stripling, his dislike to a -further intimacy between the pair was increased. The stranger was lord -of Marne, and had breathed the courtly air of the Louvre, and he could -see nothing worthy of consideration in the mere fact, that a rough and -untutored rustic should peril his life for a maiden of noble blood. -Tendering the youth a purse well stocked with Louis, he signified his -disinclination to rank him among the members of his voyage home. The -indignant recipient took the proffered gold, advanced a step, and -dashing the gift at the feet of its aristocratic giver, rushed from -the scene.</p> - -<p>“Harry, my noble, generous preserver,” sobbed a voice at his side, as -he stood upon the rude piazza that overlooked the ocean, “think not so -meanly of me, as that for broad lands and empty honors I would forsake -you! Harry, my brother, I will not go!”</p> - -<p>“Not so, Mary Destraix,” was the answer of him she addressed—the -bitterness of his feelings rising paramount to the usual joyousness of -his tones when he spoke to her—“Are you not the daughter of a peer of -France, called to fulfil a bright and envied destiny? Would you so -forget your illustrious ancestry, as to forego their claims upon you -as their descendant, to follow the fortunes of one, who was even cast -from the ocean as unworthy to tenant its caves?”—and the boy laughed -in his agony.</p> - -<p>“Look there!” he continued, addressing the stranger -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page497"><small><small>[p. 497]</small></small></a></span> who had -followed his niece—“Look at yon cradle of storms!” and he enforced his -words, by pointing out towards the quiet waters, which lay steeped in -the phosphorescent tintings of a summer's eve. “Where were the vassals -of your house that they stepped not in to the rescue of their master? -Will the great deep give up its prey for gold? Though the blood of -Charlemagne runs in your veins, that act—that crowning act, of -offering lucre in exchange for life—would sink you to a level with the -veriest serf!”—and drawing up his form, now moulded into the fair -proportions of nineteen summers, he gave back the haughty glance of -the Frenchman with one equally fierce, and turned to the weeping -maiden.</p> - -<p>The result of their conference was such as lovers' conferences usually -are. The mind of Mary was open to the fact, that her feelings towards -her preserver were merged in a fonder tie than a sister's, and a -promise of constancy, immutable to time and circumstance—an -interchange of tokens—a kiss, the first that ever consecrated their -mutual affections, and <i>Harry Harwood</i> sought his couch that night—so -late boiling with the fiercest passions—now calm and full of hope—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>Congenial hope! thy passion-kindling flower,<br> - How bright—how strong in youth's confiding hour!</small> -</div></div> - -<p>The going down of the succeeding sun found Harry weeping upon the -beach alone.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>CHAP. II.—CONSTANCY.</small></center> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“Mulier cupido, quod dicit amanti<br> - In vento, et rapida scribere oportet aqua.”—<i>Catullus</i>.</small> -</div></div> - -<p>There were banquetting, and revelry within the princely halls of -Versailles, and the dulcet sounds of woman's voice accorded well with -the rich breathings of lute and harp. The effulgence of a thousand -lights streamed upon the beauties of the court of Louis, as they stood -ranged in their dream-like loveliness at the footstool of the queenly -Austrian. The rich swell of vocal melody—the tread of the dancers, as -they moved in the stately <i>Pavon</i>, or lascivious waltz—the laugh of -the witty, as jest and repartee rang through the lofty dome—<i>all</i> -typifyed an epoch of pleasure, and absence from cares such as <i>then</i> -existed in the <i>converzaziones</i> of Maria Antoinette, but which too -soon gave way before the ruthless onset of revolutionary reformation, -covenanted in the destruction of these very halls, and sealed in the -blood of royalty.</p> - -<p>The park, and alleys of the gardens, echoed with the laughter of -joyous and happy spirits, and the flowery groves, and trelliced -arbors—fit spot for love's communion—were made this night the trysting -spot of many a youthful pair, while the gentle breeze as it swept -through the leafy paradise, carried upon its wings -confessions—reciprocal disclosures—vows, and protestations, baseless all—aye, -baseless as the courier by which they were borne away!</p> - -<p>“Beautiful Mary, you wrong me, every way you wrong me, by your unjust -suspicions. The <i>Deperney</i> may be as fascinating as you describe her, -but I own not her power! The <i>Canaille</i> of the <i>National Assembly</i> may -be won by her lures, but <i>Marmonti</i> wears no colors save those of the -fair Destraix!”</p> - -<p>“Hold, impertinent! Know you not that the Lady Deperney is my friend, -and beware how you speak of the members of the Assembly, or I shall -send you to republican America, there to learn more fitting terms, by -which to designate the leaders of the people!”</p> - -<p>“That I may also gain some tidings of your lover of Barnstable,” was -the laughing rejoinder of her companion. “Your uncle tells strange -stories of that same youth, and I am half inclined to be jealous of -some certain passages that occurred, in the <i>tete-à-tete</i> you wot of.”</p> - -<p>“Aye! my gallant deliverer from the raging billows of the Atlantic.” -For a moment, there came associations of a painful nature, across her -mental vision, and she felt herself checked in her levity: it was but -for a moment, for in the next, she smilingly tapped the mercurial -Frenchman upon the shoulder as she answered, “Nay, you should not be -too severe upon my youthful follies—the boy saved me from a watery -death, and in the hour of parting, there might have been things -spoken, prompted more by gratitude than prudence—besides I was so -young!”</p> - -<p>“But what if the boy should clothe this pretty romance with the sober -hues of reality, and come to claim his rights? What would the heiress -of Marne think, if, at the levee of our gracious sovereign, her -quondam lover should step forward, and demand her as his bride?”</p> - -<p>“Rest contented on that score, knight of the tristful countenance,” -laughingly responded the fair one; “the lad has too much sense to -attempt any flight of the kind; his modesty and wits would teach him -that in so doing he was transgressing the bounds of discretion.”</p> - -<p>“And yet, if he could survey the ripened loveliness of the flower he -saved when in its budding helplessness,” urged the gallant Marmonti, -bending his lips to the hand of his companion, “and feel no wish to -claim it for his trans-Atlantic bower, he must be indeed a Stoic; and -I take it, that his is a warmer spirit than voluntarily to purge his -memory of the recollection of an action that must come coupled with -the charms of the rescued floweret. By the bones of the immortal -Henri! but the little I have heard of thy deliverance, and the heroism -that achieved it, have taught me a brother's love for this same—how -call you the youth?”</p> - -<p>“Harley—No—Harwood; ay, that is his name—but, methinks, a glimpse of -him would tend marvellously to lessen thy brotherly feelings. He had -but little of knightly bearing, and his speech and actions savored -somewhat of his nautical training. I would that he were here?”</p> - -<p>There was a rustling in the adjacent shrubbery—a hasty step was heard -upon the gravelled avenue, and as the intruder dashed swiftly by, -there came words upon the ear of the late speaker, breathed in tones -she remembered but too well. “And this is Mary Destraix, and it is -thus she speaks of Henry Harwood! Great God, how I have been duped!” -The footsteps died away in the distance, and before she could rally -from the shock, the speaker was gone.</p> - -<p>The sword of Marmonti was drawn from its sheath, but the convulsive -grasp of the conscience-stricken girl withheld him from pursuit; and -when he inquiringly bent his gaze upon her countenance, its expression -was so death-like and cold, that fearing she was ill, (for he -understood not the purport of the stranger's exclamation,) he hastily -returned to the saloon.</p> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page498"><small><small>[p. 498]</small></small></a></span> -<p>During the remainder of the evening, it was the subject for -comment that the favorite of the queen was grave and abstracted, and -that her brow, usually lighted up with the joy of an untroubled -spirit, was crossed with darker hues than were wont to sully it. Even -Marmonti strove in vain to restore her depressed spirits, but it would -not do; the words she had heard in the garden clogged her soul, bowing -it down to remorse and anguish. Memory led her away from these scenes -of hollow semblance to the shores of Massachusetts—to that eventful -night, when, in her feebleness, she battled with the adverse waters. -Again she was listening to the oft-repeated story of the garrulous -wreckers, as they painted, in their blunt honesty of speech, the -daring courage and generous conduct of the youthful mariner, as, after -having laid her gently upon the beach, he uttered that prayer of -thanksgiving for her safety. As fancy's finger pointed out these -episodes of her past existence, and she reflected upon the return she -had made—that she had spoken of him as a thing of scorn, and that he -had heard her! the swelling waves of contrition irrigated her selfish -soul, and she retired to her chamber, for that night redeemed from the -trammels of coquetry and ingratitude. Dismissing her maid, she sat -down in an embrasure of her apartment, but was disturbed from her -reverie by the entrance of her attendant, who placed beside her a -pacquet, bearing her address, and again retired. Hastily breaking the -seal, she opened its folds, in doing which a braid of hair escaped -from therein and fell to the ground. The contents of the epistle were -disjointed in character, and evidenced a bruised and saddened spirit. -The writer was Harwood.</p> - -<p>“I will not upbraid you, Mary, although you have crushed my fondest—my -dearest hopes! Fool that I was, I dreamed that the Mary of my boyhood -was still the same—that what she <i>professed</i> in other days, she would -prove in my ripened years—that her gentle spirit yet retained its -recollection of one with whom was spent the darkest portion of her -brief existence! Do you remember that night when the demon of the -storm swept the bosom of the dark Atlantic, and I bore you——but no! -not that; but surely you still retain the memory of that kind, good -old man, who took us in our destitution and gave us a home, and who, -when we were seated at his social board, would moralize upon our -melancholy story, and bid us love one another, for it seemed as if -Providence so willed it in the arrangement of our destinies. And oh! -how often, when wandering along the shores of Barnstable, have we -mingled our tears when we looked out upon the great sea, the sepulchre -of all we loved, and cheated Sorrow of its triumph, in gilding with -Hope's brightest pencillings a radiant and sunny future—and then, that -evening, when in the holy hush of nature, and in the presence of none -save our God, you vowed remembrance, and gave me a ringlet of your own -raven hair. I return it, Mary, for I may not retain it after the fatal -proofs of your feelings towards me, which inadvertently I overheard -this night. Alas! that such things should be—that you, whom I have -loved—how fervently and deeply let my present agony pourtray, should -speak of me as of one——but I will not upbraid, but bless you, Mary; -even in your heartlessness will my prayers be as fervent for your -welfare, as when in other years I watched your girlhood beyond the -ocean. Farewell! Heiress of Marne, farewell—<i>forever!</i>”</p> - -<p>Her attendants, upon entering their mistress' chamber on the ensuing -morning, found her lying insensible upon her couch, the letter of -Harwood compressed within her grasp.</p> - -<p>Did she awake to better feelings, and was the film of ingratitude and -deceit rent from her heart? Alas! that selfishness should prevail over -the finer impulses of our nature, and the perspective of a coronet in -woman's eye sway ascendant over the homely aspect of humble wedlock! -Who was Henry Harwood, that he should aspire to the hand of the -favorite of Marie Antoinette, and on the plea of having performed a -trifling act of humanity, <i>dare</i> thus to address the loveliest woman -in the Court of Louis? One month, and Marmonti, amid the beauty and -chivalry of France, and honored by the presence of royalty, wedded the -fair Destraix!</p> - -<p>Marmonti's lineage was noble—ay, princely! In his veins there ran the -tide of the House of Bourbon. Marmonti was the friend of his king!</p> - -<p>And had the flight of time wrought no change in the fortunes of <i>the -boy of the wreck?</i> In a land like ours, industry and perseverance eke -out their reward, and fostered by the liberal and equalizing spirit of -our institutions, Harwood's concentrated energies found ample -opportunity to develop themselves. His tale won for him the favorable -notice of a philanthropist, and his integrity and devotion to the -sternest duties, gained him his friendship—so that the homeless, -beggared stripling of a few years past, found himself embarked upon -the sea of commerce, aided by friendly winds, on his course to fortune -and esteem; and although he could urge no pretensions to ancestral -honors, yet in republican America, where aristocracy is but the idle -misnomer of faction, and man is judged by the standard of his moral -excellence, Harwood became one of her genuine aristocracy—one of her -merchant nobles!</p> - -<p>The bells that rung out the consummation of the nuptial rites, -tortured not the ears of the jilted lover—he was ploughing the waves -on his return.</p> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>CHAP. III.—REVERSES.</small></center> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“For mortal pleasure—what art thou in truth?<br> - The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below.”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>There was slaughter in the streets of Paris! Revolution,—not the -revolution of a shackled and indignant people rising to assert their -rights,—but of a wild mob,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small> - - “The scum<br> - That rises upmost when a nation boils,”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>stalked in the palaces of the mighty, desecrating their ancestral -domes, and treading down with demoniac fury the trophied honors of -their sires. Faction—lawless and unprincipled faction—usurped the -tribunals of justice—its acts were the dethronement of kings, ratified -in the blood of princes. The headless trunk of the Bourbon was cast -beneath the feet of his people in their fury, and to weep for him was -to share his fate! The regal Antoinette too—the fairest, yet alas! the -most hapless of the daughters of Lorraine—was dragged to the accursed -block, and in rapid succession her chivalrous defenders kissed the -guillotine, reeking with the blood of their sovereigns. The fell tiger -Anarchy, was abroad in Gallia, and his fangs rent asunder the -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page499"><small><small>[p. 499]</small></small></a></span> -life-strings of all who owned not his sway, while the wild shouts that -ushered in the blood-washed republic was mingled with the wail of -France for her slaughtered and dishonored chivalry.</p> - -<p>Marmonti witnessed the decapitation of his royal relative, and heard -from his cell the cry that told the murder of the queen. A blank of a -few days ensued—he was dragged from his dungeon—a dash in the records -of the criminal tribunal, and all that remained of Frederick, Duke of -Marmonti, was his lifeless and mangled corpse. Did the wife of -Marmonti share the grave of her lord?</p> - -<p>Seated in the oriel of an apartment in the <i>Palais du Ministéres des -Affaires des Etrangéres</i>, was a lady clothed in a suit of sables. The -year was in its decline, and the melancholy aspect of the external -world served to deepen the gloom that sat throned upon the features of -the mourner. Ever and anon the hoarse roar of the multitude in the -adjacent <i>place</i> swept into the room, as some popular leader vented -his oratory; or from the Boulevard below the window, there would -ascend the voices of the patriotic artizans, as they repeated in -stunning chorus,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“Aux armes citoyens, formons nos battaillons<br> - Marchons; qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons!”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>She shuddered as these sounds broke upon her ear, and when from the -<i>Place Vendome</i> there darted a thousand artificial meteors, aided in -effect by the discharge of artillery, she shrouded her face with her -hands and wept convulsively.</p> - -<p>The door was thrown open and a visiter announced, but absorbed in -grief she heeded not the tidings. The visiter advanced until within a -few feet and paused, as if awaiting her attention, but still she noted -not his proximity.</p> - -<p>“Lady,” murmured the stranger—God of heaven! could it be <i>his</i> -voice?—“Duchess of Marmonti, will you not speak to your friend?” <i>Yes</i>, those -tones were <i>his;</i> his whom in her girlhood she had such cause to love -and honor, whom in her womanhood she had slighted and defamed. And -what did he here? Had he heard of her misfortunes, and was his errand -to the wretched that he might triumph in her wretchedness? The -passions of her race stirred within her as she caught at this opinion, -and throwing back the dishevelled ringlets from her care-worn features -she raised her flashing eyes to the face of the speaker; but the -saddened look and pitying glance that met her gaze, spoke not joy but -sorrow for her misery, and again her head was hidden from her -companion's view.</p> - -<p>“Mary”—and the voice of the speaker was fraught with emotion—“Mary,” -and as if that name conjured up old and familiar associations, he -seated himself beside her; a tear filled in his eye and dropped upon -the hand he pressed within his own. <i>That tear!</i> It opened the -floodgates of memory, and told a brother's love. The sufferer saw not -in the being before her, the man she had so deeply injured in his -richest affections, and leaning her head upon his shoulder, she poured -forth her grief, even as she was wont to do in earlier, happier years. -Time rolled refluently in its channels, and her companion was once -more the Harry of Barnstable and she again Mary Destraix. Cheated by -the phantom of happiness the kindly demeanor of Harwood created, she -wept the more; but her tears were not wrung from the heart—and when in -the outpourings of his sympathy he spoke of her departure from Paris -and its associations, and painted with brotherly fervor the comfort -and safety that awaited her in his distant home, she raised her eyes -beaming with gratitude and essayed to speak, but her emotions were too -strong for the cold medium of words, and she could only thank him with -her tears.</p> - -<p>The influence of Harwood, through his country's ambassador, was -sufficient to obtain from the new government of France a passport of -safe conduct for the widow of the revolutionary victim, so that the -only object of his coming being now accomplished, the pair quitted its -shores. In her home in the western world the expatriated Duchess found -an effectual asylum from the contingencies that threatened her during -her continuance in the French capital; and as she noted the frank and -urbane deportment of her host, her mind regained its wonted vigor and -her countenance its healthful hues: not but that at times, when the -sad and tragic scenes through which it had been her destiny to pass -came across her brain, there came an icy sensation upon her heart, but -she triumphed over her misfortunes, and would have been even selfishly -happy was it not that when she reflected upon her conduct towards -Harwood a sense of shame possessed her mind; but his own actions aided -to dispel such feelings and sear her heart to their impression, and -she became as tranquil as the exigencies of her situation would -warrant.</p> - -<p><i>As to him</i>—experience had taught him a lesson never to be forgotten. -He had periled his happiness upon the fickle sea of human affections, -and had met disappointment as the product; and although when he gazed -upon the surpassing beauty of her, his first—his only love—he felt as -he did on that day when he watched from the beach of Cape Cod her -departure from the scenes of her girlhood; yet the revelations of -woman's faith he had obtained in the royal gardens of Versailles, -nerved his heart against further invasion from the son of Venus. It -had worn away the enthusiasm of his earlier years, and left him still -alive to the deference which woman in any and all circumstances has a -right to claim, but callous to her lures; so that when in the course -of time the mercurial passions of the French people had become -shackled by the wisdom and tyranny of the giant-minded Corsican, and -that politic ruler deemed it expedient to annul the decree against the -house of Marne and invited its only living representative to return to -her family possession, Harwood at once counselled her acceptance of -the proffered restitution, and despite her avowed astonishment and -reluctance, hastened the arrangements for her departure.</p> - -<p>“She will wed again,” soliloquized the merchant, as he turned from -gazing upon the bark which was conveying her to “the land of the -vine.” “She will wed again; and surrounded by minions and parasites, -and in the possession of gewgaw honors, be happier than as the wife of -one who has nothing to offer but honest affections and an humble -home,” and with a sigh he quitted the quay.</p> - -<p>Years brought another change in the dynasties of France. The imperial -diadem was rent from the brow of Napoleon, and <i>he</i>—“the man of a -thousand thrones”—left to point the moral of his own ambition upon the -sea girt rock of Helena. The Bourbon sat again upon -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page500"><small><small>[p. 500]</small></small></a></span> the throne -of his sires, and with him the fortunes of his followers loomed in the -ascendant. The predictions of Harwood had been in part fulfilled, for -the relict of Marmonti was again a bride, and a leader in the -brilliant circles that shone in the zodiac of the restoration. I have -said <i>in part</i>—for, had her change of fortunes brought corresponding -happiness?—We shall see.</p> - -<p>The merchant read the announcement in the Parisian journals, and there -was bitterness in the train of reflections which accompanied the -perusal. Throwing aside the paper he indulged in long and melancholy -musings upon this fresh instance of her versatility of principles, so -glaringly developed in a second marriage. A letter was placed in his -hands at the moment, and carelessly breaking the wax he held it -unread, his mind still wandering upon the <i>on dit</i> from whence his -reverie; but a vagrant glance at the superscription at length rivetted -his attention, and he eagerly devoted himself to scanning its -contents.</p> - -<p>“Congratulate me, my dear friend,” <i>he read</i>, “for I am the happiest -of women. Our gracious sovereign is the idol of his people, and the -times of wit and gaiety are revived in the capital. You will see by -the publications of the day that I am again wedded; and although I do -not feel for my present husband the strong affection which I -entertained for the first, and which is buried with him, still I think -I shall love him, for he strives to render me happy by indulgence in -my every wish. His loyalty throughout the period of his monarch's -exile, his unswerving zeal and bravery in the field, have endeared him -to the king, who has been pleased to reward his faithful services with -honors and preferment. My own introduction at court gained the -favorable notice of his majesty, who smilingly assured me that my -misfortunes should not be forgotten. And now, my friend, the storms -that have hitherto overclouded the sun of my life are forever -dispersed, and the future is full of promise. The court is -re-established at Versailles—but I forget that between us Versailles -is an interdicted name. <i>The garden scene!</i> Ah, how you would be -amused to hear the envious demoiselles of the court rallying me upon -that little incident, but I only laugh at them and”——</p> - -<p>The idle levity with which she alluded to a period of such painful -interest, jarred upon his excited feelings. “What an escape I have -had!” he murmured, as with vacant eye he watched the blaze of the -epistle as it scorched and blackened in the grate, where it had -accidentally fallen. “Can she be indeed a faithful type of her sex? -Nay, that is impossible; and yet”— He paused and left the blank -unfilled.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>Gentle readers, you whose grey hairs are the results of sorrowful -experience as well as time, have been taught that it is not expedient -at all times to give utterance to our opinions; and you, also, -romantic lingerers on the shores of boyhood, have yet to learn that be -your experience what it may, as it is with religion so also with -woman; and he who tilts against either is warring with established -usage, and will be buried in the ruins of his own creation. Thence it -is that I, having performed my duty as an historian, wish not to hinge -a moral upon my labors, leaving it for you to draw such inferences as -you may deem most wise. But ere I leave you, I would state that the -score of years that have passed away since the occurrence of the -events recorded above, have wrought little change in the two principal -personages of my story. Age has, it is true, somewhat marred the -beauty of the <i>Countess Malvoli</i>, but her eager pursuit after pleasure -is as keen as ever, while the merchant of Boston is still a bachelor, -and has even been known in some of his cloudy moments, to assert—in -the language of the Volscian Satirist—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“Nulla fere causa est, in qua non fœmina litem<br> - Moverit.”</small> -</div></div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect19"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>TO J—— S——.</h4> - -<center><small>(NOW OF ALABAMA.)</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Brother and friend, I greet thee!—tho' thy dwelling<br> - Be far from friends and from thy home of youth,<br> - Thoughts of thy best-loved ones and thee, are swelling<br> - Within my heart, in sadness and in truth.<br> -<br> - I greet thee from the land, where death has broken<br> - Some links of love's bright chain, but where the ties<br> - Of blood still bind thee, and this worthless token<br> - Is warm with truth's and friendship's fadeless dyes.<br> -<br> - Thou wert to me, <i>indeed</i>, a friend and brother—<br> - As such I loved thee, such I still must deem;<br> - Distance and time, with me, can never smother<br> - The deep, full flowing of affection's stream.<br> -<br> - I know thee!—Nature's magical refining<br> - Has given thy soul what art can ne'er bestow—<br> - A warmth, a depth of tenderness, inclining<br> - Even to romance—what few will ever know.<br> -<br> - I felt, when with thee, that no shade of feeling,<br> - No touch of truth, no thought of loftier aim,<br> - Could ever be to thee a vain revealing—<br> - That with thy mind my own could kindred claim.<br> -<br> - Thou saidst that thou shouldst hail with greater pleasure<br> - This page,<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small> when it contained some trace of me—<br> - Say, wilt thou by this humble tribute measure<br> - The fond regard I cherish still for thee?<br> -<br> - May all this world can give, best worth possessing,<br> - Fame, fortune, friends, and length of days be thine;<br> - And may the Christian's hope, that surest blessing,<br> - Add grace to years, and gild thy life's decline.<br> -<br> - Farewell!—Time's restless tide is rushing o'er us—<br> - It cannot fade the past to mem'ry dear;<br> - But its dark waters may, perchance, restore us<br> - Much we have loved, and lost, and sighed for here. -</div></div> - -<div align="right"><small>E. A. S.</small> </div> - -<blockquote><i>Virginia, June 26, 1836</i>.</blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Southern Literary Messenger.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect20"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>PARADISE LOST.</h4> -<br> - -<p>There exists a prose version of Milton's Paradise Lost, which was -innocently translated from the French version of that epic. One Green, -also, published a new version of the poem into blank verse.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect21"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page501"><small><small>[p. 501]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LETTER TO B——.<small><small><sup>1</sup></small></small></h4> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> These detached passages form part of the preface to a -small volume printed some years ago for private circulation. They have -vigor and much originality—but of course we shall not be called upon -to endorse all the writer's opinions.—<i>Ed.</i></small></blockquote> -<br> - -<p>It has been said that a good critique on a poem may be written by one -who is no poet himself. This, according to <i>your</i> idea and <i>mine</i> of -poetry, I feel to be false—the less poetical the critic, the less just -the critique, and the converse. On this account, and because there are -but few B——'s in the world, I would be as much ashamed of the world's -good opinion as proud of your own. Another than yourself might here -observe, “Shakspeare is in possession of the world's good opinion, and -yet Shakspeare is the greatest of poets. It appears then that the -world judge correctly, why should you be ashamed of their favorable -judgment?” The difficulty lies in the interpretation of the word -“judgment” or “opinion.” The opinion is the world's, truly, but it may -be called theirs as a man would call a book his, having bought it; he -did not write the book, but it is his; they did not originate the -opinion, but it is theirs. A fool, for example, thinks Shakspeare a -great poet—yet the fool has never read Shakspeare. But the fool's -neighbor, who is a step higher on the Andes of the mind, whose head -(that is to say his more exalted thought) is too far above the fool to -be seen or understood, but whose feet (by which I mean his every-day -actions) are sufficiently near to be discerned, and by means of which -that superiority is ascertained, which <i>but</i> for them would never have -been discovered—this neighbor asserts that Shakspeare is a great -poet—the fool believes him, and it is henceforward his <i>opinion</i>. This -neighbor's own opinion has, in like manner, been adopted from one -above <i>him</i>, and so, ascendingly, to a few gifted individuals, who -kneel around the summit, beholding, face to face, the master spirit -who stands upon the pinnacle.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>You are aware of the great barrier in the path of an American writer. -He is read, if at all, in preference to the combined and established -wit of the world. I say established; for it is with literature as with -law or empire—an established name is an estate in tenure, or a throne -in possession. Besides, one might suppose that books, like their -authors, improve by travel—their having crossed the sea is, with us, -so great a distinction. Our antiquaries abandon time for distance; our -very fops glance from the binding to the bottom of the title-page, -where the mystic characters which spell London, Paris, or Genoa, are -precisely so many letters of recommendation.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>I mentioned just now a vulgar error as regards criticism. I think the -notion that no poet can form a correct estimate of his own writings is -another. I remarked before, that in proportion to the poetical talent, -would be the justice of a critique upon poetry. Therefore, a bad poet -would, I grant, make a false critique, and his self-love would -infallibly bias his little judgment in his favor; but a poet, who is -indeed a poet, could not, I think, fail of making a just critique. -Whatever should be deducted on the score of self-love, might be -replaced on account of his intimate acquaintance with the subject; in -short, we have more instances of false criticism than of just, where -one's own writings are the test, simply because we have more bad poets -than good. There are of course many objections to what I say: Milton -is a great example of the contrary; but his opinion with respect to -the Paradise Regained, is by no means fairly ascertained. By what -trivial circumstances men are often led to assert what they do not -really believe! Perhaps an inadvertent word has descended to -posterity. But, in fact, the Paradise Regained is little, if at all, -inferior to the Paradise Lost, and is only supposed so to be, because -men do not like epics, whatever they may say to the contrary, and -reading those of Milton in their natural order, are too much wearied -with the first to derive any pleasure from the second.</p> - -<p>I dare say Milton preferred Comus to either—if so—justly.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>As I am speaking of poetry, it will not be amiss to touch slightly -upon the most singular heresy in its modern history—the heresy of what -is called very foolishly, the Lake School. Some years ago I might have -been induced, by an occasion like the present, to attempt a formal -refutation of their doctrine; at present it would be a work of -supererogation. The wise must bow to the wisdom of such men as -Coleridge and Southey, but being wise, have laughed at poetical -theories so prosaically exemplified.</p> - -<p>Aristotle, with singular assurance, has declared poetry the most -philosophical of all writing<small><small><sup>2</sup></small></small>—but it required a Wordsworth to -pronounce it the most metaphysical. He seems to think that the end of -poetry is, or should be, instruction—yet it is a truism that the end -of our existence is happiness; if so, the end of every separate part -of our existence—every thing connected with our existence should be -still happiness. Therefore the end of instruction should be happiness; -and happiness is another name for pleasure;—therefore the end of -instruction should be pleasure: yet we see the above mentioned opinion -implies precisely the reverse.</p> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> Spoudiotaton kai philosophikotaton genos.</small></blockquote> - -<p>To proceed: ceteris paribus, he who pleases, is of more importance to -his fellow men than he who instructs, since utility is happiness, and -pleasure is the end already obtained which instruction is merely the -means of obtaining.</p> - -<p>I see no reason, then, why our metaphysical poets should plume -themselves so much on the utility of their works, unless indeed they -refer to instruction with eternity in view; in which case, sincere -respect for their piety would not allow me to express my contempt for -their judgment; contempt which it would be difficult to conceal, since -their writings are professedly to be understood by the few, and it is -the many who stand in need of salvation. In such case I should no -doubt be tempted to think of the devil in Melmoth, who labors -indefatigably through three octavo volumes, to accomplish the -destruction of one or two souls, while any common devil would have -demolished one or two thousand.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>Against the subtleties which would make poetry a study—not a -passion—it becomes the metaphysician to reason—but the poet to protest. Yet -Wordsworth and Coleridge are men in years; the one imbued in -contemplation from his childhood, the other a giant in -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page502"><small><small>[p. 502]</small></small></a></span> intellect -and learning. The diffidence, then, with which I venture to dispute -their authority, would be overwhelming, did I not feel, from the -bottom of my heart, that learning has little to do with the -imagination—intellect with the passions—or age with poetry.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> -<br> -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“Trifles, like straws, upon the surface flow,<br> - He who would search for pearls must dive below,”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>are lines which have done much mischief. As regards the greater -truths, men oftener err by seeking them at the bottom than at the top; -the depth lies in the huge abysses where wisdom is sought—not in the -palpable palaces where she is found. The ancients were not always -right in hiding the goddess in a well: witness the light which Bacon -has thrown upon philosophy; witness the principles of our divine -faith—that moral mechanism by which the simplicity of a child may -overbalance the wisdom of a man.</p> - -<p>We see an instance of Coleridge's liability to err, in his Biographia -Literaria—professedly his literary life and opinions, but, in fact, a -treatise <i>de omni scibili et quibusdam aliis</i>. He goes wrong by reason -of his very profundity, and of his error we have a natural type in the -contemplation of a star. He who regards it directly and intensely -sees, it is true, the star, but it is the star without a ray—while he -who surveys it less inquisitively is conscious of all for which the -star is useful to us below—its brilliancy and its beauty.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>As to Wordsworth, I have no faith in him. That he had, in youth, the -feelings of a poet I believe—for there are glimpses of extreme -delicacy in his writings—(and delicacy is the poet's own kingdom—his -<i>El Dorado</i>)—but they have the appearance of a better day recollected; -and glimpses, at best, are little evidence of present poetic fire—we -know that a few straggling flowers spring up daily in the crevices of -the glacier.</p> - -<p>He was to blame in wearing away his youth in contemplation with the -end of poetizing in his manhood. With the increase of his judgment the -light which should make it apparent has faded away. His judgment -consequently is too correct. This may not be understood,—but the old -Goths of Germany would have understood it, who used to debate matters -of importance to their State twice, once when drunk, and once when -sober—sober that they might not be deficient in formality—drunk lest -they should be destitute of vigor.</p> - -<p>The long wordy discussions by which he tries to reason us into -admiration of his poetry, speak very little in his favor: they are -full of such assertions as this—(I have opened one of his volumes at -random) “Of genius the only proof is the act of doing well what is -worthy to be done, and what was never done before”—indeed! then it -follows that in doing what is <i>un</i>worthy to be done, or what <i>has</i> -been done before, no genius can be evinced: yet the picking of pockets -is an unworthy act, pockets have been picked time immemorial, and -Barrington, the pick-pocket, in point of genius, would have thought -hard of a comparison with William Wordsworth, the poet.</p> - -<p>Again—in estimating the merit of certain poems, whether they be -Ossian's or M’Pherson's, can surely be of little consequence, yet, in -order to prove their worthlessness, Mr. W. has expended many pages in -the controversy. <i>Tantæne animis?</i> Can great minds descend to such -absurdity? But worse still: that he may bear down every argument in -favor of these poems, he triumphantly drags forward a passage, in his -abomination of which he expects the reader to sympathize. It is the -beginning of the epic poem “<i>Temora</i>.” “The blue waves of Ullin roll -in light; the green hills are covered with day; trees shake their -dusky heads in the breeze.” And this—this gorgeous, yet simple -imagery—where all is alive and panting with immortality—this—William -Wordsworth, the author of Peter Bell, has <i>selected</i> for his contempt. -We shall see what better he, in his own person, has to offer. -Imprimis:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“And now she's at the pony's head,<br> - And now she's at the pony's tail,<br> - On that side now, and now on this,<br> - And almost stifled her with bliss—<br> - A few sad tears does Betty shed,<br> - She pats the pony where or when<br> - She knows not: happy Betty Foy!<br> - O Johnny! never mind the Doctor!”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>Secondly:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“The dew was falling fast, the—stars began to blink,<br> - I heard a voice, it said——drink, pretty creature, drink;<br> - And looking o'er the hedge, be—fore me I espied<br> - A snow-white mountain lamb with a—maiden at its side,<br> - No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone,<br> - And by a slender cord was—tether'd to a stone.”</small> -</div></div> - -<p>Now we have no doubt this is all true; we <i>will</i> believe it, indeed we -will, Mr. W. Is it sympathy for the sheep you wish to excite? I love a -sheep from the bottom of my heart.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>But there <i>are</i> occasions, dear B——, there are occasions when even -Wordsworth is reasonable. Even Stamboul, it is said, shall have an -end, and the most unlucky blunders must come to a conclusion. Here is -an extract from his preface—</p> - -<p>“Those who have been accustomed to the phraseology of modern writers, -if they persist in reading this book to a conclusion (<i>impossible!</i>) -will, no doubt, have to struggle with feelings of awkwardness; (ha! -ha! ha!) they will look round for poetry (ha! ha! ha! ha!) and will be -induced to inquire by what species of courtesy these attempts have -been permitted to assume that title.” Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!</p> - -<p>Yet let not Mr. W. despair; he has given immortality to a wagon, and -the bee Sophocles has transmitted to eternity a sore toe, and -dignified a tragedy with a chorus of turkeys.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>Of Coleridge I cannot speak but with reverence. His towering -intellect! his gigantic power! He is one more evidence of the fact -“que la plupart des sectes ont raison dans une bonne partie de ce -qu'elles avancent, mais non pas en ce qu'elles nient.” He has -imprisoned his own conceptions by the barrier he has erected against -those of others. It is lamentable to think that such a mind should be -buried in metaphysics, and, like the Nyctanthes, waste its perfume -upon the night alone. In reading his poetry I tremble—like one who -stands upon a volcano, conscious, from the very darkness bursting from -the crater, of the fire and the light that are weltering below.</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page503"><small><small>[p. 503]</small></small></a></span> -<p>What is Poetry?—Poetry! that Proteus-like idea, with as many -appellations as the nine-titled Corcyra! Give me, I demanded of a -scholar some time ago, give me a definition of poetry? -“Tres-volontiers,”—and he proceeded to his library, brought me a Dr. -Johnson, and overwhelmed me with a definition. Shade of the immortal -Shakspeare! I imagined to myself the scowl of your spiritual eye upon -the profanity of that scurrilous Ursa Major. Think of poetry, dear -B——, think of poetry, and then think of—Dr. Samuel Johnson! Think of all -that is airy and fairy-like, and then of all that is hideous and -unwieldy; think of his huge bulk, the Elephant! and then—and then -think of the Tempest—the Midsummer Night's Dream—Prospero—Oberon—and -Titania!</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>A poem, in my opinion, is opposed to a work of science by having, for -its <i>immediate</i> object, pleasure, not truth; to romance, by having for -its object an <i>indefinite</i> instead of a <i>definite</i> pleasure, being a -poem only so far as this object is attained; romance presenting -perceptible images with definite, poetry with <i>in</i>definite sensations, -to which end music is an <i>essential</i>, since the comprehension of sweet -sound is our most indefinite conception. Music, when combined with a -pleasurable idea, is poetry; music without the idea is simply music; -the idea without the music is prose from its very definitiveness.</p> - -<p>What was meant by the invective against him who had no music in his -soul?</p> - -<center>* * - * - * - *</center> - -<p>To sum up this long rigmarole, I have, dear B——, what you no doubt -perceive, for the metaphysical poets, <i>as</i> poets, the most sovereign -contempt. That they have followers proves nothing—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>No Indian prince has to his palace<br> - More followers than a thief to the gallows.</small> -</div></div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect22"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE SCIENCE OF LIFE.</h4> - -<center><small>BY M. CAREY.</small></center> -<br> -<br> -<p>1. If you be so exceptious and pettish, as to question every word you -hear said of you, you will have few friends, little sense, and much -trouble.</p> - -<p>2. Neglect not manners as if they were of little importance. They are -frequently what the world judges us by, and by which it decides for or -against us. A man may have virtue, capacity and good conduct, and yet -by roughness be rendered insupportable.</p> - -<p>3. Broach not odd opinions to such as are not fit to hear them. If you -do, you will do them no good by it, perhaps hurt; and may very well -expect discredit and mischief to yourself. An ill placed paradox, and -an ill timed jest have ruined many.</p> - -<p>4. To have a graceful behavior, it is necessary to have a proper -degree of confidence; and a tolerably good opinion of yourself. -Bashfulness is boyish.</p> - -<p>5. Think how many times you have been mistaken in your opinions in -times past, and let that teach you in future not to be positive or -obstinate.</p> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect23"></a> -<br> -<br> -<h4>ANTHOLOGIA.</h4> - -<center><small>BY M. CAREY.</small></center> -<br> - -<blockquote><small>1. On a lady of sixty marrying a youth of seventeen.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Hard is the fate of every childless wife,<br> - The thoughts of barrenness annoy her life.<br> - Troth, aged bride, by thee 'twas wisely done<br> - To choose a child and husband both in one. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>2. Composition of an Epigram.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - What is an epigram? A dwarfish whole,<br> - Its body brevity and wit its soul. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>3. Lurking Love.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - When lurking love in ambush lies,<br> - Under friendship's fair disguise:<br> - When he wears an angry mien,<br> - Imitating strife and spleen:<br> - When, like sorrow, he seduces,<br> - When, like pleasure, he amuses:<br> - Still, howe'er the parts are cast,<br> - It is but lurking love at last. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>4. The Farmer's Creed.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Let this be held the farmer's creed:<br> - For stock look out the choicest breed—<br> - In peace and plenty let them feed—<br> - Your land sow with the best of seed—<br> - Enclose and drain it with all speed,<br> - And you will soon be rich indeed. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>5. On a Slanderous Coquette.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Hast thou not seen a lively bee,<br> - Rove through the air, supremely free,<br> - Its slender waist, and swelling breast,<br> - In nature's beauteous colors drest,<br> - While on its little, pointed tongue,<br> - All Hybla's luscious sweets were hung:<br> - Such Nancy is—but, oh the thing,<br> - Wears, like the bee, a poisonous sting. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>6. On Content.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - It is not youth can give content,<br> - Nor is it wealth can fee;<br> - It is a dower from heav'n sent,<br> - But not to thee or me.<br> -<br> - It is not in the monarch's crown<br> - Though he'd give millions for 't—<br> - It is not in his lordship's frown<br> - Nor waits on him to court.<br> -<br> - It is not in a coach and six,<br> - It is not in a garter;<br> - 'Tis not in love or politics,<br> - But 'tis in Hodge the Carter. -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>7. On a Dandy.</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - They say, my friend, that you admire<br> - Yourself with all a lover's fire.<br> - Men who possess what they desire<br> - Like you, are happy fellows.<br> - But you can boast one pleasure more,<br> - While blest with all that you adore,<br> - That no one will be jealous. -</div></div> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect24"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page504"><small><small>[p. 504]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<h4><i>Editorial</i>.</h4> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<h4>CRITICAL NOTICES.</h4> -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center>HOUSE OF LORDS.</center> - -<p><i>Random Recollections of the House of Lords, from the year 1830 to -1836. By the author of “Random Recollections of the House of Commons.” -Philadelphia: Republished by E. L. Carey & A. Hart.</i></p> - -<p>This is an exceedingly interesting volume, written by Mr. Grant, a -young Scotch reporter—a man of sound sense, acute observation, and -great knowledge of mankind. Its manner is correct, fluent, and -forcible—occasionally rising into a high species of eloquence. It has -too, that rare merit in compositions of this nature—the merit of -strict impartiality—an impartiality so rigidly observed, that it is -nearly impossible to form, from any thing comprehended in the book -itself, an estimate of the political principles of the writer.</p> - -<p>The work commences, in pursuance of the author's plan adopted in his -book on the other House of Parliament, with an account of the interior -of the building in which the Lords assembled prior to its partial -destruction by fire in October 1834. This account is full of interest. -“The present house,” says the author, “is a small, narrow apartment. -Last year it was but very imperfectly lighted. It is more cheerful -now, owing to the new windows added to it during the recess. It is -incapable of containing more than two hundred and fifty of their -lordships with any degree of comfort. It is right to mention, however, -that it is but seldom a greater number are present, and it is not -often there are so many.”</p> - -<p>Chapter II is occupied with the forms, rules, regulations, &c. of the -House, and is also very entertaining. Among other things, we have here -a denial of the common assertion that the Lord Chancellor carries the -Great Seal before him when advancing to the Bar of the House to -receive a bill sent up by the Commons. His Lordship, we are told, very -gravely, merely carries before him the bag in which it is deposited -when he receives it from the King, or when, on his retirement from -office, he delivers it up into his Majesty's hands. This bag, we are -farther informed, is about twelve inches square, is embroidered with -tassels of gold, silver, and silk, and has his Majesty's arms on both -sides. The Great Seal itself is made of silver, and is seven inches in -diameter. We do not understand the manner in which the Seal is said to -be divided into two parts, and attached to the letters patent. The -impression is six inches in diameter, and three quarters of an inch -thick. On every new accession we learn that a new Seal is struck, and -the old one cut into four pieces and deposited in the Tower. In this -chapter we have the following characteristic anecdote of King William. -The <i>empressement</i> with which the narrator dwells upon the wonderful -circumstance of the monarch's actually reading a letter “without -embarrassment, or the mistake of a single word,” is an amusing -instance of the mystifying influence of “the divine right” and its -accompaniments, upon the noddles of its devotees. The idea, too, of -the King's asking what are the words in his own speech, is -sufficiently burlesque.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Of his extreme good nature and simplicity of manners, he gave several -striking proofs at the opening of the present session. The day was -unusually gloomy, which, added to an imperfection in his visual -organs, consequent on advanced years, and to the darkness of the -present House of Lords, especially in the place where the throne is -situated, rendered it impossible for him to read the <i>Royal Speech</i> -with facility. Most patiently and good-naturedly did he struggle with -the task, often hesitating, sometimes mistaking, and at others -correcting himself. On one occasion he stuck altogether, when, after -two or three ineffectual efforts to make out the word, he was obliged -to give it up, when turning to Lord Melbourne, who stood on his right -hand, and looking him most significantly in the face, he said, in a -tone sufficiently loud to be audible in all parts of the house, “Eh, -what is it?” The infinite good nature and bluntness with which the -question was put, would have reconciled the most inveterate republican -to monarchy in England, so long as it is embodied in the person of -William the Fourth. Lord Melbourne having whispered the obstructing -word, the King proceeded to toil through the speech, but by the time -he got to about the middle, the Librarian brought him two wax tapers, -on which he suddenly paused, and raising his head, and looking at the -Lords and Commons, he addressed them on the spur of the moment in a -perfectly distinct voice, and without the least embarrassment or the -mistake of a single word, in these terms:</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small> <i>My Lords and Gentlemen</i>,</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I have hitherto not been able, from want of light, to read this speech -in the way its importance deserves; but as lights are now brought me, -I will read it again from the commencement, and in a way which I trust -will command your attention.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>He then again, though evidently fatigued by the difficulty of reading -in the first instance, began at the beginning, and read through the -speech in a manner which would have done credit to any professor of -elocution.</small></blockquote> - -<p>What a running satire on <i>form</i> is the following!</p> - -<blockquote><small>No noble Lord must, on any occasion, or under any circumstances, -mention the name or title of any other noble Lord. If he wishes to -refer to any particular Peer, he must do so in some such phraseology -as the following: “The noble Duke, or the noble Marquis who has just -sat down”—“the noble Earl at the head of his Majesty's -Government”—“the noble and learned Lord”—“the noble Lord that spoke last”—“the -noble Viscount that spoke last but one”—“the noble Baron that spoke -last but two,” &c. &c.</small></blockquote> - -<p>What a world we live in, when such and similar things are related in a -volume such as this, by a man of excellent sense, with a gravity -becoming an owl!</p> - -<p>Chapter III consists of “Miscellaneous Observations,” contrasts the -general deportment of the House of Lords with that of the House of -Commons, and rejoices that the art of cock-crowing is yet to be -learned by the Peers, and that their Lordships have as yet afforded no -evidence of possessing the enviable acquirement of braying like a -certain long-eared animal, yelping like a dog, or mewing like the -feline creation. It includes also some scandalous accounts of the -unconquerable somnolency of a certain Ministerial Duke, and a member -of the Right Reverend Bench of Bishops.</p> - -<p>Chapter IV is entitled “<i>Scenes in the House</i>,” and gives a detailed -report of two of the most extraordinary of these <i>scenes</i>—one -occurring in April 1831, on occasion of the King's dissolving -Parliament—the other in July 1834, when the Duke of Buckingham thought -proper to make some allusions to the “potations pottle deep” of Lord -Brougham, which were not exactly to the mind of his Lordship. The rest -of the book is <span class="pagenum"><a name="page505"><small><small>[p. 505]</small></small></a></span> -occupied with admirable personal sketches of most -of the leading members, and is subdivided into <i>Late Members</i>, -embracing Lord King and Lord Enfield—<i>Dukes of the Tory Party</i>, viz: -Dukes of Cumberland, Wellington, Gordon, Newcastle, Buckingham, -Northumberland and Buccleugh—<i>Marquises of the Tory Party</i>, including -the Marquises of Londonderry, Wellesley, and Salisbury—<i>Earls of the -Tory Party</i>, the Earls of Eldon, Wicklow, Limerick, Winchelsea, Roden, -Aberdeen, Haddington, Harrowby, Rosslyn, and Mannsfield—<i>Barons of the -Tory Party</i>, Lords Wynford, Lyndhurst, Ellenborough, Fitzgerald and -Vessey, Ashburton, Abinger, Wharncliffe and Kenyon—<i>Peers who have -Seats in the Cabinet</i>, viz: Lord Melbourne, Marquis of Lansdowne, Lord -Holland, and Lord Duncannon—<i>Dukes of the Liberal Party</i>, the Dukes of -Sussex, Leinster, and Sutherland—<i>Marquises of the Liberal Party</i>, the -Marquises of Westminster, Cleveland, Anglesea, Clanricarde, and -Conyngham—<i>Earls of the Liberal Party</i>, Earls Gray, Durham, Radnor, -Carnarvon, Mulgrave, Burlington, Fife, and Fitzwilliam—<i>Barons of the -Liberal Party</i>, Lords Plunkett, Brougham, Denman, Cottenham, -Langsdale, Hatherton, and Teynham—<i>Neutral Peers</i>, the Duke of -Richmond and the Earl of Ripon—and lastly, the <i>Lords Spiritual</i>, -under which head we have sketches of the Archbishops of Canterbury and -Dublin, and the Bishops of Exeter, London, Durham, and Hereford. The -whole of these sketches of personal character are well executed and -exceedingly diverting—some, of a still higher order of excellence. The -portrait of Lord Brougham, in especial, although somewhat exaggerated -in the matter of panegyric, is vividly and very forcibly depicted, and -will be universally read and admired. The book concludes in these -words.</p> - -<blockquote><small>It is a fact worthy of observation, that with the single exception of -Lord Brougham, no man that has, of late years, been raised from the -Lower to the Upper House, has made any figure in the latter place. On -the contrary, they all seem to be rapidly descending, as public -speakers, into obscurity. In addition to Earl Spencer and Lord -Glenelg, I may mention the names of Lord Denman, Lord Abinger, Lord -Ashburn, Lord Hatherton, &c. In fact, there is something in the very -constitution of their Lordships, as a body, which has a strong -tendency to discourage all attempts at oratorical distinction.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect25"></a> -<br> -<center>SIGOURNEY'S LETTERS.</center> - -<p><i>Letters to Young Ladies. By Mrs. L. H. Sigourney. Second Edition. -Hartford: Published by Wm. Watson.</i></p> - -<p>We have to apologize for not sooner calling the attention of our -readers to these excellent <i>Letters</i> of Mrs. Sigourney—which only -to-day we have had an opportunity of reading with sufficient care to -form an opinion of their merits. Our delay, however, is a matter of -the less importance, when we consider the universal notice and -approbation of the public at large. In this approbation we cordially -agree. The book is, in every respect, worthy of Mrs. Sigourney—and it -would be difficult to say more.</p> - -<p>The <i>Letters</i> (embraced in a duodecimo of two hundred and twelve -pages,) are twelve in number. Their subjects are, <i>Improvement of -Time</i>—<i>Domestic Employments</i>—<i>Health and Dress</i>—<i>Manners and -Accomplishments</i>—<i>Books</i>—<i>Friendship</i>—<i>Cheerfulness</i>—<i>Conversation</i>—<i>Benevolence</i>—<i>Self-Government</i>—<i>Utility</i>—and -<i>Motives to Perseverance</i>. Little has been said on any one of these subjects more -forcibly or more beautifully than now by Mrs. Sigourney—and, -collectively, as a code of morals and <i>manner</i> for the gentler sex, we -have seen nothing whatever which we would more confidently place in -the hands of any young female friend, than this unassuming little -volume, so redolent of the pious, the graceful, the lofty, and the -poetical mind from which it issues.</p> - -<p>The prose of Mrs. Sigourney should not be compared, in its higher -qualities, with her poetry—but appears to us essentially superior in -its <i>minutiæ</i>. It would be difficult to find fault with the -construction of more than a very few passages in the <i>Letters</i>—and the -general correctness and vigor of the whole would render any such -fault-finding a matter of hyper-criticism. We are not prepared to say -whether this correctness be the result of labor or not—there are -certainly no traces of labor. The most remarkable feature of the -volume is its unusually extensive circle of illustration, in the way -of brief anecdote, and multiplied reference to -authorities—illustration which, while apparently no more than sufficient for the -present purpose of the writer, gives evidence, to any critical eye, of -a far wider general erudition than that possessed by any of our female -writers, and which we were not at all prepared to meet with in one, -only known hitherto as the inspired poetess of Natural and Moral -Beauty.</p> - -<p>Would our limits permit us we would gladly copy entire some one of the -<i>Letters</i>. As it is, we must be contented with a brief extract, (on -the subject of Memory,) evincing powers of rigid thought in the -writer. Few subjects are more entirely misapprehended than that of the -faculty of Memory. For a multiplicity of error on this head Leibnitz -and Locke are responsible. That the faculty is neither primitive nor -independent is susceptible of direct proof. That it exists in -conjunction with each primitive faculty, and inseparable from it, is a -fact which might be readily ascertained even without the direct -assistance of Phrenology. The remarks of Mrs. Sigourney apply, only -collaterally, to what we say, but will be appreciated by the -metaphysical student.</p> - -<blockquote><small>I am inclined to think Memory capable of indefinite improvement by a -judicious and persevering regimen. Were you required to analyze it to -its simplest element, you would probably discover it to be a <i>habit of -fixed attention</i>. Read, therefore, what you desire to remember, with -concentrated and undivided attention. Close the book and reflect. -Undigested food throws the whole frame into a ferment. Were we as well -acquainted with our intellectual, as with our physical structure, we -should see undigested knowledge producing equal disorder in the mind.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>To strengthen the Memory, the best course is not to commit page after -page verbatim, but to give the substance of the author, correctly and -clearly in your own language. Thus the understanding and memory are -exercised at the same time, and the prosperity of the mind is not so -much advanced by the undue prominence of any <i>one faculty</i> as by the -true balance and vigorous action of <i>all</i>. Memory and understanding -are also fast friends, and the light which one gains will be reflected -upon the other.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Use judgment in selecting from the mass of what you read the parts -which it will be useful or desirable to remember. Separate and arrange -them, and give them in charge to memory. Tell her it is her duty to -keep them, and to bring them forth when you require. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page506"><small>[p. 506]</small></a></span> She has the -capacities of a faithful servant, and possibly the dispositions of an -idle one. But you have the power of enforcing obedience and of -overcoming her infirmities. At the close of each day let her come -before you, as Ruth came to Naomi, and ‘beat out that which she hath -gleaned.’ Let her winnow repeatedly what she has brought from the -field, and ‘gather the wheat into the garner’ ere she goes to repose.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>This process, so far from being laborious, is one of the most -delightful that can be imagined. To condense, is perhaps the only -difficult part of it; for the casket of Memory, though elastic, has -bounds, and if surcharged with trifles, the weightier matters will -find no fitting place.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>While Memory is in this course of training, it would be desirable to -read no books whose contents are not worth her care: for if she finds -herself called only occasionally, she may take airs like a froward -child, and not come when she is called. Make her feel it as a duty to -stand with her tablet ready whenever you open a book, and then show -her sufficient respect, not to summon her to any book unworthy of her.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>To facilitate the management of Memory, it is well to keep in view -that her office is threefold. Her first effort is to <i>receive</i> -knowledge; her second to <i>retain</i> it; her last to <i>bring it forth</i> -when it is needed. The first act is solitary, the silence of fixed -attention. The next is also sacred to herself, and her ruling power, -and consists in frequent, thorough examination of the state and order -of the things committed to her. The third act is social, rendering her -treasures available to the good of others. Daily intercourse with a -cultivated mind is the best method to rivet, refine, and polish the -hoarded gems of knowledge. Conversation with intelligent men is -eminently serviceable. For, after all our exultation on the advancing -state of female education, with the other sex, will be found the -wealth of classical knowledge, and profound wisdom. If you have a -parent, or older friend, who will, at the close of each day, listen -kindly to what you have read, and help to fix in your memory the -portions most worthy of regard, count it a privilege of no common -value, and embrace it with sincere gratitude.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We heartily recommend these <i>Letters</i> (which the name of their author -will more especially recommend,) to the attention of our female -acquaintances. They may be procured, in Richmond, at the bookstore of -Messrs. Yale and Wyatt.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect26"></a> -<br> -<center>THE DOCTOR.</center> - -<p><i>The Doctor, &c. New York: Republished by Harper and Brothers.</i></p> - -<p>The Doctor has excited great attention in America as well as in -England, and has given rise to every variety of conjecture and -opinion, not only concerning the author's individuality, but in -relation to the meaning, purpose, and character of the book itself. It -is now said to be the work of one author—now of two, three, four, -five—as far even as nine or ten. These writers are sometimes thought -to have composed the <i>Doctor</i> conjointly—sometimes to have written -each a portion. These individual portions have even been pointed out -by the supremely acute, and the names of their respective fathers -assigned. Supposed discrepancies of taste and manner, together with -the prodigal introduction of mottoes, and other scraps of erudition -(apparently beyond the compass of a single individual's reading) have -given rise to this idea of a multiplicity of writers—among whom are -mentioned in turn all the most witty, all the most eccentric, and -especially all the most learned of Great Britain. Again—in regard to -the nature of the book. It has been called an imitation of Sterne—an -august and most profound exemplification, under the garb of -eccentricity, of some all-important moral law—a true, under guise of a -fictitious, biography—a simple jeu d'esprit—a mad farrago by a -Bedlamite—and a great multiplicity of other equally fine names and -hard. Undoubtedly, the best method of arriving at a decision in -relation to a work of this nature, is to read it through with -attention, and thus see what can be made of it. We have done so, and -can make nothing of it, and are therefore clearly of opinion that the -<i>Doctor</i> is precisely—nothing. We mean to say that it is nothing -better than <i>a hoax</i>.</p> - -<p>That any serious truth is meant to be inculcated by a tissue of -bizarre and disjointed rhapsodies, whose <i>general</i> meaning no person -can fathom, is a notion altogether untenable, unless we suppose the -author a madman. But there are none of the proper evidences of madness -in the book—while of mere <i>banter</i> there are instances innumerable. -One half, at least, of the entire publication is taken up with -palpable quizzes, reasonings in a circle, sentences, like the nonsense -verses of Du Bartas, evidently framed to mean nothing, while wearing -an air of profound thought, and grotesque speculations in regard to -the probable excitement to be created by the book.</p> - -<p>It appears to have been written with the sole view (or nearly with the -sole view) of exciting inquiry and comment. That this object should be -fully accomplished cannot be thought very wonderful, when we consider -the excessive trouble taken to accomplish it, by vivid and powerful -intellect. That the <i>Doctor</i> is the offspring of such intellect, is -proved sufficiently by many passages of the book, where the writer -appears to have been led off from his main design. That it is written -by more than one man should not be deduced either from the apparent -immensity of its erudition, or from discrepancies of style. That man -is a desperate mannerist who cannot vary his style <i>ad infinitum;</i> and -although the book <i>may</i> have been written by a number of learned -<i>bibliophagi</i>, still there is, we think, nothing to be found in the -book itself at variance with the possibility of its being written by -any one individual of even mediocre reading. Erudition is only -certainly known in its <i>total</i> results. The mere grouping together of -mottoes from the greatest multiplicity of the rarest works, or even -the apparently natural inweaving into any composition, of the -sentiments and manner of these works, are attainments within the reach -of any well-informed, ingenious and industrious man having access to -the great libraries of London. Moreover, while a single individual -possessing these requisites and opportunities, might through a rabid -desire of <i>creating a sensation</i>, have written, with some trouble, the -Doctor, it is by no means easy to imagine that a plurality of sensible -persons could be found willing to embark in such absurdity from a -similar, or indeed from any imaginable inducement.</p> - -<p>The present edition of the Harpers consists of two volumes in one. -Volume one commences with a <i>Prelude of Mottoes</i> occupying two pages. -Then follows a <i>Postscript</i>—then a <i>Table of Contents to the first -volume</i>, occupying eighteen pages. Volume two has a similar <i>Prelude -of Mottoes</i> and <i>Table of Contents</i>. The whole is subdivided into -Chapters Ante-Initial, Initial and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page507"><small><small>[p. 507]</small></small></a></span> -Post-Initial, with -Inter-Chapters. The pages have now and then a typographical -<i>queerity</i>—a monogram, a scrap of grotesque music, old English, &c. -Some characters of this latter kind are printed with colored ink in -the British edition, which is gotten up with great care. All these -oddities are in the manner of Sterne, and some of them are exceedingly -well conceived. The work professes to be a Life of one Doctor Daniel -Dove and his horse Nobs—but we should put no very great faith in this -biography. On the back of the book is a monogram—which appears again -once or twice in the text, and whose solution is a fertile source of -trouble with all readers. This monogram is a triangular pyramid; and -as, in geometry, the solidity of every polyedral body may be computed -by dividing the body into pyramids, the pyramid is thus considered as -the base or essence of every polyedron. The author then, after his own -fashion, may mean to imply that his book is the basis of all solidity -or wisdom—or perhaps, since the polyedron is not only a solid, but a -solid terminated by <i>plane faces</i>, that the <i>Doctor</i> is the very -essence of all that spurious wisdom which will terminate in just -nothing at all—in a hoax, and a consequent multiplicity of <i>blank -visages</i>. The wit and humor of the <i>Doctor</i> have seldom been equalled. -We cannot think Southey wrote it, but have no idea who did.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect27"></a> -<br> -<center>RAUMER'S ENGLAND.</center> - -<p><i>England in 1835. Being a Series of Letters written to Friends in -Germany, during a Residence in London and Excursions into the -Provinces. By Frederick Von Raumer, Professor of History at the -University of Berlin, Author of the “History of the Hohenstaufen,” of -the “History of Europe from the end of the Fifteenth Century,” of -“Illustrations of the History of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth -Centuries,” &c. &c. Translated from the German, by Sarah Austin and H. -E. Lloyd. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea and Blanchard.</i></p> - -<p>This work will form an æra in the reading annals of the more -contemplative portion of Americans—while its peculiar merits will be -overlooked by the multitude. The broad and solid basis of its -superstructure—the scrupulous accuracy of its <i>data</i>—the disdain of -mere <i>logic</i> in its deductions—the <i>generalizing</i>, calm, -comprehensive—in a word, the <i>German</i> character of its philosophy, -will insure it an enthusiastic welcome among all the nobler spirits of -our land. What though its general tenor be opposed at least apparently -to many of our long cherished opinions and deeply-rooted prejudices? -Shall we less welcome the truth, or glory in its advancement because -of its laying bare our own individual errors? But the England of Von -Raumer will be sadly and wickedly misconceived if it be really -conceived as militating against a Republicanism <i>here</i>, which it -opposes with absolute justice, in Great Britain, and Prussia. It will -be sadly misconceived if it be regarded as embracing one single -sentence with which the most bigoted lover of abstract Democracy can -have occasion to find fault. At the same time we cannot help believing -that it will, <i>in some measure</i>, be effectual in diverting the minds -of our countrymen, and of all who read it, from that perpetual and -unhealthy excitement about the forms and machinery of governmental -action which have within the last half century so absorbed their -attention as to exclude in a strange degree all care of the proper -<i>results</i> of good government—the happiness of a people—improvement in -the condition of mankind—practicable under a thousand forms—and -without which all forms are valueless and shadowy phantoms. It will -serve also as an auxiliary in convincing mankind that the origin of -the principal social evils of any given land are <i>not</i> to be found -(except in a much less degree than we usually suppose) either in -republicanism or monarchy or any especial method of government—that we -must look for the source of our greatest defects in a variety of -causes totally distinct from any such action—in a love of gain, for -example, whose direct tendency to social evil was vividly shown in an -essay on <i>American Social Elevation</i> lately published in the -“Messenger.” In a word, let this book of Von Raumer's be read with -attention, as a study, and <i>as a whole</i>. If this thing be done—which -is but too seldom done (here at least) in regard to works of a like -character and cast—and we will answer for the result—as far as that -result depends upon the deliberate and unprejudiced declaration of any -well-educated man. We agree cordially with the opinion expressed by -Mrs. Austin in her Preface to this American imprint. The book is the -most valuable addition to our stock of knowledge about England and her -institutions which America has ever received or which, in the ordinary -course of things she is likely to receive.</p> - -<p>Of Professor Von Raumer it is almost unnecessary for us to speak—yet a -few words may not be amiss. He is a man of unquestionable and lofty -integrity—the most highly esteemed living historian—second to none, -living or dead, in all the high essentials of the -historiographer—profoundly versed in moral and political science—and withal, a lover, -and a connoisseur of art, and fully aware of its vast importance in -actuating mankind, individually, and nationally. He is a member of the -Academy of Sciences at Berlin, and <i>Councillor</i> of the Court Theatre -in which he labors to keep up the moral influence of that -establishment as a school of art. He has constantly opposed absolutism -in every form—especially the absolutism of exclusive political creeds. -“If,” says the Conversations Lexicon, “the much talked of <i>juste -milieu</i> consists in endless tacking between two opposite principles, -Raumer belongs rather to one of the extremes than to that. But if the -expression is taken to denote that free and neutral ground on which a -man, resting upon the basis of justice, and untrammelled by party -views, combats for truth proved by experience, careless whether his -blows fall to the right or the left—then Raumer unquestionably belongs -to the <i>juste milieu</i>.” He has written the <i>History of the -Hohenstaufen and their Time</i>—a history richer than the richest -romance—a work <i>On the Prussian Municipal System</i>—a work <i>On the -Historical Development of the Notions of Law and Government</i>—<i>Letters -from Paris in 1830</i>, a series of papers printed precisely as they were -written to his family, and evincing a spirit of foresight nearly -amounting to prophecy—so accurately were his predictions -fulfilled—<i>Letters from Paris in Illustration of the History of the Sixteenth -and Seventeenth Centuries</i>—a <i>History of Europe from the End of the -Fifteenth Century</i>, in six volumes, of which one is yet to be -published—a <i>History of the Downfall of Poland</i>—in which although -employed and paid by his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page508"><small><small>[p. 508]</small></small></a></span> -government he did not hesitate to -accuse that government of injustice—<i>Six Dialogues on War and -Commerce</i>—<i>The British System of Taxation</i>—<i>The Orations of Æschines -and Demosthenes for the Crown</i>—<i>CCI Emendationes ad Tabulas -Genealogicas Arabum et Turcarum</i>—<i>Manual of Remarkable Passages from -the Latin Historians of the Middle Ages</i>—<i>Journey to Venice</i>—<i>Lectures -on Ancient History</i>—and some other works of which we have no account. -The present <i>Letters</i> are printed just as the author wrote them from -day to day. We are even assured that some mistakes have been suffered -to stand with a view of showing how first impressions were gradually -modified.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Austin, the translator, however, has taken some liberties in the -way of omission, which cannot easily be justified. Some animadversions -on her friend Bentham are stricken out without sufficient reason for -so doing. We learn this as well by her own acknowledgment as by -ominous breaks in particular passages concerning the great -Utilitarian. The latter portion of the book is translated by H. E. Lloyd.</p> - -<p>The plan of Von Raumer's work embraces, as may well be supposed, a -great variety of themes—the political topics of the day and of all -time—the present state and future prospects of England—comparative -views of that country, France, and Prussia—descriptions of scenery -about London, localities, architecture, &c.—social condition of the -people—society in high life—and frequent disquisitions on the state of -art and musical science. We will proceed, without observing any -precise order, to speak of some portions which particularly interested -us. The book, however, to be properly appreciated, should be read and -thoroughly studied.</p> - -<p>It appears that although Raumer was received with the greatest -kindness by nearly all the leading men of all parties in Great -Britain, he was treated with neglect if not with rudeness by Lord -Brougham, who remained obstinately deaf to all overtures at an -introduction. It does not appear from the course and tenor of these -<i>Letters</i> that the harshness with which the traveller so frequently -speaks of his Lordship, had its origin in this rude treatment. It is -more probable that the rude treatment had its source in the knowledge -on the part of Lord Brougham, that Raumer could expose many of his -falsities in relation to municipal law and some other matters -concerning Prussia. His Lordship's <i>Report on the State of Education</i> -is especially the theme of frequent censure.</p> - -<blockquote><small>The person (says our author) who judges the Prussian institutions most -dogmatically is Lord Brougham. He says “It may matter little what -sentiments are inculcated on all Prussian children by their <i>military</i> -chiefs; but it would be something new in <i>this</i> country systematically -to teach all children, from six to fourteen years of age, the -doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance, the absolute -excellence of its institutions, and the wickedness and iniquity of -every effort to improve them.” If the noble lord, in the excitement of -debate, and the flow of his eloquence, let such notions and words -escape him, we cannot wonder; but that, when called on by a -parliamentary committee to give a dispassionate, true testimony, he -should have uttered things so entirely false, nay, so utterly absurd, -cannot in any way be justified, or even excused. Sir Robert Peel -compassionately intimates that our school-children are tormented by -theologians, and Brougham places them under the rod and cane of the -corporal. That our military arrangements are a school of freedom, and -for freedom, and the very antipodes of the English recruiting and -flogging system, may, perhaps, be more unintelligible to an -Englishman, than all the theological and scientific curiosities of -Oxford to a German. But what have military arrangements to do with our -schools? If Lord Brougham has read any thing but the title-page of -Cousin's work, he may and must know that all he said about the -Prussian schools was entirely visionary, and could only serve to -mislead those who believed him. The doctrine of passive obedience and -non-resistance, so long upheld by certain parties in England, is not -known in our schools even by name; and if any Professor at Oxford -should venture to speak of church and state as, thank heaven, any -Prussian Professor is at liberty to do, it would certainly be said—the -heretic brought church and state into danger. In our schools and -universities we know of no theological intolerance, no exclusion of -Dissenters, no idolatry of what exists for the moment, no forced -subscriptions; yet we are not by this alienated from Christianity, but -hold fast to the imperishable diamond of the Gospel without converting -it into an amulet with thirty-nine points. In Prussia, then, it would -seem the wickedness and impiety of every attempt to improve civil -institutions is systematically enforced! In Prussia, which, without -any boasting of journals and newspapers, silently effected the -greatest reforms, and rose from a state of abject degradation, like a -phœnix from its ashes—the aversion and opposition between citizens -and soldiers is abolished; the system of the defence of the country is -easy, yet general and powerful; the regulations of commerce and of -duties of custom freer than in any other part of Europe; the peasants -are converted into land-owners; a municipal system introduced -twenty-seven years ago, which England is now copying; and schools and -universities placed on so firm a basis that the calumnies of Lord -Brougham can only recoil on his own head. From the descriptions of -what is called the Prussian compulsory system, one would be inclined -to believe that the children were coupled together like hounds, and -driven every morning with blows to be trained! Should a parent be so -wicked as not to give his children any education, and purposely keep -them from school and church, the law justly gives the magistrates a -right of guardianship. This remote threat may have had a salutary -effect in individual cases, but I have never heard of the actual -application of outward compulsion—<i>obtorto collo</i>. Morality, sense of -honor, general custom, conviction of the great advantage of a careful -education, suffice among us to excite all parents <i>voluntarily</i> to -send their children to school. In perfect accordance with our school -laws it is considered as equally sinful to withhold nourishment from -their minds as from their bodies. If we duly appreciate the spirit of -the laws, cavils about the letter fall away; but even the letter has -had a wholesome influence, and without the application of corporal -restraint, in promoting the intellectual emancipation of the people.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Our author's letter on the <i>Finances</i> of Great Britain will be read -with surprise and doubt by many, but with respect by all. He commences -with an analysis of finance in general, and with a brief survey of -many financial distresses which are as old as history itself. His -remarks on the absence of all finance in the middle ages will arrest -attention. In these days men had no money, and yet did more than in -modern times—they effected every thing, and we can effect nothing, -without the circulation of the “golden blood.” Every individual in -those days, garnered, says Raumer, without the medium of money, what -he wanted; and the whole was entirely kept together by ideas. It is -only since Machiavelli—since the power of the middle ages was lost in -the feudal and ecclesiastical systems, that we have had to seek a new -public law, and a science of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page509"><small><small>[p. 509]</small></small></a></span> -<i>Finance</i>. In regard to England, -our author runs through all the most important epochs of its monied -concerns, and shows effectually that she has no reason to tremble at -present. He alludes to what is called the enormous burden of her -taxes, and of her debt—whose interest is more than 30,000,000<i>l.</i> per -annum—far more than half of its revenue, and more than four years -revenue of the whole Prussian monarchy! He admits, for the sake of -argument, that England must sink under this intolerable pressure, and -become bankrupt—but the public debt and its interest, he says, would -then at once be annihilated. To the assertion that this remedy is -worse than the disease, and would produce a degree of distress much -exceeding what is now complained of, he replies, that such an -assertion is a direct acknowledgment that the expenditure of the -enormous interest above-mentioned is salutary. He proceeds with the -affirmation that all the public debts being the property of -individuals, there are cases in which this private property <i>cannot -remain inviolate without sacrificing the whole</i>—and in this way, a -reduction or annihilation of the debt must take place. He refers, for -illustration, to the <i>Redemption Bonds</i> of Vienna, and to Solon's -<i>Seisachtheia</i>, and says, there can be no reason for doubting that -England would as well survive such abrupt annihilation of her national -debt as many other states have done—among whom are Athens, Rome, -France, and Austria. He remarks, that Englishmen may as well rejoice -that the country has such immense capital, as lament that it is -burthened with so many debts—for <i>every debt is there a capital</i>. If -these debts were of so little value that the price of stock indicated -the loss, instead of the profit—if the interest could only be paid by -new loans—if the debts were due to fund-holders <i>out of the country</i>, -England would be in a desperate condition in the event of bankruptcy. -But, he observes, if all the national debt were abolished, there -would, in fact, as regarded the <i>whole</i> national wealth, be no change -whatever. The stockholders would lose, of course, a revenue of -30,000,000<i>l.</i>; but, on the other hand, taxes might be abolished to -the same amount. Individuals would be ruined—the nation not at all. He -shows clearly, however, by statements officially certified by Sir -Robert Peel, that England has very little need of apprehending a -national bankruptcy—and that since 1816 she has reduced the principal -of her debt by no less than $616,000,000. Certainly no state in Europe -can boast of a similar progress.</p> - -<p>Von Raumer presents a vivid picture of the miseries of Ireland.</p> - -<blockquote><small>When I recollect (says he, after some distressing narrations,) the -well-fed rogues in the English prisons, I admire, notwithstanding the -very natural increase of Irish criminals, the power of morality—I -wonder that the whole nation does not go over and steal, in order to -enjoy a new and happier existence. And then the English boast of the -good treatment of their countrymen, while the innocent Irish are -obliged to live worse than their cattle. In Parliament they talk for -years together whether it is necessary and becoming to leave $100,000 -annually in the hands of the pastors of 526 Protestants, or $10,759 to -the pastors of 3 Protestants, while there are thousands here who -scarcely know they have a soul, and know nothing of their body, except -that it suffers hunger, thirst and cold. Which of these ages is the -dark and barbarous—the former, when mendicant monks distributed their -goods to the poor, and, in their way, gave them the most rational -comfort; or the latter, when rich (or bankrupt) aristocrats can see -the weal of the church and of religion, (or of their relations) only -in retaining possession of that which was taken and obtained by -violence? All the blame is thrown on agitators, and discontent -produced by artificial means. What absurdity! Every falling hut causes -agitation, and every tattered pair of breeches a <i>sans culotte</i>. Since -I have seen Ireland, I admire the patience and moderation of the -people, that they do not (what would be more excusable in them than in -distinguished revolutionists, authors, journalists, Benthamites, -baptized and unbaptized Jews,) drive out the devil through Beelzebub, -the Prince of the Devils.... I endeavored to discover the original -race of the ancient Irish, and the beauty of the women. But how could -I venture to give an opinion? Take the loveliest of the English -maidens from the saloons of the Duke of Devonshire or the Marquis of -Lansdowne—carry her, not for life, but for one short season, into an -Irish hovel—feed her on water and potatoes, clothe her in rags, expose -her blooming cheek and alabaster neck to the scorching beams of the -sun, and the drenching torrents of rain—let her wade with naked feet -through marshy bogs—with her delicate hands pick up the dung that lies -in the road, and carefully stow it by the side of her mud -resting-place—give her a hog to share this with her; to all this, add -no consolatory remembrance of the past, no cheering hope of the -future—nothing but misery—a misery which blunts and stupifies the -mind—a misery of the past, the present, and the future—would the -traveller, should this image of wo crawl from out of her muddy hovel, -and imploringly extend her shrivelled hand, recognize the noble maiden -whom a few short weeks before he admired as the model of English -beauty?... And yet the children, with their black hair and dark eyes, -so gay and playful in their tatters—created in the image of God—are in -a few years, by the fault of man and the government, so worn out, -without advantage to themselves or others, that the very beasts of the -field might look down on them with scorn.... Is what I have said -exaggerated, or perhaps, merely an unseasonable and indecorous -fiction? or should I have suppressed it, because it may offend certain -parties? What have I to do with O'Connell and his opponents? I have -nothing either to hope or to fear from any of them; but to declare -what I saw, thought, and felt, is my privilege and my duty. <i>Discite -justitiam, moniti, et non temnere divos!</i></small></blockquote> - -<p>Our author speaks of the dissolution of the Union as of a measure -which would and should naturally be opposed by any person who has -never seen Ireland, and who considers the case merely in a general and -theoretical point of view—but allows that he can easily conceive how -well-disposed persons may rely on this alternative as the most -efficient remedy. He does not, however, approve of the demand—although -he goes even farther than O'Connell. His propositions are nearly as -follows: First, that provisions should be equally made for the schools -and churches of the Protestants and Catholics, out of the church -property already existing or to be created. Secondly, that the tithes -should be abolished—that is, as a mode of taxation—not the tax itself. -It is observed, that to deprive the church of its due, and to make a -present of it, without any reason, to the landlord, would not only be -an act of injustice, but would operate to the prejudice of the poor -tenants, since the clergyman has not so many means to distrain the -cattle as the temporal landlord, and generally is less willing to -employ them. Thirdly, that poor laws should be introduced, taking care -to avoid their abuses. This idea is in opposition to that of -O'Connell, who dreads the misapplication of the laws as in England. -Von <span class="pagenum"><a name="page510"><small><small>[p. 510]</small></small></a></span> -Raumer acknowledges the <i>difficulty</i> of introducing them, -but insists upon the <i>necessity</i>. The difficulty proceeds from the -want of a wealthy middling class in the country—the true basis of all -finance. To obviate this want, he insists—Fourthly, upon a law -respecting absentees. He denies the injustice of such law, and rejects -as false that notion of private property which would impose on the -land owner no duties, while it gives him unconditional rights. He does -not, however, propose compelling the absentees to return home, but to -pay more to the poor-tax than those who are present. “Is this -impossible?” he asks—“have not the Catholics borne for centuries -higher taxes than the Protestants? This was possible, <i>without -reason;</i> and therefore the other would be very possible, <i>with good -reason</i>.” He suggests—Fifthly, the complete abolition of the system of -tenants at will, and the conversion of all these tenants at will into -proprietors. “On reading this,” he says, “the Tories will throw my -book into the fire, and even the Whigs will be mute with astonishment. -The whole battery of pillage, jacobinism, and dissolution of civil -society, is discharged at me; but it will not touch me—not even the -assertion that I would, like St. Crispin, steal leather in order to -make shoes for the poor. Even the Radicals ask with astonishment, how -I would work this miracle. There is a Sybilline book, a patent and yet -hidden mystery, how this is to be effected; and there is a magician -who has accomplished it—the Prussian Municipal Law, and King Frederick -William III of Prussia.” Granting that his proposal should be rejected -unless both parties are gainers, our author proceeds to show that, -both parties will be so. That those who are raised to the class of -land-owners would gain, is evident. That the present proprietors would -gain, he asserts, is proved from the fact, that in the long run, the -tenant-at-will is able to produce and to pay less than he who has a -long lease, the latter less than the hereditary farmer, and the -hereditary farmer less than the proprietor. The subject is discussed -very fully and clearly in another letter on <i>English Agriculture</i>.</p> - -<p>Professor Von Raumer makes a proper distinction between the nature and -consequences of English agitation, and the agitation of many -continental countries. In these latter we find anticipative and -preventive polices—especially in France. When a <i>movement</i> breaks out -under a government employing this system, it is because the preventive -means are exhausted, and thus every thing rushes at once into disorder -and irretrievable confusion. A similar <i>movement</i>, however, in -England, (and the remark will apply equally to the United States, -although Von Raumer does not so apply it,) is suffered to gather -strength and flourish until the <i>overt act</i>, and the citizen who -dwells under the influence of the preventive system, would of course, -in observing us, expect the same irretrievable confusion to ensue with -us as with him. If our own government, or that of England, should -attempt to interfere before the overt act, the administration would -meet with no support. But when the <i>movement</i> has grown to an open -violation of the laws, the case is different indeed. “In short,” says -our author, “what is regarded abroad as the beginning of a revolution, -is, in reality, the crisis, and is, in a very different sense than in -France, <i>le commencement de la fin</i>.”</p> - -<p>Much of our traveller's time, while in Great Britain was passed in -close intimacy with her statesmen. Of Russell, Spring Rice, Sir Robert -Peel, and O'Connell, he speaks in terms of evident respect. From many -passages in which he mentions the latter, we select the following.</p> - -<blockquote><small>I suddenly conceived the project of going straight from P—— to his -antagonist—to——(H—— will be furious) to Daniel O'Connell. I found him -in a small room, sitting at a writing table covered with letters, in -his dressing gown. I began with apologies for intruding upon him -without any introduction, and pleaded my interest in the history and -fate of Ireland, and in his efforts to serve her. When I found he had -read my Historical Letters I felt on a better footing. I could not -implicitly accept his opinion concerning Elizabeth (which he has -borrowed from Lingard) as a good bill. We agreed, however, on the -subject of the much disputed and much falsified history of the -Catholic conspiracy of 1641.... I am also perfectly of his opinion, -that the tenants at will—those serfs—are in a worse condition in -Ireland than any where, and that, both with regard to moral and -intellectual culture, or physical prosperity, their position is not -comparable to that of our thrice happy proprietary peasants. I told -him that what he desired for Ireland had long been possessed by the -Catholics of Prussia: and that hatred and discontent had expired with -persecution.... The English Ministry first made this man a giant: but -he is a giant too, by the strength of his own mind and will, in -comparison with the Lilliputians cut out of reeds, which we call -demagogues; and which are forced to be shut up in the Kopenick -hot-house, or put under a Mainz forcing-glass to rear them into any -size and consideration.... Thank God, however, the governments of -Germany do not prepare the ground for universal discontent. If this -prevailed, and prevailed with justice, O'Connells must of necessity -arise.... Your dissertation on the greatness or smallness of German -demagogues (I hear you say) is quite superfluous: you had much better -have described to us what that arch agitator and rebel, O'Connell, -looks like—What he looks like? A tall gaunt man, with a thin face, -sunken cheeks, a large hooked nose, black piercing eye, malignant -smile round the mouth, and, when in full dress, a cock's feather in -his hat, and a cloven foot. ‘That is just what I imagined him!’ cries -one. But, as it happens, that is just what he is not. On the contrary, -he has a round, good-natured face. In Germany he would be taken for a -good, hearty, sturdy, shrewd farmer: indeed he distinctly reminded me -of the cheerful, sagacious, and witty old bailiff Romanus, in Rotzis.</small></blockquote> - -<p>At page 391, Von Raumer alludes to some notices of his historical -works in the British Quarterlies. He complains of injustice done him -in a review of his “<i>Letters from Paris in 1830</i>.” The Reviewer states -that our traveller did not court society, and that he professes to -have seen and become acquainted only with what strikes the eyes of -every observer in the streets, tavern, and theatre. This is denied by -Von Raumer, who declares his chief associates to have been “wealthy -merchants and distinguished literati, old and new peers, members of -the Chamber of Deputies, the most celebrated diplomatists, and three -of the present ministers of Louis Philippe.”</p> - -<p>The remarks of our author upon <i>Art</i>, (in the extensive German -signification of the word) are worthy of all attention and bespeak an -elevated, acute, and comprehensive understanding of its properties and -capabilities. Many pages of the work before us are devoted to comments -upon the Architecture, the Painting, the Stage, and especially the -Music of England, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page511"><small><small>[p. 511]</small></small></a></span> -and these pages will prove deeply interesting -to a majority of readers. At pages 143 he thus speaks of Mrs. Sloman.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Sloman, a fiendish shrew, who must have been the -torment of her husband's life long before the predictions of the -witches. Even in the sleeping scene she betrayed only fear of -discovery and punishment; and the exaggerated action, the rubbing of -the hands, and seeming to dip them in water, and the rhetorical ‘<i>to -bed!</i>’ were very little to my taste.... To sum up my impression of the -whole—an excess of effort, of bustle, and of accentuation, with every -now and then, by way of clap-trap, a violent and yet toneless -screaming. Exactly those passages in which these stage passions were -the most boisterous and distressing were the most applauded. There is -not a single well-frequented German theatre (such as those of Vienna, -Berlin or Dresden) in which so bad a performance as this would have -been exhibited.</small></blockquote> - -<p>Our traveller is in raptures with Windsor, and censures the tasteless -folly of Buckingham house. Of the Italian opera in England he speaks -briefly and contemptuously—nor does the national music find any degree -of favor in his eyes. His criticisms on sculpture and painting are -forcible and very beautiful. In some observations on the attic -bas-reliefs, and the works from the Parthenon and Phigalia, to be -found in the British Museum, he takes occasion to collate the higher -efforts of Grecian art with the rudeness of Roman feeling, and the -still more striking rudeness of the German and Italian schools of the -fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. His remarks here are too forcible -and too fresh to be omitted.</p> - -<blockquote><small>These schools (the German and Italian) were, it is true, internally -impelled by Christianity towards the noblest goal of humanity and of -art, but they have unsuitably introduced the doctrine of election even -into these regions. To the beautiful forms pardoned by God are opposed -the ugly bodies of the non-elect; to the healthy, the sick; to the -blessed, the damned. In theology, in philosophy, in history, this dark -side of existence may be employed at pleasure, but when it appears in -art I feel hurt and uncomfortable.... This <i>caput mortuum</i> may be -wholly separated. It should evaporate and become invisible. Not till -this is accomplished can we place Christian art above Greek art, as -the Christian religion above the Greek religion. A great confusion of -ideas still prevails, in considering and judging of these things. How -often have modern works of art been praised in reference to the -doctrine, and ancient works reprobated for similar reasons. But the -demoniac is not a suitable subject for art, merely because he is -mentioned in the Bible; or a Venus to be rejected, because the worship -of the goddess has ceased.... Music without discord is unmeaning and -tedious, and painting and sculpture likewise need such discord. But -every musical discord is necessarily resolved, according to the rules -of art—while painters and sculptors often leave their dissonances -unresolved, and eternized in stone. In every discord I feel its -transition into euphony. It is but a motion, a creation of harmony; -but no musician would ever think of affirming that to sing out of tune -is ever permitted, much less that it is necessary in his art. The -combats of the Centaurs and Lapithæ display a chain of discords, which -originate, advance, and develop themselves—one could set them to music -without violating the rules and euphony of the science. But were we to -attempt a similar musical transposition with many celebrated statues, -we should break all the strings of the instrument by the violence of -the effort.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We had noted many other passages for comment and extract—(especially a -lively Philippic against Utilitarianism on pages 398, 399, an account -of Bentham's penitentiary, and other matters) but we perceive that we -are already infringing upon our limits. This book about England will -and must be read, and will as certainly be relished, by a numerous -class, although not by a majority, of our fellow-citizens. The author, -we rejoice to hear, has engaged to translate into his own language the -Washington Papers of Mr. Sparks. We will only add that Professor Von -Raumer has the honor of being called by the English organ of the High -Church and Ultra Tory Party, “a vagrant blackguard unfit for the -company of a decent servants' hall.”</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect28"></a> -<br> -<center>MEMOIRS OF AN AMERICAN LADY.</center> - -<p><i>Memoirs of an American Lady. With Sketches of Manners and Scenery in -America, as they existed previous to the Revolution. By the author of -“Letters from the Mountains.” New York: published by George Dearborn.</i></p> - -<p>This work has been already a favorite with many of our readers—but has -long been out of print, and we are glad to see it republished. Mrs. -Grant of Laghan is a name entitled to the respect and affection of all -Americans. The book, moreover, is full of good things; and as a -memorial of the epoch immediately preceding our Revolution, is -invaluable. At the present moment too it will be well to compare the -public sentiment in regard to slavery, Indian affairs, and some other -matters, with the sentiments of our forefathers, as expressed in this -volume. In Albany and New York it will possess a local interest of no -common character. Every where it will be read with pleasure, as an -authentic and well written record of a most exemplary life. The -edition is well printed on fine paper, and altogether creditable to -Mr. Dearborn.</p> - -<p>Some remarks on slavery, at page 41, will apply with singular accuracy -to the present state of things in Virginia.</p> - -<blockquote><small>In the society I am describing, even the dark aspect of slavery was -softened into a smile. And I must, in justice to the best possible -masters, say, that a great deal of that tranquillity and comfort, to -call them by no higher names, which distinguish this society from all -others, was owing to the relation between master and servant being -better understood here than in any other place. Let me not be detested -as an advocate for slavery, when I say that I think I have never seen -people so happy in servitude as the domestics of the Albanians. One -reason was, (for I do not now speak of the virtues of their masters,) -that each family had few of them, and that there were no field -negroes. They would remind one of Abraham's servants, who were all -born in the house, which was exactly their case. They were baptised -too, and shared the same religious instruction with the children of -the family; and, for the first years, there was little or no -difference with regard to food or clothing between their children and -those of their masters.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>When a negro woman's child attained the age of three years, the first -new-year's day after, it was solemnly presented to a son or daughter, -or other young relative of the family, who was of the same sex with -the child so presented. The child to whom the young negro was given, -immediately presented it with some piece of money and a pair of shoes; -and from that day the strongest attachment subsisted between the -domestic and the destined owner. I have no where met with instances of -friendship more tender and generous than that which here subsisted -between the slaves and their masters and mistresses. Extraordinary -proofs of them <span class="pagenum"><a name="page512"><small>[p. 512]</small></a></span> -have been often given in the course of hunting or -Indian trading, when a young man and his slave have gone to the -trackless woods together, in the cases of fits of the ague, loss of a -canoe and other casualties happening near hostile Indians. The slave -has been known, at the imminent risk of his life, to carry his -disabled master through trackless woods with labor and fidelity scarce -credible; and the master has been equally tender on similar occasions -of the humble friend who stuck closer than a brother; who was baptised -with the same baptism, nurtured under the same roof, and often rocked -in the same cradle with himself. These gifts of domestics to the -younger members of the family were not irrevocable; yet they were very -rarely withdrawn. If the kitchen family did not increase in proportion -to that of the master, young children were purchased from some family -where they abounded, to furnish those attached servants to the rising -progeny. They were never sold without consulting their mother, who, if -expert and sagacious, had a great deal to say in the family, and would -not allow her child to go into any family with whose domestics she was -not acquainted. These negro women piqued themselves on teaching their -children to be excellent servants, well knowing servitude to be their -lot for life, and that it could only be sweetened by making themselves -particularly useful, and excelling in their department. If they did -their work well, it is astonishing, when I recollect it, what liberty -of speech was allowed to those active and prudent mothers. They would -chide, reprove, and expostulate in a manner that we would not endure -from our hired servants; and sometimes exert fully as much authority -over the children of the family as the parents, conscious that they -were entirely in their power. They did not crush freedom of speech and -opinion in those by whom they knew they were beloved, and who watched -with incessant care over their interest and comfort.</small></blockquote> - -<p>The volume abounds in quaint anecdote, pathos, and matter of a graver -nature, which will be treasured up for future use by the historian. At -page 321 is a description of the breaking up of the ice on the Hudson. -The passage is written with great power; and, as Southey has called -it, “quite Homeric,” (a fact of which we are informed in the preface -to this edition) we will be pardoned for copying it entire.</p> - -<blockquote><small>Soon after this I witnessed, for the last time, the sublime spectacle -of the ice breaking up on the river; an object that fills and elevates -the mind with ideas of power, and grandeur, and indeed, magnificence; -before which all the triumphs of human art sink into insignificance. -This noble object of animated greatness, for such it seemed, I -witnessed; its approach being announced, like a loud and long peal of -thunder, the whole population of Albany were down at the river side in -a moment; and if it happened, as was often the case, in the morning, -there could not be a more grotesque assemblage. No one who had a -nightcap on waited to put it off; as for waiting for one's cloak or -gloves, it was a thing out of the question; you caught the thing next -you that could wrap round you, and run. In the way you saw every door -left open, and pails, baskets, &c. without number set down in the -street. It was a perfect saturnalia. People never dreamt of being -obeyed by their slaves till the ice was past. The houses were left -quite empty: the meanest slave, the youngest child, all were to be -found on the shore. Such as could walk, ran; and they that could not, -were carried by those whose duty would have been to stay and attend -them. When arrived at the show place, unlike the audience collected to -witness any spectacle of human invention, the multitude, with their -eyes all bent one way, stood immoveable, and silent as death, till the -tumult ceased, and the mighty commotion was passed by; then every one -tried to give vent to the vast conceptions with which his mind had -been distended. Every child, and every negro was sure to say, ‘Is not -this like the day of judgment?’ and what they said every one else -thought. Now to describe this is impossible; but I mean to account in -some degree for it. The ice, which had been all winter very thick, -instead of diminishing, as might be expected in spring, still -increased, as the sunshine came and the days lengthened. Much snow -fell in February, which, melted by the heat of the sun, was stagnant -for a day on the surface of the ice; and then by the night frosts, -which were still severe, was added as a new accession to the thickness -of it, above the former surface. This was so often repeated, that in -some years the ice gained two feet in thickness, after the heat of the -sun became such as one would have expected should have entirely -dissolved it. So conscious were the natives of the safety this -accumulation of ice afforded, that the sledges continued to drive on -the ice, when the trees were budding, and everything looked like -spring; nay, when there was so much melted on the surface that the -horses were knee deep in water while travelling on it; and portentous -cracks, on every side, announced the approaching rupture. This could -scarce have been produced by the mere influence of the sun, till -midsummer. It was the swelling of the waters under the ice, increased -by rivulets, enlarged by melted snows, that produced this catastrophe; -for such the awful concussion made it appear. The prelude to the -general bursting of this mighty mass was a fracture lengthwise, in the -middle of the stream, produced by the effort of the imprisoned waters, -now increased too much to be contained within their wonted bounds. -Conceive a solid mass, from six to eight feet thick, bursting for many -miles in one continued rupture, produced by a force inconceivably -great, and, in a manner, inexpressibly sudden. Thunder is no adequate -image of this awful explosion, which roused all the sleepers within -reach of the sound, as completely as the final convulsion of nature, -and the solemn peal of the awakening trumpet might be supposed to do. -The stream in summer was confined by a pebbly strand, overhung with -high and steep banks, crowned with lofty trees, which were considered -as a sacred barrier against the encroachments of this annual -visitation. Never dryads dwelt in more security than those of the -vine-clad elms, that extended their ample branches over this mighty -stream. Their tangled nets laid bare by the impetuous torrents, formed -caverns ever fresh and fragrant, where the most delicate plants -flourished, unvisited by scorching suns or nipping blasts; and nothing -could be more singular than the variety of plants and birds that were -sheltered in these intricate and safe recesses. But when the bursting -of the crystal surface set loose the many waters that had rushed down, -swollen with the annual tribute of dissolving snow, the islands and -low lands were all flooded in an instant; and the lofty banks, from -which you were wont to overlook the stream, were now entirely filled -by an impetuous torrent, bearing down, with incredible and tumultuous -rage, immense shoals of ice; which, breaking every instant by the -concussion of others, jammed together in some places, in others -erecting themselves in gigantic heights for an instant in the air, and -seeming to combat with their fellow-giants crowding on in all -directions, and falling together with an inconceivable crash, formed a -terrible moving picture, animated and various beyond conception; for -it was not only the cerulean ice, whose broken edges combatting with -the stream, refracted light into a thousand rainbows, that charmed -your attention; lofty pines, large pieces of the bank torn off by the -ice with all their early green and tender foliage, were driven on like -travelling islands, amid the battle of breakers, for such it seemed. I -am absurdly attempting to paint a scene, under which the powers of -language sink. Suffice it, that this year its solemnity was increased -by an unusual quantity of snow, which the last hard winter had -accumulated, and the dissolution of which now threatened an -inundation.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect29"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page513"><small><small>[p. 513]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<center>CAMPERDOWN.</center> - -<p><i>Camperdown; or News from our Neighborhood—Being a Series of Sketches, -by the author of “Our Neighborhood,” &c. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & -Blanchard.</i></p> - -<p>In “<i>Our Neighborhood</i>” published a few years ago, the author promised -to give a second series of the work, including brief sketches of some -of its chief characters. The present volume is the result of the -promise, and will be followed up by others—in continuation. We have -read all the tales in <i>Camperdown</i> with interest, and we think the -book cannot well fail being popular. It evinces originality of thought -and manner—with much novelty of matter. The tales are six in number; -<i>Three Hundred Years Hence</i>—<i>The Surprise</i>—<i>The Seven Shanties</i>—<i>The -Little Couple</i>—<i>The Baker's Dozen</i>—and <i>The Thread and Needle Store</i>. -<i>Three Hundred Years Hence</i> is an imitation of Mercier's “<i>Lan deux -milles quatre cents quarante</i>,” the unaccredited parent of a great -many similar things. In the present instance, a citizen of -Pennsylvania, on the eve of starting for New York, falls asleep while -awaiting the steam-boat. <i>He dreams</i> that upon his awakening, Time and -the world have made an advance of three hundred years—that he is -informed of this fact by two persons who afterwards prove to be his -immediate descendants in the eighth generation. They tell him that, -while taking his nap, he was buried, together with the house in which -he sat, beneath an avalanche of snow and earth precipitated from a -neighboring hill by the discharge of the signal-gun—that the tradition -of the event had been preserved, although the spot of his disaster was -at that time overgrown with immense forest trees—and that his -discovery was brought about by the necessity for opening a road -through the hill. He is astonished, as well he may be, but, taking -courage, travels through the country between Philadelphia and New -York, and comments upon its alterations. These latter are, for the -most part, well conceived—some are sufficiently <i>outré</i>. Returning -from his journey he stops at the scene of his original disaster and is -seated, once more, in the disentombed house, while awaiting a -companion. In the meantime he is awakened—finds he has been -dreaming—that the boat has left him—but also (upon receipt of a letter) that -there is no longer any necessity for his journey. The <i>Little Couple</i>, -and <i>The Thread and Needle Store</i> are skilfully told, and have much -spirit and freshness.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect30"></a> -<br> -<center>ERATO.</center> - -<p><i>Erato. By William D. Gallagher. No. I, Cincinnati, Josiah Drake—No. -II, Cincinnati, Alexander Flash.</i></p> - -<p>Many of these poems are old friends, in whose communion we have been -cheered with bright hopes for the Literature of the West. Some of the -pieces will be recognized by our readers, as having attained, -anonymously, to an enviable reputation—among these the <i>Wreck of the -Hornet</i>. The greater part, however, of the latter volume of Mr. -Gallagher, is now, we believe, for the first time published. Mr. G. is -fully a poet in the abstract sense of the word, and will be so -hereafter in the popular meaning of the term. Even now he has done -much in the latter way—much in every way. We think, moreover, we -perceive in him a far more stable basis for solid and extensive -reputation than we have seen in more than a very few of our -countrymen. We allude not now particularly to force of expression, -force of thought, or delicacy of imagination. All these essentials of -the poet he possesses—but we wish to speak of care, study, and -self-examination, of which this vigor and delicacy are in an -inconceivable measure the result. That the versification of Mr. G.'s -poem <i>The Conqueror</i>, is that of Southey's <i>Thalaba</i>, we look upon as -a good omen of ultimate success—although we regard the metre itself as -unjustifiable. It is not impossible that Mr. G. has been led to -attempt this rhythm by the same considerations which have had weight -with Southey—whose Thalaba our author had not seen before the planning -of his own poem. If so, and if Mr. Gallagher will now begin anew, in -his researches about metre, where the laureate made an end, we have -little doubt of his future renown.</p> - -<p>It is not our intention to <i>review</i> the poems of Mr. Gallagher—nor -perhaps would he thank us for so doing. They are exceedingly unequal. -Long passages of the merest burlesque, and in horribly bad taste, are -intermingled with those of the loftiest beauty. It seems too, that the -poems before us fail invariably as <i>entire</i> poems, while succeeding -very frequently in individual portions. But the failure <i>of a whole</i> -cannot be shown without an analysis of that whole—and this analysis, -as we have said, is beyond our intention at present. Some detached -sentences, on the other hand, may be readily given; but, in equity, we -must remind our readers that these sentences are <i>selected</i>.</p> - -<p>The following fine lines are from <i>The Penitent</i>—a poem ill-conceived, -ill-written, and disfigured by almost every possible blemish of -manner. We presume it is one of the author's juvenile pieces.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Remorse had furrowed his ample brow—<br> - His cheeks were sallow and thin—<br> - His limbs were shrivelled—his body was lank—<br> - He had reaped the wages of sin;<br> - And though his eyes constantly glanced about,<br> - As if looking or watching for something without,<br> - His mind's eye glanced within!<br> - Wildly his eyes still glared about,<br> - But the eye that glared within<br> - Was the one that saw the images<br> - That frightened this man of sin. -</div></div> - -<p>From the same.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - We were together: we had tarried<br> - So oft by some enchanting spot<br> - To her familiar, and which carried<br> - Her thoughts away—where mine were not—<br> - That, ere she knew, the bright, chaste moon<br> - —Not as of old, (when Time was young)<br> - She roamed the woods, in sandal-shoon,<br> - With bow in hand and quiver strung—<br> - But 'mong the stars, and broad and round<br> - The moon of man's degenerate race,<br> - Its way had through an opening found,<br> - And shone full in her face!<br> - She started then, and, looking up,<br> - Turned on me her delicious eyes;<br> - And I, poor fool! I dared to hope,<br> - And met that look with sighs! -</div></div> - -<p>From the “<i>Wreck of the Hornet</i>”—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Now shrank with fear each gallant heart—<br> - Bended was many a knee—<br> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page514"><small><small>[p. 514]</small></small></a></span> - And the last prayer was offered up,<br> - God of the Deep, to thee!<br> - Muttered the angry Heavens still<br> - And murmured still the sea—<br> - And old and sternest hearts bowed down<br> - God of the Deep, to Thee! -</div></div> - -<p>The little ballad “<i>They told me not to love him</i>,” has much -tenderness, simplicity, and neatness of expression. We quote three of -the five stanzas—the rest are equally good.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - They told me not to love him!<br> - They said he was not true;<br> - And bade me have a care, lest I<br> - Should do what I might rue:<br> - At first I scorn'd their warnings—for<br> - I could not think that he<br> - Conceal'd beneath so fair a brow,<br> - A heart of perfidy.<br> -<br> - But they forc'd me to discard him!<br> - Yet I could not cease to love—<br> - For our mutual vows recorded were<br> - By angel hands above.<br> - He left his boyhood's home, and sought<br> - Forgetfulness afar;<br> - But memory stung him—and he fought,<br> - And fell, in glorious war.<br> -<br> - <i>He</i> dwells in Heaven now—while <i>I</i><br> - Am doom'd to this dull Earth:<br> - O, how my sad soul longs to break<br> - Away, and wander forth.<br> - From star to star its course would be—<br> - Unresting it would go,<br> - Till we united were above,<br> - Who severed were below. -</div></div> - -<p>By far the best poem we have seen from the pen of Mr. Gallagher is -that entitled “<i>August</i>”—and it is indeed this little piece alone -which would entitle him, <i>at least now</i>, we think, to any poetical -rank above the general mass of versifiers. But the ability to write a -poem such as “<i>August</i>,” while implying a capacity for even higher and -better things, speaks clearly of present power, and of an upward -progress already begun. Much of the beauty of the lines we mention, -springs, it must be admitted, from imitation of Shelley—but we are not -inclined to like them much the less on this account. We copy only the -four initial stanzas. The remaining seven, although good, are injured -by some inadvertences. The allusion, in stanzas six and seven, to Mr. -Lee, a painter, destroys the <i>keeping</i> of all the latter portion of -the poem.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> - Dust on thy mantle! dust,<br> - Bright Summer, on thy livery of green!<br> - A tarnish, as of rust,<br> - Dimmeth thy brilliant sheen:<br> - And thy young glories—leaf, and bud, and flower—<br> - Change cometh over them with every hour.<br> -<br> - Thee hath the August sun<br> - Looked on with hot, and fierce, and brassy face:<br> - And still and lazily run,<br> - Scarce whispering in their pace,<br> - The half-dried rivulets, that lately sent<br> - A shout of gladness up, as on they went.<br> -<br> - Flame-like, the long mid-day—<br> - With not so much of sweet air as hath stirr'd<br> - The down upon the spray,<br> - Where rests the panting bird,<br> - Dozing away the hot and tedious noon,<br> - With fitful twitter, sadly out of tune.<br> -<br> - Seeds in the sultry air,<br> - And gossamer web-work on the sleeping trees!<br> - E'en the tall pines, that rear<br> - Their plumes to catch the breeze,<br> - The slightest breeze from the unfruitful West,<br> - Partake the general languor, and deep rest. -</div></div> -<br> -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect31"></a> -<br> -<center>LIFE ON THE LAKES.</center> - -<p><i>Life on the Lakes: Being Tales and Sketches collected during a Trip -to the Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior. By the author of “Legends of a -Log Cabin.” New York: Published by George Dearborn.</i></p> - -<p>The name of this book is in shockingly bad taste. After being -inundated with the burlesque in the shape of Life in London, Life in -Paris, Life at Crockford's, Life in Philadelphia, and a variety of -other <i>Lives</i>, all partaking of <i>caricatura</i>, it is not easy to -imagine a title more sadly out of keeping than one embracing on the -same page this so travestied word <i>Life</i> and the—Pictured Rocks of -Lake Superior. We have other faults to find with the work. It contains -some ill-mannered and grossly ignorant sneers at Daniel O'Connell, -calling him “the great pensioner on the poverty of his countrymen,” -and making him speak in a brogue only used by the lowest of the Irish, -about “<i>the finest pisantry in the world</i>.” The two lithographs, -(Picture Rocks and La Chapelle) the joint work of Messieurs Burford -and Bufford, are abominable in every respect, and should not have been -suffered to disgrace the well printed and otherwise handsome volumes. -In the manner of the narrative, too, there is a rawness, a certain air -of foppery and ill-sustained pretension—a species of abrupt, frisky, -and self-complacent Paul Ulricism, which will cause nine-tenths of the -well educated men who take up the book, to throw it aside in disgust, -after perusing the initial chapter. Yet if we can overlook these -difficulties, <i>Life on the Lakes</i> will be found a very amusing -performance. We quote from the close of volume the first, the -following piquant Indian Story, narrated by an Indian.</p> - -<blockquote><small>As our adventures are thus brought, for the day, to a premature close, -suppose I give you an Indian story. If any body asks you who told it -me, say you do not know.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Many years ago, when there were very few white men on the lake, and -the red men could take the beaver by hundreds upon its shores, our -great father, the president, sent a company of his wise men and his -warriors to make a treaty with the Chippewas. They did not travel, as -the poor Indians do, in small weak canoes; no, they were white -warriors, and they had a barge so great she was almost a ship. The -warriors of this party, like all our great father's warriors, were -exceeding brave; but among them all, the bravest was he whom the white -men called the Major, but the red men called him Ininiwee, or the Bold -Man. He was all over brave—even his tongue was brave; and Waab-ojeeg -himself never spoke bolder words. For a while the wind was fair and -the lake smooth, and the courage of Ininiwee ran over at his mouth in -loud and constant boasting. At last they came to the mouth of Grand -Marais, and here a storm arose, and one of the wise men—he was tall -and large, and, on account of the color of his hair, and <i>for other -reasons</i>, the Chippewas called him Misco-Monedo<small><sup>1</sup></small>—told the warriors -of our <span class="pagenum"><a name="page515"><small>[p. 515]</small></a></span> -great father to take off their coats and their boots, so -that if the great barge was filled with water, or if she turned over, -they might swim for their lives. The words of Misco-Monedo seemed good -to the warriors, and they took off their coats and boots, and made -ready to swim in case of need. Then they sat still and <i>silent</i>, for -the courage of the Major no longer overflowed at his lips; perhaps he -was collecting it round his heart. They sat a long while, but at last -the guide told them, ‘It is over, the warriors are safe.’ Then, -indeed, there was great joy among the white men; but Ininiwee made -haste to put on his coat and his boots, for he said in his heart, ‘If -I can get them on before the other warriors, I can say I am brave; I -did not take off my boots nor my coat; you are cowards, so I shall be -a great chief.’ Ininiwee put on his coat, and then he thought to have -put on his boots; but when he tried, the warrior who sat next him in -the barge shouted and called for the Misco-Monedo. He came -immediately, and saw that Ininiwee, whom they called the Major, in his -haste and in his great fright, was trying to put his boot on another -man's leg.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>1</sup></small> Red Devil.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"><a name="sect32"></a> -<br> -<center>RUSSIA AND THE RUSSIANS.</center> - -<p><i>Russia and the Russians; or, a Journey to St. Petersburg and Moscow, -through Courland and Livonia; with Characteristic Sketches of the -People. By Leigh Ritchie, Esq. Author of “Turner's Annual Tour,” -“Schinderhannes,” &c. Philadelphia: E. L. Carey and A. Hart.</i></p> - -<p>This book, as originally published in London, was beautifully gotten -up and illustrated with engravings of superior merit, which tended in -no little degree to heighten the public interest in its behalf. The -present volume is well printed on passable paper—and no more. The name -of Leigh Ritchie however, is a host in itself. He has never, to our -knowledge, written a bad thing. His Russia and the Russians has all -the spirit and glowing vigor of romance. It is full of every species -of entertainment, and will prove in America as it has in England, one -of the most popular books of the season. In this respect it will -differ no less widely from the England of Professor Von Raumer than it -differs from it in matter and manner, the vivacious writer of -Schinderhannes suffering his own individuality of temperament to color -every thing he sees, and giving us under the grave title of Russia and -the Russians, a brilliant mass of anecdote, narrative, description and -sentiment—the profound historian disdaining embellishment, and busying -himself only in laying bare with a master-hand the very anatomy of -England. It is amusing, however, although by no means extraordinary, -that were we to glean the character of each work from the respective -statements of the two writers in their prefaces, we would be forced to -arrive at a conclusion precisely the reverse. In this view of the case -Leigh Ritchie would be Professor Von Raumer, and Professor Von Raumer -Leigh Ritchie. We copy from the book before us the <i>commencement</i> of a -sketch of St. Petersburg, in which the artist has done far more in -giving a vivid idea of that city than many a wiser man in the sum -total of an elaborate painting.</p> - -<blockquote><small>St. Petersburg has been frequently called “the most magnificent city -in Europe,” but the expression appears to me to be wholly destitute of -meaning. Venice is a magnificent city, so is Paris, so is St. -Petersburg; but there are no points of <i>comparison</i> among them. St. -Petersburg is a city of new houses, newly painted. The designs of some -of them may be old, but the copies are evidently new. They imitate the -classic models; but they often imitate them badly, and there is always -something to remind one that they are not the genuine classic. They -are like the images which the Italian boys carry about the -thoroughfares of London—Venuses de Medici and Belvidere Apollos, in -stucco.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>But the streets are wide, and the walls painted white or light yellow; -and from one street opens another, and another, and another—all wide, -and white, and light yellow. And then, here and there, there are -columned façades, and churches, and domes, and tapering spires—all -white too, that are not gilded, or painted a sparkling green. And -canals sweep away to the right and left almost at every turning, not -straight and Dutch-like, but bending gracefully, and losing themselves -among the houses. And there is one vast and glorious river, as wide as -the Thames at London, and a hundred times more beautiful, which rolls -through the whole; and, beyond it, from which ever side you look, you -see a kindred mass of houses and palaces, white and yellow, and -columned façades, and churches, and domes, and spires, gilded and -green.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The left bank of this river is a wall of granite, with a parapet and -trottoir of the same material, extending for several miles; and this -forms one of the most magnificent promenades in Europe. The houses on -either side look like palaces, for all are white, and many have -columns; and there are also absolute <i>de facto</i> palaces; for instance, -the Admiralty, the Winter Palace, and the Marble Palace, on one side, -and the Academy of Arts, on the other. The water in the middle is -stirring with boats, leaping and sweeping through the stream, with -lofty, old-fashioned sterns, painted and gilded within and without.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Among the streets, there is one averaging the width of Oxford Street -in London, sometimes less, sometimes a little more. It is lined with -trees, and shops with painted shutters, and churches of half a dozen -different creeds. Its shops, indeed, are not so splendid as ours, nor -are their windows larger than those of private houses: but the walls -are white and clean, sometimes columned, sometimes pillastered, -sometimes basso-relievoed: in fact, if you can imagine such a thing as -a street of <i>gin-palaces</i> just after the painting season—and that is a -bold word—you may form an idea scarcely exaggerated of the Nevski -Prospekt.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>But no analogy taken from London can convey an idea of the—grandeur, I -may venture to say, presented by the vistas opening from the main -street. Here there are no lanes, no alleys, no <i>impasses</i>, no -nestling-places constructed of filth and rubbish for the poor. These -lateral streets are all parts of the main street, only diverging at -right angles. The houses are the same in form and color; they appear -to be inhabited by the same classes of society; and the view is -terminated, ever and anon, by domes and spires. The whole, in short, -is one splendid picture, various in its forms, but consistent in its -character.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Such were my first impressions—thus thrown down at random, without -waiting to look for words, and hardly caring about ideas,—the first -sudden impressions flashed upon my mind by the physical aspect of St. -Petersburg.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>I have said in a former volume of this work, that I have the -custom—like other idlers, I suppose—of wandering about during the first day -of my visit to a foreign city, without apparent aim or purpose; -without knowing, or desiring to know, the geography of the place; and -without asking a single question. Now this is precisely the sort of -view which should be taken of the new city of the Tsars, by one who -prefers the poetry of life to its dull and hackneyed prose. St. -Petersburg is a picture rather than a reality—grand, beautiful, and -noble, at a little distance, but nothing more than a surface of paint -and varnish when you look closer. Or, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page516"><small>[p. 516]</small></a></span> rather, to amend the -comparison, it is like the scene of a theatre, which you must not by -any means look behind, if you would not destroy the illusion.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It will be said, that such is the case with all cities, with all -objects that derive their existence from the puny sons of men: but -this is one of those misnamed truisms which are considered worthy of -all acceptation for no other reason than that they come from the -tongue, or through a neighboring organ, with the twang of religion or -morality.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><i>London</i> does not lose but gain by inspection; although on inspection -it is found to be an enormous heap of dirty, paltry, miserable brick -houses, which, but for the constant repairs of the inhabitants, would -in a few years become a mass of such pitiful ruins as the owls -themselves would disdain to inhabit. Those narrow, winding, dingy -streets—those endless lines of brick boxes, without taste, without -beauty, without dignity, without any thing that belongs to -architecture, inspire us with growing wonder and admiration. The -genius, the industry, the commerce, of a whole continent seem -concentrated in this single spot; and the effect is uninterrupted by -any of the lighter arts that serve as the mere ornaments and -amusements of life. An earnestness of purpose is the predominating -character of the scene—a force of determination which seizes, and -fixes, and grapples with a single specific object, to the exclusion of -every other. The pursuit of wealth acquires a character of sublimity -as we gaze; and Mammon rises in majesty from the very deformity of the -stupendous temple of common-place in which he is worshipped.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><i>Venice</i> does not lose but gain by inspection; although on inspection -it is found to be but the outlines of a great city, filled up with -meanness, and dirt, and famine. We enter her ruined palaces with a -catching of the breath, and a trembling of the heart; and when we see -her inhabitants crouching in rags and hunger in their marble halls, we -do but breathe the harder, and tremble the more. The effect is -<i>increased</i> by the contrast; for Venice is a tale of the past, a city -of the dead. The Rialto is still crowded with the shapes of history -and romance; the Giant's Steps still echo to the ducal tread; and -mingling with the slaves and wantons who meet on the Sunday evenings -to laugh at the rattle of their chains in the Piazza di San Marco, we -see gliding, scornful and sad, the merchant-kings of the Adriatic.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>St. Petersburg, on the other band, has no moral character to give -dignity to common-place, or haunt tombs and ruins like a spirit. It is -a city of imitation, constructed, in our own day, on what were thought -to be the best models; and hence the severity with which its public -buildings have been criticised by all travellers, except those who -dote upon gilding and green paint, and are enthusiasts in plaster and -whitewash. As a <i>picture</i> of a city, notwithstanding, superficially -viewed—an <i>idea</i> of a great congregating place of the human kind, -without reference to national character, or history, or individuality -of any kind—St. Petersburg, in my opinion, is absolutely unrivalled.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It would be difficult, even for the talented artist whose productions -grace these sketches, to convey an adequate idea of the scale on which -this city is laid out; and yet, without doing so, we do nothing. This -is the grand distinctive feature of the place. Economy of room was the -principal necessity in the construction of the other great European -cities; for, above all things, they were to be protected from the -enemy by stone walls. But, before St. Petersburg was built, a change -had taken place in the art and customs of war, and permanent armies -had become in some measure a substitute for permanent fortifications. -Another cause of prodigality was the little value of the land; but, -above all these, should be mentioned, the far-seeing, and far-thinking -ambition of the builders. Conquest was the ruling passion of the Tsars -from the beginning; and in founding a new capital, they appear to have -destined it to be the capital of half the world.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>It is needless to exaggerate the magnitude of the city; as, for -instance, some writers have done, by stating that the Nevski Prospekt -is half as wide again as Oxford Street in London. Every thing is here -on a gigantic scale. The quays, to which vessels requiring nine feet -of water cannot ascend, except when the river is unusually high, might -serve for all the navies of Europe. The public offices, or at least -many of them, would hardly be too small, even if the hundred millions -were added to the population of the country, which its soil is -supposed to be capable of supporting.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Perhaps it may be as well to introduce here, for the sake of -illustration, although a little prematurely as regards the -description, a view of the grand square of the Admiralty. This is an -immense oblong space in the very heart of the city. The spectator -stands near the manège, the building which projects at the left-hand -corner. Beyond this is the Admiralty, with its gilded spire, which is -visible from almost all parts of the metropolis. Farther on is the -Winter Palace, distinguished by a flag, in front of which, near the -bottom of the vista, is the column raised to the memory of Alexander. -Opposite this, on the right hand, is the palace of the Etat Major, and -returning towards the foreground, the War Office. The group in front -are employed in dragging stones for the new Isaak's church, which -stands in the left hand corner, although the view is not wide enough -to admit it. This is to be the richest and most splendid building in -the world; but it has been so long in progress, and is now so little -advanced, that a notice of it must fall to the lot of some future -traveller. Saint Isaak, I believe, is not particularly connected with -Russia, except by his day falling upon the birth-day of Peter the -Great.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Such is the scale on which St. Petersburg is built; for although this -may be considered the heart of the city, the other members correspond. -The very vastness of the vacant spaces, however, it should be -observed, seems to make the houses on either side look less lofty; -while on the other hand, no doubt the real want of loftiness in the -houses exaggerates the breadth of the area between. But on the present -occasion, any thing like fancy in the latter respect would have been -quite supererogatory. The streets were hardly passable. Here and there -a pond or a morass gave pause to the pedestrian; while the droski -driver was only indebted to his daily renewed experience of the -daily-changing aspect of the ground, for the comparative confidence -and safety with which he pursued his way. The streets, in fact, were -in the same predicament as the roads by which I had reached them; they -had thawed from their winter consistence, and their stones, torn up, -and dismantled by the severities of the frost, had not yet been put -into summer quarters.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The greater part of the streets are what may be termed pebble-roads, a -name which describes exactly what they are. At this moment, in the -whole city, there are upwards of seven hundred and seventy-two -thousand square sagenes<small><sup>2</sup></small> of these roads, while of stone pavement -there are only nine thousand four hundred and fifty, and of wood six -thousand four hundred.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><small><sup>2</sup></small> A sagene is seven feet.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The wooden pavement, I believe, is peculiar to St. Petersburg, and -merits a description. It consists of small hexagons sawed from a piece -of resinous wood, and laid into a bed formed of crushed stones and -sand. These are fastened laterally into each other with wooden pegs, -and when the whole forms a plain surface, the interstices are filled -with fine sand, and then boiling pitch is poured over all. This pitch -from the porous nature of the wood is speedily absorbed, and on a -quantity of sand being strewed above it, the operation is complete, -and a pavement constructed which is found to be extremely durable, and -which seems to me to suffer much less injury from the frost than the -stone causeway. The honor of the invention is due to M. Gourief; and I -have no doubt he will ultimately see it adopted in most of the great -towns towards the north.</small></blockquote> -<br> -<br><hr align="center" width="100"><a name="sect33"></a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page517"><small><small>[p. 517]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<br> -<h4>SUPPLEMENT.</h4> -<br> - -<p>In compliance with the suggestion of many of our friends, and at the -request of a majority of our contributors, we again publish a -supplement consisting of <i>Notices of the</i> “<i>Messenger</i>.” We have duly -weighed the propriety and impropriety of this course, and have -concluded that when we choose to adopt it, there can be no good reason -why we should not. Heretofore we have made selections from the notices -received—only taking care to publish what we conceived to be a fair -specimen of the general character of all—and, with those who know us, -no suspicion of unfairness in this selection would be entertained. -Lest, however, among those who do <i>not</i> know us, any such suspicion -should arise, we now publish <i>every</i> late criticism received. This -supplement is, of course, not considered as a portion of the Messenger -itself, being an extra expense to the publisher.</p> - -<p>We commence with the <i>Newbern (North Carolina) Spectator</i>—a general -dissenter from all favorable opinions of our Magazine.</p> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The May number of this periodical has -been on our table for some days, but our avocations have prevented us -from looking into it before to-day. It is as usual, a beautiful -specimen of typography, and sustains Mr. White's acknowledged -mechanical taste. Its contents are various, as may be seen by -referring to another column of to-day's paper, and not more various -than unequal. Some of the articles are creditable to their authors, -while others—indeed a majority of them—would better suit an ephemeral -sheet like our own, which makes no great literary pretensions, than -the pages of a magazine that assumes the high stand of a critical -censor and a standard of correct taste in literature. While its -pretensions were less elevated, we hailed the Messenger as an attempt, -and a successful one, to call forth southern talent and to diffuse a -taste for chaste and instructive reading; and had its conducters been -satisfied with the useful and creditable eminence which the work -attained almost immediately, the Messenger would not only have had a -more extensive circulation, but its labors would have been more -beneficial to the community—the great end at which every periodical -should aim. With the talent available in any particular spot in the -southern country, it is out of the question, truly ridiculous, to -assume the tone of a Walsh, a Blackwood or a Jeffries; and to attempt -it, without the means to support the pretension, tends to accelerate -the downfall of so indiscreet an attempt. We do not wish to be -misunderstood in this remark. We believe, indeed we know, that the -south possesses talent, and cultivated talent too, in as great -abundance perhaps as any population of the same extent so situated; -but the meaning which we intend to convey is, that this talent is -neither sufficiently concentrated, nor sufficiently devoted to -literary pursuits, to be brought forth in support of any single -publication in strength adequate to establish an indisputable claim to -superiority. Without these advantages, however, the Messenger has -boldly put itself forth as an arbiter whose dicta are supreme; and -with a severity and an indiscreetness of criticism, especially on -American works,—which few, if any, of the able and well established -Reviews have ventured to exercise, has been not only unmerciful, but -savage. We admit that the number before, as well as the one preceding, -is more moderate; and this change encourages the hope that justness of -judgment and a dignified expression of opinion will hereafter -characterise the work. The May number, however, is over captious, -unnecessarily devoted to faultfinding, in a few cases. In criticising -“Spain Revisited,” this spirit shows itself. About ninety lines are -occupied in condemnation of the Author's dedication, a very -unpretending one too, and one which will elevate Lieutenant Slidell in -the estimation of all who prefer undoubted evidences of personal -friendship to the disposition which dictates literary hyper-criticism. -The errors of composition that are to be found in the work, -grammatical and other, are also severely handled, we will not say -ably. The following is a specimen.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“And now, too, we began”—says Spain Revisited—“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> - -<blockquote><small>“Were horsemen”—says the Messenger, “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>’ probably 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.”</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>With all deference to the Messenger, we would ask, if it never entered -into the critick's mind that “slouched hat,” “and embroidered jacket” -are here used as generick terms? Lieutenant Slidell evidently intended -that they should be so received: but that he entertained the same -intention respecting “horsemen,” the whole context disproves. Had the -reviewer placed a comma after the word “horsemen,” in the first line -of the paragraph which he dissects, (the relative and verb—<i>who -were</i>—being elided, there is authority for so doing,) considered as -parenthetical and illustrative all that follows between that comma and -the one which comes after “spatterdashes,” supplied the personal -relative and the proper verb, which are plainly understood before the -participle “reining,” we presume that this sentence, ill-constructed -as it undoubtedly is, would have escaped the knife, from a conviction -that there are many as bad in the Messenger itself. The only critical -notice which we have had leisure to read since the reception of the -number, is the one which we have named. We may resume the subject in -connexion with the June number.</small></blockquote> - -<p>We are at a loss to know who is the editor of the Spectator, but have -a shrewd suspicion that he is the identical gentleman who once sent us -from Newbern an unfortunate copy of verses. It seems to us that he -wishes to be taken notice of, and we will, for the once, oblige him -with a few words—with the positive understanding, however, that it -will be inconvenient to trouble ourselves hereafter with his opinions. -We would respectfully suggest to him that his words, “<i>while its -pretensions were less elevated we hailed the Messenger as a successful -attempt, &c. and had its conductors been satisfied with the useful and -creditable eminence, &c. we would have had no objection to it</i>,” &c. -are a very fair and candid acknowledgment that he can find no fault -with the Messenger but its success, and that to be as stupid as itself -is the only sure road to the patronage of the Newbern Spectator. The -paper is in error—we refer it to any decent schoolboy in Newbern—in -relation to the only sentence in our Magazine upon which it has -thought proper to comment specifically, viz. the sentence above (by -Lieutenant Slidell) beginning “And now too we began to see horsemen -jantily dressed in slouched hat, embroidered jacket, &c.” The -<i>Spectator</i> says, “We would ask if it never entered into the critic's -mind that ‘slouched hat’ and ‘embroidered jacket’ are here used as -generic terms? Lieutenant Slidell evidently intended that they should -be so received; but that he entertained the same intention respecting -‘horsemen,’ the whole context disproves.” We reply, (and the Spectator -should imagine us smiling as we reply) that it is precisely because -“slouched hat” and “embroidered jacket” <i>are</i> used as generic terms, -while the word “horsemen” <i>is not</i>, that we have been induced to wish -the sentence amended. The <i>Spectator</i> also says, “With the talent -available in any particular spot in the Southern country, it is out of -the question, truly ridiculous, to assume the tone of a Walsh, a -Blackwood, or a Jeffries.” We believe that either Walsh, or -(<i>Blackwood?</i>) or alas! Jeffries, would disagree with the Newbern -Spectator in its opinion of the talent of the Southern country—that -is, if either Walsh or Blackwood or Jeffries could have imagined the -existence of such a thing as a <i>Newbern Spectator</i>. Of the opinion of -Blackwood and Jeffries, however, we cannot be positive just now. Of -that of Walsh we can, having heard from him very lately with a promise -of a communication for the Messenger, and compliments respecting our -Editorial course, which we should really be ashamed of repeating. From -<i>Slidell</i>, for whom the Spectator is for taking up the cudgels, we -have yesterday heard in a similar strain and with a similar promise. -From <i>Prof. Anthon</i>, ditto. <i>Mrs. Sigourney</i>, also lately reviewed, -has just forwarded us her compliments and a communication. <i>Halleck</i>, -since our <i>abuse</i> of his book, writes us thus: “There is no place -where I shall be more desirous of seeing my humble writings than in -the publication you so ably support and conduct. It is full of sound, -good literature, and its frank, open, independent manliness of spirit, -is characteristic of the land it hails from.” <i>Paulding</i>, likewise, -has sent us something for our pages, and is so kind as to say of us in -a letter just received, “I should not hesitate in placing the -‘Messenger’ decidedly at the head of our periodicals, nor do I -hesitate in expressing that opinion freely on all occasions. It is -gradually growing in the public estimation, and under your conduct, -and with your contributions, must soon, if it is not already, be known -all over the land.” Lastly, in regard to the disputed matter of Drake -and Halleck, we have just received the following testimony from an -individual second to no American author in the wide-spread popularity -of his writings, and in their universal appreciation by men of -letters, both in the United States and England. “You have given -sufficient evidence on various occasions, not only of critical -knowledge but of high independence; your praise is therefore of value, -and your censure not to be slighted. Allow me to say that I think your -article on Drake and Halleck one of the finest pieces of criticism -ever published in this country.”</p> - -<p>These decisions, on the part of such men, it must be -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page518"><small><small>[p. 518]</small></small></a></span> -acknowledged, would be highly gratifying to our vanity, were not the -decision vetoed by the poet of the <i>Newbern Spectator</i>. We wish only -to add that the poet's assertion in regard to the Messenger “putting -itself forth as an arbiter whose dicta are supreme,” is a slight -deviation from the truth. The Messenger merely expresses its -particular opinions in its own particular manner. These opinions no -person is bound to adopt. They are open to the comments and censures -of even the most diminutive things in creation—of the very Newbern -Spectators of the land. If the Editor of this little paper does not -behave himself we will positively publish his verses.—<i>Ed. Messenger</i>.</p> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Augusta Chronicle.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The following flattering tribute to the -merits of this Southern periodical, is from the New York Courier and -Enquirer; and, for its liberality and independence, it is scarcely -less creditable to the Messenger, than to the paper from which it is -extracted. The Courier and Enquirer is ever ready to do justice to the -South, in all its relations, and to defend it when assailed, and -therefore richly merits the warm gratitude and liberal patronage of -its people.</small></blockquote> - -<center><small>From the Courier and Enquirer.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>“We have received the May number of the Southern Literary Messenger, -and its contents are equal to its reputation. We feel no hesitation in -declaring our opinion that this publication is in every essential -attribute, at the very head of the periodical literature of its class, -in the United States. We do not agree by any means with some of its -literary <i>conclusions</i>. For instance, it is very wide of our opinion -on the merits of Halleck, in this very number; but there is a vigor -and manliness in most of the papers that appear in the Messenger, -which we are almost ready to admit, are found <i>no where</i> else in -American periodicals. At all events, it holds a proud post among its -compeers, and its criticisms in particular, though sometimes a little -too tomahawkish, have, generally speaking, a great deal of <i>justice</i> -on their side.”</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the National Intelligencer.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>On the subject of the right of instruction, we find in the June number -of the Richmond Literary Messenger, a very able paper, which, as soon -as we can free our columns from the mass of Congressional matter on -our hands, we will spread entire before our readers. The article comes -to us in the shape of a letter to a gentleman in Virginia, and is -understood to be from the pen of that distinguished jurist, Judge -Hopkinson, of Philadelphia. It was elicited by a recent article in the -Richmond Enquirer in defence of the right of mandatory instruction, -and furnishes a luminous and complete refutation of that, amongst the -most mischievous of the fallacies which obtain occasional popularity -in particular States. Hearing of this letter, the publisher of the -Messenger had the good sense and good fortune to obtain a copy of it, -and the manliness to publish it in his valuable journal. In so doing -he has rendered a service to the public, and enriched his pages with -an article which is, itself, worth five years' subscription to the -Messenger.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Richmond Compiler.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—Every body must remember, that a -very short time ago the attempt to establish a magazine in Virginia, -was looked upon as chimærical in the last degree; and when, at length, -the publication was commenced, in spite of a host of difficulties, its -speedy downfall was universally predicted. Such predictions, no doubt, -tended in a great degree to verify themselves, and are the usual -resources of the enemies of any scheme of the kind. But it is saying a -great deal for the enterprize and talent which have been employed in -the service of the Messenger, that it has not only overcome -difficulties such as no other magazine in the country ever -successfully contended with, but that it has succeeded in attaining to -the very first rank among American monthly periodicals. Since the -commencement of the second volume, there has hardly been a dissenting -voice, in this respect, in the many notices of the journal which have -come under our observation. The <i>first literary names in the Union</i> -(without reference to mere Editorial opinions) have not scrupled -directly to avow their belief, that the Messenger is decidedly the -first of American Journals, and that its Editorial articles and -management in especial, are far superior to those of any magazine in -America, but have suffered these opinions to be published. Here, then, -there can be no suspicion of puffery. Yet in spite of all these -things,—in spite of the energy which has been displayed in getting up -the Journal—in spite of the acknowledged ability with which it is -conducted, and the admitted talents of its principal contributors -(Judge Hopkinson, Professor Dew, Rbt. Greenhow, Heath, Timothy Flint, -Edgar Foe, Judge Tucker, Groesbeck, Minor, Carter, Maxwell and a host -of others)—in spite, too, of the general acknowledgement that such a -publication is an honor to the State, we find our citizens regarding -the work with apathy, if not treating it with positive neglect. Our -public presses, too, we think to blame, in not entering more warmly -into the cause of the <i>Messenger</i>. We happen to be aware that these -presses are, one and all, favorably disposed to the Journal and proud -of its success. But they are, in a measure, bound to some <i>active</i> -exertions in its behalf. In such a case as that of the Messenger, -silence amounts to positive dispraise. The public in other States -naturally look to the Richmond presses for opinions in relation to the -magazine, and are at a loss to account for not finding any, except by -supposing some demerit. We are quite sure that Mr. White has neither -any expectation nor desire that we should <i>puff</i> his Journal—that is, -praise it beyond its deserts. Yet we may certainly notice each number -as it appears, expressing freely, although briefly, our opinion of its -deserts. This is nothing more, it appears to us, than our absolute -duty—a duty we owe to the cause of Virginia literature, to Mr. White, -Mr. Poe, and to ourselves.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The present number, we do not think equal as a whole to the March -number, and still less to that for February—which latter may be safely -placed in comparison with any single number of any Journal in -existence for the great vigor, profundity, and originality of its -articles. Yet we do not mean to say that the number now before us is -not an admirable one, and fully equal to any of our Northern magazines -in its communications, while it far surpasses the best of them in its -Editorial department.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The first article is “MSS. of Benj. Franklin,” printed from MSS. in -the hand-writing of Franklin himself, and never published in any -edition of his works. It is unnecessary to say more than this to call -public attention to so valuable a paper. “Lionel Granby,” chap. X. is -the next prose article. We like this chapter as well if not better, -than any of the former ones. The writer of these papers is evidently a -man of genius—we might perhaps express our meaning more fully by -saying that he has that degree of genius which enables him to -appreciate, and keenly feel the labors of men of genius. Some of his -detached passages may be considered as very fine. He has, however, no -capacity to sustain a connected narrative of any length, and these -chapters of “Lionel Granby” are consequently replete with the most -ludicrous incongruities. They evince great ignorance of what is called -the world. They are full of a shallow pedantry. Their style is -excessively turgid, ungrammatical, and <i>inconsequential</i>. “The -Prairie” is a delightful little sketch of real scenery. “Random -Thoughts” is an excellent article, evincing much true learning and -acumen. Such contributors as the author of this paper are invaluable -to the <i>Messenger</i>. “Odds and Ends” is from the pen of Oliver -Oldschool—a former correspondent of the Messenger. We believe Oliver -Oldschool to be Mr. Garnett, the author of many excellent things on -Female Education. His present essay is exceedingly amusing—but -somewhat old fashioned. “The Hall of Incholese” by J. N. McJilton -should not have been admitted into the columns of the Messenger. It is -an imitation of the Editor's tale of Bon-Bon, and like most other -imitations, utterly unworthy of being mentioned in comparison with its -original. Nothing but the most extraordinary talent can render a tale -of this nature acceptable to the present state of the public appetite. -If not exceedingly good, it is always excessively bad. It must be a -palpable hit or it is nothing. The “Lecture on German Literature” is -in every respect worthy of the talents and learning of its author, -George H. Calvert, Editor of the Baltimore American, and the writer of -several popular works. It is a spirited and accurate sketch of German -Literature from its origin to the present day. The Messenger should -secure Mr. Calvert if possible. “Readings with my pencil, No. IV,” is -a very good paper. “American Social Elevation” is the best -communicated article in the present number, and perhaps one of the -best, if not indeed the best (of a similar nature) which has ever -appeared in any Journal in the country. Its philosophy is bold and -comprehensive without being minute—its style fervid and exceedingly -pure. From the initials and place of date, we are led to attribute -this essay to Mr. Groesbeck of Cincinnati. “Verbal Criticisms” is a -good paper, but we cannot agree with the critic in his strictures on -the phrase “being built.”</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Editorial Department is (as it invariably is,) full, bold, -vigorous and original. The first paper is “Lynch's Law,” and gives the -history and origin, together with a copy of the law. Then follow -Critical Notices. New works are reviewed—of Slidell's, of Professor -Anthon's, of Mrs. Trollope's, of Paulding's, of Walsh's, of Cooper's, -and of Mellen's. Praise and blame are distributed with the soundest -discrimination, and with an impartiality, (even in the case of known -friends,) which it is impossible not to admire; or to impeach.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Poetical Department is quite limited. Two pieces by Mr. Poe are -very beautiful, the one entitled “Irene,” in especial, is full of his -rich and well-disciplined imagination. The lines on “Camilla” by -Lambert A. Wilmer, are a perfect gem; full of antique strength and -classic sorrow.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Baltimore Gazette.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger for April</i>, has been received rather -late in the day. Though the appearance of the Messenger is -occasionally delayed (from us) longer than we might wish, yet we ever -give it the cordial welcome which a most interesting and worthy friend -never fails to receive at our hands. The present number, we perceive, -contains less than the usual amount of matter, owing to the increase -of the pages of the March number occasioned by the insertion of -Professor Dew's valuable address upon the influence of the federative -republican system of government upon literature and the development of -character.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The long and able article on Maelzel's Chess Player, contained in this -number, does credit to the close observation and acute reasoning of -its author, who, as the article is published under the editorial head, -we infer is the talented editor himself. The question whether or not -the chess-player is a pure machine, is, we think, completely put to -rest. The nature of the game of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page519"><small>[p. 519]</small></a></span> -chess is such, that no -<i>machine</i>, however ingeniously arranged may be its mechanism, could of -itself perform its constantly varying operations. We have never, at -any time, given assent to the prevailing opinion, that human agency is -not employed by Mr. Maelzel. That such agency is employed cannot be -questioned, unless it may be satisfactorily demonstrated that man is -capable to impart intellect to matter: for <i>mind</i> is no less requisite -in the operations of the game of chess, than it is in the prosecution -of a chain of abstract reasoning. We recommend those, whose credulity -has in this instance been taken captive by plausible appearances; and -all, whether credulous or not, who admire an ingenious train of -inductive reasoning, to read this article attentively: each and all -must rise from its perusal convinced that a <i>mere machine</i> cannot -bring into requisition the intellect which this intricate game -demands, but on the contrary that every operation is the result of -human agency, though so ingeniously concealed as to baffle detection, -unless by long continued and close observation.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>This question, so often, and in this instance so ably, examined, was -settled in Baltimore several years ago, by the actual discovery of a -man emerging from the top of the chest or box, on which Mr. Maelzel's -figure moved the chess men, the lid, which moved on a pivot like some -card table covers, being turned on one side. This was seen by two -youths of respectable character, through a window, accidentally open, -in the rear of the room in which Mr. Maelzel's Chess Player was -exhibited. Of the truth of this discovery we are entirely satisfied.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Lecture “On the Providence of God in the Government of the World,” -from the original manuscript of Benjamin Franklin, and which has not -hitherto been published in any edition of his works, is properly -entitled to the first place in the columns of the Messenger. The -argument of the Providence of God contained in this lecture, is -admirable for its brevity and conclusiveness. Franklin reasoned well, -and wrote as well as he reasoned. Forming his style after the model of -the most chaste and classic writer of the English language, and -drawing from the resources of a capacious and well stored mind, he -never failed both to please and to instruct his readers. His aim was -to benefit his countrymen; and he wrote for them in a way in which -they could understand, appreciate, and profit by every thing that came -from his pen. The epistles published more than a century ago in his -Pennsylvania Weekly Gazette, contain many valuable hints respecting -domestic economy, some of which might be treasured up with advantage -at the present day; for, generally speaking, economy is not an -American virtue. Two of those epistles, one from Anthony Afterwit, and -the other from Celia Single, have made their appearance in this number -of the Messenger. Neither of them, it seems, has been inserted in any -of the editions of the Doctor's works.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The article on “Genius” is perhaps more in accordance with our views -than with those of the editor, who seems to think the writer's -inferences lag behind the spirit of the age, and hence deduces the -important conclusion, that his correspondent is not a phrenologist. We -leave both the editor and his correspondent to the enjoyment of their -own respective opinions, while we pass on to entertain ourselves for a -little while in the “March Court” of our sister State. Nugator -describes to the life the scenes of every day occurrence both in and -<i>around</i> a Virginia Court House, and concludes the picture he has so -happily drawn, by introducing the trial of a negro woman for murder, -during the late war, and at the time the British were ascending the -Potomac.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The article on “Woman,” by Paulina, is sensible and well written—far -more just and philosophical than a vast deal that has been said on -this fair subject. Commend us to the ladies in general, and to Paulina -in particular, for just views of the gentler sex. It is to be hoped -the fair writer may perceive that the subject is not exhausted in a -single essay.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Leaves from my Scrap Book,” includes much that is excellent within a -limited space. The writer has improved his naturally correct taste by -close communion with the ancient and modern classics.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>A Tale of Jerusalem, is one of those felicitous “hits,” which are the -forte of Edgar A. Poe. The point, like that of an epigram, lies in the -conclusion.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The “critical notices” of the present number, evince the usual ability -of the editor in this department; though, what is more to our taste, -not quite so caustic, as hitherto. We accord with the review of the -“Culprit Fay.” The merits of this poem, despite the praise lavished -upon it, when critically sifted, will be found to be like the little -Ouphe himself, rather a small affair.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Our article has been lengthened so far beyond the usual limits as to -preclude attention to the poetical department.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Norfolk Herald.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The present number of the -Messenger, although not altogether equal to some previous ones, is -full of highly interesting and valuable matter, and sustains the well -earned reputation of the Journal. The first article is “MSS. of -Benjamin Franklin.” These MSS. are copied from the hand writing of -Franklin himself and have never appeared in any edition of his works. -Among other good things, they include the following question and its -solution. “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?” The second prose article is “Lionel Granby,” a series of papers -which we cannot consider as at all creditable to the Messenger. The -“Prairie” is a very good sketch. “Random Thoughts” are somewhat -pedantic, but make a very excellent article. “Odds and Ends” we fancy -is from the pen of Mr. Garnett; it is full of humor, and will be -generally liked, although we agree with the Richmond Compiler in -thinking it rather too old fashioned. The “Hall of Incholese” is -decidedly bad, and moreover a direct imitation of Mr. Poe's tale of -“Bon-Bon.” The Editor should have refused to admit it in the -Messenger, if for no other reason, on account of its barefaced -flattery of himself. Mr. Calvert's (of the Baltimore American) -“Lecture on German Literature” will be generally read and admired. It -is a well-written and comprehensive essay, evincing intimate -acquaintance with the literature of which he treats. “Readings with my -Pencil, No. IV” by J. F. O. is like all the other numbers, good. -“American Social Elevation” is most admirable: if we mistake not, this -article is from the pen of Professor Dew. “Verbal Criticisms” are -just, but rather common place.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The “Editorial” of this number is very forcible nod racy as usual. -Among other things we notice an account of the origin of “Lynch's -Law.” The “Critical Notices” embrace all new publications of any -moment, that is, American publications; and we approve of the Editor's -discrimination in not troubling himself, except in rare cases, with -those of foreign countries. The books reviewed are Slidell's “Spain -Revisited,” “Paulding's Washington,” Mrs. Trollope's “Paris and the -Parisians.” Walsh's “Didactics,” Anthon's “Sallust,” Cooper's -“Switzerland” and “Mellen's Poems.” A press of other matters prevented -us from doing what we intended in relation to the last Messenger. We -wished especially to have called public attention to the Editorial -<i>critique</i> on the poems of Drake and Halleck, and the article (also -editorial) on the “Automaton of Maelzel.” Both these pieces are -unanswerable—and perhaps the two best articles of any kind which have -ever appeared in an American Periodical. The essay on the Automaton -<i>cannot be answered</i>, and we have heard the Editor challenges a reply -from Maelzel himself, or from any source whatever. The piece has -excited great attention. The poetry of the Messenger improves: there -are some excellent lines in the present number.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the National Gazette.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>The May number of the Southern Literary Messenger contains several -excellent articles. Mr. Calvert's Lecture on the Literature of Germany -may be commended to the attention of all who are either about studying -the German language, or would wish to know something of the authors of -that country. His descriptions, though necessarily brief, are -satisfactory, and his estimates of the comparative merits of the -authors he mentions, are, in general, judicious. The MSS. of Benjamin -Franklin (not in his works) are from the same source which furnished -some for the April number. They will be read with interest by all. The -chapter of Lionel Granby does not advance the thread of the story. It -describes a visit of the hero to Lamb (Elia Lamb,) and pictures his -guests, Coleridge, Godwin, &c. “Odds and Ends” is the title of an -attempt to divide mankind into genera and species, such as have not -yet been named in any work on natural history. It will furnish -amusement and perhaps instruction to the reader. The author (Oliver -Oldschool) is an old correspondent of the Messenger. The essay -entitled “American Social Elevation,” deserves great commendation. How -fatal to the advancement of society too great attention to -money-making and politics is proving in this country, is well -exhibited, and remedies for this are judiciously suggested. A new -account of the origin of Lynch's law is given, which is probably the -true one.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Baltimore American.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>In the Southern Literary Messenger for April, which reached us a few -days since, the Editor opens the department of “critical notices” with -some spirited and just remarks on the puffing system, as practised in -this country towards native writers, and a vindication of his own -course. He is on the strong side, whatever number or influences may be -arrayed against him, and will do much good even though he run -occasionally into the extreme of severity. Many people really believe, -by dint of reading the repeated praise bestowed on them, that the -marrowless prose fictions and “baseless” verse of the day constitute a -Literature. Let the editor of the Messenger and others, go on purging -their judgment of such crude notions, and assuming a high standard of -literary merit, require substantial qualifications in candidates for -fame, and condemn unsparingly all who do not unite genius with -cultivation, a union indispensable for the production of works of -permanent value.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Baltimore Athenæum.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The April number of this excellent -periodical is before us, and fully maintains the dignity and -reputation won by its predecessors. We have read it carefully, and -therefore hold ourselves qualified to pronounce judgment on its -general merit. The articles in prose, are <i>all</i> good. We wish we could -say the same of the poetry; which, with the exception of the dramatic -sketch entitled “The Death of Robespierre,” (admirable by the bye, -although we think the writer has caught somewhat of the reflection of -Coleridge,) we say, with the above exception, the poetry, judged by -the Editor's own standard, that of Ideality, does not rank above -mediocrity. The critical notices, together with the brief introductory -essay “On the present state of American criticism,” are in the -Editor's best vein. We like the independent spirit, and critical -acumen, which <span class="pagenum"><a name="page520"><small>[p. 520]</small></a></span> -he evinces in the performance of his duty; and, -however we may at times be induced to differ with him in opinion, yet -we cannot but say, that in general his dissections of “poor devil -authors,” though apparently severe, are well merited. In making this -admission, we do not withdraw any opinion heretofore expressed when we -have differed from the Editor of the Messenger, for, whenever we -dislike an article we shall, (as we have ever done,) speak our mind -fully though in all friendliness. But we assert our conviction, that -judicious criticism, exercised without regard to persons, has been -long wanting. There was a time when American Reviewers <i>imported</i> -their decisions on the works of native authors, and frowned down any -attempt to resist the foreign decree. They have now rushed into the -opposite extreme, the barrier once broken down, the torrent of -adulation has lifted up every man who could fill a book with words; -and changed the current of popular feeling to such an extent, that it -is only by strenuous exertions it can be brought back into its mediate -and true channel. They have given Phæton the reins, and if his steeds -are not checked by a more powerful hand, the most disastrous effects -must inevitably ensue. We, therefore, bid our friends cherish a work -that upholds independent criticism, and pursues the “even tenor of its -way,” the friend of all who deserve its friendship, but the slave of -none. Cherish it we say, that by a more extended circulation it may -fulfil the christian precept, and “go about doing good.”</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Baltimore Athenæum.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger for May</i>.—This number contains, among -other excellent papers, an address on “German Literature,” by our -townsman, George H. Calvert, Esq., delivered before the Athenæum -Society of Baltimore, on the 11th of February, 1836. The pleasure -derived from a perusal of this admirable lecture was greatly enhanced -by the fact of our having been present at its delivery, and our still -vivid recollection of its varied beauties and excellences, heightened -and rendered impressive by the peculiar manner, emphasis, and -enunciation of the speaker. Of the literature of Germany, deeply -metaphysical, and rich with an abounding store of learning as it is, -we are by far too ignorant, and we owe much to the author of this -address for his labors in opening for us many sources of rich -intellectual enjoyment, in his translations, of which Schiller's Don -Carlos may be named as his most elaborate effort yet published.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We cannot enter into an analysis of the entire number of the Messenger -before us; it is however highly interesting, as is usual with all the -issues of this Magazine. The paper called “Odds and Ends,” we -recommend to the especial perusal of all who have any desire to reform -their manners and morals. It is a pleasant and well conceived satire.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Some of the northern critics have intimated that Simms was the editor -of the Messenger. This is an error. It is now edited, as we -understand, by Edgar A. Poe, formerly of this city, a young gentleman -of excellent talents, and untiring industry. He is earning for himself -a fine reputation.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Baltimore Patriot.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The May number of this handsome and -ably conducted periodical has just come to hand. It comes late, but in -the case of this Messenger we may truly say “better late than never;” -tor the tales it tells, and its qualities as a temporary visiter and -companion, must always secure it a cordial reception, however it may -procrastinate its stated journeys, or linger by the way side. The -Southern Literary Messenger is now under the editorial conduct of -Edgar A. Poe, Esq. formerly of this city, and has been so, as we -understand, since the commencement of the second volume. This -gentleman has been, the while, a liberal contributor to its columns, -and this thorough identification with a periodical, marked with -unusual ability and attended with extraordinary success, must be -satisfactory to the editor, and afford ample testimony at the same -time that the conduct of the Messenger is in fit and competent hands. -The May number of the Messenger contains the usual variety, and is -marked with the freshness, spirit, and independence, which are -characteristic of the work.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Baltimore Patriot.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The April number of this fresh and -spirited periodical has come to hand. Its contents exhibit the usual -variety. The character of this work is now so well established, that -we need not speak to the question of its general merits, and shall -only say that the visits of this “Messenger,” though sometimes tardy -as in the present case, are, to us, always and altogether acceptable. -The number now before us contains a long and ingenious editorial -article, on the <i>modus operandi</i> of Maelzel's Chess Player.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the New Yorker.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The April number of this spirited -Monthly reaches us somewhat later than its date would indicate, yet so -excellent in matter and manner that the reader will easily be induced -to pardon the delinquency. The remarkable typographical neatness of -the Messenger we have frequently alluded to, in glancing rapidly, as -now, at the more intrinsic character of its contents. Some of those of -the present number deserve a more extended consideration than we have -time or space to give them.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” form the opening paper of the -Magazine—three hitherto unpublished though characteristic essays from the pen -of the first eminent philosopher and sage whom America can claim as -her own. ‘A Lecture on Providence’ is replete with the profound yet -perspicuous common sense which was ever so prominent a feature in the -character of the inventor of the lightning-rod; while the letters of -‘Anthony Afterwit’ and ‘Celia Single’ are in his lighter vein of -humorous utilitarianism which would have done no discredit to the pen -of Addison. (By the way, why have we no compilation or edition of the -Life and Writings of Dr. Franklin at all commensurate with the dignity -of the subject? Such a work would form a valuable and now desirable -addition to American literature.)</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Genius” is discussed in the succeeding prose paper, and to better -purpose than in the majority of essays on the subject. The writer -maintains that “Genius, as it appears to me, is merely a decided -preference for any study or pursuit, which enables its possessor to -give it the close and unwearied attention necessary to ensure -success.” This proposition is stoutly and ably maintained, and, though -we cannot concur in it fully, we believe it much nearer the truth than -is generally supposed. If true at all, it is a profitable truth, and -should pass into an axiom with all convenient celerity.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Some Ancient Greek Authors Chronologically Considered,” is an article -evincing profitably directed research, which we shall copy.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“March Court” is a sketch so exclusively Virginian, that we can hardly -judge of its merit.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“The Death of Robespierre” is a dramatic sketch—a species of writing -which we do not properly appreciate. We, who do not worship even -Shakspeare, cannot bow to the sway of his humbler satellites.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Woman” is the topic of the succeeding paper—judicious and sensible, -but not very original or forcible, considering that the essayist is a -lady.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Leaves from a Scrap Book” will be found among our literary -selections. We regret that its Greek characters and phrases compelled -us to exclude the author's forcible illustration of the disadvantages -under which the earlier poets labor in a comparison with the moderns. -Nothing could be more conclusive.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Editorials of the number are ably written, though some pages are -devoted to a solution of the mystery of the Automaton Chess-Player, -doubtless the correct one, viz. that, after all the scrutiny which it -has undergone, there is actually a man concealed in the pretended -machinery. We are not sure that this demonstration, conceding it to be -such, is worth the space it necessarily occupies.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>In the matter of Criticism, the Messenger has involved itself in a -difficulty with some of our Northern periodicals, either party, as is -not unusual in such cases, being just about half right. The Southern -Editor has quite too savage a way of pouncing upon unlucky wights who -happen to have severally perpetrated any thing below par in the -literary line, like the Indian, who cannot realize that an enemy is -conquered till he is scalped, and some of the mangled have no more -policy than to betray their soreness by attempts at retaliation, under -very flimsy disguises, invariably making the matter worse. We think -the Messenger often quite too severe, as in the case of ‘Norman -Leslie,’ but still able and ingenuous. The Poems of Drake and Halleck -are reviewed this month—neither of them after the fashion of an ardent -and awed admirer—but faithfully, fairly, and with discrimination.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>In conclusion, we take pleasure in remarking the fact that the cause -of literature at the South is so flourishing as it appears to be at -present. We believe the whole number of periodicals which may be -distinguished as literary on the other side of the Potomac, has more -than doubled during the last two years, and that their circulation has -increased in at least equal proportion. We rejoice at this state of -things, though it may be justly thought to militate against our own -personal interest. The South has interests and feelings which find -little real sympathy with us, though a profound and respectful -deference elsewhere; and it is right that she should have literary as -well as political journals to maintain those interests and challenge -respect for those feelings. We shall not grudge them a generous -patronage.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Charlottesville Advocate.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The May number of this work has -appeared, with its usual variety of valuable matter.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>Foremost in merit as in place, are more of those MSS. of Dr. Franklin, -which are contained in the April No., and which have never yet been -published in any edition of his works. They seem, all, to have been -communications to a newspaper called the Gazetteer; though we are not -informed whether they actually came forth in its columns or not. One -piece purports to be from a gossipping “young girl about thirty-five,” -who styles herself “Alice Addertongue;” and who makes an ingenious, -(and of course satirical) defence of Scandal. Another consists of some -“Queries to be asked the Junto,” (his club, perhaps;) one of which is, -“Whence comes the dew that stands on the outside of the tankard that -has cold water in it, in the summer time?” The simplicity of this -question would warrant the belief, that the doctor was then but little -advanced in his career of physical knowledge; unless we suppose that -he propounded it only to stimulate some of his friends or readers to -thought. The following question and answer have much of the true -Franklin shrewedness and pungency: “I am about courting a girl I have -but little acquaintance with; how shall I come to a knowledge of her -faults, and whether she has the virtues I imagine she has? <i>Answer</i>. -Commend her among her female acquaintance.”</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Messenger has Chapter X. of “Lionel Granby;” a sort of novel, in -which there has been much to admire; but we are -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page521"><small>[p. 521]</small></a></span> altogether -dissatisfied with the present Chapter, crippling, as it does, several -of the good things said in the Essays of Elia, by making the hero of -the story hear them (and very clumsily retail them) from the lips of -Charles Lamb himself, the real “Elia.” We would advise the writer to -bring his hero <i>tete à tete</i> with no more literary lions, if he can -shew them off to no better advantage than he shews Lamb. What will our -readers think of his talking of “the ‘willie draughts’ which are -pledged to the memory of boyhood,” meaning an allusion to the -“guid-willie waughts” of Burns, in “Auld Lang Syne?”</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We like such collections of scraps, as are bundled together in the -piece headed “Random Thoughts.”</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Odds and Ends,” by our old friend Oliver Oldschool, is a whole -gallery of satirical portraits; representing various forms of human -weakness or depravity—sketches of character almost worthy of -Theophrastus, or La Bruyere. Of female characters, the <i>Tongue-tied, -or Monosyllabic</i>, the <i>Bustlers</i>, the <i>Tom-boys</i>, the <i>Peace-sappers</i>, -the <i>Tongue-warriors</i>, and several other classes, are held up to just -ridicule; and of males, the <i>Busybodies</i>, the <i>Touch-me-nots</i>, the -<i>Gastronomes</i>, the <i>Devillish Good Fellows</i>, &c. &c.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“A Lecture on German Literature,” by George H. Calvert, of Baltimore, -is a pregnant outline of a great deal that is inestimable in the -literary store houses of probably the most enlightened nation (if we -set aside politics) on earth.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We welcome No. IV. of “Readings with my Pencil,” from a practised pen, -and full, cultivated mind.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The article headed “Verbal Criticism,” is of a sort which all the -repositories and guardians of Literature ought oftener to contain: -brief reprehensions of too prevalent errors in language; interspersed -with curious philological remarks.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The somewhat long essay on “Social Elevation” has much that is -praiseworthy, neatness (sometimes force) of style, and in the main, -great justness of thought. Its aim is, to expose and rebuke those two -ruling passions of our countrymen, the <i>love of money</i>, and the <i>love -of political preferment</i>. It justly and forcibly shews how these -obstruct our progress in knowledge, virtue, liberty, and happiness, by -merging all enlarged patriotism in the most narrowly selfish -considerations. Bent on wealth, half our people forget their country's -weal, in contemplating the increase of their private hoards. Bent on -<i>rising in the State</i> (as it is called,) or on ministering to those -who do wish to rise, the other half sacrifice their country to their -party, or to its leaders. God speed the Essayist in the wide, the -universal dissemination of the views on this subject!</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>After all, the “Critical Notices” of the Editor have afforded us by no -means the least pleasure. They are acute, just, and pungent. There is -one thing we particularly like in the criticisms of the Messenger. -While it displays a becoming pride in whatever excellences our country -and its literature possesses, it does not hold itself bound, like many -of our journalists, to applaud every thing that is American, and to -admit the justice of no animadversions upon us and ours, from foreign -tongues or pens. Thus, in an article on Mr. Cooper's “Sketches of -Switzerland,” it joins him in a just <i>fillip</i> to our national vanity, -which has made us believe for many years past, that “the name of <i>an -American</i> is a passport all over Europe,” a boast which Mr. C. says is -refuted by many mortifying tokens wherever an American travels in -Germany, France, Switzerland, or Italy. In a review of Mrs. Trollope's -<i>Paris and the Parisians</i>, the Messenger again justly rebukes the same -American weakness, by averring (what we have always upheld) that her -book upon the “Domestic Manners” of America had many more truths than -our self love would let us acknowledge. “We have no patience,” says -the Messenger, “with that atrabilious set of hyper-patriots, who find -fault with Mrs. T.'s <i>flumflummery</i> about the good people of the -Union. The work appeared to us 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.”... “We -do not hesitate to say, 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.” -Of all people on earth, it might be supposed that we, rational -American freemen, would be most ready to bear with unpalatable truths -told us of ourselves, and to profit by the admonitions those truths -involve: that we would most willingly pray</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“O would some Power the giftie gie us,<br> - To see oursels as others see us!<br> - It would frae mony a blunder free us,<br> - - And foolish notion.”</small> -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>But instead of doing so, we wince, swear, and call names, at the -slightest hint from a foreigner that our country and all belonging to -it, are not the very beau ideal of perfection. It must be thus, if we -would make those advances towards perfection which the true patriot -covets for his country. Pope's precept applies no less to nations than -to individuals—</small></blockquote> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry"> -<small>“Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,<br> - Make use of <i>every friend</i>, and <i>every foe</i>.”</small> -</div></div> - -<blockquote><small>“Paulding's Washington,” “Anthon's Sallust,” “Walsh's Didactics,” -“Mellen's Poems,” and Lieutenant Slidell's “Spain Revisited,” (all -native American works) are reviewed in a manner at once kind, just, -and interesting.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Number contains a good deal of original Poetry; the merits of -which we must consign to the judgment of those who have more -pretensions to taste in poetry than we have.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We wish the Messenger all honor and prosperity—a steadily increasing -list of punctually paying subscribers.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the New Yorker.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We believe our respected cotemporary -has profited by our advice this month before it reached him, for we -find the June number on our table in much better season than its -predecessors. We mark the improvement with pleasure, even though we -cannot take credit to ourselves for effecting it. A few words on the -papers which compose it.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“The Right of Instruction” is ably and temperately discussed in the -leading article, which we may safely attribute to the pen of Judge -Hopkinson, of Pennsylvania. The essay denies the right of a -Legislature to instruct authoritatively the U. S. Senators of the -State—or rather, the obligation of the Senators to obey unhesitatingly -such requisition. We shall take cognizance of this subject in another -place at an early day; but, for the present, we must be content with -the remark that the argument drawn from the spirit of the Constitution -and the intent of its framers is formidable, if not conclusive.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Perdicaris,” a sketch of the Greek scholar now lecturing on the -literature and polity of his native land, is only remarkable for a -translation of a beautiful little poem ‘from the Romaic of Christopoulos.’</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” are continued in this number.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Losing and Winning” is one of the most quietly affecting and -excellent tales that we have perused for months. Let who will declaim -against the evils wrought by fiction, we are sure that this same story -contains more true practical wisdom—more forcible persuasives to the -paths of virtue and duty, than many a well-intended volume of fact or -direct exhortation.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“The Swan of Loch Oich” is fair verse, and fair only.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Ulea Holstein—A Tale of the Northern Seas,” is touching in its -catastrophe, but not well imagined. The writer is evidently no -veteran.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We have sometimes fancied we had reason to dislike the poetical -contributions to the Messenger, while we were better suited with the -prose. In the number before us there are three articles in verse—“The -Laughing Girl,” “A Birth-Day Tribute,” and “Thy Home and Mine,”—which -would do credit to any periodical. The Editor is evidently ‘weeding -out’ as well as strengthening his crops of contributors, much to the -advantage of his work.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>“Court Day” and “My First Attempt at Poetry,” are both well done.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small><i>A Lecture on Education</i> concludes the contributed articles, and is -devoted to a portrayal of the parental faults and misdemeanors which -operate as serious obstacles to the inculcation of right principles -and correct ideas in the minds of children. We heartily wish it could -be read and appreciated by all the parents in our country.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>The Editorial Criticisms are spirited but just. “Recollections of -Coleridge,” Colton's “Religious State of the Country,” &c. &c. are -praised without stint; while Col. Stone's unfortunate “Ups and Downs -in the Life of a Distressed Gentleman,” is most unsparingly shown up. -We like the independence, the directness, of the Editor, though he -sometimes contrives to tread emphatically on the corns of an author -for whom we have a tenderness. In the present instance, however, he -has managed to be just right throughout, and our appreciation of his -labors is graduated accordingly.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the National Gazette.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>The number of the Southern Literary Messenger, for June, contains, -among other excellent articles, “A reply to a late article in the -Richmond Enquirer in favor of the mandatory right of a State -Legislature to instruct a Senator of the United States, and supported -by the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page522"><small>[p. 522]</small></a></span> -alleged opinions of King, Jay and Hamilton, as expressed -in the Convention of New York.” It is said to be by “a distinguished -jurist of Philadelphia;” and the signature of H., together with the -internal evidence of the composition, leave no doubt that it is from -the pen of the eminent Judge of our District Court. He concludes the -article with stating that a week or ten days before the death of Chief -Justice Marshall, having called upon that great and good man, the -question of instruction being then in high debate in the papers—he -said to him that he thought the Virginia doctrine of instructions was -inconsistent with all the principles of our government, and subversive -of the stability of its foundations. To this the Chief Justice -replied, in these words—“It is so; indeed, the Virginia doctrines are -incompatible, not only with the government of the United States, but -with <i>any</i> government.”</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Boston Galaxy.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i> is before us. Too much praise cannot -be conceded to the publisher of this Monthly. He started on untried -ground—but has brought forward his forces with such superior skill, -and maintained the combat so manfully, that he has won the entire -victory. The Messenger is an honor to the South. The articles it -contains are for the most part of a superior order, while a spirit -characterizes its editorial department exceedingly gratifying. The -number before us has many most valuable articles; and so long as those -concerned in its publication exert themselves with their present -success, a corresponding flow of patronage must ensue. There is an -original manuscript of Ben Franklin—desirable if only as a matter of -curiosity—a poem by N. P. Willis, furnished by J. F. Otis, to be found -on our outside—an interesting chronology of authors—a story by E. A. -Poe, &c.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the United States Gazette.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—Backward, like every thing else this -spring, the April number of this periodical made its appearance in the -first week in May. It is a good number, and though the reader may -think the variety of its articles not so great as in some of the -preceding, it contains many interesting papers. The first consists of -“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin,” comprising a Lecture upon Providence, -never before published, and two humorous letters in the manner of -those in the Spectator, published originally a hundred years ago in -the Pennsylvania Gazette, and now republished from the original -manuscripts. The article upon Maelzel's Automaton Chess Player is the -most successful attempt we have seen to explain the <i>modus operandi</i> -of that wonderful production. The writer advances a multitude of -reasons to sustain his position, that a human being is concealed in -the box and figure, and might be considered to have achieved complete -success, were it not that an objection at once suggests itself. Could -any human being have played so often and so long without once -betraying himself by a sneeze and a cough? The “March Court” is a racy -sketch, and the writer brings before us the justices, jurors, -counsellors, clients, planters, pettifoggers, constables, cake women, -candidate and jackass, as large as life, to say nothing of the sheriff -running down a man who endeavors to escape, not punishment for some -offence of his own, but the honor of sitting on the jury to decide -upon the guilt of others. Nothing of the kind can be better than the -anecdote in this piece, of the suppression of the British authorities -by the <i>report</i> from the British cannon during the last war. The -dramatic sketch entitled “The Death of Robespierre,” is much to our -taste. The incidents are well told, the language is poetical, and the -versification smooth and harmonious. It is to be hoped that the -readers of the Messenger will hear again from this author. The Essay -on “Woman” is, we conclude from the signature, from a female hand, and -contains just views upon a subject long neglected, but now beginning -to attract a proper share of attention—Female Education. The present -number is smaller than usual, its predecessor having exceeded the -standard, to admit Professor Dew's Address. The subscription list -continues steadily to increase, and includes the names of several -Philadelphians. The citizens of Richmond appear determined to give it -a liberal support, and testify their opinion of its excellence in the -most substantial manner.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Methodist Conference Sentinel.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We are indebted to the politeness of -the publisher for the May number of this periodical. We have looked -over some of its articles with pleasure. Among others “Odds and Ends,” -“German Literature,” and “American Social Elevation” are well worthy -of an attentive perusal. The character of this monthly “Messenger” is, -in the general, unexceptionable, and it will, beyond question, exert a -powerful, and, we trust a purifying, influence upon Southern -literature. “The Hall of Incholese” is not only a failure in that -department of literature with which it claims affinity; but it -certainly possesses a character that can reflect but little credit -upon the heretofore well established reputation of the “Messenger.” It -seems neither fit to “point a moral, nor adorn a tale.” If the author -has any desire for distinction in that particular line of writing, it -will be necessary for him to form a more extensive acquaintance with -“the little figure in black” before he can even hope for success. It -would be better however to withdraw from the association altogether. -In objecting to this article, we cannot be understood to object to the -work in which it is found. The “Editorial Notices” are, to us, the -most interesting part of the periodical. We turn to them with -pleasure, in anticipation of an intellectual feast, and we are <i>never</i> -disappointed. Though we sometimes differ with the editor in matters of -taste and opinion, yet we find satisfaction in following the ever -flowing stream of thought along which he leads his readers. We bid it -welcome to our desk, and heartily wish it success.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Petersburg Constellation.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger, for June</i>.—Our best thanks are due to -the attentive proprietor for his prompt attention in forwarding the -Messenger. As usual, it contains many pleasing articles: the MSS. of -Franklin are literary curiosities. An excellent moral tale, entitled -“Losing and Winning,” adorns the number. Our present limits will not -permit more than these cursory remarks, but if enterprise and talent -are any guaranty for success, Mr. White need feel no alarm for the -ultimate success of his efforts in favor of <i>Southern</i> Literature. Let -the New York Mirror snarl if it will; there are papers in each -Messenger which will outlive all the Norman Leslie “Pencillings by the -Way,” and “Wearies my Love of my Letters?” of its erudite editors. -Kennel a stag-hound with a cur, and the latter will yelp in very fear.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Winchester Virginian.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>The June number of the <i>Southern Literary Messenger</i> has reached us. -Its contents are of a highly interesting character—among them is a -very able article on the “Right of Instruction,” by a distinguished -jurist of Philadelphia, but one in which the conclusions are not such -as have obtained in Virginia, nor such as we have always inclined to -believe correct. We are rather gratified than otherwise, however, at -the introduction into the Messenger of essays upon such topics. Of the -prose articles, one entitled “Losing and Winning,” by the author of -“Sensibility, &c.” is a most valuable contribution; several others in -the same department are very well written. The poetical articles are -generally in good taste, and the critical notices are, as usual, able, -candid and fearless. The Messenger is taking a higher and still higher -stand among the periodicals of the day.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page523"><small><small>[p. 523]</small></small></a></span> -<br> -<center><small>From the New Hampshire Patriot.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—In acknowledging our obligations to the -publisher for the above work, we cannot do less than express our -unqualified approbation of the character, contents and design of the -Messenger. We have often seen it favorably noticed by our brethren of -the corps editorial, as among the first monthly magazines in this -country—by some even placed at the head of the list—but it is only by -an examination and perusal of the numbers before us, that we have -learned to appreciate the justness of their praise. The correctness, -neatness, beauty and elegance of its typographical execution and -appearance, not less than the rich and attractive guise thrown over -its pages by the combined union of wit, genius and learning therein -displayed, certainly surpass any thing to be met with in any similar -periodical within our knowledge. We have not space to detail its -particular merits, and will only remark generally in the words of -another, that the contributions, prose and poetical, are of a high -grade of excellence, the <i>critiques</i> precisely what they should be in -such a work—faithful mirrors, reflecting in miniature the book -reviewed, and exposing alike its beauties and deformities without -favor or affection. We should be glad to enrich our columns by -transferring to them several articles from the Messenger—perhaps -hereafter we may be enabled to do so. At present we can only commend -it to the countenance and patronage of our literary friends.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Charleston Courier.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Periodicals</i>.—We have received the April number of “The -Southern Literary Messenger.” It contains, among other articles of -interest, a highly ingenious attempt to show that Maelzel's Chess -Player is not a pure machine, but regulated by mind—by a human agent -concealed within it.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Louisville City Gazette.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i> is the title of a periodical, -published at Richmond, Virginia, that has no superior, either in the -taste and genius of its contributors, or the beauty of its mechanism. -Its criticisms are prepared with peculiar justness and acumen—not -leaning to the side of mercy, and throwing a protecting veil over the -sins and faults of others, but plainly pointing them out—not screening -the errors of a friend, or sparing the tender places of an enemy. Such -guardians we want to preserve the vigor of American Literature. There -are some nurses so tender and so indulgent, that the children under -their tutelage, either die of a surfeit of sweets, or languish through -their too great care and tenderness. This will never be the case with -our literature while guarded by such vigilant sentinels as the -Southern Literary Messenger.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We had an opportunity, while conducting a periodical in a neighboring -city, of seeing some of the earlier numbers of the Messenger, and on -such occasions expressed the gratification and pleasure enjoyed in -their perusal. And it is not only well sustained, but improves. Lionel -Granby is kept up with spirit. Edgar A. Poe sprinkles his gems among -the leaves of the Messenger. George H. Calvert, Esq. of the same city, -freights it with the researches of ripe scholarship in the lore of -German Literature. The May number is excellent, and we shall recur to -it often, before it gives place to its successor.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We are indebted to Mr. White, the publisher, for his present, and -assure him he could not have sent us a budget which would have been -received by us with more pleasure.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Oxford Examiner.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—He who assumes to himself the province -of amusing and instructing mankind for “a consideration,” is amenable -at all times to just criticisms. The publisher of a newspaper or -journal of any kind, should never feel <i>hurt</i>, as a caterer for the -public appetite, if some of those to whom they minister should growl -and find fault. He ought not to claim pre-emption over all other men, -but should be satisfied if he occasionally received an approving nod. -It is always a strong evidence of a want of force of mind to fly in a -passion at the suggestions of a friend, when they are disposed to -disapprove of our acts, although they may be unjust. We make these -preliminary remarks in allusion to a hasty notice we took of the April -number of the Messenger, which the publisher was polite enough to send -us. Our time is generally much occupied, and we perhaps gave that -number and others which have been occasionally handed us by a friend, -rather a hasty perusal. We felt <i>then</i>, as we do <i>now</i>, that the -editor's criticisms were unnecessarily, perhaps, strictly severe in -some instances. The eagle who towers above all other birds, and even -dares to look upon the sun, would not, unless hard pressed, condescend -to notice the earthly flutterings of a tomtit—he aspires to higher -game.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We may have done the editor injustice; and we hardly expected him to -send us another number—but perhaps, in his youthful days, he has read -the fable of the gnat and the ox—whether he did or did not, we feel -obliged to him for the May number.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>We have always freely accorded to Mr. White almost unrivalled -excellence as a printer, and we now as freely accord to him the most -unqualified praise for the <i>matter</i> as well as the manner of his last -number.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Columbia (S. C.) Times.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>We acknowledge the receipt of the May number of that chaste and -interesting publication, the “Southern Literary Messenger,” published -by T. W. White, Richmond, Va. It undoubtedly contains more matter, for -the price, than any other southern publication, and in style, is -altogether unlike the mawkish effusions denominated “literary” with -which our community is so liberally inundated.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the New Hampshire Patriot.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>The <i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>, for April, has just reached us, and -though rather late in the day, we cannot omit observing that it is -excellent—well sustaining the high reputation of its predecessors. We -renewedly commend the work to the favor of our literary friends, as -one every way deserving their patronage—in many respects unrivalled by -any similar publication in the country.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Winchester Virginian.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—We have just received the April No. of -this work, but have barely had time to read the article on “Maelzel's -Chess Player,” which happened to arrest our attention on opening the -book. It is exceedingly well written and interesting. The table of -contents holds out quite a tempting bill of fare.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Richmond Whig.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>The Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The May number of this periodical -has just appeared. Though not perhaps equal to some of the preceding -numbers, it is far, very far from being deficient either in -entertainment or instruction. As all the supporters of this work, and -indeed the public generally, have a deep interest in its reputation, -it is not only right, but a duty, to pass an occasional judgment upon -its merits—to commend its various excellences, and to point out in the -spirit of liberal criticism, such faults as may be perceived to exist. -The Messenger, to be extensively and permanently popular, must mingle -the useful with the sweet. It must not only mirror the burning -thoughts and glowing images which teem in the world of fancy, but also -condescend an occasional visit to this dull planet, the Earth. It must -mix familiarly with ordinary mortals, take some interest in their -concerns, and lend a helping -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page524"><small>[p. 524]</small></a></span> -hand in the struggles which are now -making against power and corruption. Not that the Messenger should -become a vehicle of mere party politics, but that the great principles -of liberty should be boldly and steadily espoused by its conductors -and those various and important measures which concern the welfare and -happiness of the State, freely and frequently discussed in its pages. -If the Star of this Republic, “the world's last hope,” is destined to -go down in darkness, corruption and misery, literature will either -follow its fate, or be no longer worth cultivating or preserving. As -essentially connected with the great cause of civil liberty, sound -morals ought also to find in the Messenger a constant and able -advocate. Without freedom and virtue, it is difficult to conceive the -existence in any community of a pure and exalted literary taste. Such -articles as the “Hall of Incholese,” by J. N. McJilton, are popular -only with a small number of readers, and are not calculated to -increase the moral reputation of the Messenger. The introduction of -the Evil One, as a familiar in human society—as a social companion in -scenes of revelry, has rather a tendency to throw an air of ridicule -upon the truths of Divine Revelation. Milton indeed pierced the -mysterious veil which shrouds the monarch of darkness, but Milton's -Satan, “high on his throne of state,” is invested with a sublime -terror which forbids the approaches of levity, and leaves behind it no -impression inconsistent with revealed truth. No similar exception, -however, can be taken to any other article in the present number of -the Messenger. The MSS. of Franklin are interesting remains of that -great man—interesting as illustrations of the strong common sense -which peculiarly distinguished him. “Lionel Granby” is one of the best -chapters which has appeared under that title. A novel however, -published at intervals in the pages of a monthly miscellany, -necessarily loses by that circumstance much of its interest. The -author of “Odds and Ends” has attempted with much humor and effect, a -new moral classification of that strange compound animal called Man. -His satire is for the most part just, and his style racy and -agreeable. “Random Thoughts,” saving and excepting one or two smutty -allusions, are excellent. They have an air of freshness and -originality, which is quite delightful, considering how little can be -said which is new upon any subject. The Lecture on “German -Literature,” by Mr. Calvert of Baltimore, now for the first time -published, is highly creditable to its author. It evinces much -classical taste, combined with a spirit of philosophical criticism. -Mr. Calvert is sometimes, however, careless in his style, or rather in -the formation of his sentences, which a good writer should study to -avoid; and the great literary sin of this country, <i>a propensity to -bombast</i>—is discernible in some parts of his lecture. Take for example -the following passage, “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. <i>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.</i>” This would certainly be a very unfair specimen of -the general character of the lecture, and it is the more surprising, -that such a sentence should have escaped the vigilance of the author. -The slightest departure from the simplest mode of expression, if it -does not degenerate into bombast, is almost certain to be attended by -a certain degree of obscurity. The author of the “Hall of Incholese,” -is himself not free from this blemish. The following passage is -entirely unintelligible: “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 meaning might be guessed at by very laborious -study—but popular literature should never levy so severe a tax upon -its subjects. The paper on “American Social Elevation,” contains many -just thoughts and patriotic reflections, expressed in an unusually -agreeable style—and the 4th No. of “Readings with my Pencil,” is quite -passable. The design of the writer is excellent, and deserves to be -imitated. The “Critical Notices,” though in themselves good, are not -generally equal to the Editor's previous efforts. As it was however -permitted to Homer sometimes to nod, so should the really gifted mind -which presides over the Messenger, be allowed occasionally a little -repose. Of the poetry, the writer of this brief notice will say -nothing. Some of it is good—but he is but an indifferent judge.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the New York Weekly Messenger.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small><i>Southern Literary Messenger</i>.—The high encomiums which this -periodical has received from all parts of the Union, it most richly -deserves. We have been favored with the five first numbers of the -current (second) volume, and have had an intellectual feast in the -perusal of many articles contained therein. To express our opinion -candidly of the talents and erudition of the worthy editor of this -monthly, would expose us to the charge of plagiarism, because it would -be exactly similar to half a hundred others, who have preceded us in -expressions of approbation. What shall we do then? To go through and -examine every article in five numbers, is more than we have space for. -But we must—we feel bound to say, Virginians especially are indebted -to Mr. White for his <i>unprecedented</i> literary zeal. He ought to meet -with encouragement; in short, we believe he does,—but there should be -an effort made to sustain the undertaking, by a continually increasing -list of <i>paying</i> subscribers.</small></blockquote> - -<blockquote><small>If our friends in the city or country wish their table filled with -rich literary food once a month, they should immediately order “The -Southern Literary Messenger,” published by T. W. White, Richmond, Va. -There is one article to which we object, the burlesque, or caricature, -not criticism, on Fay's “Norman Leslie,” but in making only one -objection, we think much is said for the periodical, more than can be -said of any other of the monthlies. We really do think it is as good -as any, if not the very best in these United States. We think so -highly of the Richmond “Messenger,” that if we had the numbers of the -first volume, we would have them neatly bound, and placed in our -library as a literary treasure.</small></blockquote> - -<hr align="center" width="25"> -<br> -<center><small>From the Norfolk Herald.</small></center> - -<blockquote><small>The <i>Southern Literary Messenger</i> for May very gallantly holds it own. -The ‘manuscripts of Franklin’ are well worth publishing. The chapter -of Lionel Granby introduces us into the bodily presence of Lamb and -Coleridge, and the ragged regiment of folios and quartos pass in -review before us. The Lecture on German Literature, by Mr. Calvert of -Baltimore, is a very entertaining discourse on the history of the -poetry and philosophy of that wonderful people; but it is clear that -the author of the lecture has paid more attention to the German than -to the English and those languages from which the English flows. The -paper of Oliver Oldschool is worthy of its author, and we were happy -to see the story of ‘Tang Lang’ appended as a foot-note. The critical -notices are very good for the most part; but then we could hardly -expect Mr. Poe to be sour ere the honey moon be past. What has become -of the remaining numbers of the series of articles on the distinctive -differences of the sexes from the pen of one of the strongest writers -of the Commonwealth? We sincerely hope, that, after such a fair -beginning, the theme has not proved too mighty—if it has, the author -may henceforth ponder well on the advice of Horace. Still we are on -the look out for the essays.</small></blockquote> - -<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. II., NO. 8, JULY, 1836</span> ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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