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.V Cookie 







7Ut edftfea o/ the Complete Werb of 
Blgar AJha Poe h limited to Hre Hundred 
Signed end Nismbertd tele, ol wbieb ttla ie 
















TCbe Kntcketbocliec press 



nt mrtdtertockcr Vm*, Wmp Bait 



Tbc Uteimti (Continued from VoL viiL): 
Chiistopher Pearse Cranch , 
Sarah Margaret Fuller 
James Lawson 
Caroline M. Eirktand . 
Prosper H. Wetmore . 
Enuna C. Embury 
Et>es Sargent 
Frances Sargent Osgood 
Lydia H. ChUd . 
TlKnnas Dunn Brown 
Elizabeth Bogart 
Cafiierine M, Sedgwick 
Lewis Gaylord Clark . 
Anne C. Lynch . 





Tbe Uttnii (Catfboafl 


Churifff Fcnno Hoffouui .... 72 

■aij E. Hnritt . 



Ertdle Amu Lewii 


Junes SvmOl Lowdl 


Bayud TayloT .... 


Elizaletli Fline Ellett 


Hemy B, Hizvt 


William Wallace 


E. P. Whipple Old oOier Critica 


Joel T. Headley 




HargindU .... 




List of Illustrations 


To One in Paradise . AoiuMew 

" For, al«al alul with ma 
ThB light of life ifl o>«rI " 

(Piwm, VoL L If Ti-) 

Geco-ge Palmer Putnam loi 

James Ruasell Lowell no 

From ths painting by W. Pagt. 

Bayard Taylor 132 

From a photognqdi. 

Thomas Corl^ 178 

From life. 

Thomas Con^bell 316 

Dr. Johnson 392 

Samoel Coleridge 304 

Thomas Hood 314 

From ■ steel mgrariag. 

Thomas Moore 360 






The Literati 

(Coatiaued from Volume VUL) 

^nr^juili Revereod C. P. Cranch is one ot the 
V^B^ least intolerable of the school of Boston 
!r\ I transcendentalists ; and, in fact, I believe 
that he has at last " come out bom among them,^ 
abandoned thnr doctrines (whatever they are), and 
given Dp their company in disgust. He was at one 
time one of the most noted, and midoubtedly one d 
the least absurd, contributors to The Dial, but has 
reformed his habits of thou^t and speech, domi- 
dliated himself in New York, and set up the easel of 
an artist in one of the Gothic chambers of the 

About two years ago a volume of Poems by Ctrif 
tepber Peartt Craaeb was published by Carey & Hart. 
It was most unmercifully treated by the critics, and 
much injustice, in my opinion, was done to the poet 


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He Kemf to me to poMos mrownl nractty of tantj 
and de x t erity of e x pr e wi on, wfaOe his Tcnification is 
lemaikable for its accuracy, Tisor, and eren for its 
original!^ of effect. I migjtt say, f»^»p, rather 
mofe than all this, and maintain that lie has imagina- 
tion if lie would only condescend to enq^ it, irtiich 
he win not, or would not until latdy, the word-com- 
ponnden and qnibUe-concocteis of Ax^poodimn hav- 
ing inoculated him with a p r e f e r ence for Imagination's 
half-iister, Uie Cinderella Fancy. Hr. Cianch has 
seldom contented himself with harmonions combina- 
tions of thooi^t There must always be, to afford him 
perfect satisfaction, a certain amount of the odd, of 
the whittiaifjl, of the affected, of the trizaire. He is 
full of absurd conceits as Cowley or Donne, with this 
difference, that the conceits of these latter are euphu- 
isms beyond redemption — ^flat, inemediaUe, self-con- 
tented nonsenncalities, and in so much are good of 
their kind; but the conceits of Hr. Cranch are, for the 
most part, conceits intentionally manufactured, for 
conceit's sake, out of the material for properly imagi- 
native, harmonious, proportionate, or poetical ideas. 
We see every moment that he has been at uncommon 
pains to make a fool of himself. 

But perhaps I am wrong in snppodng that I am at 
all in condition to dedde on the merits at Hr. C's 
poetry, which is professedly addressed to the few. 
" Him we will seek," says the poet — 


The Literati 

Km we will seek, mad none tmt Um, 

mioee inward mom bath not grown dim; 

Vlioee aonl ii tteeped in Hatnn's tlnct, 

And to the Universal linked; 

WIio loves the beanteons Infinite 

With deep and ever new delight, 

And caiTieth where'er he goea 

The inborn ■ wee biea e of the rose, 

The peifnnu aa of Paiadise, 

The *aii«iii«n above all price. 

The optic ^aas that wins from far 

The meaning of the ntmost star. 

The key that opes the golden doors 

Where earth and heaven have piled their stores. 

The magic ring, the enchanter's wand, 

Hie title-deed to Wonder-land, 

The vrisdom that o'erlooketh sense. 

The clairvoyance of Innocence. 

This ia an Teiy well, f andful, pretty, and neafiy 
tamed — an wifii the exception trf the two last lines, 
and it is a pi^ they were not left ont It is lao^iable 
to see that the transcendental poets, if beguiled for a 
minate or two into respectable English and common 
sense, are always sure to remember their cue just as 
they get to the end of fiieir song, which, by way of 
salvo, they then round off with a bit of doggerel about 
" wisdom that o'eilooketfa eense " and " the clairvoy- 
ance of Innocence." It is especially observable that, 
in adopting tlie cant of thought, tlie cant of phraseol- 
ogy is adopted at the same instant. Can Mr. Cranch, 


The Literati 

or can anybody dw, inf onn me iriiy it m tfut, in ttie 
really lenwliie opening passages of iriiat I liave hexe 
quoted, he aapiayB Uie modem, and only is ttie final 
cotqilet of gooaetfaenunfoodle makes use of die obso- 
lete tenmnations of Tetbs in the third penon langalaf, 
present tmsn ? 

One of the best of Mr. Crandi*s compositions Is on- 
doubtedfy his poem on Hiagaia. It has some natural 
fliooghts, and grand ones, suiting the subject; but 
then they are more than half divested of their nature 
by the attempt at adorning them with oddity of »- 
preasion. Qoaintness is an *HiiiiMriiii« and inqtcHiant 
adjunct to idealist an adjunct iriiose value has been 
long misapprehended ; but in pictuiing the sublime it 
is altogether oat of place. What idea of power, of 
grandeur, for example, can any human being connect 
even with Iliagara, when magara is described in lan- 
guage so trippingly fantastical, so palpably adapted to 
a purpose, as that which follows? 

I itood apon a speck of gronnd; 
Before me fell m itormy ocean. 
I wu like e captive bound; 
And around 
A univene of sound 
Troubled the hesTena with erer-qnivering motion. 

Down, down forever — down, down forever- 
Something falling , fslliag, tailing; 


The Literati 

1^ Op tonwr — wp, vp birowt 

Boiling np forever, 
Steuit«loiidB shot np with thunder-bimrtfl a^fuSSag. 

It is difficult to conceive aQytfaing more ladicrondy 
out of keeidng than the thoughts of these stanzas and 
tba pelkitnaiitn, fidgety, hop-skip-and-jump air of the 
words and the Iili|mtian parts of the versification. 

A somewhat similar metre is adopted by Mr. C. in 
his Uaes on Hearing Triumphant Mumic, bat as the 
tnbject is essentially different, so the effect is by no 
means so displeasing. I copy one of the stanias as the 
noblest individnal passage which I can find among all 
the poenu of its author. 

Hut ^orioni •tnlnl 

Oh, from my bnin 
I Me tbe dudowi ffitting like Ksred ghoatil 

AB^— eli^ 

Shimec In to-nij^t 
Rmmd the good angels troo^ng to thdr poets. 

And the bUck cloud Is rent in twain 

Before the eecendlng gtrain. 

Mr. Cranch Is well educated, and quite accomplished. 
Like Hr. Osbom he is musician, painter, and poet, 
being to each capadty very respectably successfoL 

He is about tliirty-three or four years of age; in 
height, perhaps five feet eleven; athletic; front face 
not unhandsome, the forehead evincing intellect, and 

jdbyGoogle — 

mf»at»r U OflC jbonni. bx 
Tir^ «r eb« feat (rf 

•f iMr irfcal HniD ^un^ Ihe 


The Literati 

finite credit; it was frank, candid, independent; in 
even ludicrous contrast to the usual mere glorifications 
of the day, living honor only where honor was due, 
yet evincing the most thorough capacity to appredato, 
and the most sincere intention to place in the fairest 
Ught, tiM real and idiosyncratic merits of the poet 

In my o^nlon it is one of the Tery few reviews of 
Lon^eQow's poems, ever published in America, of 
irtiich the critics have not had abundant reason to be 
ashamed. Mr. Longfellow is entitled to a certain and 
very distinguished rank among the poets of his country ; 
but tliat country is disgraced by the evident toadyism 
wlneh wQfold award to his social portion and influence, 
to liis fine paper and large type, to his morocco binding 
and ^t edges, to bis flattering portrait of himself, and 
to ttu illustrations of his poems by Huntingdon, that 
amount of indiscriminate approbation \riiich neither 
could nor would have been given to the poems them- 

The defence of Hairo Barring, or rather the philii^ic 
against those who were doing him wrong, was one of 
tlie most eloquent and well-put articles I liave ever yet 
seen in a newspaper. 

Woman la the Nineieeatb Century is a book which 
few women in the country could have written, and no 
woman in the country would have published, with the 
exception of Hiss Fuller. In tlie way of independence, 
of unmitigated radicalism, it is one of the ** Cnrio^es 


The Uterati 

•< » "» ii— Utaamt,' at Docttr &in<]U dunU 
hrlifc it BhvbMk. 1 aaei lOBCcty siy Uiat tlw 
«i»Tii— ■i i . f iiii M i .a i mM i J .iiqtJm.bril- 
Hai^aad I* a miija i ilial iihijii fitii. fiw ■!! that 
IBHFlArpndHBSBatitUtotkaKepttfaeti; but 
I Ba« ny Oat At c i l j i ci lodad an onljt in 
> ay •■■. Sat au Ikar an Ina bold, b; aaj 

E bale baaa ^-'tIH, and too manj 
I Mt aMmUhii out td agiiL 1 
M«« to laj tbat «ba ialialiiia ol Hg Pajty as tagaria 
■wnl d Ma aa c a a , aa jabatiaa audi ooi be dis- 
^iaiOy oo ia fii b iadod mtj bf lhni«ii« tbe exterior 
(non amiitli u) poatiaas of fte mailal nttna casnany 
•nr tlM «ida Ml of aamaaal aHdocr-^ aieaii to 
a^y thai ttia iataalioa taa »o» beea aidliriniHT con- 
"""^ >BBraairkaaenad,tDa,tkK»iclibarown 
*■*•■>« aobi'cliiiiaaM Ska jadfaa aoaiaa b; the 
kaait aad iataOact of Kb Faller, bat then aie aot 

<»»ofthaaaitk. HoWactbaiao(Baioaaiaic(aidto 
V<aaaa da Ik KaataH OMmtr- 1 atilUeel mjaeB 
c*ned vftm to fiaanw the aDy, coodeaanatoiy criti- 
<»» of tka WKk >liidi arpoand in one of Iba eailiar 
""'"•"laaroarfway^wmat Thai aitide >aa 
not miBa. b, ni,»df, aai .aa miaaa ^ a^ a»)- 
ciafe, Kr. Bricgk 



The Literati 

The most faToraUe estunatc of Ubs Fuller's genius 
(for hi^ genius she tmquestioiiably possesses) is to be 
obtuned, perhaps, from her contributions to The JUal 
and from her Summer on the L»kc*. Many of the de- 
ccriptionB in this volume are unrivalled for " graphic- 
alily " («liy is there not such a word ?), for the force 
«itli wliich they convey the true by ttie novel or un- 
expected, by the introductifni of touches irtiich other 
artists would be sure to omit as irrelevant to the sub- 
ject This faculty, too, springs !from her subjective- 
ness, which leads her to paint a scene less by its 
features than by its effects. 

Here, for example, 1b a portion of her accotmt of 

''Daify these proportions widened and towered mom 
and more upon my o^t, and I got at last a proper 
foreground for ttiese sublime distances. Before com- 
ing away, I think I really saw the full wonder of the 
scene. Ai\*x vtft^t \t bo drew me Into ttaell aa toln^ 
aptre an undeSned dread, such as / aerer knew before, 
»ueb at may be kit when death h about to usher us 
Into a new exkUaee. The perpetual trampling of the 
waters seized my senses. Iteh that ao other sound, 
howerer near, could be heard, and would start and look 
behind me for a he, I realized the identity of that 
mood of nature in which these waters were poured 
down with such absorbing force with that in which the 


wsuld acarc^ he condow of Oe flMfi^% or, at bat, 
would nenr flUok of enqiojiiiK ttem in natteoipt to 
coDvcf to otben m iiii|«iMiiMi of tte acaw^ Hence 
to mMnj deeptfh fuhtics to connTit on the put of 
OfdiiMZ7 tourifti. Mr. Wiffiam W. Load, to he sore, 
fo Us poem Niagara is loffideotly objectire; he de- 
lalbct not tlie till, hot Ytrj properiy the effect of tlw 
fiU upon W" He sayi Hi«* it mm^^ trim thinh- of his 
own grea t n e ss, of his own superiority, and so forth, and 
■0 forth ; and it is only iriun we C4»ne to think tiiat ttis 
tbonght of lb. Lord's greatness is qmte idiosyncratic, 
confined exdodvely to Mr. Lord, tiiat we are in condi- 
tion to understand how, in deqdto of liis objectirenesi. 


The Literati 

he has failed to convey an idea of anyOilng beyond one 
Mr. 'Vrailam W. Lord. 

From the eesay entitled PblUp Van ArteveUe, I copy 
a paragnqih which will serve at once to exemplify Wm 
FaIler*B more earnest (declamatoiy) st^e, and to show 
the tenor of her prospective speculations : 

** At Chicago I read again PbiUp Van ArtejeUe^ and 
certain passages in it will always be in my mind asso- 
ciated with the deep sotmd of the lake, as heard in the 
o^t. I osed to read a short time at ni^t, and then 
open the Mind to look ooL The moon would be foil 
upon the lake, and the calm breath, pure ll^^t, and the 
deep v<dce harmonized well irith the thought of the 
Flemish hero. When will this country have such a 
man ? It is irtiat she needs — no thin idealist, no 
coarse realist, but a man whose eye reads the heavens 
irtiile his feet step firmly on the ground, and his hands 
are strong and dexterous in the use of human inatm- 
ments. A man, religious, virtuous, and — sagadons; 
a man of universal sympathies, but self-possessed ; a 
man irtio knows the r^^n of emotion, though he is 
not its slave ; a man to whom this woild is no mere 
spectacle or fleeting shadow, but a great, solemn game, 
to be played with good heed, for its stakes are of eternal 
value, yet who, if his own play be true, faeeds not irtiat 
he loses by the falsehood of others. A man irtio lives 
from the past, yet knows that its honey can but moder- 


The Literati 

ire eye scans tiw 
»""■*• ■•**« aiatamttd tj its goUsn lores nor 
<AflMbritSBnyTuititns; vlio possesses pnsdeiice. 
M tlM wise MB ansl. hot not m fu- u to be driven 
■•* to-**y ty tte gift iridch discerns to-morrow. 
WfciB tkm ii nek a m«b for America, the Uion^t 
vfekk ■>!« ksr OB viO he eipnsKd." 

!*«» ^Mt I ten fttoted « pncnl conception <rf 
tbefnoetfylseCasanttonsBmaTbegsawred. Her 
■UBV, kowvrcr, ia tnfinildr varied. It is always 
fcniMi; hd I aamt sm Oat it is always aiqrCliiiig 
•ta^nlsaslM^pktiDafaa. nnflwr indicates ttun 
•viBcas Kholanli^ KA^a ooly titt scholastic, or, 
man profailj, tkaai a««iiiJiMiifd to look narroiriy at 
the stroctnca «f fknMB, woidd be wining to acquit her 
«(iCMraac««fci«mMaT; wotdd he wiDfaig to attribute 
her stovanKaaB to disncaid of ttc shell in aniiety for 
tha kariMl, or to waywaidnaas, or to affection, or to 
Mlod rwaiwKa for Ca4yle; woidd he able to detect, in 
Ker ttraagt and contsnaal iniCM i aties , a capacity of 

** I cannot syn^aOiai with sach an qfrdwoaion; 
tte ^wrtada it oapaUr to swaOow IV an such objects." 

•* It it fearful. too» to tatow, aa jo« look, that what- 
•wr has he«i swaBowad by the cataract, is iOe to rise 
y toB^t" 


The Literati 

** I tot^ our mutual friends to see her." 

** It waa alwayv obrious that they had nothing ia 
common between tbem^" 

** The Indian cannot be looked at txtdj except hy a 
poetic eye." 

" McKenney's Tow to Ac Lakes f^vee some facts 
not to be met wttb ehM«here." 

** There Is that miztUFe of culture and mdeness in 
the aqiect of things at glTes a feeling of freedom^** 
etc, etc, etc 

These are merely a few, a very few instances, taten 
at random from among a multitude of ^irilful murders 
committed by Kiss Fuller on the American of Presi- 
dent Polk. She uses, too, the word " ignore," a 
Tolgarity adopted only of late days (and to no good 
purpose, dnce there is no necessity for it) from tiie 
barbariams of the law, and makes no scmple of giving 
tlie Yankee interpretation to the verbs " iritneaa " and 
" realize," to say nothing of " use," as in the sentence, 
" I need to read a short time at night" It will not do 
to say, in d^ence of such words, that in such senses 
they may be found in certain dictionaries — In that at 
Bfdles, for instance ; some kind of ** atithority " may 
be found for any kind of vulgaris under the sun. 

In si^te of these things, however, and of her fre- 
quent vnjnstiflaUe Carlyleianis (such as that of writing 
sentences which are no sentences, since, to be parsed, 


The Literati 

reference mugt be had to aentencM preceding), the 
Bt;^e of Wat Fuller is one of the very best with irittch I 
am acquainted. In general effect, I know no stjde 
which surpasses it. It is idngularly {dqoant, vivid, 
terse, bold, luminoiu; leaving details out of sight, it 
is eveiTthing that a stjde need be. 

I believe that Kss Fuller has written much poetry, 
although she has publiahed little. That litde is tainted 
with the affectation of the tranBcendentalists (I use 
this term, of course, in the sense which the public of 
late days seem resolved to give it), but is brimful of the 
poetic sentiment Here, for example, is sometiilng in 
Coleridge's manner, of which the author of Gcaewien 
Illicit have had no reason to be ashamed: 

A maiden Mt beneath a tree; 
Teer-bedewed her pale cheeks be. 
And flhe righed heavily. 

From forth the wood into the Sgbl 
A hunter strides with car<d Sgb^ 
And « ^ence bo Ixdd and bil^L 

He oreleM atopped and eyed the maid: 
** Why wMpest thon ? " he gently nid; 
" I lore thee well, be not afndd." 

Be taiuB her hand and leads her on— 
She flbotild have waited there alt^M, 
Fw he was not her chosen one. 


The Literati 

H« kMot hv head upon his braut — 
She knew t wu not her home of rett, 
Bnt, ah, she had twen aora diatrest 

lite Mcred Btan looked aadly dowa; 
The parting moon ^tpeared to froiRt, 
To tee thai dimmed the diamond ciowa. 

Then from the thicket starts a dMr — 
The hnntaman, adzing on bii ipear, 
Ciiea; ** Haldan, wait thou for me ber*." 

She Mea him vaidsh into night — 
She starts from deep In deep afUght, 
For It was not lier own tine knlghL 

Tltongh bnt in drMtin Onnhilda *"«»^, 
Tbongb bnt a fanded ill aaaalled, 
Though she bnt landed fault bewailed, — 

Tet thought of iaj makes dream of nl^; 
She ia not worthy of the knight; 
Tlie Inmost altar bums not Mj^ 

If loneliness thou canst not bear — 
Cannot the dragon's Teoom dare — 
Of the pttra nwed thon shonldst despair. 

■ow ladder that lone maiden algha ; 

Cmshed In the dust her heart's flower Ilea. 

To show the evident carelessnesB with which this 
poem was constructed, I have italicized an identical 
riiyme (of about the some force in versification as an 


The Literati 

idenlical propositioii in logic) and two gnumnttical im- 
proprieties. " To lean " is a neater rerb, and " seidng 
on '* is not property to be called a pleonasm, merely be- 
cause it is — nothing at all. The concluding line is 
difflcnlt of pronondation tiiroogh excess of consonants. 
I should have preferred, indeed, the antepenultimate 
ttistich as the Bnale of the poem. 

The Buppodtion that the book of an aothor is a 
thing apart from the author's self, is, I think, ill- 
founded. The soul is a cipher, in the sense of a crypto- 
graph; and the shorter a cryptograph is, the more 
difficulty there is in its comprehension; at a certain 
point of hrerity it would bid defiance to an army of 
Champollions. And thus he who has written very 
little may in that little either conceal his si^t or con- 
vey quite an erroneous idea of it, — of liis acquirements, 
talents, temper, manner, tenor, and depth (or shallow- 
ness) of thought; in a word, of bis character, of him- 
self. But this is impossible with him who has written 
much. Of sach a person we get (from his books) not 
merely a just, but the most just, representation. Bul- 
wer, the individual, personal man, in a green velvet 
waistcoat and amber gloves, is not by any means the 
veritable Sir Edward Lytton, vho is discoverable only 
in Eraegt UaJtraTctVf where his soul is deliberately and 
nakedly set forth. And who would ever know Dickens 
by looking at bim, or twUp^g with him^ or doing aiiy> 
ttiing with him except reading his OM Curiosity Shop f 


The Literati 

What poet, in espedal, but must feel at least the better 
portion of himaelf more f airiy represented in even his 
commonest sonnet (eamestty written) than in hia most 
daborate or most intimate personalities ? 

I pot all this as a general proposition, to which Wn 
Puller affords a marked exception, — to this extent, that 
her personal character and her printed book are merely 
one and the same thing. We get access to her soul as 
directiy from the one as from the other, no more 
readily from this than from that, easily from either. 
Her acts are bookish, and her books are less thon^ts 
titan acts. Her literary and her conversational man- 
ner are identicat Here is a passage from her Suauaer 
ea ^u Lakes I 

" The rapids enchanted me far beyond what I ex- 
pected ; they are so swift that they cease to aeetn so ; 
you can think only of their beauty. The fouitain be- 
yond the Hoes islands I discovered for myself, and 
thought it for some time an acddenlai beaufy iriiich it 
woold not do to leavef lest I might never see it again. 
After I found it permanent, I returned many times to 
watch the play of its crest In the litUe waterfall 
beyond, Hature seems, as she often does, to have made 
a wttidy for some larger design. She delists in this; 
a aketch within a sketch, a dream witiiin a dreaat. 
Whefsrer we see it, the lines of the great buttress, in 
the fragment of stone, the hues of tiie waterfall, copied 


The Literati 

in the flowers that star its bordering mosBes^ we «ie 
delighted f for all the lineaments become BaeaU and 
we mould the scene in congenial thought with its 

Row all this is predsely as Hiss Fuller woold speak 
it. She is perpetually saying just sttch things in just 
such words. To get the conreisational woman in tb/e 
mind's eye, all that is needed is to imagine her recit- 
ing the paragraph just quoted; but first let us hare 
the personal woman. She is of the medium hei^t ; 
nothing remarkable about the figure ; a profudon of 
lostrous light hair; eyes a UtUsh-gray, full of fire; 
c^wdous forehead ; the mouth when in repose indi- 
cates profound sensibility, capacity for affection, for 
lore — when moved by a slight smile, it becomes even 
beautifnl in the intennty of Qua ezpresdon ; but the 
tipper Up, as if impelled by the action of involuntary 
muscles, habitually uplifts itself, conveying the Im- 
presEdon of a sneer. Imagine, now, a person of this 
descr^on looking you at one moment earnestly in the 
face, at the next seeming to look only within her own 
spirit, or at the wall ; moving nervously every now and 
then in her chair ; speaking in a fai^ key, but music- 
ally, deliberately (not hurriedly or loodly), mth a de- 
licious distinctness of enundation, — speaking, I say, 
tiie paragraph in question, and emphasizing the words 
iriiich I have italicized, not by impulsion of the breath 


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(OS is tistial), but by drawing them oat aa long as po»- 
tfUo, neariy doBing her eyes the irtiile, — imagiiie all 
thia, and we have both the woman and the aathoress 
before OS. 


Mir. LawBon has published, I believe, only Ghrduoot 
a tragedy, and two volumes entitled Taka and ^elcbet 
by a CoamopoUte. The former was condemned (to 
oae a gentle word) some years ago at the Park Theatre ; 
and never was condenmatton more religiously de- 
served. The latter are in so much more toleraUe than 
Oie former, that Aey contain one non-«zecrable thing. 
The Dapper Geatteman'a Story, in manner, as in title, 
an imitation of one of Irving's Talca of a Traveller, 

I mention Hr. L., however, not on acconnt of his 
literary labors, bnt because, although a Scotchman, he 
has always prtrfessed to have greatly at heart &• wel- 
fare of American letters. He is much in the sodety of 
authors and bookselleis, converses fluently, tells a good 
story, is of social habits, and, with no taste whatever, 
is quite enthusiastic on all topics appertaining to taste. 


Mn. SAland*s New Home, puUished under the 
oom de pjame of ** Mary ClaTers,** wrought an un- 
doubted sensation. The cause lay not so much in 


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I^Gturesque dssoiption. In racy humor, or In animartd 
individual portraiture, as in truth and norelty. The 
West at the time was a field comparatively imtrodden 
by the eketcher or the novelirt. In certain works, to 
be sure, we bad obtained brief lapses of character 
strange to us sojoumers in the civilized East, but to 
Mrs. Kirkland alone we were indebted for our ac- 
quaintance with the home and home-life of the back- 
woodsman. With a fidelity and vigor tlut prove her 
pictures to be taken from the veiy life, she has repre- 
sented " scenes " that could have occurred only as and 
vhtn she has described them. She has placed before 
us the veritable settlers of the forest, with all thur pe- 
culiarities, national and individual, — their free and 
fearless spirit; their homely atiUtarlan views; their 
shrewd out-looking for self-interest; their thrifty care 
and inventions multifonn; their coarseness of manner, 
united with real delicacy and substantial kindness 
when their sympathies are called into action, — in a 
word, with all the characteristics of ttie Yankee, In a 
region where the salient points of character are un- 
smoothed by contact with society. So lifelike were 
her representations that they have been appropriated 
as individual portraits by many who have been dis- 
posed to plead, trumpet-tongued, against ^rtiat they 
supposed to be " the deep damnation of th^ taking- 
Potest Uk succeeded A NewHome, and was read 


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with eqtial intenst It giTes ns, perhapB, more of the 
phnoBopliy of Western life, bat has the same freshness, 
freedom, piqnsncyt Of course, a tmthfol picture of 
idoneer habits conld never be given In anj grave tdstoiy 
or essay so well as in the form of narration, where each 
character is permitted to develop itself; narration, 
theref(n«, was very property adopted by Mrs. Kirkland 
tai both the books just mentioned, and even more en- 
tirely in her later volume, Wettem C3earlng». This 
is the title of a collection of tales, illustrative, in gen- 
eral, (^ Western manners, customs. Ideas. The Land 
Ferer is a story of the wild days when the madness of 
peculation in land was at its height It is a richly 
characteristic sketch, as is also TJbe Ball at Tbi-am'M 
HuJdle, Only those irtio have had the fortune to vi^t 
or live in the " badk settlements " can enjoy such i^ 
tores to the fuU. Cbanaea and Qiaagcs and Lore v*. 
Ariatocracfan more regularly constructed tales, witii 
the "umversal pasalon" as the moving power, bat 
colored witii the growing hues of the West The Bee 
Tree tabSbUs a striking but too numerous class among 
the settters, and explains, also, the depth of the Utter- 
nesB that grows out of an unprosperous condition in 
that " Paradise of the Poor." AnAaacadea and ^faJ/" 
Leagtba from Uk I remember as two piquant sketches 
to iriilch an anntml, a year or two ago, was indebted 
for a most unasoal sale among the conscious and pen^ 
dreading denizens of the West Half^Leagtba turns on 


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the tryii^ subject of caste. The Schoolmattet'* Peog^ 
rctt is full of tnith and humor. The Western peda- 
gc^ue, the stiff, solitary, nondescript figure in the 
drama ci a new settlemeot, occupying a middle pou- 
tion between " our folks ** and " company," and 
" boarding round," is irresistibly amuang, and cannot 
fail to be rec<^;nized as the representative of a class. 
The occupation, indeed, always seems to mould those 
engaged In it ; tiiey all soon, like Kaster Homer, leaiii 
to " know well what belongs to the pedagogical char- 
acter, and that facial solemnity stands high on the list 
of indiq>en8abie qualifications. The spelling-school, 
also, is a ** new-country " feature which we owe Mrs. 
Kirkland many thanks for recording. The incidents 
of An Bnbroidcred Rtct are singular and incturesque, 
but not particularty illustrative of the Ckaringa. The 
same may be said of Biiter Fntts hnm Cbance-Sown 
Seedg I but this abounds in capital touches of char- 
acter; all the horrors of the tale are brou^t about 
through suspicion of pride, an accusation as destruc- 
tive at the West as that of witchcraft in olden times, or 
the ccj of " Mad dog " in modem. 

In the way of absolute books, Mn. Kirkland, I be- 
lieve, has achieved nothing beyond the three volumes 
spedfled (with another late^ issued by Wiley ft Put- 
nam), but she is a very constant contributor to the 
magazines. Unquestionably, she is one of our best 
writers, has a province of lier own, and hi that province 


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has faw equals. Har most noticeable trait is s certain 
freshness of st]4e, seemln^y drawn, as lier subjects in 
general, from the West. In the second place is to be 
observed a species oi •mt, approximating humor, and 
so inteo^ersed with pure fun, that " wit," after all, is 
nothing Uka a definition of it To {^ve an example, 
OU Thoagbtt on die New Year commences irith a 
qtuAation fnnn Tasso's Amhitm i 

n mondo InrocchiA 
BlnvMchieado intristlMe; 

and the following is given as a " free tnmdation **: 

The mild ia growioc dder 

And wiser day liy day; 
Bmybody knows bafortband 

What you "re gcring to vkj. 
We nsad to laugh and t^i&a— 

Vow we must behave: 
Poor old Fun is dead and buried — 

Pride dug his grave. 

TUa, if I am not mistahen, is the only qtedmen of 
poetry as yet ^ven by Mis. Kirkland to the world. She 
has afforded us no means of judging in respect to her 
inventive powers, although fancy, and even ima^na- 
tion, are apparent in everything she does. Her per- 
ceptive faculties enable her to describe with great 
veriiimilitude. Her mere style is admiralde, ludd, 
terse, full of variety, faultlessly pure, and yet bold, — so 


The Literati 

bold MB to apptax heedless of the or&uiy ieeora of 
con^ositiML In even her most reckless sentances, 
however, she betrays the vonum of refinement, of 
accomplishment, of ontisaally thorou^ education. 
There are a great many points in which her general 
manner resembles that of WUUb, whom she evidently 
•dxnires. bideed, it would not be difficult to pick ont 
from her works an occanonal Wlllisism, not less pal- 
pable than happy. For example : 

"PetKhet -mfe like little greea ve/vef buHotu wbea 
George was first mistaken for Doctor Beasdey, and 
behrc tbey were ripe he, etc" 

And again: 

«Hr. Hammond la fortunately settled in our neigh- 
borhood, for the present at least; and he has the neatest 
little cottage in the world, standing, too, under a very 
toll oak, which bends kindly over it, looking like the 
PiincesB Glumdalclitch inclining her ear to the box 
irtiich contained her pet Gulliver." 

Mrs. Kirkland*s personal manner is an echo of her 
lito'ai; one. She is frank, cordial, yet sufficiently dig- 
nified, even hoAAf yet especially lod^^ike; converses 
with remarkable accuracy as well as fluenqr; is bril- 
liantly witty, and now and then not a little sarcastic, 
but a general amiability prevails. 

She is rather above the mwii^iiri hei|^; eyes and 


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ludr dark ; featureB somewhat small, with no ma^»d 
cbaTacteristics, bat the whole conntemmca beanu with 
e and intellect 


General Wetmore occupied some yean ago quite a 
conqncDons position among the Ut^rateun of New 
York City, ffis name was seen very frequently in TTie 
Mirror, and in other similar joumala, in comiection 
widt brief poems and occasional prose compositions. 
His only publication in volume form, I believe, is Tbe 
Batde of Lexington and Other Poena, a. collection of 
considerable merit, and one which met a very cordial 
reception from the press. 

Much of this cordiality, however, is attributable to 
the personal popularity of tiie man, to his fadUly in 
making acquaintances, and his tact in convertijig 
them into unwavering friends. 

General Wetmore has an ezhaustless fund of vitality. 
His ene^y, activity, and indef atigabiUty are proverbial, 
not less than hia peculiar sociability. These qualities 
give him unusual Influence among his fellow-dtizens, 
and have constituted him (as precisely the same traits 
have constituted his friend General Morris) one of a 
standing committee for the regulation of a certain class 
of d^ affairs, such, for instance, as the getting up of 
a complimentary benefit, or a public demonstration of 


The Literati 

respect for wme deceaied wordiy, <a a ball and dinner 
to Mr. Irving or Hr. IKckuis. 

Hr. Wetmore is not only a Gounl, bat Naval Officer 
of the Port of New York, Hember of the Board <tf Trade, 
one at the Conndl of the Art Union, one of the Cor- 
nsptmding Committee of the Histoiical Society, and of 
more other c(»nmitteea than I can just now remember. 
We manners are redbefebSm, conrteons, a lltde in the 
old-school way. He is sensitiTe, punctilious ; speaks 
well, roundly, fluently, plausibly, and is akdlled in pour- 
ing <h1 upon the waters of stormy debate. 

He is, peihaps, fifty years of age, bnt has a youthful 
look; is about five feet m^t in heij^t, slender, neat, 
with an air of military con^MUtness ; looks c^^ 
dally well on hoiseback. 


Hrs. Embury is one of the most noted, and certainly 
one of the most meritoriooB of our female UtAnteura. 
She has been many years before the public, her eariiest 
compootionB, I believe, having been contributed to the 
New York Mirror under the nom dc plume " lanthe." 
They attracted very general attention at the time of 
th^ appearance, and materially aided the paper. 
They were subsequently, with some other ideces, pub- 
lished in volume form, with the title GiMo and Other 
Poetn*. The book has been long out of print Of tats 
days its author has written but little poetry ; that little, 



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however, lus at least indicated a poetic capacity of ao 
common order. 

Tet as a poetess she is comparatively nnknown, her 
reputation in tibis regard having been quite over- 
diadoved by ttiat which she has acquired as a writer 
of tales. In this latter capacity she has, upon the 
irtiolc, no equal among her sex in America, certainly 
no superior. She is not so vigorous as Mrs. Stephens, 
nor so vivacioiis as ICss Chubbuck, nor ao caustic as 
IGbs Leslie, oor so dignified as Miss Sedgwick, nor ao 
graceful, fanciful, and apirHaeUe as His. Osgood, but 
is deficient in none of the qualities for which these 
Ladies are noted, and in certain particulars surpasses 
ttiem alL Her subjects are fresh^ if not always vividly 
original, and she manages them with more skill than 
is usually exhibited by our magazinists. She has also 
much imagination and sensibility, iriiile her style is 
pure, earnest, and devoid of verbiage and exaggera- 
tion. I make a point of reading all tales to which I see 
the name of His. Embury appended. The story by 
irtiich she has attained most reputation is CborAuwe 
LaUmer, Cbe Bliai Girl 

Hrs. B. is a dau^^ter 61 Doctor Hanly, an eminent 
phyBidau of New York City. At an early age she 
married a gentleman of some wealth and of education, 
as well as of tastes akin ta her own. She is noted for 
her dcnnestic virtues no less than for literary talents 
and acquirements. 

jdbyGoOglC — 

The Literati 

She IB about the nudiimi height ; ccanjia^oa, eyes, 
and hair, light; arched eyebrows; Oredaii nose; the 
month a fine one, and IndicatlTe of flismess; tiie 
iriiole countenance pleasing, intellectoal, and ezpres- 
iE7e. The portrait in Grabam '» Magazine fm: January, 
1843, bas no resemblance to her whatever. 


lb. Sargent is well known to the public as the au- 
thor of Ve/woo / A Tragedy, The Ugbt 0/ the UgbU 
Houme, wttb Other Poeau, one or two short novelettes, 
and numerous contributions to ttie periodicals. He 
was also the editor of Sargent't Hagadae, a monthly 
work, which hod the misfortune of falling between two 
stools, never having been aUe to moke up its mind 
whether to be popular with the three or dignified with 
the five-dollar journals. It was a " happy medium " 
between the two classes, and met the fate of all hapi^ 
media in d^g, as well throu^j^ lack of foes as of 
friends. In medio taliatimas ibiM is the worst advice 
in the world for the editor of a magazine. Its obser- 
vance proved the downfall of Hr. Lowell and his really 
meritorious Pioneer. 

Velaaco has received some words of commendation 
from the author of Ion, and, I am ashamed to say, 
owes most of its home appreciation to this drcnm- 
stance. Hr. Talfourd's play has, itself, Uttle truly 
dramatic, with much picturesque and more poetical, 


The Literati 

Tahw; its aothor, nerertheless, is better entitled to 
respect u a dramatist than as a critic of dramas. 
Vehtco, compared with American tragedies generally, 
ia a good tragedy; indeed, an excellent one, but, posl- 
tiTcly considered, its merits are very inconsiderabie. 
It has many of the traits of Mrs. Mowatf s Fatbiea, to 
irtiich, in its mode of constmction, its scenic effects, 
and several otlier points, it bears as close a resem- 
Uance aa, in tiie nature of tbings, it could very wdl 
bear. It is by no means improbable, howerer, that 
Mrs. Mowatt received some assistance from Ur. Sar- 
gent in tlie composition of her comedy, or at least was 
guided by his advice In many particnlars of techni- 

SbeUt aad Sea^Wcedt, a series of loief poems, re- 
cording the incidents of a voyage to Cuba, is, I think, 
tlu best work in veise of its author, and evinces a fine 
fancy, with keen appredation of the beautiful in nat- 
ural scenery. Mr. Sargent Is fond of sea pieces, and 
paints them with skill, flooding them with that warmth 
and geniality which are their character and their due. 
A Life on the Otxan Vavr has attained great popular- 
ity, but is by no means so good as the less lyrical com- 
positions, A Cabn, The Gale, Tropical Veadier, and A 
Nlgbt Storm at Sea. 

The Light of the Ug^uHouat is a Sj^ted poem, 
with many musical and fandfnl passages, well ez- 


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Bnt, oh, Aurora's CTimson li^it, 

That makes the watch-fire dim. 
Is not a more traiiqmrtiiic d^it 

Than Ellen is to Mm. 
H« pfaieth not fcv flolds and brooks, 

VUd flowers and dn^ng Urda, 
Pot Bttnuner mmiitith lit her looha 

And dngeth In her words. 

There is somethiag of the Dibdin spirit throughout 
the poem, and, indeed, throtif^out all the sea poems of 
Mr. Sa^;ent, a UtUe too mtich of it, periiapB. 

His prose is not quite so meritorious as his poetry. 
He writes " eadly," and is tqtt at buriesqne and sar- 
casm; boUi rather hroad than original. Mr. Sargent 
has an excellent memory for good lilts, and no litUe 
dexterity in their application. To those who meddle 
litde with books, some of his satirical papers must ^>- 
pear brilliant. In a word, he Is one of the most prom- 
inent members of a very extensive American family — 
the men of industry, talent, and tact. 

hi stature he is short, not more tlian five feet five, 
but well proportioned. His face is a flne one; the 
features regular and expresdve. ffis demeanor is very 
genUemanly. Unmarried, and abontthir^ years of age. 


Mis. Osgood, for ttie last three or four years, has 

been rapidly attaining distinction; and this, evidently, 

with no effort at attaining it She seems, in fact, to 


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hare no object in new beyond that of giving v<Ace to 
the fuidefl or the feelings of the moment " Neces- 
sity,** says tiie proverb, " is the mother of invention " ; 
and the invention of Mrs. 0., at least, springs plainly 
from necessity, from the necessity of Invention. Not 
to mite poetry, not to act it, think it, dream it, and be 
it, U entirely out of her power. 

It may be qoestioned whether with more industry, 
more method, more definite porpose, more amlrition, 
Krs. Osgood would have made a more decided impres- 
sion on the public mind. She might, upon the whole, 
have written better poems; but the chances are that 
she would have failed in conveying so vivid and so 
just an idea of her powers as a poet Tlie warm aianc 
doanemcnt of her style, that charm which now so 
captivates, is but a portion and a consequence of her 
unworidly nature, of her disregard of mere fame ; but 
it affords us glimpses, which we could not otherwise 
have obtained, of a capadty for accomplishing what 
she has not accompllBhed, and in all probability never 
wiQ. In the wrald of poetry, however, there is 
already more than enough of uncongenial ambition 
and pretence. 

lbs. Osgood has taken no care irtiatever of her liters 
aiy fame. A great number of her finest compositions, 
both in vene and prose, have been written anony- 
mously, and are now lying perdu* about the country, 
in out-of-the-way nooks and comers. Many a goodly 


«^ firifiAa^ «•«■ or 

ijri^ fei«« M a MMd ^ciM ^ k, Mei 1843, a 

a d^ Kb Lack cnU a« ten km imc ttaa 
fliif*r a, ^rt nnuag an^Md pKautj. Ike Itai- 
iag pace acBbUbf ^ Xkaaabc iWi» bat ia mMBj 
mpectt wdl catiilei to «he ifpaSatiia ' draaa.** I 
mOait iMilj to Aa f iiiiili iifiiMW of pu^ 
hfiHr portwai, to adicataM ta aanctoi^ aoa to 

fsiatiTCfy , of coHse, fiv Ac kaad of ^bhim s 

Ihe sttay is d» vdl-kacwa «m «f Sdpr, Elfirida, 
■1^ Bad AH^wooi. Hk ktag, kning of Bfndt't 
BiliiadiiiMy beuitj, caaanBom hn fatonte^ Atlid - 
WDod, to THt bar and a a c a rtaia if itport ^eaka tniljr 
frf bar dunma. Iba aad^ be cooiing titm a ntf anamo ra d, 
s^namts 0ie ladj as aajlliing bat btaiitifiil ox agn^ 
able. The king it ifIV"* Altadwood aoon aftai 
voOB and iveds EMiida, ffciiag Edgar to nodentasd 


The Literati 

tiut fht l^rMB*B maith is the object The tnie state 
<rf fbe case, however, is betrayed 1^ an enemy; and 
the monarch rEStrfTcs to vidt the eaii at his castle and 
to Jndge for himself. Hearing of this resolve, Athel- 
wood, in despair, confesses to his wife liis duplidty, and 
entreats her to render null as far as posdble tlie effect 
of lier charms by dresshig ^th unusual {dainness. 
This the vif e promises to do ; but, fired with amUtion 
and lesentment at the wrong done her, arrays herself 
in her most magnificent and becoming costume. The 
king is charmed, and tlie resnit is the destruction (rf 
Athelwood, and the elevation of Kfiida to the throne. 

These incidents are well adapted to dramatic pur- 
poees, and with more of that art which Mrs. Osgood 
does not possess she might have woven them into a 
tragedy irtiich the woiid would not willingly let die. 
As it is, she has merely succeeded in showing what she 
mig^t, should, and could have done, and yet, unhap- 
I^, did not. 

The character of Elfrida is the bright ptdnt of the 
play. Her beauty and consciousness of it, her indig- 
nation and oncompromidng amUtlon, are deincted 
with power. There is a fine blending of the poetry of 
passion and the pasrion of poetry in the lines which 

Wb J even now he bendi 
Tw courtly rennnce to Kiine mincing dftmc, 
H^y tba star of Bdgu's festiTal, 

jdbyGoOglc _ 

The Literati 

WUlc I, with thi> Ugh heart and quaanly tora, 

Ptae in nc^ect and aoUtnde. ShaU it ba ? 

Shall I not nod my fatten and tie free 7 

A7I — be the co^hk turtle-dove content, 

Safe in her own loved nest I — the eagle soars 

On lestleM plumes to meet the imperial son. 

And Edgar Is m; day-star, In whose light 

TUi heart* i proud wings shall yet be fnried to reaL 

Why wedded I wifli AttielWDod ? For this 7 

Vol — even at the altar when I stood — 

My band in his, his gaze upon my cheek — 

I did foiget his presence and the scene ; 

A gorgeous virion rose before mine eyes 

Of power and pomp and regal pageantry; 

A Ung was at my feet and, as he kndt, 

I smUed and, tonilng, met — a husband's kiss. 

But still I smiled — for in my guilty sotd 

I bloMod him as the Mag by whose means 

I should be brou^t within my idol's sphere — 

My liattghty, i^otions, twave, Inqiassionad Bdgarl 

Wdl I remember when these wondering eyes 

Beheld him first. I was a imMmi then, 

A dreaming ^^<m — -bnt from that tTirilllng honr 

I *ve been a queen in vislonsi 

Very ramilar, but even more Roving, is the lore- 
in^nred eloquence of Edgar: 

Earth hath no language, love, befitting thee; 
For its own children it hath pliant ^eech; 
And mortals know to call a Uoaaom fair, 
A wavdat gracetnl, and a jewel rich; 


The Literati 

Bnt flionl oh, teach nu, imet, the angd toncw 
Tber talked in bMTm «n thon didst leave Its bowen 
To bloom belowt 

To this Elfrida repliM: 

H Athelwood IhotiU baar UimI 

And to this, Edgar: 

IfaniB not the felon knave to me, ElMdat 
Mj soul is ff»wM* whene'er I ttiinfc of hi™ 
Thon loTOflt him not ? — oh, »aj thon dost not lore Uml 

The answer of Elfiida at this point is profoundly 
tme to nature, and would alone suffice to assure ai^ 
critic of Krs. Osgood's dramatic talent: 

When but a cbild I saw thee in mj dreamal 

The WMDJU's sool here shrinks from the direct 
arowal <A want of love for her husband, and flies to 
poetry and appeals to fate, by way of excusing tiiat in- 
fidelity irtiich Is at once her glory and her shame. 

In general, the " ntuations " of Bliriia are im- 
probable or ultra-romantic, and its incidents oncon- 
seqoential, seldom furthering the bodness of the play. 
The dinoaement is feeble, and its moral of very equiv- 
ocal tenden^ indeed ; but I have already shown that 
it is the espedal office neither of poetry nor of tiie 
drama to Inculcate truth, unless incidentally. Hrs. 
Osgood, however, although she has unquestionaUy 


The Literati 

failed in writing a good play, luu, even in failiiig, ^T«a 
indication of dramatic power. The great tragic ele- 
ment, pasdon, breathes in every line of her composi- 
tion, and, had she but the art or the patience to model 
or contnd it, she mig^t be eminentiy aaccesaful as a 
playvtight I am justified in these opinl<mB not only 
hy ElMJa, but by Voaun'* Trust i ADrmuatkSkeleb, 
included, also, in the Kigish edition. 

AUmkedBuB. Mmkha taJ a Stnager lat gtctg^ 

tihd. Vlijr luut thon led me here ? 

My Mandi may deem It etruige, immaldenlj, 
This lonel; conrene wiOi an unknown maak. 
Tet in thy Ttdce there la a ttirilling power 
That makea me lore to linger. It ii like 
The tone of oiu ba distant, onl; his 
Was gayer and more sofL 

Stntag. Sweet Haddonl 

Say thon wilt andle t^on the panionate lore 
That thon alone canat waken) Let me faopel 

KbJ, Hnihl bnshi I may not hear thee. Know*et dion not 
I am betrothed ? 

Sttmig. AlaiT too wdJ I know; 

But I coold tell thee such a tale of him. 
Thine early love, t would flre those timid ^e> 
With iigfcHitng pride and anger, cuii that Up, 
That gentle lip to paMlonate cmiten^ 
Vot man's light falsehood. Eren now he beads — 
Thy Ri^ert bends o'er one as fair as thoti, 
In fond affection. Even now tals heart — 

,db, Google 

The Literati 

tU. Doth my eje Huh ? doth n^ % cod with •com ? 
*T la Koni of theo, tbon perjimd ■tranger, not, 
ffli, not of him, ths gmttrou and the tnul 
Bait thoa e'er mco mj Ri^ert ? hut thou mot 
ThoM pntul «nd feariMS vyta that narer qnailad, 
Am Fabdiood qoalli, Mora anothar'i ^anco — 
Aa tUna avan nov an »*iTjwM>ig front mino om — 
Tha qirit beauty of that open bixnr, 
The noUe head, the free and gallant itep. 
The lof^ nden wfaoee majesty ia won 
ftomfaibom honor — hast thou aaen all tUi? 
And daieat thon lyeah of fiilliliiMiiiiw and Um 
In the same idU bnath 7 Thou little know^ 
Um itrong confiding of a woman's heart, 
When woman lovee aa — ^I do. E^oak no more I 

amng. Deluded glilt I teD fliao hs ia false— 
Falae as yon fleeting dondl 

XU. Tneastbeannl 

Smog. Ihe very wind leas wayward than his heaitl 

Mad. Tha forest oah leas firm I He Wed me not 
Tor Os fraa roae-hoaa and the fleeting lij^t 
Of youthful loTdisaaa; ah, many a cheek 
Of aofter bloom, and many a dawHng eye 
Hote rich than mine may win jaj waxtdeiei'a gaze. 
He loTsd me fOT my love, the deep, the food — 
For 117 ttnfalt^ng troth; he cannot find, 
Kore irtiere he iriU, a heart that beata for him 
Wifli such JDtense, absorUng tenderness 

'Whw abouU he chatigtt Chen ^-~/ am aCflf Ac ttftWi 


The Literati 

AranV' Swwtiofldell wtt thon have radar proof ? 
RemembcTMt thon a Utde goUen cue 
TI17 Raport won. In lAich a gem waa ahriiMd I 
A gem J would not barter for a world — 
An angel face; Its auiuir woltb of lw£r 
la n^at r^plet bathed tU gnetAtl Anal 
Aai dtapkd aboiMen f round the rosy curve 
Of the nraet moutb a nnUe seemed wandeiliiK erar, 
While in the deptlia of azure lire that Reamed 
Beneath the drooping lashes dept a world 
Of eloquent meaning, paadonate jet pure. 
Dreamy, enlMlaed, but oh, how beautifull 
A look of Htniii plifcajtlt^g teiidei iieiB 
That ahonld have been a t«n«maTi to charm 
His resflen heart for ay*. Rememberest thou ? 

Mad. {ftnpatiea^ I do — I do remember — -t wm my own. 
He prized it as his lite— I gave It him— 
What of Itl— speaki 

5b«nr. (*&mr£v •«&■£«««) Lady, bdudd that gift! 

Mai. (eUaplag bet baadt) Herdfol Heaveat is my 
Rupert dead? 
{a^er a pauae, during wbkb $be aaeaia owtrwbelated wM agoa^ 
How died he ? — ^when ? — oh, Oioa wast by his ride 
In that last hour and /was far awayl 
Hy blesaU love I— give me that tokemi— speaki 
What mMoage sent he to liis Madelon ? 

Smagf iauppotUng her aad afrang^ agHated) 
Ha it not dead, dear ladyl grieve not thuit 

Mad. He U aot Uae, air atnngerl 


The Literati 

Stnng, For thy mkt. 

Would hs won wratUerl One oth«r proof 
im^ntbatjlaw^aBtl U tbon lov^ Um ttfll, 
1 11 not bdisn thM wonum. litten, thanl 
A filtUnl law toeatlias not of Ma bliM 
To othar Ban. Wilt hear a laUa, lady ? 

Here the stnuger details some InddentB of the first 
wooiiig of Kadelon by Rupert, and concludes with^ 

Ladj, n^ taak ia o'er — dost doubt nw itiU ? 

Mbd, Doubt die*, tar Rt^ert I ib, I know Att aaw. 

Tlbic by that hateful maakl—^et me nndaip iti 
Hoi thou wotddst aot betray thy Hadelon. 

The MJBcellapeoua Poems of ttie volume, manj of 
ttiem written in childhood, are, of course, Tarions in 
chjtTRCter and merit. The Dying Rom^ud'a Lamettt, 
although by no means one of the best, irill very well 
serve to show the earlier and most characteilatle man- 
ner of the poetess: 

Ah, mel — ah, woe la me 

Tliat I dionld petiah now, 
WWi the dear tunMstt fu0t kt la 

[^cai my balnty brawt 

Wtre qutwatiag to latelott/ 
Mr bvpr J^Mt wAh ine was rtt — 
i was afaioat a raac 


The Literati 

My ptNiUut 1^ ty Zapliji ynami. 

Tot ttpHltK ot Mtf h^tft' 

Hy Hwy cell half riran, 
Sieh IbtlBbig haBet teeoKd m wbtg 

Bow cA, wfaik yat mn iabat Bewer, 
Mfy erkaaoa ebt*k Fwt Ml 


That Utaaed air •Uie tbftn I 

Tbdr learw that loved the pUy, 
Thongli the light thief itole all the « 
Of d«w-4nip gvm* amy. 

I thon^t how h^ity I iboaU be 
Stich diamond wnathi to wear. 

And frolk with a naa's i^m 
With mmboam, bird, and air. 


The Literati 

Ab, mal— «h, wm !■ ma, that I, 

En Trt mj Imtm nndo — , 
With aU my wMlth of swseta mint die 

Beiare I ata a rM€ I 

The poetkal reader iriU agree with me that few 
things have ever been written {by any poet, at any age) 
more delicately fancifiil than the passages italicized; 
and yet tli^ are the work of a girl not more than 
fonrteea years of age. The clearness and force of 
expresdim, and the nice appotiteness of the overt and 
inrinitatad meaning, are, when we condder the youth 
of tlu writer, even mcffe remarkable than the fancy. 

I cannot speak of Hrs. Osgood's poems without a 
strong propensi^ to ring the changes upon the indef- 
inite word " grace " and its derivatives. About every- 
thing irtiich she writes we perceive this indescribaUe 
charm^ of iidiich, perhaps, the elements are a vivid 
fancy and a qmck sense of the proportionate. Grace, 
however, may be most satisfactorily defined as " a 
tenn ^iplied, in despair, to that class <^ the expressions 
of beauty which admit of no analyds." It is in this 
irresoluble effect that His. Osgood ezcds any poetess 
of her country; and it is to this ea^y appredaUe 
effect that her popularity is owing. Nor is she more 
graceful herself than a lover of the graceful, under 
irtiatever guise it is presented to her conaderation. 
The sentiment renders itself manifest In Innumerable 
instances as well throughout her prose as her poetry. 


Hie Lilcnti 

Wfeitaw n ktr ttme, mk ut oscc cxlucli fRnn it its 
lAofe MMBtiattf «f gfacc Faa^ Ellaler has been 
4AiB ImdMdf tfse foals 1ms smig kir pniMSj bot 
vc ioqk im tub fac •Mfwuig wiittoii uuot bcr irtdcit 
■> wKSmcOj wmA TniAf pnnts her to tlw eye es flie 
InH-dmia q — tra J M «Wck folov. n^ are to be 
foo^ m tile fi^lUA Ttdsaw: 

Ska coMBi-a* tfiffi of a* «>BMl 


rMrf *e Mp vMaa Is Mtf in. 

Aitf wMt ar^ &«< *e a 

il«rf aov wJA flH&far e]r«s «k 4priva— 
ffcr w^ife i»4*( 4w« f^crf fa ^ 

il« tf kr aiNrf Airf ««Mrf Jto w^t» 
A^pahcd^r one wJWiM^ Am*/ 


The Literati 

Sha npoka not — but, bo licblj frang^ 
Wth UngiMge an htt gUnce and amlla, 

Tb»l wbea tbe curtain teH I Apu^ 
One bad Uca UtUng «ff (far wUk. 

This Is, indeed, poetry, and of fht most imquestion- 
aUe bind, poetry truthful in tht proper aenae ; that is 
to say, breathing of nature. There is here nothing 
forced or artificial, no hardly sustained enthusiasm. 
The poetess speaks because she feels ; but then what 
fhe feels is felt only by the truly poetical. The thought 
in the laat line of the quatrain will not be so fully ap- 
preciated by the reader as it should be; for latteiiy it 
has been imitated^ (dagiaiized, repeated ad inBaitum t 
but the othw passages italidzed have still left them all 
thtir original effect. The idea in the two last lines is 
ei^oiatdy aam and natural ; that in Ihe two last lines 
of the second qnatrain, beautiful beyond measure; 
that of the whole fifth quatrain, magnificent — unsur- 
passed in the entire compass of American poetry. It 
is instinct witii tiie noUest poetical requisite — imagi- 

Of the same trait I find, to my stuprise, one ni the 
best exemplifications among the " Javenile Rhymes.** 

For Fancj U a Uiij that can hear, 
Erer, the melody of Vatmv'B voice 
And Bee all lovely viaiona that ibe wilL 
She drew a plctnre of a beanteons Urd 
mth pltunee of raiHant green and gold inwono, 


The f itiiMi 

10 am *TintiFT iQBT 

Tiinhiliw JmiIiUbI *»cd«: 


The Literati 

Vaaaj '■ Uka the dmur rain 
Who, with qdrit ihnt and dim, 

Tldokt, bocanae h« mm not Hmtbii, 
HMivttik beholds not ^ ^*" , 

Is it not a little Burpri&ng, however, that a writer 
capaUe of bo mucji predaon and finish as Ihe author 
<rf these efUgnaat must be, BhouM have failed to see 
how much of force is lost in the inversion of " the do- 
ner vain ** ? Why not have written " Fanny's like 
the rilly sinser " ? or, if " silly *' be tbon^ too jocose, 
" the blinded doner ** ? The rhythm, at the saoie time, 
woold thus be much improved by briogiog the UosB, 

Vmnny 'g Ulrw ttm iUly rfnniff 

Thinks beoiDM hs sms not Hearco, 

Into exact equality. 

Ja win^»d epigrams aod etpiiglerie Mis. 0^;ood Is 
even more especially at home. I have seldom seen 
anything in QoB way more happUy done than the song 
entitled ff^eCui, 

TTu Unexpected Dedarai&tn is, perh^is, even a 
finer ^ledmcn of the same manner. It is one of that 
class of compositions which Hrs. Osgood has made 
almost ezcludlvely her own. Had 1 seen it without her 
name, I should have had no hesitation in ascribing it 
to her; for there is no other person, in America cer- 
tainly, who does aoythiog of a dmilar kind with aoy- 
thing like a iriTniiaf piqoaocy. 


The LJtefati 

Thi yotet (4 tUs fotm^ W«ncr, mi^t hare beea 
ilMrptMd, aod Ow poBrfi ia cwMe d is Imtn, bj tlie 
•ypUcatton of the caufjr of toevit;. From iriut tfae 
l0V*r Mjv oraeh mlgbt weD luve been omitted; and I 
iboutd bar* pnfemd iMTing out alto^ther th« au- 
ttMMlal eonunratf ; for the itoiy is fully told iritliottt 
thftn. Thf " Why do you weep ? " " Why do yoit 
frown ? " Ud " Why do you smile 7 " sopidy all the 
ittM|li»tlon rtquim; to lupply more than it reqoires 
oitprvMHHi and offandi it Notiiing more deeply grieves 
lli or mors vuti tht true taste in general, than hyper- 
liun of any kind. In Oannany, WobJgebero is a loftier 
tut* (han Mf^ftterai and In Greece, the ttirice-'Tio- 
twintw at the Otym^ tamaa ooold datm a statue of 
ttw »ti» of Uf^ while he who had c 
WM MtUM only to a nioaial o 

TV K»tti«h WllKtiOB of vM 
A. rr*Mlt «/ WW n>««re tnm Mbv Fi^if fi 
WMt <ti(Ui « pmOI^ OMiKd leceftiaa m Gnai Ait^: 

■4s^ UMtth^ CkcvMMJb aa4 wtariaffr bp Om Camrt 

Wtt taobiuc ^'*- «)(«« :ibt )i^ tittftac^ df rhm U^mmf 
v^kMOi^-^^itA^b^Mnw^MMrsraMftnc ... Oar 
4«{i».a.aviM. Vx* >Mtt TUi£l«<i,. i^t 'w ^aw ^ne a 


The Literati 

the richest of itngliah pasture in place of having been 
* nursed by the cataract* True, the wreath loight 
have been improved vith a little more care — a trifling 
attention or two paid to the formation of it. A stalk 
here and there that obtrudes itself between the bells of 
the flowers might have become so interwoven as to 
have been concealed, and the whole have looked as if 
it had grown in that perfect and beautiful form. 
Though, after all, we are perhaps too chary; for in 
nature every leaf is not ironed out to a form, nor 
propped up with a wiry precision, but Uown and ruffled 
by the refreshing breezes, and looking as careless and 
easy and unaffected as a child that bounds along with 
its silken locks tossed to and fro just as the wind up- 
lifts them. Page after page of this volume have we 
perused with a feeling of pleasure and admiration." 
The Court Journal mwe emphatically says: " Her 
wreath is one of videts, sweet-scented, pure, and 
modest; so lovely that the hand that wove it should 
not neglect additionally to enrich it by turning her love 
and kindness to things of lai^r beauty. Some of the 
smaller lyrics in the volume are perfectly beautiful, — 
beaotifnl in thdr chaste and exquisite simplicity, and 
the perfect elegance of their compomtion." In fact, 
there was that about The Wrratb of Wild Fhwerwr- 
that in«[presstble grace of thought and manner, — 
which never fails to find ready echo in the hearts of the 
aristocracy and reflnement of Great Britain ; and it was 


The Literati 

hen mptdMHj that Mn. Osgood f otmd wdcome. Bar 
husband's nurits as an artist had already introduced 
her into distingnished sode^ (she was petted in es- 
pecial, by Mrs. Hortoo and Rogers), bnt the puUication 
of her poema had at once an evidently f avorabk effect 
t^on bis f ortones. Kajdcttires were placed in a moat 
advantageous light 1^ bar poetical and convenatlonal 

Xeeirs. Clarke & Austin, of Hew York, have lately 
issued another, bnt still a very inconqdete odlectttKi at 
PoetBM by Frances & Osgood. In general, it includes 
by no means tiie best of her woAs. TIte Dmue^Oet of 
Ht r o diaM , one of her longest conqtontionB, and a very 
noble poem, patting me in mind of die best efforts of 
Mis. Hemans, is omitted; it is included, however, in 
the last edition of Dr. GiiswQtd*s Pottm aorf ^>€ttj el 
America. In Hevrs. C & A.*s collection there occur, 
too, very many of tiioae 1**H aentimentsl, half aU^ 
guical conqtositioBs of lAich, at one period, Uw an* 
thonss seemed to be paitkutaily food, for Om reason, 
petfa^w, that fliey afforded her good oppuituuity for 
tfae ^ MT C Js e ot her ingoioity and epigrammatic talent j 
no poet, however, can admit them to be poetry at alL 
SdD, the volume contains some piecae irtudi enable OS 
totakeanewviewof the powns of die writer. Afew 
adfifional yean, irith ttieir inevitable aonow, a ppeied 
to have stiired the dcpda of her heart. Weeeekasof 
bivoGly, kai of vivact^, moie of t en de maa s, canest- 


The Literati 

nns, eren paasitm, and for man of tlie true imagiiia- 
tion as distingoished from its soborffinate, fancy. Tlia 
(KM prevalent trait, grace, alone distinctly rem^na. 
7%e SpM of Poetry, To Sybil, The Birth ol tlu CalU- 
triche, aod the OtiU aod h» AngeU^yatate, would 
do honor to any of our poets. She Lovea Him Yet, 
nerertheless, will serve, better than atiier <A these 
poems, to show the alteration of manna referred to. 
It is not only rhythmically perfect, bat it evinces much 
originality in its structure. The verses commencing, 
" Tes, lower to the level," are in a somewhat similar 
tooe, but are m<»e noticeatde for their terse ene^y of 

In not presenting to fhe public at one Wew all that 
she has writtoi in vene, lbs. Osgood has incurred tlie 
rislE <tf lomng that credit to which she is entitled on the 
score of versatiH^, <A variety in invention and expres- 
sion. There is scarcely a form of poetical conqK>dtion 
in irtiich she has not made experiment; and there Is 
none in irtiich she lias not very hapirily succeeded. Her 
defects are cliiefly negative and by no means numerous. 
Her versification is sometimes exceedingly good, but 
more frequently feeble through the use of harsh con- 
sonants, and such words as " tiion 'dst " for " thou 
wouldst," with other unnecessary contractions, inver- 
sions, and obsolete expresdons. Her Imagery is often 
nuxed; indeed it is rarely otherwise. The epigram- 
1 of her condualons gives to her poems, as 
■■ 49 


The Literati 

wholes, the ait of being more skilfiilly constructed than 
they really are. On tiie other hand, we look in vain 
thron^ont her works for an (dCence sgainst the finer 
taite, or against decorom, for a low thon^ or a 
platitude. A happy refinemcoit, an instinct of the pure 
and delicate, is one of the most noticeable ezcdlencies. 
She may be property commended, too, for originaH^ of 
poetic inrentioii, whether in the conccfrtian (rf a theme 
or in the manner of treatine it Comeqtiences of this 
trait are her point and piqnan^. Fao^ and naaret6 
Ifpoar in an die writas. Ri ^ar d in g Okt loftier merits, 
I am forced to ^aak tdharm man nuaiurad terms. 
She has *""'*■*'>-'*' paaaacH <d trae ima^nation, bat 
acaicaty the lowing, Tigew w, aad inri aiii wl ideality 
«t Mn. Maiia books, or ena, m gencnl, Om kas 
•^anal dttatka of Ks. WcAy. h that mdescrib- 
waatcf ai 

<)Mrm 9o mafkal. b 

P«4«a4. Owl ViO-oM 

wijyaaea t , na; ba said aa iamb* aiaily al that is 

T*bMM» Ik pMliT, A* ba^ ■BqpMttiMaMr, ao rival 

aiWM wntiM a tea te biv ISk. Hv vmI m^aaine 
T'JC^~i r~i I ^iiH 1.1 i1— iiTm She becoB with a 
*«*«iM» «d^wt at Vmc iiimiL ^itat ia i» s^, soffi- 
<WK^ fB 'WM.t ai»t m t am li a >gt Jac *« f»P— e «< « 


The Literati 

kgBod or an essay; Imt after a few sentences we be- 
htM uprising the leaven of the Kuse; then with a 
flooriah and some vain attempts at repression, a scrap 
of verse renders itself manifest; then comes a little 
poem outri^t; tJun another and another and another, 
yriOi impertinent patches of prose in between; nntil 
at length the mask is thrown fairly off and far away, 
and the whole article — sings. 

Upon the whole, I have spoken of Mrs. Osgood so 
moch In detail, less on account of what she has actu- 
ally done than on account of what I perceive in her tiie 
ability to do. 

In character she is ardent, sensitive, impuMve, the 
very sonl of truth and honor; a worshipper of the 
beantifnl, with a heart so radically artless as to seem 
abundant in art ; universally admired, respected, and 
beloved. In person, she is about the medium height, 
dander even to fragility, graceful whetiier in action 
or repose; complexion usually pale; hair black and 
flossy; eyes a clear, luminous gray, large, and with 
fingniar capacity for expression. 


Mrs. CUM has acquired a just celebri^ by many 

compontions of hi{^ merit, fht most noticeable of 

which are Hohomok, Pbihtbea, and a Himtory of the 

CuMioa of Waaen. PbSotbea, in especial, is written 



The literati 

ani, as ■ rliwiril nwanwi, is not 
rtotiie jinac&arabof Baxfliflemy; its it^ 
it a modd for panty, cbastitf , and eaie. Soom erf her 
graca and biil- 

She con t in Il ea to write a great deal 
for tiie t m> «it l ii l f it and odMr joomals, •"■l imaiiaUy 
wines woL Poeby die has not often attempted, bat 
I make no doubt fliat in this slie woold ezcd. It 

Mwl fuuifal natttfc I qoote one of her shorter com- 
positimis, aa well to '"irt»"rT (from the subject) her 

pfify the force of her poetic ezpmrion : 


POUn m fBllai at tlqr faat, 

Panea qnira in ttie air, 
A jaualiale d^ is di j Mat, 

And tboB alona ait dwre. 

la tbanga com— o^ tbj aoble famw, 
lie around thaa; 

It canoot bend diy loftT MMd 
Tboo^ fal e ii i la and fame ifcinarf ' 

Tbe car of Fate ma j o'er ttwe rail 
Boc onah tlij Roman Iwait. 


The Literati 

And gndna lutti electric pomr 

Wbicb earth can never tame; 
Bdgbt nins may acordi and dark ckmds lower, 

jXa flaak is still the eame. 

The dreanu we loved in taAj life 

Hay mtit like mi>t away; 
High thonglits nuy leem, 'laid paislon'a Btttfe, 

like Caitliafe In decay; 

And pnmd hopes in the human heart 
Hay be to ndn httried, 

He^ed on a sleeping woiid; 

Tet then if something will not die 

Where life hath once been fair; 
Some towering thoughts still rear on high, 

Some Roman lingers there. 

Xis. Child, casually observed, has nothing particu- 
larly striking in personal appearance. One would pass 
her in the street a dozen times without notice. She is 
low in stature and sli^^tly framed. Her complenon 
is florid; eyes and hair are dark; features in general 
diniinutiTe. The ezpressiott of her countenance, when 
animated, is highly intellectual. Her dress is usually 
plain, not even neat, anything but fashionable. Her 
bearing needs excitement to impress it with life and 
dignity. She is of that order of beings who are them- 
selves only on " great occa^ons." Her husband is 
still living. She has no children, I need scarcely add 


The Literati 

tiut she baa alvftys been diBtingoiBhed for her emr- 
getic and active philanthropy. 


I have aeen one or two scnqw of vene with this cen- 
tlanum'B aom de plume appended, which had con- 
sideraUe merit For example : 

A soamd mdodioiu shook the broeu 
Wlwa tbj MotU IUU&0 vas b«ard: 
Such was the moric in the woid. 
Its dainty ih jthm the pnlses stiired, 

Bnt passed forever joys like tiiese. 
Time is no Joy, no light, no daj, 
Bnt Uack de^alr and night alwqr 
fjn^ ^hlr faming rioom: 

And tills, Azthene, ia my doom. 

Was It for tills, for weary yean, 

I strove ■mnng the SODS of men, 

And by the magic of my pen — 

Jost sorcery — walked the Uo&'s den 
Of slander vtrid of tears snd fears — 

And aU for thee ? For theel— alas, 

As Is the Image on a glass 
So baseless seems, 
Azthene, all my early dreams. 

I must confess, however, that I do not appreciate 
tile " dainty rhythm " of such a word as " Azthene," 
and, perhaps, there is 8om« taint of ^otism in the pra- 



The Literati 

nga abont ** the magic ** of Mr. Browo's pen. Let us 
be charitaUe, hovever, and set all this down under the 
head of the pure imagination or invention, the first of 
poetical requi^tes. The inexcusable nn of Hr. Brown 
is imitation, if this be not too mUd a term. When 
Ban7 Cornwall, for example, sln^ about a " dainty 
ihythm," Mz. Brown forthwith, in B flat, hoots about 
it too. He has taken, however, his most unwarrant- 
able liberties in Uie way of plagiarism with Hr. Heniy 
B. HlxBt, of Philadelphia, a poet whose merits have not 
yet been properiy estimated. 

I place Kr. Brown, to be sure, on my list of literary 
peo^e not on account of his poetry (which I presume 
he him—lf 18 not weak enough to estimate very highly), 
but on the score of his having edited, for several months, 
** with the aid of numerous collaborators," a magaune 
called The ArhtideaD, This work, althou^ profe»< 
sedly a " monthly," was issued at irregular intervals, 
and was unfortunate, I fear, in not attaining at any 
period more than abont fifty subscribers. 

Hr. Kvwn has at least that amount of talent iriiich 
would enaUe him to succeed in his father's profession, 
Uiat of a fenyman on the Schu^kill, but the fate of TJbe 
Arhtidean should indicate to him that, to prosper in 
any hi^wr walk of life, he must apply himself to study. 
Mo spectacle can be more ludicrous than that of a man 
wifiiout the commonest school education busying him- 
self in attempts to instruct mankind on topics of polite 


The Literati 

Itteratare. The absurdity, in such caus, does not lie 
merely in the ignorance disidayed by the would-be in- 
stroctor, but in tiit transparency of the shifts by which 
he endeavors to keep this ignorance concealed. The 
editor of TJbe ArhtiJean, for example, was not the pob- 
lic langhlng-Btock fhronghout tlie five months of his 
magazine's existence, so much on account of writing 
" lay " for ** lie," " went *• for " gone," *' set " for 
** sit,** etc^ etc, or for coupling nouns in the plural 
witii verba in the ri ngula r , as when he writes, above, 


AzUMoe, all my esithlf /t f it — 

be was not, I say, laughed at so much on account of 
his excusable deficiencies in English grammar, al- 
though an editor should undoubtedly be aUe to write 
his own name, as on account of the pertinacity with 
irtiich he exposed his weakness, in lamenting the " ty- 
pographical blunders " which so unluckily would creep 
into his work. He should have reflected that there 
is not in all America a proof-reader so blind as to permit 
snch errors to escape him. The rhyme, for instance, 
in the matter of the " dreams " that " seems," would 
have distinctly shown even the most uneducated print- 
er's devil that he, the devil, had no rl^t to meddle 
with so obviously an intentional peculiarity. 

Were I writing merely for American readers, I 

should not, of course, have introduced Hr. Brown's 



The Literati 

uune in this boob. With us, grotesqueries such a» 
The ArittUean and its editor are not altogether un- 
paralleled, and are sufficiently well understood; but 
my pnrpose is to convey to foreigners some idea of a 
condition of literary affairs among us, which otherwise 
fhey might find it difficult to compreliend or to con- 
cave. That Mr. Brown's Uunders are really such as 
I have described them ; that I have not distorted their 
character or exaggerated ttieir grossness in any re- 
qiect ; that there existed in New York for some montlis, 
as conductor of a magazine that called itself " the oigan 
of the Tyler party," and was even mentioned, at times, 
by respectable papers, a man who obviously never 
went to school, and was so profotmdly ignorant as not 
to know tiiat he could not spell, are serious and 
potitive facts, nncolored in the slightest degree, 
demonstrable, in a word, upon the spot, by reference 
to almost any editorial sentence upon any page of the 
magazine in question. But a single instance will 
suffice; Hr. Hirst, in one of liis poems has the tines, 

Odlnl *t WBB pleasure — t was pudos to lee 
Ber ueria Bwe«p like wolvea on a lambkin like ma. 

At page aoo of The Aristidean for September, 1845, 
Kr. Brown, commenting on the English of the passage, 
says : ** This lambkin might have used better language 
than ' like me,* unless he intended it for a specimen of 
choice Choctaw, when it may, for all we know to the 


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contraiy, pus muster." It is needless, I presume, 
to proceed farther in a search for tbt most direct 
proof, posdble or conceivable, of ttie ignorance of 
Mr. Brown, 1^0, in similar cases, iovariably writes, 

In an editorial annonncement on page 342 of the 
same " nomber," he says: " This and the three suc- 
ceeding aiunbert bringt the work up to January, and 
with the two aasnhcr* previously published makes uf 
a volume or half year of nuxDhcn." But enough of 
this absurdity; Mr. Brown had, for tlie motto on his 
magazine cover, tiie words of Richelieu: 

HeacaUme cnid; 
I am not: — I am. juit. 

Here the two monosyllables " an ass ** should have 
been appended. They were no doubt omitted throng^ 

** one of those d d typographical blunders " which, 

throu^ life, have been at once ttie bane and the anti- 
dote of Mr. Brown. 

I make these remaito In no sidrit of onklndness. 
Mr. B. is yet young, certainly not more than thirty- 
aight or nine, and might readily improve ^ini'w t* at 
points where he is mtst defective. No one of any 
generodty would think the worse of htm for getting 
private instruction. 

I do not personally know him. About his appear- 
ance time is nothing very remarkable, except that he 


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exists in a perpetual state of vacillation between mo*- 
tacfaio and goatee. In character, a wiadbeuteL 


lOss Bogart has been for many years before the pob~ 
lie as a vriter of poems end tales (principally the for- 
mer) for the periodicals, having made her dSbat as a 
contributor to tiie ori^nal New York Mirror. Dr. 
Griswdd, in a footnote appended to one of her poems 
quoted in his PoetM and Poetry, speaks of the " vol- 
ume " frtun «4iich he quotes ; but IGss Bogart has not 
yet collected her writings in volume form. Her fugi- 
tive pieces have usually been signed " Estelle." They 
are noticeable for nerve, dignity, and finish. Perhaps 
the four stenzas entltied He Came too Late, and in- 
troduced into Dr. Griswold's volume, are the most 
favorable spednwn of her manner. Had he not 
quoted them I should have copied tiiem here. 

Miss Bogart is a member of one of the oldest families 
in the State. An interesting sketch of her progenitors 
is to be found in Thompson's Hiatory of Long bland. 
She is about the medium hei^t, strai^t, and slender; 
Uack hair and eyes ; counteoance full of vivacity and 
intelligence. She converses with fluency and spirit, 
entmdates distinctly, and exhibits interest in wtiatever 
is addressed to her, — a rare quality in good talkers; has 
a keen appredation of genius and of natural scenery; 
is cheerful and fond of tode^. 


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Ubb Sedgwick is not only one of oar most celebrat«d 
and mogt meritorious writers, but attained reputation 
at a period wlien American reputation in letters was 
regarded as a phenomenon; and thus, like Irving, 
Cooper, Paulding, Bryant, Halleclc, and one or two 
others, she is indebted, certainly, for some portion oi 
the esteem in wliich she was and is held, to that patri- 
otic pride and gratitude to which I have alreaij^ 
aUuded, and for which we must make reasonaUtt 
allowance in estimating the absolute merit of our 
literary pioneers. 

Ber earliest published work of any lengQi was A 
New&iglBnd Tale, designed in the first place as a reh- 
gious tract, but expanding itself into a Tolume of con- 
siderable size. Its success, partially owing, perhaps, 
to tiie influence of the parties for whom or at whoae 
instigation it was written, encouraged the author to 
attempt a novel of somewhat greater elaborateness, aa 
well as length, and Redwood was soon annonnced, 
establishing her at once as the first female prose writer 
of her country. It was reprinted in England, and 
translated, I believe, into French and Italian. Hope 
Lealh next appeared — also a noTel — and was more 
favorably received even than its predecessors. After* 
ward came Qarence, not quite so successful, and thm 
The Unwoeds, which took rank in the public esteem 


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vitli Hopt LetSe. Then are all of her longer proM 
fictiooB, but she has written numerous shorter ones of 
great merit, such as The Rich Poor Man aad the Poor 
Xkh Maa, Live and Let Live (both in volume form), 
vith various articles for the magazinoB and ^iT^ni^wln, 
to which she is still an industrious contributor. About 
ten years since she published a compilation of several 
of her fugitive prose pieces, under the title Talet and 
Sketchem, and a short time ago a series of Lettera from 
Abroad, not the least popular or least meritoriotu of 
her compositions. 

Miss Sedgwick has now and then been nicknamed 
" tiie ifiss Edgeworth of America " ; but she has done 
nettling to bring down upon her the vengeance of so 
equivocal a title. That she has thoroughly studied 
and profoundly admired IGss Edgeworth may, indeed, 
be ^eaned from her works; but what woman has 
not ? Of imitation there is not the slightest perceptible 
taint In both autiiors we observe the same tone of 
thoughtful morality, but here all resemblance ceases. 
In the En^ishwoman there is for more of a certain 
Scotch prudence ; in the American, more of warmth, 
tenderness, sympathy for the weaknesses of hia 
■ex. Kss Edgeworth is ttie more acute, the more 
inventive, and the more rij^d; lOss Sedgwick, the 
more womanly. 

AH her stories are full of Interest The NewBogtaod 

Tate and Hope Leslie are especial^ so, bat tqion flis 



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irtiole I am best pleased vith The Unwoodt. Its pre- 
vailing featuies are ease, purity of style, pathos, and 
veridmilitode. To plot it has little pretension. The 
scene is in America, and, as Hie subtitle indicates, 
*' sixty years ^ce." This, by the by, is taken from 
Waverley, The adventures of the family of a Hr. 
Linwood, a reddent of New York, form the principal 
theme. The character of this gentiemao is hapirily 
drawn, although there is tm antagonism between ttw 
initial and concluding touches — the end has forgotten 
the beginning, like tbt government of Trinculo. Hr. 
L. has two children, Herbert and Isabella. Being him- 
self a Tory, the boyish impulses of his son in favor of 
the Revolutionists are watched vtifb anxiety and vexa- 
tion; and on the breaking out of the war, Herbert, 
positively refusing to drink tiie king's health, is ex- 
pelled from home by his father, an event on which 
hinges the main interest of the narrative, babella is 
the heroine proper, full of generous impulses, beauti- 
ful, intellectual, gpiHtaelle i indeed, a most fasdnatiiig 
creature. But ttie family of a Wiiow Lee throws 
quite a charm over all the book, — a matronly, i^ous, 
and devoted mother, yielding up her son to the cause 
of her country; the son, gallant, chivalrous, yet 
thoughtful; a daughter, gentle, loving, melanch<d.y, 
and susceptible (rf light impressions. This daughter, 
Bessie Lee, is one td the most effective personations 
to be found in our fictitious literature, and may lay 


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claims to the dietinctioti of originality — no slight dis- 
ttnction iriieifl character is concerned. It is the old 
•tory, to be sure, of a meek and trusting heart broken 
by treachery and abandonment, but in Ihe narration 
of Kifls Sedgwick it breaks upon ns with sU the fresh- 
ness of novel emotion. Deserted by her lover, an ac- 
complished and arifltocratical coxcomb, the spirits of 
the gentle; girl dnk gradually from trust to simple 
hope, from hope to anxiety, from anxiety to doubt, 
from doubt to melancholy, end from melancholy to 
madness. The gradation is depicted in a masterly 
manner. She escapes from her home in Hew Eng- 
land and endeavors to make her way alone to New 
York, with the object of restoring to him who had 
abandoned her some tokens he had i^ven her of his 
love, an act which her disordered fancy assures her 
wis effect in her own person a ^senthralment from 
pasdcn. Her piety, her madness, and her beauty 
stand her instead of the lion of Una, and she reaches 
the city In safety. In that portion of the narrative 
iriiidi embodies tins journey are some passages which 
no mind tmimbued with the purest spirit of poetry 
could have conceived, and they have often made me 
wtmder why Hiss Sedgwick has never written a 

I have already aUnded to her usual excellence of 
stylx; but she bai a very peculiar fault, that of dis- 
crepancy between the words and character of the 


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qMiku'; the fault, indeed, more properly belongs to 
tile defdcting <tf duracter itself. 
For example, at page 38, vol. 1., oi The Unwoodt 1 

" * No more of my contempt for the Yankees, Hal, 
an thou lovest me,* replied Jasper. ' Ton remember 
fsop's advice to Croesos at ttie Persian court ? * 

" * Ko, I am sore I do not Tou have the most pro- 
voking vay of resting tiie lever by iriiich you bring 
out your own knowledge, <m your friend's ignorance.* ** 

How all this is p(^ted (although the last sentence 
would have been Improved by letting ttie words '* <m 
your friend*B ignorance '* come immediately after 
"resting**), but it is by no means the language of 
schoolboys, and such are the speakers. 

Again, at page 226, vol. L, of the same novel : 

" * How, out on you, you lazy, slavish loons I * cried 
Rose. ' Cannot you see these men are raised up to 
fi^t for freedom for more than themselves ? If the 
chain be broken at one end, the links will foU apart 
sooner or later. When you see the son on the moun- 
tain top, you may be sure it will shine Into tiie deepest 
valleys before long.* " 

Who would suppose tills graceful eloquence to pro- 
ceed from the mouth cA a negro woman ? Tet such is 

Again, at page 34, vcd. L, same novel: 


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** ' TnUj I never saw her; bat I teU yoa, yoong 
lad, that fbiun Is such a thing as seeing fbe shadow of 
ttiinplar distant and past, and never seeing the reali- 
ties, though they it be that east tiie shadows.' '* 

^re the q>eakM' is an old woman irtto, a few sen- 
tences before, has been boasting of her profldency in 
*• tellin* fortius." 

I mi^t object, too, very decidedly to the vnlgaxity 
of such a phrase as ** I pot in my oar " (meaning, " I 
joined in the conversation "), when proceeding from 
the month of so well-bred a parsonage as Miss Isabella 
linwood. These are, certainly, most remarkable 

As the auaor of many boohs, of several absolutely 
boiind volumes in the ordinary " novel form" of auld 
lang syne, Kss Sedgwick has a certain adventitious 
hold upon the attention of the public, a qtedes of ten- 
ure that has nothing to do with literature proper, a 
very deoded advantage, in short, over her more mod- 
em rivals whom fashion and the growing influence of 
die want of an international copyright law have con- 
demned to the external insignificance of tiu yellow- 
backed pamphleteering. 

We must permit, however, nrither this advantage 
nor the more obvious one of her having been one of 
oar {doneers, to Uas the critical judgment as it makes 
estimate (rfber atdlities in comparison witii those of her 


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pFesent contemporaries. She has neither tia vigor of 
HiB. Stflpheiu nor the vivacious grace of IGss ChulK 
bncfc, nor the pore st^e of Hrs. Embuiy, nor Uie 
dasac imagination of Hrs. Child, nor the naturalness 
ci Mrs. Annan, nor the thou^tfnl and suggestive ori- 
finality <d Kss Fuller ; but in many of the qualities 
mentioned she ezcels, and in no one of them is she par- 
ticularly defldeot She is an author ot marked talent, 
but by no means of such decided genius as would en- 
title her to that precedence among our female writers 
which, under the drcumstances to which I have al- 
luded, seems to be yielded her by the v<dce of the 

Strictly spealdng, Kss Sedgirich is not one of the 
HfenH of ITew York City, but she passes here about 
half or rather more than haU her time. Her home is 
Stockbridge, Hassachusetts. Her family is one of the 
flnt in America. Her father, Theodore Sedgwick the 
elder, was an eminent jurist and descended from one 
of Cromwell's major-generals. Many of her relatives 
have distinguished themselves is various ways. 

She is about the medium height, perhaps a lltHe 
below it. Her forehead is an unusually fine one; 
nose of a slightly Roman curve ; eyes dark and pier- 
dng; mouth well formed and remarkably pleasant in 
its expression. The portrait in Crabam'a Magazine is 
by no means a likeness, and, although the hair is rep- 
resented as curled (IQss Sedgwick at present wears a 


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c^i — at least most osoally), g^es her the air of being 
much idder th^n she iB. 

Ber mannBra are those of a high-bred woman, bat 
]ttr <tfdinary manner vatillates, in a ain pijur way, be- 
tween cordially and a reserve amounting to hauteur. 


Ht. Claxk is known principally as the twin brother 
«l the late \miis Gaylord Clark, the poet, of Philadel- 
phia, with whom he has often been confounded from 
dmilarity both of person and of name. He is known, 
also, within a more limited circle, as one of the editors 
of the Kaickerlxxtef Uagaxiae, and it Is in this latter 
capacity that I must be considered as ]dadng him 
among literary people. He writes little himself, the 
editorial scraps which usually appear in fine ^pe at 
tiie end of the Kaickerboeter being the joint com- 
poeition of a great variety of gentlemen (most of them 
pnsnriHlng shrewdness and talent) c<mnected with di- 
verse journals about the city of ICew York. It Is only 
in some such manner, as mi^t be supposed, that so 
■mtwitig and so heterogeneous a medley of chit-chat 
could be put togetiier. Were a little more pains takm 
in elevating the tone of this " Editor's Table," which 
its best Mends are forced to admit is at present a little 
Boweiyish, I should have no hesitation in commending 
it in general as a very creditatde and very entertaining 


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qtedmen of iriut may be tomud eaiy writing and 

hard reading. 

It is itot, of coarse, to be ondentood from anything I 
have here said, that Mr. CladE does not occari on a ll y 
contribute editorial matter to the magazine. Qscom- 
podtions, however, are far from numerous, and are 
always to be distinguished by their style, which is more 
" easily to be imagined than described." It has its 
merit, b^ond doubt, but I shall not undertake to say 
that either " vigor," " force," or " impressiveness " is 
the precise term by which that merit should be desig- 
nated. Hr. Clark once did me the honor to review my 
poems, and — I forgive him. 

The Knickerbocker has been long established, and 
seems to have in it some important elements of suc- 
cess. Its title, for a merely local one, is unquestion- 
aUy good. Its contributors have usually been men of 
eminence. Washington Irving was at one period reg- 
ulariy engaged. Paulding, Bryant, Neal, and several 
others of nearly equal note have also at various times 
furnished articles, although none of these gentlemen, 
I believe, continue thdr commnnicationB. In general, 
the contributed matter has been praiseworthy; the 
printing, paper, and so forth, have been excellent, and 
there certainly has been no lack of exertion in the way 
of what is termed " putting the work before the eye of 
the public " ; still some incomprehensible incubus has 
i always to dt heavily i^on It, and it has nevw 


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socGWded in attaining podtion among intelligent or 
educated readers. On account of the manner in vfaich 
it is necessarily edited, the work is defldent in that 
abeolntely indispensable dement, individually. As 
flie editor has no precise character, the Tniig»Tinf>, as a 
matter of coarse, can have none. When I say " no 
precise character," I mean that Mr. C, as a literary 
man, has about him no deteiminateness, no distinct- 
iveness, no saliency of point; an apple, in fact, or a 
pumpkin, has more an^es. He is as smooth as oil or 
a sermon from Dr. Hawks ; he is noticeable for nothing 
in the world except for the markedneas by which he is 
noticeable for nothing. 

What Is the precise circulation of the Kaktciioekr 
at present I am imable to say; it has been variously 
stated at from eig^t to eighteen hundred subscribers. 
The former estimate is no doubt too low, and the latter, 
I presume, is far too high. There ore, perhaps, some 
fifteen hundred copies printed. 

At the period of his brother's decease, Hr. LewiSlO. 
Clark bore to him a striking resemblance, but within 
the last year or two there has been much alteration in 
the person of the editor of the Kaickerbocktr. He is 
now, perhaps, forty-two or three, but still good-looking. 
His forehead is, phrenotogically, bad — round, and what 
is tnmed " buUety." The mouth, however, is much 
better, although the smile is too constant and lacks 
«zi»«asion; the teeth are irtiite and regular, ffishair 


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and whiBken are dark, the latter meetiag TOlmninously 
beneath the chin. In hei^t Mr. C. ia about fire feet 
ten or eleven, and in the street augb-t be regarded as 
quite a " personable man " ; in society I have never had 
the pleasure of meeting him. He is married, I be- 


Miss Anne Charlotte Lynch haa written Httte ; her 
compositions are even too few to be collected in volume 
form. Her prose has been, for the most part, anony- 
mous : critical papers in the New York Mirror and 
elsewhere, with unacknowledged contributions to the 
anniuils, especially The Gift and The Diadem, both of 
Philadelphia. Her Diary of a Sectuae, published in 
the former work, is, perhaps, the best specimen of her 
prose manner and ability. I remember, also, a fair 
critique on Fanny Eemble's poems ; this appeared in 
the Democratic Reriew. 

In poetry, however, she has done better, and given 
evidence of at least unusual talent. Some of her com- 
poations in this way are of merit, and one or two of 
es»llence. In the former class I place her Bouea in 
&e Deaert, published in The Opal for 1846, her Pare* 
well to Ole Ball first printed in the Ttihttae, and one 
or two of her sonnets, not forgetting some graceful and 
touching lines on the death of Mrs. VTillis. In the 
latter class I place two noble poems, The IdealanA The 


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Ueal Fauai. These should be considered as (me, for 
each is by itsdf imperfect. In modulatioa and vigor 
of ifaythm, in dignity and elevation of sentiment, in 
metaphorical appodteness and accuracy, and in en- 
ergy of expression, I really do not know where to point 
out anything American much superior to them. Their 
ideality is not so manifest as their passion, but I think 
it an mmsual indication of taste In IGss Lynch, or 
(more strictly) of an intuitive sense of poetry's true 
nature, that this pasEdon is just sufficiently subdued to 
lie within the compass of the poetic art, witiiin the 
limits of the beautiful. A step farther and it might 
have passed them. Mere passion, however szciting, 
prosaicalfy exdteB; it is in Its very essence homely, 
and delights in homeliness ; but the triumph over pas- 
don, as so finely depicted in the two poems mentioned, 
is one of the purest and most idealizing manifesta- 
tions of moral beauty. 

In character Hiss Lynch is enthusiastic, chivalric, 
self-sacrificing, " equal to any fate," capable of even 
martyrdom in whatever ghoi^ seem to her a hcdy 
cause, a most exemplary daughter. She has her 
hobUes, however (of which a very indefinite idea of 
" duty " is one), and Is, of course, readily imposed 
upon by any artful person who perceives and takes ad- 
vantage of this most amiable failing. 

In person she is rather above the usual height, some- 

irtiat slender, irith dark hair and eyes, the iriiole 



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coimtenance at tunes full of intalUgent ezproMion. 
Her demeanor Is dignified, graceful, and noticeaUe for 
repose. She goes much into literary society. 


■r. Charles Fenno Hoffman has been long known 
to Uie public as an author. He commenced his literary 
career (as is usualfy the case in Amarlca) by writing 
for the newBpapeiB, for The New York Amerkao es- 
pecially, in the editf^dal conduct of irtiich he became 
la some manner associated, at a very eaily age, with 
Mr. Charles King. SQs first booh, I believe, was a 
collection (entitled A Whitet bx Ok WcBt) of letters 
published in the American during a tour made by their 
author throu(^ the " far West" This work appeared 
in 1834, went through several editions, was reprinted 
in London, was very popular, and deserved its popu- 
larity. It conveys the natural enthusiasm of a true 
idealist, in the pr<q»er phrenological sense, of one sen- 
Bitively alive to beauty in every development Its 
scenic deBcriptions are vivid, because fresh, genuine, 
unforced. There is nothing of Uie cant of the tourist 
for the sake not of nature but of tourism. The author 
writes what he feels, and, cleariy, because he feels it 
The st^e, as well as that of all Mr. Hoffman's books, 
is easy, free from superfluities, and, althouj^ abundant 
in broad {diraaes, still singulariy refined, gentlemanly. 


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TbiB aUli^ to speak boldly witiiout tdackgturdism^ to 
use the tofds of the rabble when necessary without 
BoUing or roug^wning Qa hands with their emjdoy- 
ment, is a rare and tmerring test of the natural in con- 
tradistinction from the artificial aristocTBt. 

Mr. H.'b next work was VOJ Sctaea ht tbe Pcavgt 
aod PraMe, very similar to the preceding, bat more 
dirersified witii anecdote and interspersed with poetry. 
GnjMher followed, a romance based on the well- 
known morder of Sharp, the Solicitor-General of Een> 
tacky, by Beaachampe. W. GUmore Simms, who has 
far more power, more passion, more movement, more 
skill than Mr. Hoffman, has treated the same sabject 
more effectively In his novel Beavcbampe t but the 
fact is that both gentiemen have positively failed, as 
mi£^ have been expected. That both books are inter- 
esting is no merit either of Mr. H. or of Mr. S. The 
real events were more impressive than are the flcti- 
tioos ones. The facts of this remarkable tragedy, as 
arranged by actual ciTCumstance, would pot to shame 
the skUl of the most consummate artist Nothing was 
left to the novelist bat the ampliflcatioa of character, 
and at this point aeitiier the author of Gnjnlaer nor 
erf Beaucbampe is especially au fait The inddents 
ml^t be better woven into a tragedy. 

In the way of poetry, Mr. Hoffman has also written 

a good deoL Tlbe VigilofFahh and Other Poeau is 

the title of a volume published several years ago. The 



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Bubject of the leading poem is liappy; iriiether origi* 
nally concaved by Mr. H. or based on an actual supers 
Btition, I cannot say. Two Indian chiefs are riTais in 
love. The accepted lorer is about to be made happy, 
when his betrodied Is murdered by the discarded suitor. 
The rerenge taken is the carefnl preserration of die life 
of the HssMssin, under the idea that the meeting the 
maiden in another world is the point most desired by 
both the survivors. The incidents interwoven are pic- 
turesque, and there are many quotable passages; the 
descriptive portions are particulariy good ; but the au- 
thor has erred, first, in nairsting the story in the first 
person, and, secondly, in puttiog into the mouth of the 
narrator language and sentiments above tbe nature of 
an Indian. I say that the narration should not have 
been in the first person, because, although an Indian 
may and does fully experience a thousand delicate 
shades of sentiment (the whcde idea of Oie story is es- 
sentially Bentlmental), still he has, clearly, no capacity 
for their various expression. Mr. Hoffman's liero is 
made to discourse very much after the manner trf 
Rousseau. Nevertiieless, Tbc Vigil of Paitb is, ufoa 
the ^ole, one of our most meritorious poems. The 
shorter pieces in the collection have been more popular ; 
one or two of the songs particularly so. Sparkling and 
Bright, for example, which is admirably adapted to 
song purposes, and is full of lyric feelings. It cannot 
be denied, however, that, in general, ttie whole tone, 


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■ir, and spirit of Mr. Hoffman's fugitive comporitions 
are echoes oi Hoore. At times the veiy words and 
figures of the " British Anacreoa " are miconsclously 
adopted. ICeither can there be any doubt tliat tliis 
obvious nmilarity, if not positive imitation. Is the 
source of the commendation bestowed upon our poet 
by the Dublin Uatnreity Magaziae, i^ch declares 
him " the best song writer in America," and does him 
also the honor to intimate its ojrinion that " he is a 
betterfeltow than the whole Yankee ciew " of ustaten 
ti^ether; after which there is very little to be ssid. 

Whatever may be the merits of Hr. Hofhoan as a 
poet, it may be eadly seen that diese merits have been 
put in the worst possitde light by the indiscriminate 
and lavish iqtprobation bestowed on them by Dr. Gris- 
wold in his Poctm aad Poetry of America, The editor 
can find no W^miah in Mr. H., agrees with everything, 
and M^iies everything said in his praise; worse than 
all, gives him more space in the book than any two, or 
periiaps three, of our poets combined. All this is as 
much an insult to Mr. Hoffman as to the public, "^^ 
has done the former irreparable injury; how or why, 
it is, of cotirse, tumecessary to say. " Heaven save as 
from our friends I " 

Mr. Hoffman was the original editor of the Kaickeri- 

becher Magazine, and gave it while under his control a 

tone and character, the weight of which may be best 

estimated by the consideration that the work thence 



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received an Impetas iriiich has sufficed to bear it m 
alive, although tottering, month after month, through 
even ttiat dense region of onmitigated and unmitigable 
fog, that dreary realm of outer darkness, of utter and 
Inconceivable dunderheadism, over iriiich has so long 
ruled King Log the Second, in the august person of one 
Levis Gsylord Cltrk. Mr. Hofbnan subsequently 
owned and edited the Atnerkao Monthly Magazine, 
one of the best journals we have ever had. He also 
for one year conducted the New Yetk Mirror, and has 
always been a very constant contributor to the period- 
icals of the day. 

He is the brother of Ogden Hofhnan. Thdr father, 
whose family came to ffew York from Holland before 
tiie time of Peter Stnyvesant, was often brought into 
connection or rivalry with such men as IHnckney, 
Hamilton, and Burr. 

The character of no man is more universally es- 
teemed and admired than that of the subject of this 
memoir. He has a host of friends, and It is quite im- 
possible that he should have an enemy in the worid. 
He is chlvalric to a fault, enthusiastic, frank without 
discourtesy, an ardent admirer of the beautiful, a gen- 
tleman of the best school, — a gentleman by birth, by 
education, and by instinct His manners are graceful 
and winning in the extreme, — quiet, affable, and dig- 
nified, yet cordial and <^gmg£s. He converses much, 
earnestly, accurately, and welL In person he is re- 


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nurlubly handsome. He Is sbont five feet ten in 
hei^t, sonmrtutt stoutly nude. His countenance is a 
noUe OiSf a foil index of ttie character. Tbe features 
HI9 somewhat maaahre but regular. The eyes are 
Une, or light gray, and full of fire ; the month finely 
formed, although the lips have a alij^t expression of 
T<duptnousness ; the forehead, to my surprise, al- 
though hi{^ gives no indication, in the region of the 
temples, of that ideality, or love of the beautiful, which 
is the di ffti''g"U^i''g trait of his moral nature. The 
hair ctuls, and is <rf a daA brown, interspersed with 
gray. He wears full irtiiakera. Is abont for^ yaara 
dage. Unmarried. 


I am not aware tiiat Mrs. Hewitt has written any 
prow; but her poems have been many, and occaaioo- 
ally excellent A collection of them was published, 
in an ezqniately tasteful form, by Hcknor & Co., cS 
Bosttm. The leading idece, entitled Soagt of Ottr 
Laitd, allhoagh the longest, was by no means the most 
meritoriooa. In general, these compositions evince 
poetic fervor, claaaidsm, and keen appreciation bdh of 
moral and {Aysical beauty. ITo one of them, perhaps, 
can be judidoosly commended as a whole; but no one 
<rf them is without merit, and tiiere are several lAich 
would do credit to any poet in the land. Still, even 


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tiute Utter an particulady rather than generally ccnn- 
meada M e. They lack unity, totality, ultimate ^Eect, 
but abound in forcible passages. For example : 

ShMU I porti*T thee In tlij ^orioni lofimltig, 
Tlion that the pharoe of my rterlmeee art ? 

like the hlna lotoi on tti own dear river 
lie thy ntt eyw, belond, t^on my eooL 

And there the dave, a ilave no more, 
Hnng rererent vp the chain he vore. 

Here 'mid your wOd and dark defile 
(Verawed and wonder-wlielmed I stand. 

And aak— H Ii Ois the fearful vale 
That opena on the ahadowy land ? " 

Ob friendal m wonld be treaanied Mill, 

Though lime's cold hand atunild cait 
W» misty Tell, In atter-yean. 

Over the Idol Past, 
Tat nad to as some cSttiaf tboncbt 

O'er Hemofy*e ocean irfde, 
Pore as the Hindoo*! votlTe haap 

On Oaoga's aacred tide. 

HiB. Hevitt has vann partialities for the sea and all 
that concerns it. Many of her best poems turn up<ni 
sea adventures or hare reference to a maritime life. 
Some portions of her GodBkn the MaHaer are nalTe 
and picturesque ; e. g^ 



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God Ham tha happf nuiiiucl 

A boMotij garb mars ba; 
And ht goeth with s rcdUsg gtM, 

lilcB « lUp before tbo mo. 

Ba hath {dped the load " Aj, aj, dri " 

O'er the voicea of the main, 
Tm Ut deep ttmee have the hoaneaeae 

Of the rWiig htmlcane. 

But oh. ■ qbit looketh 

From out Ui clear Uoe ejni 
VUb a tnithfal chfldlUte eameetneM, 

Uke an aogel from Qie Aj, 

A v Bi itMWi a Hfe the eaOor leada 

BetfMen the ikj and aea, 
But, iriun the hour of dread la past, 

A merrier who than he ? 

Tlie tone of some qtutroiiu entitled Alone dUfen 
materially from that tuoal with Mrs. Hewitt The 
idea is hapi^ and weU managed. 

Mrs. Hewitt's sonnets are, iii>on the ^ole, her most 
praisewoTthy compoations. One, entitled /fercu/e* and 
Oaapbale, is noticeable for the ^or of its rhythm : 

Recll&ed, eaarrate, on the conch of ease, 
Ho more he panta for deeda of high empilze; 
For Pleaamv hoida hi soft volnptuona tiaa 

Enthralled, great Jove-deacended Herculaa. 

The hand that bomid the £rymanthean boar, 
Hespeila'a dragon alew with bold intent, 
That from Ua quivering aide in trinnqih mt 


fc liwtiw ill ■l^hl fiM|,iiMfi« ijii 

The mtomal font ai tfae line if*T*"^ will be ob- 
wfTci This lite eriwB, iliit, inMU flie dnectiw, cf 
coDoqiDHfiBD wifhoot ndgnatf , itf iti *t"""**" (the 
nulive pranom ** wlikJi " it wy ^'flff'^j *""'*tf<l b^ 
tmen «ildii>> and *'flie"); and, aecandfy, to flw 
morical le pet i tic o <rf fin Tow tl m ** Ocauean,** to- 

The effect also, ii nmcli aided bj tiie 

AnoUwr and better i'f*^'>tt of flue Tsniflcatiaa 
occiiiB In /uiKuAfcji MMwotMi 

Tv Oa bebe dwt ci 

S«^ of MjolA, of Ibmhao. 

Of | i HWw PutBrli vtiff 
Tin tte wakened hOb bom pMk to paek 

Echoed the ^ariooi Uj. 
Ob, godlike nMne I oh, codUk* deed! 

Sofi^Hxinie euf on ersfj Iveexe, 
Te era Knmda to dnffl Bke a battle lAoiit, 


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The general Intention here b a line of four iombtues 
eltemating with a line of three; but, less throng^ 
ihythmical skill Ihan a musical ear, the poetess has 
been led into some ezceedingfly happy variationa of the 
theme. For example, in place of the ordinary iambus 
IB the first foot of the first, of the second, and of the 
third line, a bastard lambos has been enqdoyed. These 
lines are thus scanned: 

And the peu | aat moth | er «t | bar door t 

To tiie babe | that climbed | hn knee | 
4 4 J a 

Seng alcnid | the land'! | hero | Ic aongs | 
4 4 » a a 

The fourth line, 

Sang of I Tlieimo \jiflm, 

is well varied by a trochee, Instead of an iambus, in the 
first foot; and the vaiistion expreBsea forcibly the en- 
thusiasm excited by the topic of the supposed songs, 
** Thermop^.** The fifth line is scanned as the three 
first. Tbe sixth is the general intention, and consists 
simjdy of Iambuses, The seventh is like the three first 
and the fifth. The eighth is like the fourth; and here 
•gain the opening trochee is admirably adapted to the 
movement of Uie topic. The ninth is the general in- 
tention, and is formed of four iambuses. The tenth Is 
an alternating line and yet has four iambuses, instead 


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of the nstud dme; u luu also the fitul line, an alte^ 
Dotfaig one, too. A fnUer Ttdmne is in thia nunner 
^en to the close of Ou subject; and fltis Tolnme Is 
fullf in keeping viA the risiiig entfansiasnL Hie last 
Hne Intt one has two bastard iamboseSj dins: 

Te mn msndi | to thriO | like * bat | tie ihont { . 

4 4 a 4 4 J 

Upon tlie irtiole, it may be Baid that the most sUlfal 
Tcnifler coold not have written lines better suited to 
the porposes of the poet The errors of AJcMie,how- 
ever, and of His. Hewitt's poems generally, show that 
we must regard the beauties pointed out abore, merely 
in the li^t to which I have already alladed; ttiat is to 
say, as occasional happiness to which Uie poetess is led 
by a mnncol ear. 

I should be d<ung this lady injustice were I not to 
mention that, at times, she rises into a hi^er and purer 
itf^oa at poetry than might be supposed, or inferred, 
from any of the passages which I have hitherto quoted. 
The conclusion of her Cbean Tide to the Ktwukt puts 
me in mind of the rich spirit of Home's noUe epic* 

Sftdly the flowers thdr faded petals dose 
Wliere on thy banks the j languidlj repose. 

Waiting in vain to hear thee onward press; 
And pole VardHnis by thy margin aide 
Hath lingosd (or thy coming, drotqwd and died, 

nming for ttiM amid the loodiness. 


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Hastes, b«liiT«dl— Acre / 'aemlb Hie o'e^iaoghig roekl 
HarkI from the deep, 1117 aiudoue hope to mock, 

Tbtf eaO ac back ijwta eafpama mala. 
Brighter than Thetii thou — and ab, more Beet I 
Ibeac At ruaUag ol ibj Ur wbOe hetl 

Joy) J07I — n^ breaat receives ita own agalnt 

The penoniflcations here are well managed. The 
** Here! — 'neatb tbe o'eihanging rockt " has the high 
merit of being truthfully, by which I mean naturally 
expressed, and imparts exceeding vigor to the idiirie 
stanza. Tlie idea of the ebb-tide, conveyed in the 
second line italidzed, is one of tlie h^tpiest Imaginatde ; 
and too much praise can scarcely be bestowed on the 
" rushing " of the " fair white feet" Hie passage 
ahogetiier is full of fancy, earnestness, and the truest 
poetic strength. Mrs. Hewitt has given many such 
indications of a fire which, with more earnest endeavor, 
mi^t be readily fanned into flame. 

Li character, she is ^cere, fervent, benevolent; sen- 
sitive to praise and to blame; in temperament melan- 
choly; in manner subdued; ccmverses earnestly yet 
qtdetiy. In person she is tall and slender, with black 
hair and foU gray eyes; complexion dark ; general ez- 
presdcm of the countenance tingulariy interesting and 


About twdve years ago, I think, the JVew YorkSuOt 
a daily paper, price one penny, was established in die 

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dty of ITew York by Mr. Mows T. Beach^ vho sngaged 
Hr. Richsrd Adams Locke as its editor. In a well- 
written prospectus, tbe object of the joonial professed 
to be that of " supplying &e public with flie news of 
the day at so cheap a rate as to lie within the means of 
all." The consequences of the scheme, in their influ- 
ence on tiie whale newspaper budness of the country, 
and, throu^ this business, on tlie Interest of the country 
at la^;e, are probably beyond all calculation. 

Prerious to tiie Sun, there had been an unsuccessful 
attempt at puUiahing a penny paper in Hew York, and 
the Sun itself was originally projected and for a sliort 
time issued by Messrs. Day ft Wisoer; its establish- 
ment, however, is altogefter due to Mr. Beach, who 
purchased it of its disheartened originators. The first 
decided movement of the journal, nevertheless, is to be 
attributed to Mr. Locke; and in so saying, I by no 
means intend any depreciation of lb*. Beadi, since in 
the engagement of Mr. L. he had but given one of the 
earliest ^"«*'»"r*p of tiiat unusual sagacity for which I 
iitti Inclined to yield ^im credit. 

At all vrentB, the Sun was revolving in a compara- 
tively narrow orint when, one flue day, diere appeared 
in its editorial colomna a prefatoiy article announcing 
very remarkable astronomical discoveries made at the 
Cape of Good Hope by Sr John HerscheL The in- 
formation was said to have been received by the Sua 
from an eariy copy of the BUabur^ Jouraml of Sd* 


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taee, fai i^ch appeared a communication from Sfar 
John Mmself. This preparatory announcement took 
Tery well (there bad been no hoaxes in those days), and 
was followed by full details of the reputed discoveries, 
which were now found to hare been mads chiefly in re- 
spect to the moon, and by means of a telescope to which 
tiie one lately constructed by the Earl of Rosse is a 
idaything. As these discoveries were gradually spread 
before the public, the astonishment of that public grew 
out of all bounds; but those who questioned the vera- 
city of the Sun — the authenticity of the conuounication 
to the Edinburgh Journal ofSdenee — were really very 
few Indeed; and this I am forced to look upon as a far 
more wonderful thing than any " man-bat" of them alL 
About six months before this occurrence, the Harpers 
had Issued on American edition of Sir John Herschel's 
Treathe on AMtronomy, and I had been much interested 
in what is there said respecting the possibility of future 
lunar investigations. The theme ezdted my fancy, 
and I longed to give free vein to it in depicting my day 
dreams about the scenery of the moon; in short, I 
longed to write a story embodying these dreams. The 
obvious difficulty, of course, was that of accounting 
for the narrator's acquaintance with the satellite; and 
die equally obvious mode of surmounting fht difficulty 
was die suppodtion of an extraordinary telescope. I 
saw at (mce diat the chief interest of such a narrative 
must depend upon tiie reader's yielding his credence in 


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•omemeaninai to details (rfactiMlftct AttUsstaga 
of mj ddiberatioiu, I spoke of the design to one or two 
friends, to Mr. Jaba P. Kennedy, the author of Swalhw 
Bata, among otlurs; and die result of mj conversa- 
tions iritii them was tiiat the optical dlfficnUies of 
constmcting sndi a tdescope as I coocdTed were so 
rigid and so commonly understood, that it would be in 
Tain to attempt faring due veiidmilitude to any fiction 
having the telescope as a basis. Reluctantly, Aere- 
fore, and only half convinced (believing the public, in 
fact, more readily gullible than did my friends), I gave 
up tiie ides of inqwrting very close veririmilitnde to 
what I should write; that is to say, so close as really to 
deceive. I fell back upon a st^e half plausible, half 
bantering, and resolved to give -what interest I could to 
an actual passage from the earth to the moon, de- 
scriUng the lunar scenery as if surveyed and personally 
examined by the narrator. In this view I wrote a 
story \rtiich I called HaoM Phall, puUishing it about ax 
months afterward in the Soothe fo Uttrary MenengtTt 
of wiutb I was then editor. 

It was three weeks after the issue of the MetMeager 
containing Haa* PhaU, that the first of the " Hoon- 
hoaz " editorials made its appearance in the San, and no 
sooner had I seen the paper than I understood the jest, 
which not for a moment could Z doubt had been sug- 
gested by my own feu d'cMprit Some of the Hew Toifc 
journals (the rranscWpf among others) saw the matter 


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in Ihe same H^t, and pnUished the "Moon Story" dde 
by tide vith Hana Pfaall, thinking diat the author at 
the one had been detected in the author of the other. 
Althou^ the details are, with some ezception, very 
dismmilar, Btill I maintain tliat the general features of 
iht two compositions are neariy identical. Both are 
hoaxes, altbou^ one is in a tone of mere banto", the 
otiier of downri^t earnest; both hoaxes are on one 
subject, astronomy; both on tlie same point of that 
subject, the moon ; both professed to hare derived ex- 
dnnre information from a foreign country; and both 
attempt to give plausibility by minuteness of sdentific 
detaiL Add to all this, that nothing of a similar nature 
had ever been attempted before these two hoaxes, tlie 
one of which followed immediately upon the heels of 
ttie other. 

Having stated the case, however, in this form, I am 
bound to do Mr. Locke the justice to say that he denies 
having seen my article prior to tlie publication of hia 
own; I am boond to add, also, that I believe him. 

Immediately on the completion tA the "Uoon Story" 
(it was three or four days in gettuig finished), I wrote an 
examination of its f-laimii to credit, showing distinctly 
its fictitious character, but was astonished at finding 
fliat I could obtain few listeners, bo really eager were 
all to be deceived, so magical were the charms of a 
jtyle that served as the vdiicle of an exceedingly 
dnmsy invention. 


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It mtij affovd erai now loiitt amoMment to m 
pointed out tluMe jwrticalan (tf the luMZ irtnch dunild 
lunre sufficed to esttlilMi its real duinicter. Indeed, 
howerer rich die imagiBation diqtoyed in this ficticn, 
H wanted moch ol Hu force iriuch wif^ hare been 
{iren it b; a more scrupolous attention to general an> 
fllogy and to fact That the pttUic were misled, even 
for an instant, merely proves die gross ignorance 
which, ten or twelve jrears ago, was so inevalent on 
astronomical t<^cs. 

The moon's distance from the earth is, in ronnd 
numbers, 240,000 miles. If we wish to ascertain how 
near, apparently, a lens would bring the satellite, or 
any distant object, we, of course, have but to divide the 
distance by the magnifying, or, more strictly, by the 
qwce-penetratlng power of the glass. Mr. Locke 
gives his lens a power of 42,000 times. By this divide 
340,000 (the moon's real distance), and we have five 
miles and five sevenths as the apparent distance. No 
■ntmil could be seen so far, much less the minute 
points particularlnd in the story. Mr. L. speaks about 
Sir John Henchel*s perodving fiowers (the Aparer 
Hkrasb etc), and evui detecting flie cohu' and the 
•hipa of the eye of imall biid& Shortly before, too, 
the author himsstt obwrTas that d» lens woald not 
render perceptiUe objects kn Oian ei^deoi inches in 
dlemeter; Wt evui tids, as I have said, is giving ttie 
tl«M (u too iiMtaptfMr. 


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On page i8 (<rf the pamphlet edition), speaking of 
" a hairy vril " over the eyes of a species of bison, Mr. 
I» says : " It immediatdy occurred to the acute mind 
of Doctor Herschel that this was a jmmdential con- 
trivance to protect the eyes of the animal from the 
great extremes of light and darkness to which all the 
inhaUtants <tf onr side of the moon are periodically 
subjected." But this should not he thought a very 
** acute " observation of the Doctor's. The inhabit- 
ants of our ade of the moon have, evidently, no dark- 
ness at all ; in the absence of the son Oiey have a Ug^ 
from the earth equal to that of thirteen full moons, so 
that there can be nothing of the extremes mentioned. 

The topography throughout, even when professing 
to accord with Blunt* s Lunar Chart, Is at variance with 
that and all other lunar charts, and even at variance 
wi^ itself. The points of the compass, too, ore in sod 
confusion; the writer seeming to be unaware that, on 
a lunar map, these ore not la accordance with terres- 
trial points, Uie east being to the left, and so forth. 

Deceived, periiaps, by the vague titles Hare KuUum, 
Mare TranqnUlitatis, Mare Foecunditatis, etc, given by 
•ttronomets of f oimer times to the dark patches on the 
moon's surface, Mr. L. has long details respecting 
oceans and other large bodies of water in the moon; 
whereas there is no astronomical point more pontively 
ascertained than that no such bodies enst there. In 
examining the boundary between li^t and darkness In 

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a craacent or gibbouB moon, irtun thii botmdirj 
crosses any ai die dark places, tte line of division is 
found to be jagged; but were these dark places liquid, 
they would evidently be even. 

The description of the wings of the man-^t (on 
page 2i) is but a literal copy of Peter WtUdns' account 
of the wings of his flying iilanden. This ample fact 
should at least have induced suspidon, 

Onpage33 we read thus: " What a prodigious influ- 
ence must our thirteen times ta^er c^obe have ezer^ 
dsed up<m this satellite when an embryo in the womb 
of time, the pasrive subject of chemical afiSnityl " 
ITow, this is very fine ; but it should be observed that no 
aftronomer could have made such remeik, especial^ 
to any Journal of Science, for die earth In the sense 
Intended (that of bulk) is not only thirteen but forty- 
nine times larger than the moon. A mmilar objection 
applies to die five or six concluding pages of the 
pamphlet, where, by way of introduction to some 
discoveries in Saturn, the philosophical correspondent 
is made to give a minute schoolboy account of that 
^■net, — an account quite s iq i er enqytory, it Bug)A 
be {resumed, in the caae of die BSiAitrgb /oaroal 

But there is one ptdnt, in eqwtdal, irtiich should 
haje instantly betrayed the fiction. Let us Untgfaie 
the power reaDy possessed at sedng animals on the 
moon's surface; irtiat, fat «ich case, would first anest 


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die attention of an obeerver from ttie earth ? Cer- 
tainly neither the shape, tize, nor any other peculiarity 
in Uiese awtnmla so soon as their remarkable position : 
they vould seem to be walking beds up and head down, 
after tte fasUon of flies on a celling. The real ob- 
server, however prepared by previous knoiriedge, 
would have commented on this odd phenomenon be- 
fore proceeding to other details; the fictitious ob- 
server has not even alluded to the subject, but, in 
the case of the man-bats, E^teaks of seeing their entire 
bodies, when it is demonstrable that he could have 
Btea littie more than the apparently fiat hemi^here 
of the head. 

I may as well observe, in conclusion, tiiat the nze, 
and espedally the powers of the man-bats (for exam- 
ple, their aUlity to fly in so rare an atmosphere, if, 
indeed, the moon baa any), with most of the other 
fancies in regard to animal and vegetable existence, 
are at variance generally with all analo|^cal reasoning 
on these themes, and that analogy here will often 
amount to the most podtive demonstration. The tem- 
perature (rf the moon, for instance, is rather above that 
of txrfHng water, and Mr. Locke, consequently, has 
committed a serious oversi^^t in not representing his 
man-bats, his bisons, his game of all kinds — to say 
nothing of his vegetables — as each and all done to a 

It is, perhi^s, scarcely necessary to add, that all the 


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itiggsstions attributed to Brewster and Henchel in Ae 
beginning of the hoax, about the " transfusion of arti- 
ficial lig^t through Uie focal object of rision," etc, be- 
long to that species of figurative writing which comes 
most properiy under the head of rigmarole. There is a 
real and very definite Umit to optical discovery amtmg 
the stars, a limit irtioBe nature need only be stated to 
be understood. If, indeed, the casting of large lenses 
were all that is required, the ingenuity of man would 
tdtimately prove equal to the task, and we mig^t have 
them of any size demanded ' ; but, unhappily, in fffo- 
portion to the increase of size in tile tens, and conse- 
quentty of space-penetrating power, is the diminution 
of lif^t from the object by diffusion of the rays. And 
for this evil there is no remedy within homan reach ; 
for an object is seen by means ci that light alone, 
iriiether direct or reflected, which proceeds from the 
object itsdf. Thus the only artificial li^t irtiich could 
avail Mr. Locke would be such as he should be aide to 
throw, not upon " the focal object of vision," but upon 
tiw moon. It has been easily calculated that when Uw 
lig^t proceeding from a heavenly body becomes so 
diffused as to be as weak as the natural lif^t ^ven out 
1^ the stars collectively in a clear, moonless nj^t, 

> Hdths td tha Hanetadt dnamad ct tb» pofribDUr of ■ npaenlnm rii ftM 
In AanuHr, and bow tba omtt*! Ium boac trinmpluiitlr accampUaliad tif 
Lord Row. Tim it. In Imct, no phirical ImpoMlbditT In o«i caadnc 1*dh> 
itf snn Aftr Int AlamMi or man. A raOeUncr of aaan uil Aia l« all 


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then the hearenly body for any practical purpose 1b no 
longer visible. 

The stogulAr Uundeni to which I have referred being 
properly undeiBtood, we shall have all Ihe better reason 
for wonder at the prodigious success of the hoax, Hot 
one person in ten discredited it, and (strangest point of 
all t) the doubters were chiefly those who doubted witti- 
oot beii^ able to say why^-the ignorant, those unin- 
formed in astronomy, people irtio would not believe 
because the thing was so novel, so entirely " out of th« 
usual way." A grave professor of mathematics in a 
Viqinian ctdl^e told me seriously that be had no 
doubt of the truth of the lAole afiair I The great effect 
wron^it upon the public mind is referable, first, to the 
novelty of the idea; secondly, to the fancy-ezdting 
and reason-represting character of the alleged discov- 
eries ; thirdly, to the consummate tact with which the 
deception was brought forth ; f ourtiily, to the exquisite 
mheiublanee of the narration. The hoax was circu- 
lated to an immense extent; was translated into various 
languages; was even made the subject of (quizzical) 
discussion in astronomical eodeties ; drew down upon 
itself Ihe grave denunciation of Dick; and was, upon 
the whole, decidedly the greatest hit in the way of sen- 
sation — of merely popular sensation — ever made by 
any similar fiction dther in America or in Europe. 

Having read the "B[oonStoiy"to an end, and found 

it antidpative of all the main pc^ts of my //ana P£aaU 



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I lufli td dw IcttBT to I *" ** ?" mtlhiiilifil The cMtit 
design in GaoTing 117 hov to the nuxni was to afford 
him an opportmntj' of describing the lonar scenery, 
hot I found Oat he conld add Toy littte to fbt minute 
and attflwBtic accoont cf Sir John HeracheL The 
fint part of Hans PhaH ocG1^>7ing about ei|^teen 
pages of the Jfeascqgov embraced merely a journal of 
Qm pamge between the two oriiB, and a few words of 
general obsecration on flie most obvious features of the 
satellite ; the second part win most probaUy never ap- 
pear. I did not think it advisable even to bring my 
voyager back to his parent earth. He remains irtieie I 
left him, and is still, I beHeve, " the man In the moon." 

From the c^iodi of tike hoax die Sun shone witii un> 
mitigated qlendor. Hie start Oins given the paper 
tnsttred it a trinnqih ; it has now a daily drcnlation of 
not far from fifty thousand copies, and is, tiwrefore, 
probably, the most really inflnential jonmal of its kind 
in the worid. Its success firmly estaUished " the 
penny system," throu^out the country, and throu^ 
tiie Sua, ctmsequentiy, we are indebted to tiie genius 
of Mr. Locke for one of the moat important steps ever 
yet taken in tiie pathway erf human progress. 

On disscdving, about a year afterward, his cimneo- 
tim irith Kr. Beach, Kr. Locke established a political 
daQy paper, the New Era, conducting it with distio- 
guished ability. In this journal he made, very un- 
wisdy, an attempt at a second hoax, giving tiie £aak 


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<^ the adrentores d Mwagfi Park in Africa, the writer 
pretending to have come into possession, by some acci- 
dent, of the lost HSS. of the traveller. Fo one, how- 
ever, seemed to be decaved (Mr. Locke's coloimis were 
a suspected district), and the adventures were never 
brooi^ to an end. They were richly imaginative. 

Hie next pcdnt made by their author was the getting 
up a book on magnetism as the primum ateblk of the 
universe, in connection with Dr. Sherwood, the prac- 
titioner of magnetic remedies. The more immediate 
poipose <rf the treatise was the setting forth a new 
magnetic method of obtaining the longitude. The 
matter was brought before Congress and received with 
favorable attention. What definite action was had I 
know not. A review of the work appeared in tht 
ArmfandNaTY Cbronick, and made sad havoc of the 
vbcAe project. It was enabled to do tliis, however, by 
attacking in detail the accuracy of some calculations <4 
no very radical importance. These and others Hr. 
Locke is now engaged in carefully revising; and aiy 
own opinion is that his theory (which he has reached 
more by dint of imagination than of anything else) 
will finally be estaUished, although, perhaps, never 
thorou^y by him. 

His prose style is noticeable for its concision, lumin- 

onsness, completeness, — each quality in its proper 

place. He has that method so generally characteristic 

of genius proper. Everything he writes is a model in 



The Literati 

its peculiar way, senring jnst the purpoMS intended and 
nothing to spare. He has written some poetry, irtilch, 
ttirouf^ certain radical misapprehensions, Is not very 

Like most men of troe imagination, Hr. Locke is a 
seemin^y paradoxical compound of coolness and ez- 

He la about fire feet seven inches in hei^t, synur 
metrically formed ; there is an air of distioction about 
his v4iole person, the air ot^k of genius, ffis face Is 
stron^y pitted by the smallpox, and, perhaps from the 
same cause, there is a marked obliquity in the ^es; a 
certain calm, clear luminousness, faowerer, about these 
latter, amply compensates for the defect, and fbe fore- 
head is truly beautiful in its intellectuality. I am ac- 
quainted with no person possessing so fine a forehead 
as Hr. Locke. He is married, and about forty-five 
years of age, altbou^ no one would suppose him to be 
more than thirty-eight. He is a lineal descendant from 
die immortal autiior at the Ba»ay oa the Htuuaa Uo" 


Estelle Anna Lewis 

/-w^ HE msiden name of Hn. Lems was Robinson. 

VJ^ She is a native of Baltimore. Her familr is 
■^jmJ one of the best in America. Her father was 
a i)itf uplink ■«< Cuban of Engliah f^A Spanish parent- 
age, wealthy, influential, and of highly culttrated 
mind; from him, pedutps, Mrs. Lewis has inherited the 
mdancholy temperament which so obviously predom- 
inates in her writings. Between the death of her 
father and her present comfortable circumstances, she 
has uudfl^;one many romantic and striking vids- 
sitndes of fortune, which, of course, have not failed 
to enlarge her knoiriedge ci human nature, and to 
develop the poetical germ wUch became manifest in 
her earliest Infancy. 

Mrs. Lewis is, perhaps, the best educated, if not the 
most accomplished of American authoresses, using 
die word " accomplished " in the ordinary acceptation 

Toi. nt.— 7. ^j 


Kstelle Anna Lewis 

of flut turn. She is not only cotiTated u respects tb» 
vmial onumeatal acqairoments of her lex, but ezcds 
cs a modem Ungnist, and rery eqieciaUy as a classical 
scholar; while her sdentiflc acquisitions are of no 
common order. Her occasional translations from the 
more difficult portions of ^nrgil have been pronounced, 
by our flnt professors, the best of the kind yet ac- 
comidished — a commendation which only a thorooi^ 
classicist can appreciate in its full extent Her rudi- 
mental education was received, in part, at Hrs. Willard's 
celelwatad Academy at Troy; but she Is an incessant 
and very ambitious student, and, in this sense, the 
more important part of her education may be said to 
hare been self-attained. 

In character, Mrs. Lewis is ereiything which can be 
thought detirable in woman — generous, sensitive, im* 
pulnve, enthusiasdc in her admiration of beauty and 
'rirtne, but ardent in her scorn of wrong. The pie- 
dominant trait of her disposition, as before hinted, is a 
certain romantic aen^bility, bordering upon melan- 
choly, or even g^oom. In person, she is distinguished 
by the grace and dignity of her form, and the nolnli^ 
ofhermanner. She has auburn hair, naturally curling, 
and expressive 'eyes of dark hazel. Her portrait, by 
Elliot, which has attracted much attention, is most 
assuredly no flattering likeness, although admirable as 
a work of art, and conveying a forcible idea oi its ac- 
complished oiiginal,BO far as regards the tout enaeaMe, 


Estelle Anna Lewis 

At an «ari7 age Was RoUnson waa allied in mairiage 
to Mr. S. D. Lewia, attorney and coonaellor at law ; and 
soon afterward they took up their residence in Brook- 
lyn, where they have ever since continued to redde, 
Mr. Lewis absorbed in the labors of his profesdon, as 
she in the pleasurable occupations connected with 
Qteratureand art 

'Her earliest efiforts were made in the PamOy Maga* 
xtacf edited by the well-known Solomon Southwick, of 
Albany. Subsequently she wrote much for varioua 
periodicals, in chief part for the Democratic Itewlew f 
but her first appearance before the public in volume 
form, was in Hie Records of (Ac Hearty issued by the 
Apfdetons in 1844. The leading poems in tills aie 
** Florence," " Zenel," " Melpomene," " Laone," 
** The Last Hour of Sappho," and " The Bride of 
Guayaquil," aU long and finished compositions. 
/Sbrence is, perhaps, the best <rf the series, upon the 
whole; although all breathe the true poetical spirit. 
It is a tale of passion and wild romance ; vivid, forcible, 
and artisticaL But a faint idea, trf course, can be 
given of such a poem by an extract ; but we cannot 
refrain firom quoting two brief passages as character* 
istic of the general manner and tone ; 

Mom if abroad; the tan it np; 
Tlu daw fills Ugh Mch lily's 09; 
Tan thonnnd flowsrots spriagiiig tlwit 
Diffma tliiBir JtniiniBft tlutwfh thfl air, 


Bstelle Anna Lewis 

LnA ffi^iHinf him tlift momiQE frfwittT 
The fawBi pLwogt pan&ag in the itTeMii, 
Or throat^ the ▼«!« with light foot tpnn%; 
InMct and bird an on the wing. 
And all ii bright, u when In Ma j 
Tovng Hatiu* hoUa a holiday. 

The wavea an nnootb, the wind b calm; 

Onward the golden ■tream ia gliding 
Amid the mvrtle f i ^iH tlie pfi l*" 

And Ilicea Its mai;^ hiding. 
How aweepa it o'er the jutting ihoala 
In mmnun, like ileiiMhIiitf yMili^ 
How deeply, lottlj, flowi along, 
like andent minatrd'e warbling aoag; 
Then doirijr, darkly, tboaghtfuQy, 
Loeee ItaeU in tbe mighty aea. 

Among the minor poonu in tills co^ectitai is Tie 
Pormken, so widely known and so unlyenally ad- 
mired. The popular as well as the critical vuce 
ranks It as the most beautiful ballad of its kind ever 

We have read this little poem more than twenty times 
and always with increasing admiration. It is inez- 
preadbly beautiful. Ho one of real feeling can peruse 
it without a strong inclination to tears. Its irreaiatible 
charm is its absolute truth, the unaffected natnralnen 
of its thou^t The sentiment which forms the ba^ 


Estelle Anna Lewis 

t/t the compoaitioii is, perh&ps, at once the most uni- 
Tenal and the most passionate of sentinieots. ITo 
hnmaii being exists, over the age of fifteen, who hat 
not, In his heart of hearts, a ready echo for all there so 
patiietically expressed. The essential poetry of the 
ideas would only be impaired by " foreign <nnament" 
This is a case in which we should be repelled by the 
mer« conventionalities of the Muse. We demand, for 
such thoo^ts, the most rigorous simplicity at aU 
points. It mil be observed that, strictly speaking, 
tliere is not an attempt at " imagery " in the whole 
poem. An is direct, terse, penetrating. In a word, 
nothing could be better done. The versification, wfaUe 
in full keeping with the general character of simididty, 
has, in certain passages, a vigorous, trenchant euphony 
which would confer honor on the most accomplished 
masters of the art We refer especially to the lines, 

And follow ms to 1D7 loac home 
Solemn and flow. 

And the quatrain: 

CooU I bnt know whan I am deeping 

Lowbt &K gretMOi, 
One faithful heart wonM there be keeping 

Wmteb aU nigbl reoad. 

The initial trochee here, hi each instance, sabsdtated 
for the iambus, produces, so naturally as to seem acd- 


Bstelle Anna Lewis 

dental, a very effective echo of sound to sense. The 
thon^t included io the line " And Ught the tomb,** 
should be dwdt upon to be appreciated in its full extent 
of beau^; and the verses which I have italidzed in 
the last stanza, are poetry, poetry in the purest sense of 
that much-miBused word. They have power, indis- 
putable power, Ttiairing us thrill with a sense of their 
weird magnificence as we read tliem. 

After tile publication of the Records, Hrs. Leiris con- 
tributed more continuously to tlie periodicals of the 
day, her writings appearing chiefly in the Anxrian 
RtvieWt and the Dcmocnik Reriew, and Graham'* 
Magaxhie. In tlie autumn of 1848, Mr, G. P. Putnam 
published, in exquisite style, her QUU of the Sea, aod 
OOitr Fotaa, a volume v4iicb at once placed its fair 
authoress In the first rank of American authors. The 
compodtion which gives title to this ctdlection is a 
tale of sea-adventure, — of crime, posdon, love, and 
revenge, — ^resembling, in all Ihe noble poetic elements, 
the Gnvafr of Lord Byron, from which, howev^, it 
widriy differs in plot, conduct, manner, and expression. 
The opening lines not only give a general summary tA 
the design, but serve well to exemplify the ruling merits 
of tlie composition : 

When blooDu the myrtle and the olive flingi 
Ita aromatic hreath upon the air; 
Where the sad bird of Right forever tinga 
Meet anthema tor the children of Despair, 



Geurge Palmer Putnam. 




Estelle Anna Lewis 

Who, rilently, with wild dlahonllcd ludr, 
S*nj through thow TaDtjt of parpetnal Uooib; 
Where hldaooa War and Harder from their bdr 
Stalk forth In awfnl and tarriflc i^oom, 
Kqine and IRce diaport on Gkay*! gilded tomb: 

My fancy pictnrea yonthfnl Lore, 
lUratarTed yet Uualliil, tmthfol and mblimA 
Aa erar angds chronidwl above : 
Tlw ■orrowingB of Beauty in ber prima; 
^rtne's reward; thepimiahment of CMme; 
The dark, inacmtaUe decreea of Fate; 
Deepalr nntold before in proae or rhyme; 
The wrong, the agony, the alaepleas hate 
That mad the aonl and make the boaom texdata. 

One of the most (UstingtiiBhiiig merits of TTteOiOdof 
the Sea, is the admirable conduct id its nairative, in 
iiliich areiy incident lias its proper position, where 
nothing is inconseqtunt or incoherent, and where, 
above all, the rich and vivid interest is never, ior a 
da^ moment, permitted to flag. How few, even of 
the most accomplished and skilful of poets, are success- 
fill in the management of a story, when that story has 
to be told in verse. The difficulty is easily analyzed. 
Li all mere narrations there are particulars of tlie dull- 
est prose, which are inevitable and indispensable, but 
which serve no other purpose than to bind together the 
tine interest of the incidents ; in a word, ez^anatory 
passages, irtiich are yet to be " so done into verse " as 


Estclle Anna Lewis 

not to let down the imagination from its pride of place. 
Absolutely to poetize thew e^Unatory panages Is be- 
yond the reach of art, for prose, and that of the flattest 
kind, is their essentiality; but the skill of Ihe artist 
should be sufficient to gloss them over so as to seem 
poetry amid the poetry by which they are surrounded. 
For this end a very consummate art is demanded. 
Here the tricks of phraseology, quaintnesses, and 
liiythmical effects come opportunely into play. Of the 
species of skill required, Hoore, in his Aldpbron, has 
l^en us, upon the whole, the happiest ezempliflcation; 
but HxB. Lewis has very admiratdy succeeded in her 
CblU ol the Sea. I am strongly tempted, fay way of 
showing what I mean, to ^ve here a digest of her nar- 
rative, with comments; but this would be doing the 
author an injustice, in anticipatiag the interest of her 

The poem, alUioagh widely differing in subject from 
any of IKn. Le^ris's prior compositions, and far superior 
to any of them in general rigor, artistic skill, and as- 
sured certainty of purpose, is nevertheless easily recog- 
nizable as the production of the same mind which ori- 
ginated FJerenee and The PonahetL We perceive, 
throughout, the same passion, the same enthusiasm, 
and the same seemingly reddess abandon of thought 
and maimer which I have already mentioned as charac- 
terizing the writer. I should have spoken also, of a 
fastidious yet most sensitivfl and almost voluptuous 


Estelle Anna Lewis 

sense of beauty. These are the general traits of Tjbe 
QiIU of the Sea / bat undoubtedly the chief value of 
the poem, to onlinary readers, will be found to lie in 
the aggregation of its imaginative passages, its quota- 
ble points. I ^ve a few of these at random ; the 
descriptioQ of sunset upon the Bay of Gibraltar will 
compare favorably with anything of a similar character 
ever written : 

FTMb blowi the IvMza on Tcrick's bandBhed tuir; 
Tbe iilant iM-inewi bend them ttaTougb the qHvy: 

The beattty-fraighted bargee bonnd afar 
To the eoft moBc of the gay guitar. 


Ibe obUvJone worid of ileep — 
That rayless realm where Fancy never beam^— 
That Hothlngneea beyond the Land of Dreams. 

Folded hie armi acroM hie nble vest, 
Aa if to keep the heart within hia breaaL 
... he lingers by the ttreama, 
Pondering on incommnnicable themes. 

■tt notee the fawn that tamely by Um glides. 

The violet! lifted np their azure eye* 

like timid Tiigine whom Love's stepa sniprise. 

And all ia bnahed — eo atill — so silent tliere 
That one might hear an angel wing the air. 


Estelle Anna Lewis 

Har tendei CUM, 
HfT tfJ"™" ri^iBi lur rilmt >traABdiic twri. 
Her mon than wonuut'i aoft atdidtode 
To Motha hla sfixit in ita frantic mood. 

How bj tha cngi — tiian b; acch pandant Immli 
Steadiaa tit« atapa adown *l** mountain's farow. 

And floata ^ l*wig fK* idiantoni atnaDi of thonsliL 

Ab not for thara are tlmaa wtaen the sick tont 
lie* calm amid tbe Rtomu that round it roD, 
Indifferent to Fate or to iriiat haren 
Bj Oia terrUc f^Tff* it is diiTen. 

The ^^*^ii*« leanins from the golden veaea 

Peer penrirdy np«m her pallid Algc, 

While the nroet iongater o'er the oaken door 

Looki throng hia grate and warblee " Weep bo moret ** 

LoTtf r in her mlaery. 
Aa jewel ipaTkHiig up throtigh tbe dark eea. 

Where hang the fleij moon and iters of bIoo<, 
And ^lantom ships rolled on the rcdling flood. 

■y mind by grid waa ripened ere its time. 
And kaoMedge came epontaneons as a chime 
That &OWI into tbe totil, nnUd, unson^t; 
On Earth and Air and Heaven I fed my thought, 
On Ocean's teaching's, Etna's lava tears, 
Ruina and wrecks and nameleei sepnlcbiea. 


Bstelle Anna LfCwis 

Suh maralng brought to them nnta>t«d bliM. 
So puigt, ao lomnn came with ruling tmus, 
Ho cold dUtnut, no fatthlaaHuM, no turn — . 

But band In httnd u Et* and Aidun trod 
Bden, thor walked beuMrth tiie imilB of Ood. 

It will be ondentood, of course, that we quote tlwse 
brief paasages by no means as the best, or even as par- 
ticnlaiiy excelling the rest of the poem, on an xrerage 
estimate of merit, but dmply with a view of e^nnplify- 
ing some of the aulhor's more obvious traits, — those, 
especial^, ot Tig<»'ou8 ihyttim and fordUe ezpressioiL 
In no case can the loftier qualities of a truly great poem 
be conveyed through the citation of its component por- 
tions, in detail, even when long extracts are pven; 
how much less, then, by such mere points as we have 

The Bfoktn Heart (included with The Child of the 
Sea) is even more characteristic of Mrs. Lewis than that 
very remaAable poem. It is more enthusiastic, more 
Rowing, more passionate, and perhaps more abund- 
ant in that peculiar sprit oi abandon which has rend- 
er»d Mrs. Haiia Brooks's Zopbiet so great a favorite 
with the critics. Tie CUftfo/the jSea is, of course, by 
tax the more elaborate and more artistic composition, 
and excels The Broken Heart in most of tiiose hif^ 
qualities irttich immortalize a work of art. Its narra- 
tive, also, is more ably conducted and more re^dete 


Estelle Anna Lewis 

irith incident; but to tiie delicate fancy or the bold im- 
■gioation of a poet, there is an inezpngaihle charm in 
the latter. 

The minor poenu embraced in the volume poUiahed 
by Mr. Putnam evince a veiy decided advance in skill 
made by their author dnce tht issne of the Jhconb of 
tbe Heart A noUer poem Hum the La Vega could not 
be eaiily pointed onL Its fierce energy of expression 
wOI arrest attention very especially; but its general 
^ow and vigor have rarely been equalled. 

Among the author's less elaborate compositions, 
however, TbeAageTa VM, written dace ttie publica- 
tion of her GUU o/ tbe 5ea» is, perhaps, upon the iriude, 
the best ; althon^ The Portaken and La Vega are 
scarcely, if at all, inferior. 

In summing np the authorial merits of Mrs. Lewis, 
all dhtcal opinion must agree in asaigning her a hi^ 
if not the very highest rank among the poetesses of her 
land. Her artistic ability is tmusnal; her command 
of language great; her acquirements numerous and 
Ihorouf^ ; her range of incident wide ; her invention, 
generally, vigorous; her fancy exuberant; and her 
imagination — that primary and most indispensable of 
all poetic requislteB — richer, perhaps, than any of her 
female contonporaries. But as yet, her friends sin- 
cerely believe, she has given merely an earnest of her 


James Russell Lowell' 

B^« HAT have we Americans accomplished in the 
Aw ' way of satixe ? The Vhion of Subeta, by 
^1 TJB Lang^ton Osbom, is probably our best com- 
positioii of tlie kind ; but, in saying this, we intend no 
ezcessire commendation. Trumbull's clumsy and im- 
itative work is scarcely worth mention ; and then we 
have Halleck's Gvater», local and ephemeral; but 
wlut is there beddes ? Park Benjamin has written a 
clever address, with the title Infatuathnt and Holmes 
has an occanonal scrap, piquant enough in its way ; 
but we can think cA nothing more that can be faiily 
called " satire." Some matters we have produced, to 
be sure, which were excellent in the way of burlesque 
(tile Poems of TVIlliam Ellery Channing, for example), 
without meaning a salable that was not utterly solemn 
and serious. Odes, ballads, songs, sonnets, epics, and 
epigrams, possessed of this unintentional excellence, 
we should have no difficulty in designating by the 

M iUfc «r Ik tUUa. Raw ToA: Omci* P. Patnam. 


rf «Kt tmt < 

it a bU. iMmi ikia* I 

n !. «»■ 

ata> if A< apra^ don >tt • (^ aaCaoiAai 

lTMy ff>iM «cata^fae fi iii | ii)hM»«^ i i« i i ra 

IMMMMf Ac afatocncy, aiA Mif-satsc wovU fee 

■lUc nc^ d a laaa 

■K oenr m '*—**^«" to c 

■9 fhe ntf irf tlw vodd ipim niand. Wc m^ akaw 
Ac peofle bf irfwleade^ni jct vidi a fdear caoMince, 

M nv ■> ncvn any * * —"p'tir twf for oAeofing asy 

if «■""!"■* Bray oae cf Oe cnnrd will ay, " Sb- 
corel gin it to tbcm, the Tapboodtl it hitcs Oon 
licbL" It Mcna to vm ttiat, ia ftiarrifi, we bcic n- 



J.-nncs Russell Lowell. 

Vr-,:.; thv i.a:r.-inK by W PagL'. 

It -.f- '.s ir.p :n 
. 1, ;ic ti've rt- 




;t aiid obv ■ ■..., 

iirltjl (iiiplay. In 
bi. -ti. e the people 
•ci.ny, ■«■'. -ni th(-y 
t %.;!. w:: tn (hey 
■■ '■.(■ iji ■ ; viT. '.•■':] 

. \i .\f any c<iiicfn 
r ii.i:i'!. It i.-. 

T;ii7:es Russell LowclT." 

-I'l riitd; Ihus 

It isf'.':£'>tte.5 

.;: ; -or it:,; f- ,U\ 

■-. L;-.-ty ..,.f A C: 
A n> tiu-i:;, ;-u V- 
.. -•.■.-.I,.-- to us ;; --, ■: 





James Russell Lowell 

ftued to encourage satire, not becaose what we have 
had touches us too nearly, but because it has been too 
pointless to touch us at all. Its namby-pambyism has 
arisen, in part, from the general want, among our men 
of letters, of that minute polish, of that skill in details, 
lAich, in comUnation irith natural sarcastic power, 
satire, more than any other form ot literature, so im- 
peratiTely demands. In part, also, we may attribute 
our failure to the colonial sin of imitation. We con- 
tent oniselves at this point not less supinely than at 
all others, with doing what not only has been dtme 
before, but what, however well done, has yet been 
done ad nacweam. We should not be able to endure 
infinite repetitions of even absolute excellence; but 
iriiat is McPlagal more than a faint echo from Httdi^ 
bfu t and what is The Vlatoo ofKvbeta more than ft 
vast gilded sirill-tron^ overflowing with Dundad and 
water ? Although we are not all Arcbilochuses, how- 
ever ; although we have few pretensions to the i;^e^vTff 
iapi/lot; althoo^ in short, we are no satirists oui^ 
selves, there can be no question that we answer suffi- 
ciently well as subjects for satire. 

TJbe VibiDiiis bold enon^ if we leave out of Agbt its 
anonymous issue ; and bitter enon^ and witty enough, 
if we forget its pitiable punning on names ; and long 
enon^ (Heaven knowsl), and well constructed and 
decently versified ; but it fails in Uie prindpal element 
at all satire,— sarcasm,— because the intention to be sar- 


James Russell Lowell 

castic (as in the EagllMb Barda aai Scotch Reriewen, 
and in all the more daasical satires) is permitted to 
render itsdf manifest The malevolence appears. 
The author is aever very severe, because he is at no 
time particulaiiy coed. We lau^ not so much at his 
victims as at himself, for letting tliem put him in such 
a pasnon. And where a deeper sentiment tlian mirtli 
is ezdted, irtiere it is pity or contempt that we are made 
to feel, the feeling is too often reflected, in its object, 
from the satirized to the satirist, with whom we sym- 
pathize in the discomfort of his animosity. Mr. Os- 
bom has not many stqieritHS in downri^t invective ; 
bnt tiiis is the awkward left arm of the satiric Mnse. 
That satire alone is worth talking about which at least 
antean to be the genial, good-humored outpouring of 
inepresdble merriment 

The Fable for die Crkks, just issued, has not the 
name of its author on tlie title-page ; and, but for some 
sli^t foreknoMedge of the literary opinions, likes, 
dislikes, whims, prejudices, and crotdiets of Mr. James 
Russell Lowell, we should have had much difficulty in 
attributing so very loose a brochure to him. Hie 
Ai/e is essentially " loose," — iU-conceived and tteVfy 
executed, as well in detail as in generaL Some good 
hints and some sparkling atticisms do not serve to 
compensate us for its rambling plot (if plot it can be 
called), and for the want of artiatic finish so particu- 
lariy noticeaUe tliroug^ont the work, espedally in its 


James Russell Lowell 

Teniflcatioii. In Mr. LoveU's prose efforts we ha7e 
before observed a certain dujointedness, but never, 
until now, in his verse ; and we confess some surprise 
at his ptttttng forth so unpolished a performance. 
The author of Tbe Legend of BrHtaay (which is de- 
ddedly the noblest poem, of the same length, writtoi 
by an American) could not do a better thing than to 
take the advice of those who mean him well, in spite 
of his fanatidsm, and leave prose, with satiric verse, 
to those iriio are better able to manage them ; iriiile 
he contents himself with that class of poetry f<a 
irtiich, and for wiiich alone, he seems to have an 
espedal vocation — the poetry of sentiment. This, to 
be sure, is not the very loftiest order of verse, for it is 
far inferior to either that of the Imagination or that of 
the posnons ; but it is the loftiest region in which Mr. 
Lowell can get his breath irithout difficulty. 

Our primary objection to tiiis Fable for tbe CHUa 
has reference to a point which we have already touched 
in a general way. " ^le malevolence appears." We 
lau^ not so much at the author's victims is at him- 
sdf, for letting them put him in such a pasdon. The 
very titie of the book shows the want of a due sense In 
reject to the satirical essence, sarcasm. This " Fatde,*' 
tids severe lesson, is meant " for the Critics." " Ahl ** 
we say to ourselves at once, " we see how it is. Mr. L. 
is a poor-devil poet, and some critic has been reviewing 
him, and maHng him fed very uncomfortable ; irtiere- 
TOL..x^ 113 


James Russell Lowell 

t^oo, bearing in mind that loti Byron, when aimilazly 
nwnilfil, avenged his wrongs in a satire which he called 
EngUtb BardM and Scotch Reritwtn, he (Mr. Lowdl), 
imitative a« osoal, hai been endeaToring to get redress 
in ft parallel manner, by a satire with a parallel title, 
A Fahh for the CMcm." 

All this the reader says to himsdf; and all this tells 
against Mr. L. in two ways, — ^fiist, by snggesting no- 
lucky comparisons between Bynm and Lowell, and, 
secondly, by reminding iu of the various oitidsnis in 
lAich we have been amused (rather m-natoredly) at 
seeing Kr. Lowell ** used ap." 

Hie tide starts us on this train of thon^t, and the 
satire mstains us in it Every reader versed in our 
literary gostip is at once put Jcmmoum dew caiiea as to 
the particular provocation which engendered the A&/e> 
IGss Margaret Fuller, some time ago, in a silly and con- 
ceited piece of transceodeDtalism, which she called an 
B$»»y OD American Literature, or something of that 
kind, had the consummate pleasantry, after selecting 
from the list of American poets Cornelius Mathews and 
^miiam Enery Channing for esptaal commendation, 
to speak of Longfellow as a booby, and of Lowell as so 
wretched a poetaster " as to be disgusting even to his 
best friends." All this Miss Fuller said, if not in our 
precise words, still in words quite as much to the pur- 
pose. Why she said it Heaven only knows, unless it 
was because she was Margaret Fuller, and wished to be 


James Russell Lowell 

taten for nobody else. Messrs. Longfellow and Lowell, 
so iKrintedly picked out for abuse as the worst of our 
poets, are, upon the whole, periiaps, our best ; although 
Bryant and one or two others are scarcely infeiiOT. 
As for the two favorites selected just as pointedly for 
laudation by Hiss F., it is really difficult to think t^ 
ihem in connection with poetry without laughing. 
Hr. Mathews once wrote some sonnets " On Man," 
and Mr. Channing some lines on " A Tin. Can," or 
something of that kind ; and if the former gentleman 
be not the very worst poet that evtx existed on the face 
at the earth, it is only because he is not quite so bad ai 
thelatter. To speak algebraically : Hr. H. is execraUe, 
but Mr. C. is X pins I-ecraUe. 

Mr. Lowell has obviously aimed his Pable at Hiss 
Fuller's head, in the first instance, with an eye to its 
licocbetting so as to knock down Mr. Mathews in the 

second. IGss F. is first introduced as IGss F. , 

rttyming to " cooler," and afterward as " Miranda "; 
irtdk poor Mr. M. is brought in upon all occasions, 
head *tiii ghoulders; and now and then a sharp thing, 
althougji never very original, is said of them or at them ; 
but all the true satiric effect wrought is tltat produced by 
the satirist against himself . The reader is all the time 
irn^iji ng to think that so unsnrpassable a — what shall 
we call her ? — ^we wish to be civil — a transcendentalist 
as Miss Fuller, should, by such a criticism, have had 
die power to put a respectatde poet in such a pasdoiL 


James Rnssell Lowdl 

Ai f or dM pbit or oMrfnct ti ddi FMc, the Im we 
a^ of it flw better. It if m weak, eo Sbnir, n ill pot 
tofedwr, SB to be not woctii tlie trouble cf iin J erat t iid- 
ing; eanieBdiig^ as nnfiii^ ■twit A p^ ^|^^^ anH D^iluw. 
Is tbese no ori^nali^ on the bee of the eaitfa 7 Mr. 
Lowen*! total want of it is riunm at all points, vny 
e^ecially in Ini ^eCace of ri^niing TeraB written with- 
oat distinction bj linea or initiai e^itals (a hackncTed 
matter, originating, we bdiefe, wifli Fraxct't Haga* 
ttae), very eqiedally, abo, in Ui long continoatitMis 
of amne particalar ifayme, — a bshion introdoced, if we 
remembw ari^it, bj Lei^ Hmt, man than twenty- 
five years ago, in bis AmT of Ac Pee1», irtucb, by tbe 
w^, has been Mr. L.*s modd in iomsj xeqwcts. 

Ahhongfa iD-temper has enden^ engendered this 
Fabte, it is by no means a satire Umm^umt. Modi 
of itisderotedtopan^yric; but our readers wonld be 
quite pnzded to know the gi o unds of die asthoHs 
laudations, in many rsnrw, unless ""'^ii > acqoainted 
with a fact iriiich we think it as well they shoold be in- 
formed (rf at (»ice. Mr. Lowell is one of ttie most 
rabid erf the Abolitioii fanatics; and no Southerner 
irtio does not wish to be insulted, and at the same time 
rerolted by a Ugotiy the most obstinately Uind and 
deaf, should ever touch a volume by this author.' His 


James Russell Lowell 

1 about Blavei7 is a mere local outbreak ti 
0M same innate wrongbeadednees which, if he owned 
ilaves, would manifest itself in atrodoos ill-treatment 
of them, with murder of any AbolitioniBt who should 
endeavor to set them free. A fanatic of Mr. I»'b 
qwcies is simply a fanatic for the sake of fanatidsm, 
and most be a fanatic in whatever drcumstanceB you 
^ace liltn. 

His prejudices on the tojdc of slavery break out 
everywhere in his present book. Mr. L. has not the 
common honesty to speak well, even in a literary 
aense, of any man vh.o is not a ranting Abolitlomst. 
"Wtib. tlie exception of Mr. Poe (who luis written some 
commendatory critidBnu on his poems), no Southerner 
Js mentioned at all in this f aMe. It is a fashion among 
Mr. Lowell's set to affect a belief Qiat there is no such 
thing as Soutliem literature, northerners, people who 
have really nothing to speak of as men of letters, are 
cited by the dozen, and lauded by this candid critic 
witbotit stint, while LegarJ, Smms, Longstreet, and 
ofbers of equal note are passed by tn contemptuous 
lilence. Mr. L. cannot carry his frail honesty of 
o^nlon even so far south as New Tcn'k. All 
lAom he praises are Bostoniana. Other writers are 
barhaiians, and satirized accordingly, if mentioned 

To diow the pneral manner of the f^k, we quote 
a portion of what he says about Mr. Poe : 



' kiK ikM yroCi^iri ^■"■^'^T OB 

S> Sk- fraa K'. p.^ talka^ ■ Eke a book " 

[ BO book «■ the nbiect 
caaaaa KBse,** xftET an. 

e of ^. L ntf dw 

A^ w k( w MO hov far tte wwa 
flfkBWK. Rr«, ^ way «f Aowi^ whtf his 

"■•kn h*«MUM nrtei^te IfMMi. 

** •■ Q «■• m^ , ha w«t Mr , ^ V ^tL 

Bxn it is dniij^ mtm that ^. L tntorii a liae tf 
hmrunmrm^ (An anap^t is a foot eompoaed <rf 
tworiiortayllaklBofciUowBdkyalo^.) WHhtfatsoh- 
> «e win BOW sinpljr cor7 a fnr of tlw Untc 


James Russell LfOwell 

wlddi constitute the body of the poem, asking any 
of our readers to r«ad them if they can ; Qiat is to say, 
we |dac« the question, vithout argument, on the broad 
ba^ of the very commonest " common sense " : 

Tb^ "re all fram one lonrce, montblf, weeldj, dlnnial . . 
INqtene all oiu't gooi and condniM all mm'i poor traitt . , . 
Tbe one'i two thirds Roraeman, the other half GreA , , . 
He hat imitaton in scoraa who omit . . . 
Should luck milk, strong will-giving brare, Buch as nins . . . 
Along the far railroad the steam-snake glide iriiite , . , 
From the same mnic tjpe-foont and alphabet . . . 
Earth has six truest patriots, four discorerers of ether . . , 
Bvefj cockboat tliat swims dears its fierce (pop) gtmdeck at 
him . . . 

Is some of it pr no, t is not even prose . . , 

O'er his prindplea when something else turns t^ tramps . > . 
But a few sillj (sjllo I mean) gianu tliat squat 'em . , . 
Mm;, we dont want extra freezing in winter . . . 
Flongh, dig, sail, forge, buDd, carve, paint, make all tUags 

But enough ; we have given a fair specimen of the 
general vernfication. It might have been better, but 
we aie quite sure that it could not have been worse. 
So much for " common sense," in Mr. Lowell's under- 
standing of the term. Hr. L. should not have meddled 
with the anapBBstic rhythm; it is exceedingly awk- 
ward in the hands of one iriio knows nothing about it 
and who will persist in fancying Uiat he can write it 1^ 
ear. Very espedally he should have avoided this 


James Russell Lowell 

rtiythm in ntiic, irtiich, more tiun mj ottier branch 
(rf lettert, ii depending npon seeming trifles for its 
effect Two tlurda of the force of the Duadad may be 
referred to its exqidsite finish; and lud the AUe Iw 
the CrMa been (irtiat it is not) the qninteseence of ttie 
satiric qiirit itsdf , it would, nerertbdess, in bo slovenly 
a form, have failed. As it is, no faQnre was ever more 
complete or more pitiaUe. By the publication of a 
book at once so amtntioiis and bo feeble, so malevolent 
in design and so barmleaa in execution, a worir so 
nm^y and dnnuily yet so weakly ccmBtmcted, BO 
very different, in body and sinrit, from anything tiiat 
he has written before, Mr. Lowell has committed an 
iiievocaUe box jms and lowered himself at least fif^ 
per cent in the litarary public (pinion. 


Bayard Taylor 

f% A BLTTSH to see, in the LHerarjr WorM, an in- 
\JtS Tidions notice of Bayard Taylor's Rhynxm 
" I of TnreL What makes the matter woree, 
the critique is from the pen of one who, althouj^ 
imdeservedly, holds, himself, some position as a poet; 
and wtiat makes the matter worst, the attack is anoi- 
ymoos, and (while ostensibly commending) most 
zealously endeavors to damn tlte young writer ** witli 
faint praise." In his iriiole life, the author of the 
criticism never published a poem, long or short, 
vbixii could compare, either in the higher merits or 
in the minor morals of the Hnse, with the wont of 
Mr. Ta^or*s compositions. 
OlieeiTe the generalizing, didngennous, patronizing 

"It is the empty charlatan, to whom all tilings are 
aUke imposrible, who attempts everything. He can 
do one thing as well as another ; for be can really do 


Bayard Taylor 

nothtng. . . . Mr, Taylor'fl Tcdonu, as we hare 
intiiiuted, is an advance upon his prerious publication. 
We could liave wished, indeed, something more of 
restnunt in the rhetoric, but," etc., etc, etc 

The concluding sentence, here, is an ezcelleot ez- 
smide of one of the most ingeniously malignant ci 
critical ruses — that at condemning an author, in es- 
pecial, for what Hit world, in general, feel to be his 
principal merit. In fact, the " riietoric " of Mr. Ta^or, 
in the sense intended by the critic, is Hr. Taylor's dis- 
tinguishing excellence. He is unquestionably the 
moBt terse, Rowing, and vigorous of all our poets, 
young or old — in point, I mean, of expression. His 
sonorous, well-balanced ihytimi puts me attea in mind 
of Campbell (in spite of our anonymous friend's implied 
sneer at ** mere jinking of rhymes, brilliant and suc- 
cessful for the moment *'), and his riietoric in general 
is of the m^est order. By " rhetoric " I intend the 
mode generally in irtiich thouf^t is presented. Where 
shall we find more magnificent passages than tliese ? 

Vittt queenly Aaia, from tlie fallea thronae 

Of twice three thouwnd yean, 
Cune witii tite wm » grkviag gotUett »wa» 

Who hagw tor morte/ tear*/ 
The duat of ruin to her mantle dnof 

And dimmed her crown of gold. 
While AetnMfeatie ao rroww atbetfoagae 

Awn Tyre to Lidb» t^led. 






Bayard Taylor 

** Mmim wiUi me, riitcn, In m j rMUin of wm 

Pmn if lot ehlUbood, tOt an Arclk ^aw 

Whicb »uakt» wiattt drt aau , 
la tbe rtJ dtatrt laoaUtrt BAjiaa 

Aad Ae wOd terpenft Ut 
SebocM ht Petrt't palaeet ol ttoae 

Aad wute PeMcpoBa." 

Hun from her seat, boU At p^toM aaboweteJ 

Tbat »baJt At UoorltaJ, 
Swart Africa in dusky aqect towered. 

The fetters on ber hand. 
Backward the aaw, from out the drear edipae, 

The mi^ty Theban yeara, 
Aa/ At deep muguiMh oi het wooutohii Bp9 

I copy these pHssages, fint, because the critic in que** 
tion has copied them without the slightest appreciation 
of their grandeur, for they are grand ; and, secondly, 
to put the question of " rhetoric " at rest, ffo artist 
who reads them will deny that they are the perfection 
of skill in their way. But, thirdly, I wish to call atten- 
tion to the glowing imagination evinced in the lines 
italicized. My very soul revolts at such efforts (as the 
one I refer to) to depredate such poems as Mr. Taylor's. 
Is there no honor, no chivalry left in the land ? Are 
our moat deserving miters to tw forever sneered down, 
or hooted down, or damned down with faint praise, Ity 
a set of men who possess littie other ability than that 


Bayard Taylor 

which aBBores temporary success to them, in comnuoi 
with Swaim's Panacea or Morrison's Pills ? The fact 
is, some person should write, at once, a ma^vin^ 
paper expodng— ruthlessly ezposiag, the destous Jea 
cartes of our literary affairs. He should show how 
and why it is that the ubiquitous quack in letters can 
always " succeed," wliile genius (iriiich implies self- 
reqiect, with a scorn of creeping and crawling) must 
inevitably succtmib. He should point out the " easy 
arts " by which any one, base enough to do it, can get 
himself placed at the very head of American letters by 

an article in that magnanimous journal, the Fe* 

wkw. He should explain, too, how readily the same 
work can be induced (as in the case of Simms), to 
vilify, and vilify personally, any one not a Northerner, 
for a trifling " consideration." In fact, our critidam 
needs a Ihorongh regeneration, and must liave it. 


Elizabeth Frieze Ellett 

EUett, or EQet, has been long before the 
public as an author. Having contributed 
largely to the newspapers and other period- 
icals in her youth, she first made her Jfbut on a 
more comprehensive scale, as the writer of Tereta 
Contariai, a five-act tragedy, which hod considerable 
merit, but was withdrawn after its flnt nig^t ci. 
representation at the Park. This occurred at some 
period previous to the year 1834; the precise date I 
am unable to remember. The ill-success of the play 
had little effect in represdng the ardor of the poet- 
ess, iriio has since furnished numerous papers to the 
magazines. Her articles are, for the most part, In the 
rHadmcnto way, and although, no doubt, composed in 
good faith, have the disadvantage of looking as If 
hashed up for just so much money as they will bring. 
The charge of wholesale plagiarism iriiich has been 
adduced against Mrs. Ellett, I confess ttiat I have not 
fdt sufficient interest in her works to investigate, and 
am therefore bound to believe it unfounded. In per- 
son, short and much indined to tmbonpeint 



Her„-v K Hrst 


•MO Wttff^ writtco Wf ovb Vot to do him mjwlice, 
hwn/fttf I here qoote two it«iij«B from a fattte poon 
0f bki mIM Tlbr Oirl TIw |iiwij,in *fK"— H an 
Mgblj' inuifiiiatirc: 



Henry B. Hirst 

When twilight fadei and ercninc Mil 

Alike on tiee and tower, 
AadSlkiiet, Bke • peiuht nuU, 

VaO* roaad each thunbeHag bower/ 
When fragrant flowereta fold their leavea. 

And aU ia BtiU In aleep, 
Tlie homU owl oa atooaSt wing 

PBu from Ae Jm^oa heqt. 

And he ealla alond — " Too-iriiltl too-whool " 

And the nightingale ia still, 
Aad At pattering fttp of the hiaryiag Airr 

b buMbed upon the biSi 
And he cronchea low in the dewy giaaa 

Aa the lord of tbe n(gAf goea by. 
Not wAh ■ kmJtr wbMag whig 

ButSkea hdjr'f tigb. 

Ho one, aav« a poet at heart, could have concehred 
tiieae Images ; and tliey are embodied with much akilL 
la the " pattering step," etc., we have an admiraUe 
** echo of sound to sense," and the title, " lord of the 
night," applied to the owl, does Mr. ffirst infinite 
credit, if the idea be original with Mr. Hirst Upon 
the whde, the poems of this author are doqnent (or 
peiiu^ elocnttonaiy) rather than poetic; but he has 
poetical merit, beyond a doubt, — merit iriiich his ene- 
mies need not attempt to smother by any mere ridicule 
flirownupon the man. 

To my face, and in the presence of my friends, Mr. H. 

has always made a pdnt of prainng my own poetical 



Bemj B. ffirat 

IM ■> Ite hMV if anArt^ to ar t« 

(vilk ^ BBMe to it, 

■BBeMiL ■(! mrtf iMtato apM M Otf I vrate it, 
a^ it is |«t fMriUB Atf he kM« awe abort Ae 
■ III I Am I<> ^fwg. T ii rtT a t if ■ |ii1ii 1if 

HRKeof As- 

firam Ae Int cnto rt ffin^s fiwi y a riaa [The nalar 
wa o tocrw Aat flw aaoayw critic ha» no pcnonal 
ac^uaintaaMt ^natenr wifii ttr. Hint, aot tana can 
to call faiK *■ ffioi " B^ply, JMt aa «« nj ■* Kanar 1 
—from ffinft &d>B>aMv pvkGAal y««n dace in tlw 

Ha looMd tak H^di, iM 

With ToHH at b 

d ffiUmb^ oo bH vWoa- 

" Aitaite ii another name for 
rmnember that Diana is about to 



Henry B. Hirst 

tlittt the scene irtiich is about to follow is one <tf lore ; 
that Venus is tbe star of tore; and that Hint, by in- 
trodncing it as he does, shadows oat his story exactly 
as Mr. Poe introduces bis Astarte, the {da^arism of 
idea becomes evident" 

Now I really feel ashamed to say that, as yet, I have 
not perused Eadfmien,ioc Hi. Hint will retort at once, 
" That is no fault of mine, yon should have read it, Z 
gave you a copy; and, besides, you had no business 
to fall asleep when I did you the honor of reading it 
to yon." Wthout a word of excuse, therefore, I will 
merely cofj the passage in Vlalume, which the author 
of Eadymion says I pudolned from the lines quoted 

And BOW, M the night wu MaMeaat 

Aad itftr-dUlf pointed to mora, 

Ai tiu itar-dlaU hinted of mras. 
At the end of my path e llquMcent 

And nebnloot Ivatre wu bom. 
Out of iriiich ■ mlncalom crescant 

Aroee with a doplicete horn, 
Aaterte'e bedlamonded eraacent, 

Diatinct with Ita dopUcate horn. 

Row, I may be permitted to regret — really to regret — 
that I can find no resemUance between the two pas- 
sages in question; for mah ctua Platoae cftmrc, etc., 
and to be a good imitator of Henry B. Hirst is quite 
honor enou|^ for me. 

■no. DL-». X29 


■fptupUalBi Mf ftufotj (I am fiMd of a oke pfann), 
hot &tf he kM Ml doM it ID demtf as I coold wbh. 
1IBII7 a kctVRv flo lil B aiy ln|iii have I pfcn Mr. H. ; 
ad I coafoi Oat, m gewral, fee kw lofted my ad- 
vice wobufBaOjAatlaa pi»— ««, ipoa die rtole, are 
fittle moK than our c o niTe na tioaa d«e into Tens. 

"StealtdearEndyiaian^'Inedto h^ to Um, " for 

TCfyveDdoIknovyoacanHh^pit; and the nkon 

70a pot in jonr book tibat m not jmu own, why, dw 

better your book wffl be; botbecaotionsanditealwttfa 



Henry B. Hirst 

an air. In regard to myself, yoo need give yoiuself no 
tronUe about me. I shall always feel honored in 
bdng of use to you; and provided you purloin my 
poetiy in a reputable manner, yon are welcome to 
jost as mnch of it as you (who are a very weak little 
man) can conveniently carry away." 

So far, let me confess, Mr. Hirst has behaved re- 
markably well in largely availing himself of the privi- 
lege thus accorded ; but, in the case now at issue, he 
stands in need of some gentle rebuke. I do not object 
to his stealing my verses ; but I do object to his stealing 
them in bad grammar. Hy quarrel mtli him is not, 
in short, that he did this thing, Irat that he ha» went 
aai done did it 


William Wallace 

I 7K| an MB of ewH, we wt^tct, kt m not 
UNmi ui to ■irfii M II !■ WalHS, rf Km- 
tKl7. H^ Me. W. iMB hKS aaiv the inap of 
ttat iMAAle hmEtmrA, Ac MemA il«criaa Cnirw, 

to ^ wodi. a> Bk fsr iirferiar wntE ol S^ngae* 
Dun. and o^hi «C Eke cafilR hnc alna^ been 

po^ «ivtli7 to be coHpncd wiA 7k daof o/a Soot 
fijij— I IB ^ Uaiom Hfy^— for Horonber, 1848. 
It M a BoUe iiiMpiMi!w- thnM^hoot; inugfautire, 
doqiKnt. Ml rf CpntT, ud wefl wto inwl . It 
aboB^i IB detacbed images of U^ merit; for 

T«v wily ^kaior ■* goM 


Wmiam Wallace 

Enongh, I un, and alull Qot chooic to die. 
Ho matter what our future fate ma j be, 
To Ure, ii in itMlf a majeety. 

And Ktith, aiUng from yon deep, 

Ii plain at a iriihe Btatne on a tall, dark steep. 

Hie earth and heaven were fair, 
While onlj leaa than Gods seemed all my tdlow men. 
Oh, the delight, the gladness, 
The sense, yet lore, of madness. 
The ^orions choral exultations. 
The far-off sounding of the banded nations. 
The irings of angels in melodious sweeps 
Upon the mountain's hazy steeps, 
The very dead astir within thdr coffined deeps. 
The dreamy veQ that wrapt the star and sod — 
A swathe of purple, gold, and amethyst, 
And, luminous behind the billowing mist 
Something that looked to my young eyes like Ood. 

I admit that the defect charged by an enrioiu 
critic upon Bayard Ta^or— the an ot •zcestfre riiet- 
oridaniam — is, in some measure, chargeable to Wal- 
lace. He now and then pennits enthusiasm to huny 
him into bombast ; but at this point he is rapidly im- 
proving, and, if not disheartened by tiie cowardly 
n^ect of those who dare not praise a poetical aspirant 
with genius and without influence, will soon rank as 
<aie of the very noUest of American poets. In fact, he 
is 80 now. 



E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

I most analytic, if not altogether our best, 
critic (Mr.Wliipple, peilups, excepted) is Hr. 
'William A. Jones, author of TTie Aaalytt 
How he would write elaborate critidBms I camiot 
uy; but his summary judgments of authore are, in 
general, disciiminative and profound. In fact, his 
papers on Emerson and on Hacaulay, puUished in 
AfcUutu, are better than merely " profound," if we 
take the word in its now desecrated sense; for they 
are at once pointed, lucid, and just; as summaries, 
leaving nothing to be desired. 

Kr. Whipple has less analysis, and far less candor, 
as his depreciation of Jane Eyre will show; but he ex- 
cels Mr. Jones in sensihility to beauty, and is thus the 
better critic of poetry. I have read nothing finer in its 
way than his eulogy on Tennyson. I say " eulogy," 
for the essay in question is unhappily little more ; and 
Ur. Whipple's paper on Hiss Barrett was nothing 
more. He has less discrimination than Hr. Jones, 


E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

and a more obtuse unse of the critical office, la 
fact, he has been infected with that """'*""'"g and 
tranqiarent heresy, tht cant trf critical Boswellism* 
by dint of which ve are to shut our eyes tightly to all 
av&orial Uemiahes, and open them, like oiris, to all 
authorial merits. Papers thus composed may be good 
in their way, just as an impertinent cicerone is good 
in his way; and the way, in either case, may stiU be a 
small one. 

BoGcalini, in his AdrerlhetnentM tctan ParaaaauM, 
tells us that Zoilns once presented ApoUo with a very 
caustic review of a very admiraUe poem. The god 
asked to be shown the beauties of the work ; but die 
critic replied that he troubled himself only about the 
errors. Hereupon Apollo gave him a sack ot unwin- 
nowed wheat, bidding him pick out all ttie chafl for his 

How this fable does very well as a tut at the critics; 
but I am by no means sure that the deity was lo the 
right. The fact is, that the limits of the strict critical 
duty are grossly mis^tprehended. We may go so far 
as to say that, vliile the critic is permitted to play, at 
times, the part of the mere commentator, iriiOe he it 
allowed, by way of merely interesting his readers, to 
pot in the fairest l^t the merits of his author, his 
legitimate task is still, in pointing out and analydng 
defects and showing how tiie work mi^t have been 
improved, to aid the general cause of letten, without 


B. P. Whipple and odier Critics 

andae heed of the indiridnal literaiy men. Beauty, to 
be Inief , should be coaddend in the li^t of an axiom, 
irtikh, to become at once evident, needs only to be dia- 
tinctlj pot It ia not beauty if it require to be demons 
Btrated aa such; and thus, to pcHnt out too particulaily 
the merits of a work is to admit that fhey are not merits 

When I say that both Hr. Jones and Hr. Whipple are, 
in some d^ree, imitators of Xacaulay, I have no de- 
sign that my words should be understood as disparage- 
ment. Hie s^e and general conduct of Macaulay's 
critical papers could scarcely be improved. To call his 
Twmwr » conventional " is to do it gross injustice. 
The maimer of Cail^e is conventional — with himself. 
The style of Emenon is conventional — ^with himself 
and Caiiyle. The st^e of Hiss Fuller is conventional 
— with herself and Emerson and Cail^e; that Is to 
say, it is a triple-distilled conventionality ; and by the 
word " conventionality," as here used, I mean very 
nearly what, as regards personal conduct, we s^e 
** affectation," that ia, an assumption of airs or tricks 
iriiich have no basis in reason or common sense. The 
quips, quirks, and curt oraculaiities of the Emersons, 
Alcotts, and Fullers, are simply lily's euphuisms re- 
vived. Very different, indeed, are the peculiarities itf 
Hacaulay, He has his mannerisms ; but we see that, 
by dint of them, he is enabled to accomplish the ex- 
tremes at unquestionaUe excellences, the extreme of 


E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

deuness, tA vigtu* (dependent upon deanUBs), of 
grace, and veiy espedaU^ of thoroo^meaa. For hia 
short sentences, for his antitheses, for his modulations, 
for tiis climaxes, — ^for everything that he does, — a very 
di^t analysis suffices to show a distinct reason. His 
manner, thus, is simply the perfection of that justifiable 
rhetoric which has its basis in common sense, and to 
say that such rhetoric is never called in to the aid of 
genius, is simply to disparage genius, and by no means 
to discredit the riietoric It is nonsense to assert that 
the hi^isBt genius would not be benefited by attention 
to its modes of manifestation, l>y availing itself of that 
natural art which it too frequentiy despises, b It not 
evident that the more intcinmcally valuable tlie roug^ 
diamond, the more gain accrues to it from poll sh ? 

How, since it would be neariy unposdble to vary the 
riietoric of Kacaulay in any material degree without 
teteiioration In the essential partlcularB of clearness, 
vigor, etc, Aoee iriio write after Macaulay have to 
choose between the two horns <A a dilemma: they 
must be weak and orif^nal, or imitative and strong; 
and since imitation, in a case of this kind, is merely 
adlierence to truth and reason as punted out by one 
who feels their value, the author irtio should forego the 
advantages of the " imitation " for the mere sake of 
being eiToneoosly original " n'est pas si sage qu^ 

The true cowse to be pursued by onr critics, jnstly 


E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

sendUe of Hacaulaj's ezcellencM, is not, howero-, 
to be content with tunely following in his footsteps, 
but to OQtstrip him in his own path, — a path not so 
much his as nature's. We most not fall into the error 
of fancying that he is perfect merely because he excels 
(in p(nnt of style) all his British contemporaries. Some 
such idea as this wenu to have taken posaession of Mr. 
Jones when he says : 

*< Macaolay's style is admlraUe: full of color, per- 
fectly clear, free from all obstructionB, exactly Wngtiith, 
and as pointedly antithetical as possible. We have 
marked two passages on Southey and Byron, so happy 
OS to defy imi»xnrement The one is a sharp epigram- 
matic paragraph on Sonthey's political bias: 

*( * Govemmeat is to Mr. Southey one of the fine 
arts. He judges of a Iheoi; or a puUlc measure, of a 
rdigion, a political party, a peace or a war, as men 
judge of a picture or a statue, by the effect produced 
on his imagination. A '^^*'''' of associations is to h'"* 
irtiat a cliain of reasoning is to other men; and -wbat 
he calls his opinions are, in fact, merely his tastes.* 

" The other a balanced character of Lord Byron: 

" * In the rank of Lord Byron, in his understanding, 
in his character, in liis very person, there was a strange 
union of opposite extremes. He was bom to all that 
men covet and admire. But in every one of those 
eminent advantages irtiich he possessed over othen, 


B. P. Whipple and other Critics 

tben was minted something of miseiy and debase- 
ment He was sprung from a house, ancient, indeed, 
and noUe, but degraded and inqtorerished by a series of 
crimes and follies which bad attained a scandalous 
publicity. The Mmpniin whom he succeeded had died 
poor, and, but for merciful judges, would have died 
xtfoa the gallows. The young peer bad great Intel'* 
tectual powers; yet tiiere was an unsound part in his 
mind. He bad naturally a generous and tender heart; 
but his temper was wayward and IrritaUe. He bad a 
liead which statuaries lored to copy, and a foot Ihe de- 
f onnity of which the beggars In the street mimicked.* ** 

Let us now look at tiie first of these paragraphs. The 
opening sentence is inaccurate at all points. The 
word " goremment " does not grre the autiLoHs idea 
with Buffldent definitiveness; for the term is more fre- 
quently applied to the system by which the affairs of a 
nation are regulated than to &e act (rf regulating. 
** The government," we say, for example, ** does so and 
so," meaning those who govern. But Kacaulay in- 
tends simply the act or acts called " governing," and 
this word should have been used, as a matter of course. 
The " Mr." prefixed to ** Southqr " is superfiuons, for 
no sneer is deigned; and in "mistering" aweii-known 
anAor, we hint that he is not entlfled to that exemp- 
tion irtiich we accord to Homer, Dante, or Siake- 
Veare. * To Xr. Southey " would have been lig^t, 


B. P. Whipple and odier Critics 

bad tbe luccBtding wofds ha^ " goventmeiit aeemi 
ooe of ttM flw nti**; Int, m A» lentence itandi, 
' Vaitb Kr. Sonllwj " ik JwmmdeJ. ** Sonttier," too, 
Muf the principal subject of Am panigr^ti, ibooU 
p»ude " tonmniait,'' iriddi li mentfamed onl j in iti 
nUtioa to Soatiuj. ** One of the fine «rto ** ii pko- 
nutie, rince the pbiaie CMireys noAiiiE mm tbait " t 
flue art ** would eoiaej. 

The lecond sentence it qoita as faaltjr, "Htn 
Soothey lowi his precedence as the subject; and thus 
the " Ho " should ftdlow " a theory,** " a pabUc 
moastue," etc. By " nU^on ** is meant ■ " creed "; 
tills latter word ihoold tiwref ore be used, the con- 
cloilon of the sentence is very aiiAward. Sonthey is 
■aid to jodge of a peace or a war, etc., as men judge of 
a picture or a statue, and the words which sncceed are 
Intended to explain how men judge of a picture or a 
statue. These words Should, therefore, run thus: "t^ 
the effect produced on tiieir imaginations." " Pro- 
duced," moreover, is ndther so exact nor so " English '* 
u " wrought" In saying that Southey judges of a 
political party, etc, as men judge of a picture, etc, 
Southey is quite excluded from the category of " men.'* 
** Other men," was no doubt originally written, bnt 
" otiier " erased, on account (tf the " other men " oc- 
conlof Iq ttie sentence htiow. 

Coming to the last, we find ttiat ** a chain of assoda- 

tlona ** Is not pcDp^ paralleled by ** a chain ef reason- 



E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

ing." We mtttt My aiHier " a chain of asaodatioii,** 
to meet Hie *' reasoning," or '* a chain of reasons," to 
meet the ** associations." The repetition of " iriiat " 
is awlEward and unpleasant The entire paragraph 
should be thus remodelled: 

" With Sonthey, governing is a fine art Of a tbaorj 
or a pnUic measure— irf a creed, a political party, a 
peace or a war— he judges by the imaginative effect 
as only sndi things as lectures or statues are Judged of 
by olher men. What to them a chain of reasoning is, 
to him is a diain of association J and, as to his opinions, 
they are nothing hut his tastes." 

The blemishes in the paragraph about Byron are 
more negative than those in the paragraph about 
Sottthey. The first sentence needs vivacity. The ad- 
jective " opposite " is superfluous ; so is the particle 
" there." The second and third sentences are, prop- 
eriy, one. ** Some " would fully su^ily the place of 
" something of." The whole phrase, " which he 
po s s ess ed over otiieis," is supererogatory. *' Waa 
sprung," in {dace of ** sprang," is altogether unjustiflr 
able. The triple repetition of " and," in the fourth 
sentence, is awkward. " Notorious crimes and follies " 
would express all that is implied In ** crimes and follies 
uliich had attained a scandalous publicity." The fifth 
sentence might be well curtailed; and as it stands has 


E. P. Whipple and otber Critics 

an ttnintentional and rnipleaaant sneer. " InteUect " 
woold do 8fl veil as ** inten«ctiial powers " ; and this 
(dte sixth) sentence m]{^t otherwise be thoftened ad- 
Tantageooslj. The wholn paragraph, in my (qdnka, 
woold be better thus exprened; 

" In Lord Byron's lank, nndeistandlng, diaracter, 
— even in penon, — ^we find a strange onion of ex- 
tremes. Whatever men covet and admire became Us 
by xi^t of birth; yet debasement and misery were 
mingled with each <rf his eminent advantages. He 
qnang from a honse, andent, it is true, and noUe, but 
degraded and impoverished by a series of notorious 
crimes. But for merdfnl judges, the pauper Unawija 
whom he succeeded would have been h**igiH The 
young peer had an inteflect great, perliaps, yet par- 
tially unsound. TTia heart was generont, but his tem- 
per wayward; and iriiile statuaries copied his head, 
beggars mimicked the deformity at his foot" 

li these remarks, my object is not so modi to point 
out inaccorades in the most accurate st^ist of his age 
as to hint that oor oitics mi^t Borpan him on his 
own ground, and yet leave themselves sometbing to 
learn in the moralities nt manner. 

Nothing can be plainer than that oor position, as a 
literary colony al Great Britain, leads as into wrong- 
ing, indirectly, our own aothors by exaggerating the 


E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

merits of those across tlie water. Our most nllaUe 
critics extol — and eztcd without discrimination — such 
En^ish compotitions as, if written in America, would 
be either passed over without notice or miscrupalously 
condemned. Mr, Whipple, for example, iriiom I have 
mentioned in this connection mth Hr. Jones, is de- 
cidedly one of our most " reliaUe " critics. His hon- 
esty I dispute as little as I doubt his courage or his 
talents; but here is an instance of tlie want of common 
discrimination into which he is occasionally hurried 
by undue reverence for British intellect and British 
opinion. In a review of the Drama ofExtie, aad Other 
Poem*, by Miss Barrett (now Mrs. Browning), he 
speaks of the following passage as " In every respect 
faultless — sublime " : 

Hear the BtMp genemtioni bow they fall 
Adown tbe visloiuuy itidTS of Hdu, 
Uko npttnutnral tbuaden — fax yat near, 
Soiring tbdr Oay ochom through the hillil 

Row here, saying nothing of the affectation in 
" adown," not alluding to the insoluble paradox of 
" far yet near," not mentioning the inconsistent 
metaphor involved in the sowing of fiery echoes, ad- 
verting but slightly to the misusage of " like " in place 
of ** as," and to the impropriety of trmlring anything 
fan like thunder, which tias never fwen known to fall 
at allf merely hinting, too, at Ihe misappllcatiou of 


E. P. Whipple and other Critics 

" stMp ** to the " guMratlons " imtsad of to tiu 
** stain " (a parrerrion in no dsgree jostified by tb» 
fact tluit 80 prepostennu a flgnn as synacdodie exists in 
the Bchoolbooks), — letting these things pass, we shall 
still find it difficult to ondentand how Kra. Browning 
should hare been led to think that ttie principal idea 
itsdf — the abstract idea, the idea of tumUing down 
staizs, in any shape, or nndor any drcomstances — 
either a poetical or a dectnvus conception. And yet 
Hr. WMpide speaks of it as '* suUime.** That the 
lines narroiriy missed suUimlty, I grant; that they 
came within a stop of it, I admit; but, onht^ily, the 
step is that one step which, time oot of mind, has btt- 
terrened between the snbUme and the ridiculous. So 
true is this that any peiwm — ^that even I — ^with a very 
partial modification of the imagery, a modification that 
shall not interfere with its richly spiritual tone, may 
elevate the passage into unezceptionabllity. For ex- 

Hear the tax g mwa tioiia — bow they cruh 
From crag from crag down the predpttotu Tlnw, 
ta umltitndiiioni ttaanden that apatutle 
Aghast, the echoei from theii canniotu Udn 
la the TUoBuy hlllil 

Ho doubt my version has its faulta; but it has at least 
the merit ot consiBtency. Hot only is a mountain 
more poetical than a pair of stairs, but echoes are more 


E. P. Whipple and otber Critics 

appropriately typified as wild beasts than as seeds ; and 
echoes and wild beasts agree better with a ntoantain 
than does a pair of stairs with the sowing of seeds, even 
admitting that these seeds be seeds of fire, and be sown 
broadcast " among the hills " by a steep generation 
while in the act of tumbling down the stairs; that Is 
to say, of coming down the stairs in too great a hnrry 
to be capable of sowing the seeds accurately, as all 
seeds should be sown ; nor is the nutter rendered any 
better for Mrs. Browning, even if the construction of 
her sentence be understood as implying that the fiery 
seeds were sown, not immediately by the steep genera- 
tions that tumbled down the stairs, hut mediately, 
through the intervention of the " supemataral thun- 
ders " that were occasioned by the steep generationa 
that were so nnlucky as to tumUe down the stairs. 


Joel T. Headley 

n?^^)HE Revtrtod Mr. Headley (why mil he sot 
[yI^ put his full tiUe in bis title-pases?) has in his 
I »*' I Sacred Siountaiat been reversing the facts of 
the old fable about the mountains that brought tortii 
the mouse, partariunt taontew, natcetur r&ticulta mtui 
for in this Instance it appears to be the mouse — ^the 
little rtdkolut mat — that has been bringing forth the 
" mountains," and a great litter of them, too. The 
epithet "funny," howerer, is perhaps the only one 
vAich can be conadered as thoroughly applicable 
to the book. We say Uut a book is a ** funny " 
book, and nothing else, wbta it spreads over two 
hundred pages an amount of matter which could be 
conveniently presented in twenty of a magazine ; that 
a book is a " funny " book, " only this and nothing 
more," when it is written in that kind of phraseology, 
in which John Riilpot Curran, when drunk, would 

■ Tkt AoBf MwBkibh Br J. T. Haadlar. Mtbir o 


Joel T. Headley 

have nude a speech in at a public dinner; and, more- 
over, we do say, emphatically, that a book is a " fanny" 
book, and nothing but a funny book, whenever it hap- 
pens to be penned by Mr. Headley. 

We sboiild like to give some account of The Sacnd 
Mountahu, if the thing were only possible ; but we 
cannot coaceive that it is. Mx. Headley belongs to 
that numerous class of aulhors who must be read to be 
understood, and who, for that reason, very seldom are 
as thoroughly comprehended as they should be. Let 
OS endeavor, however, to give some general idea of the 
work. " The deagn," says the author, in his preface, 
" is to render more familiar and life-like some of the 
scenes of the Bible." Here, in the very frst sentence 
of his preface, we suspect the Reverend Hr. Headley of 
fibbing; for his design, as it appears to ordinary appre- 
hention, is merely that of making a little money by 
selling a little book. 

The mountains described are Ararat, Horiah, Sinai, 
Hor, Pisgah, Horeb, Carmel, Lebanon, Zion, Tabor, 
Olivet, and Calvary. Taking up Ihese, one by one, the 
auUior proceeds, in his own very peculiar way, to " elo- 
cutionize " about them; we really do not know how 
else to express vbat it is that Kr. Headley does irith 
these eminences. Perhaps if we were to say that he 
stood up before the reader and " made a speech " about 
them, one after the other, we should come still nearer 
the truth. By way of carrying out his deagn as au- 


Joel T. Headley 

noanced in Hu preface, that of rendering ** more fa- 
miUar and life-like sonu of the scenes," ^tt4 to fordi, 
he tells not only how each mountain is, and was, but 
how it mit^t hare been and oo^t to be, in liis own 
opinion. To hear him talk, ai^body would suppoae 
that be had been at the laying of the amur-atone o< 
Solomon's Temple, to say nothing of being born and 
brooc^t ap in the ark with Hoah, and haU-feUow-well- 
met with every one of the beasts that went into it If 
any person really deures to know how and irtiy it was 
that the Deluge took place, bat espedallyhow, — if any 
person wishes to get minute and accurate information 
on the topic, let him read The Sacre<i MouataioM, let 
him only listen to the Reverend Hr. Headley. He ex- 
plains to us precisely how it all took place, — wbMt Noah 
said and thon^t iriiile the ark was building, and iriiat 
the people, who saw him building the ark, said and 
thought about his undertaking such a woik ; and how 
the beasts, Urds, and fishes looked as ibej came in 
arm-in-arm; and irtiat the dove did, and what the 
raven did not — in short, all the rest of it; nothing could 
be more beautifully posted up. What can Hr. Headley 
mean, at page 17, by tiie remark that ** there is no one 
who does not lament that there is not a fuller ante- 
diluvian history ** ? We are quite sure that nodilng 
Uiat ever h^pened btf ore the flood has been omitted 
in the scrupulous resesichee of the anttior of The 



Joel T. Headley 

He might, pertiaps, wrap up tbe froitB of these m- 
Bearchea in rattier better BngH«h tlian that wMch he 
employs : 

" Tet still the waters rose around them till all tiinra^ 
the TaSeyB nothing bat little black islands <A human 
beings were seen on the surface. . . . The more 
fixed the iirvrocable decrse, the heavier he leaned on 
the Omnipotent urn. . . . And lol a solitary- 
cloud comes drifting along the morning sky and catches 
against the top of the mountain. ... At length 
emboldened by their own numbers they assembled tu- 
mnltuoosly together. . . . Aaron never appears so 
perfect a character as Hoses. . . . As he advanced 
from rock to rock the sobUng of the multitude that 
followed after Um his heart-strings. . . . Friends 
were following after whose sick Christ had healed. 
. . . The steady mountain threatened to lift from its 
base and be carried away. . . . Sometimes God's 
hatred of dn, sometimes His care for Wa children, 
sometimes the discipline of His chnrch, were the 
motives. . . . Surety it was the mighty hand 
that laid on that trembling tottering mountain," etc, 
etc, etc 

These things are not exactly as we could wish tfaem, 

periiaps; but that a gentleman should know so much 

abont Noah's aik and know anything about anything 



Jod T. Headlcy 

dw, is K Mi cdy to fee twpnlM d Wc have bo ri^ to 

as tluse ti a itAt^A ^ jgr, Hcadey , in MBf ordtnsiy kind 
irfsQIe. One Aoold not tolkabcmt S criptura l sobjecls 
as one would talk about ttw me aadUiaf stoda or 
Oie piDceedineK cf Congrea. Mr. If eajiry has sewned 
to fad tins, and has theRfore derated his manoer — a 
little. Fore 

" The fidds were amiliiis in TeidiiEc bdoce his cy«e; 
ttu perfnmed breezes floated by • • - The son is 
aaJKiig over the TH^ni p iw^n* ... That doad 
was God's pariHon ; ttie thunder was its lentlnrbi; and 
the li^itning the lances' paints as they mored roond 
die sacred tnist . . . And how conM he part with 
his children irtunn he had home oa his bntre heart tot 
more than forty yean? . . . Thos eveiydiiiig 
c o nsp ire d to render Zixm the ^idl-wwd of the nation, 
and on its Btminiit die heart of Israd seemed to lie and 
throb ... The son died in the heaveiis; an 


Joel T. Headley 

earthquake thundered on to complete the disinay,** 

etc., etc. 

Here oo one con fail to perceive the beeu^ (in on 
antediluvian, or at least in a Pickwickian senw) of 
these expressions in general, about the floating of the 
breeze, the sailing of the sun, the thundering of the 
earthquake, and the throbbing of the heart as it lay on 
the t<qi of the mountain. 

The true artist, hovever, always rises as he proceeds, 
and in his last page or so brings all his elocution to a 
dimaz. Only hear Mi. ^teadley's iSbo/e. He has 
been describing the Cruciflzion, and now soars into tlie 

" How Heaven regarded this disaster, and the Uni- 
verse felt at the n^t I cannot tell. I know not but 
tears fell like rain-drops from angelic eyes when they 
saw Christ ^t upon and struck. I know not but there 
was nlence on high for more than * half an hour ' 
irtien the scene of the Crudflzion was transpiring [a 
scene, as well as an event, always * transpires * with 
Ml. Headley], — a silence unbroken save by the solitary 
sound of some harp-string on which unconsciously fell 
the agitated, trembling fingers of a seraph. I know 
not but all the radiant ranks on high, and even Gabriel 
himself, turned with the deepest solicitude to the 
Fabler's face, to see if He was calm and untroubled 


Joel T. Headley 

aaaiAHta. II 

one univenal riniA of bonw iriien ttey luud groaiiB 
CO C*irmrf—&fiaf gRMm. I know not hot they 
tiioa^ God had p*m Hit ^ocy to anaOier, but one 
dtrng I do know [Ah, there is nal^ one ttungK-. Dud- 
ley knowil], tliat iriwn tihey saw flmmi^ tlie vast de- 
ngn, "■"««r'T*ifiHlfii Ott ihi p ftidn iis aceuB^tiie hniK of 
God duxA to a dwat that nenr before rung over thdr 
brig^ tops, and ttw crfstal sea trembled to a Bong tiiat 
bad nerer before stiind its bri^ depttu, and die 
*<S(»y to God in tlieKghest,*waBaBeTenfoldchanu 
of balMoJahs and harping syn^honiMi** 

Here we hare direct evideiice of Mr. Eb«dley*> acco- 
ra^ not less than of lus eloquence. ** I know not bat " 
that one it as vast as flie oflier. nu one tiiiiig that 
he does know, he knows to perfection: he knows not 
only iriiat the choms was (it was one of " hallelajahs 
and har|ring symphonies "), but also how much of it 
tiiera was ; — it was a ** terenf tdd choms." Mr. Headley 
it a matlieniatical man. Moreover he is a modest 
man ; for he confesses (no donbt with tears in bis eyes) 
diat really there is one thing that he does not know. 
** How ^Mven regarded this disaster, and the Uni- 
vene felt at the si^t, I cannot teU." Only Qiink of 
that! I cannot I — I, Headley, really cannot tell how 
the UniverBe ** felt " once t^pon a time I This is down- 


Joel T. Head ley 

ri^t iMuhfnliiesB on tba part of Mr, Headley. He 
could tell if lie would only try. Why did he not in- 
quire 7 Had he demanded of the Univene hov it felt, 
can any (me doubt that the answer would have been; 
** Pnttf wdl, I thank you, my dear Headley; how do 
yon fed yourwlf ? " 

** Quack " la a word that Bounds well only In the 
mouth of a duck; and upon our honor we feel a scruple 
inuslngit; nevertheless the truth should be told; and 
fbt simple fact is, that tlie aathor of the SacredMoun- 
tahu Is the Antocrat of all the Quacks. In saying this, 
we beg not to be mismiderstood. We mean no di»- 
paragement to Mr. Headley. We admire that gentle- 
man as much as any individual ever did except that 
gentleman himself. He looks remarkably well at all 
points — although perhaps best, EXAS — at a distanc«t 
as the lying Pindar sajrs he saw Archilochus, irtio died 
ages before the vagabond was bom — ^the reader will 
excuse the digression, but talking of one great man is 
very apt to put us in mind of another. We wore say- 
ing (were we not 7) that Mr. Headley is by no means to 
be sneered at as a quack. This might be justifiable, 
indeed, were be only a quack in a small way, a quack 
doing business by retalL But the wholesale dealer Is 
entitled to respect. Berides, the reverend author of 
Nmpokoo aaJ bb Maralubvu a quack to snne ptir^ 
pose. He knows what he is about. We like perfec- 
tion irtwrerer we see it We readily forgive a man fm 


Joel T. Headlesr 

bctecafool if heonlybe & ptffect fool: and this is a 
particular in wluch «c cannot put our hands tq>an our 
baarto and say that Wr. Headky is deficiait He acts 
upon the piinc^Ae that if a thing is worth doing at all it 
is worth doing ncU; and the timig that he *'does" 
eqiecially wdl is tlie paUk. 




RDER the head of "Raadom Thon^ts," 
" Odds and Ends," " Stray Leaves," 
"Scraps," "Breveties," and a variety <rf 
similar titles, ve occasionally meet, in periodicals 
and elsewhere, with papers of rich interest and 
value, the result in some cases of much ttiought 
and more research, expended, however, at a mani- 
fest disadvantage, if we regard merely Uie estimate 
wluch the public are willing to set upon such artideg. 
It sometimes occurs tliat in papers of this nature 
may be found a collective mass of general but more 
usually of clasacal erudition, i^ch, if dexterously 
besprinkled over a proper surface of narrative, would 
be soffident to make the fortunes of one or two hun- 
dred ordinary novelists in these our good days, when all 
heroes and heroines are necessarily men and women 
of " extendve acquirements." But for the most part 
these " Brevities," etc., are either piecemeal cullings at 
second-hand from a variety of sources hidden, or sup- 



pOMd to be hidden, or more andftdouB pilfeiiiigB from 
those vast storehotues of brief facts, memoranda, and 
opinions in general literatnre, which are so abundant 
in all the principal litoaries of Germany and France. 
Of the former species the Kona of ZAtnence Sterne is, 
at Uie same time, one of the moat consommately im- 
pudent and silly, and it may well be doubted whether 
a sin^ paragraidi of any merit in the whole of it may 
not be found, neariy verbatini, in the worts of some 
one of liis '"""*^*** CMttempMaries. If the Laeon of 
Mx, Colton is any better, its superiority coodsts alto- 
gether in a deeper ingenuity in i<ingni«iiig his stcden 
wares, and in that prescriptiTe right of the strongest, 
irtiich, time out of "I'^d , has dfcide^l upon ^ ^^^^1l^ng 
every Napoleon a conqnetM', and every Dick Tm^ a 
thief. Seneca, Kachiavelli,' Balzac, tlie author of La 
Man&fe de Biea Penaeiv Bielfeld the German, yAo 
wrote in French Lea PretDien Traita de tErudhho Ual" 
■nncUtt Rochefoucauld, Bacon, Bolingbroke, and es- 
pecial^ Burdon, of " materials for thinking " memory, 
poeaess, among them. Indisputable claims to tlie owner- 
sh^ of neariy everything worth owning in the book. 

Of the latter species of theft we see frequent speci- 
mens in the continental magazines of Europe, and 



ocatdonally nwet vifh them even In the lower clan ai 
periodicals in Great Britain. These specimens are 
nsnally extracts, by wholesale, from such works as tlie 
B&Bodiiquef (fea Memorabilia Uttrarla, the RecutQ 
dea Bonnea Peaaeea, the Lettrea 6dlBantea et Cofleo 
mea, the Literary Meatohv of SaHengre, the Mitangea 
LitttnJrea ofSuard aaJ Aadre, or the P&ce* Inttreaa" 
aatea et Pett Connuea of Laplace, D'lsraeli's Curhai- 
tha of Uttratutt, Literary Cbaracter, and Calatnttlea 
of Au&ora, have of late years proved exceedingly 
ctmvenient to stuiu littie American pilferers in this 
Hne, but are- now becoming too generally known to 
allow much hope of their good things bdng any longer 
appropriated with impunity. 

Such collections as those of which we have been 
speaking are nsnally entertaining in themselves, and 
for the most part we relish everything about them save 
their pretensions to originality. In offering, ourselves, 
something of the kind to our readers, we wish to be 
understood as disclaiming in a great degree every such 
pretension. Kost of the following article is original, 
and will be readily recognized as such by the '■in^'^T 
and general reader; some portions of it may have been 
written down in the words, or nearly in the wtnrds, 
of the primitiTe authorities, llie iriiole is taken from 
a confused mass of marginal notes and entiles In a 
commonplaee-book. No certain airangement has 
been considered necessary, and indeed so heterogeneous 



a farrago h would have been an endless task to tnetfa- 
odize. We have chosen the heading Pinakidia, or 
TaUets, as one sufficiently comprehensiTe. It was 
used for a somewhat dmilar pnrpoee by IHonymns of 

The whole of Bnlwer^ elaborate s^ument on the 
immortality of the sonl, «4iich he has put into ttie 
mouth iA " Ihe Amlntioas Student," may be confuted 
throng the author's tnnission of one particular point 
hi his summary of tiie attributes of Deity — a point 
iriiich we cannot believe altogether omitted tiuttag^ 
accident. A tin^ link Is deficient hi the chain, hot 
the chain is worthless wittiout it. Ho man doubts die 
immortality of the soul ; yet of aU truths, this truth dl 
immortality is the most difficult to prove by any mere 
soles of ^ogisms. We would refer our readeis to 
the argument here mentioned. 

Tlw nda, rough, wild warte hu its power to plMM* 

a line in one Hr. Odlome's poem, 7^ Progren otRe* 
Batment, Is pronounced by tiie American author of a 
book mtitled Anttdilurian AndqitilieM ** the very best 
aUiteration in all poetry." 

I^us, hi his treatise De SuppOeio Grwdi^ says 

that the upri^t beam of tlie cross wag a fixture at the 

place at execution, iriiither the criminal was made to 




bear only the tnnsTene arm. Consequently the 
painters are in error ^o dei^ our Savioiir beoiingtiw 
entire cross. 

The tale in Plato's ConrMuait that man at first was 
male and female, and that, thou^ Jupiter cleft diem 
asonder, there waa a natural lore toward one anodier, 
seems to be only s corruption of the account in Ges" 
e«£* of Eve's being mode from Adam's rib. 

Comeille has these lines in one of his tragedies: 

Ratmz, titnnz, mta jranx, et fondez voom eo aati, 
L« auAUt de ma vie a mis I'aotie an U 

irtiich may be tiraa translated : 

WMp, WMp, my ejMl It la no time to lai^l. 
For haU myMlf has Imiiod ths other ludf . 

Over Hie iron gate of a prison at Ferrara Is tUs In- 
icription : " Ingresao alia prigitoie di Torquato Taaso." 

The Rabbi Manasseh pnUiahed a book at Amsterdam 
entitled The Hope* ot ImtbcL It was founded upon 
the stqtpoeed number and power of the Jews in Amer- 
ica. This supposition was derived from a fabulous 
account by Montesini of his having found a vast con- 
course of Jews among tiie CordiUeras. 

Hie word " aasasrin " is derived, according to H]rt«i 
fr(nn//a««4tokiU. Some bring it from "Hassan," flie 



flnt chief of tiie association; some from the Jewish 
Bueae / Lenudne from a word meaning " herbage " ; 
De Stcy and Von Hammer from bawhiabt the opiate 
(rf hemp learet, of which the wBeswrinB made a singular 

The origin ct the phrase " corporal oath ** is to be 
found in the ancient usage of touching, upon occaaim 
of attestation, the corporate, or cloth, iriiich cohered 
the consecrated articles. 

Montgomery, in his lectures on literature (I), has 
the f (dlowing : " Who does not turn with abs<dnte ctm- 
tempt from the signs, and gems, and filters, and caves, 
and genii of Eastern tales as from the tiiotets of a toy- 
shop and the trumpery of a raree show 7 ** What man 
of genius but must answer " Hot I " 7 

There is no particular air known throuf^iout Swit- 
zerland by the name ot Fmax Jet Vaebem. Every 
canton has its own song, varying in words, notes, and 
evm language. Hr. Cotter, the novdist, is our 

The Abb< de St Pierre has fixed In his language two 
■^Incidis in Scyllam aliens vittn Oiacybdim" is 



neither in Virgil nor Ovid, aa (tfton supposed, Imtln Oie 
Alexaadreh of PhlUp Oanltier, a French poet of du 
thirteenth centtixy. 

The Salter ot Solomon, iridcb contains d^toen 
psalms, is a work irtiich was f oond in Greek In the 
library of Aogsborg, and has been translated into 
Latin by John Lewis de la Cerda. It is sapposed not 
to be Solomon's, bat the work of some Hellenistic Jew, 
and con^NMed In imitation of David's Ptalau. The 
Psalter was known to the ancients, and was formerly 
in tiie famous Alexandrian HS. 

It is probable that the Queen of Sheba was BalklB, 
tiiat Sheba was a kingdom In die southern part of 
AraUa Felix, and that the people were called SabMUS. 
These lines of Claudian relate to the people and queen: 

uipuat hlc wnii j r 
Baibaila pan iiM(iui Jacat 

Sheridan declared he would rattier be ttie anttior cf 
ttw ballad called tfoWer's Gboat, by fflover, than of 
ttu Annah of Tadtus. 

The word "Jerohah" Is not Hebrew. TheHebfews 
had no such letters as J or V. The word Is propuly 
" Jah Uah," confounded of Jab (eawnce) and Vab 

TOt.1...... ,g, 



(exittine). Its foil meaning ia flu ■df-exbting m- 
sence of all tbings. 

The Soag ofSoJomoa, throvlng aside ttie heading of 
the ch^iten, which is &e work of the Bn^^ish trans- 
lat(»B, contains nothing which relates to the Sarloor 
or the Church. It does not, like ever; other sacred 
book, contain even tlie name of die Deity. 

The word translated " slanderers " in i Tlmothjr ilL, 
if and that translated " false accoseis " in Titos IL, 3, 
are " female devils " in the original Greek of the Hew 

Tlie Hebrew langoage contains no word (except per- 
haps "Jehovah") irtiich conveys to tiie mind the idea 
of eternity. The translators of the Old Testament have 
used the w(»d " eternity " hot once (Isa. ItIL, 15). 

A Tersion of the I^alms was pnblished in 1643 by 
WnUam Slayter, of which this is a specimen: 

Tbe ri^teow ihsll hit aoirowi icaa. 
And Uogh at Um, and My, " B«hoIdI 
What hath become of O^ here num. 
That oa hli ridiee «u eo bold." 

HUton, in Paradise Lett, has this passage: 

When the Konrge 
laezorEblj, and the torturing hour 
Call OS to penance; 



Gray, in We Ode to Adrtrtitjr, has, 

Hum tamer of tlw human brvut, 
WhoM Iron Bcon^a and toTtmiog hom 

Ony tells us that Am Image of his bard, where 

Loom hii ttoard, and Iu>ai7 hair 
Streamed like a meteor to the troubled aii, 

was taken ^m a picture by Raphael; yet the beard of 
Hodibras ia also likened to a meteor: 

Thle hairy metet^ did denonnce 
The fall of e ce ptr ee and of erowna. 

Dryden, in bis Ab»aleai anJ AebHepbd, has dieee 

DavU for him hii tnaetttl baip hath itraiig. 
And heaven had wanted one immortal aong; 

Pope, in his EpiMtk to Arbutbnott has. 

Friend of TKj Ute, which did not yon prolong, 
The worid had wanted many an idle iong. 

Jn Suidas is a letter from Dionyaius tiie Areopaglte, 
dated Heliopc^ in flu fourth year lA the aosd Olynt- 
piod (the year of Christ's Crudflxion), to bis friend 
i^IIophanes, in which is mentioned a total eclipse of 
the sun at noon. ** Either," says Dionyaius, " the 



author of lutare saflets, or he Bpnpattiizei widi soma 
who do." 

A curiotu passage in a letter from (Scero to bis liter- 
ary friend Pajririos Patus, showa ibat our costom of 
annexing a farce or pantomime to a tragic drama ex- 
isted among die Romans. 

In Had Ana are these lines: 

Bach window, Ilka the pUl<»T, appow 

mth bead! tfanut ttarongh, nsIM bj the mts; 

Toong, in bis Lore ofPtme, has the following: 

An opera, like a tOiorj, may be mU 

To nail oor ean dowo and e^oae oar head. 

Goldsmith's celebrated lines, 

Han wants bat little bare bdow, 
Hw went! tbat little lc»ig, 

are stolen from Young, who has 

Maa wants bat Uttle, nor that Utile loD(. 

ArchUahop Usher, in a manuscript of St Patrkifs 
IMct said to have been fotmd at Lour^n as an oii^nal 
of a very remote date, detected several entire passages 
purioined from his own writings. 

** The aipper of Cinduvlla," says the editor at Ae 



new edition of Wharton, " finds a parallel in the his- 
tory of Rhodope." OndereSa Is a tale of onivenal 
currency. An ancient Danish ballad has some of die 
incidents. It is popular amongst the Welsh, also 
among the Poles, in Hesse, and in Serria. Schottky 
found it among the Servian fables, RoUenbagen, in 
lus RvBchmatuelen speaks of it as the tale of the des- 
{dsed "AschenposseL" Luther mentions it. It is in tiu 
Italian " Pentamerone " under the title of Ceaenatola. 

Bt^eau is mistwhen in saying that Petrarch, '* qui est 
regarde comme le pere du sonnet," borrowed it from 
the French or Prorenfal writers. The Italian sonnet 
can be traced back as far as the Tear zaoo. Petrarch 
was not bom until 1304. 

Dante ^es tiie name of "sonnet" to his litOe 
eamuMief or ode, beginning 

O Toi che per U via f Amor paiMf. 

For he tlut fl^ti ud nms nay 
Ha J Uve to fight anothflr imj. 
But he diat la in battle lUln 
vol nerer rise to fight again, 

aie not to be found, as is tfaottfl^t, in HuJ^ma. 
ler*B verses ran tfatis: 



For be that ffias mmy llttat afrfB, 
WUcb he can nenr do ttud *> itaia. 

Tlie former are in a Tolome of A>em« bjr Sir Joh* 
Mennef, ceigD of Cluules the SecMid. The original 
idea is in Demoethenes, Ai^p 6 ^ttvyarr xai neXiv 

The noUe simile of Milton, of Satan ividi the liiinc 
ton, in the first book of ttw ParaJhe Lott, had neariy 
occasioned the suppression of fliat epic; it was sup- 
posed to contain a treaaonahle altndon. 

CampbeU'B line, 

like Mpi Tfate, taw md lar IihIhhb, 

is a palpaUe plagiarism. Kair has 

like ensd viMts, ahort and far brtween. 

The character of the audent Bacchus, that gracefttl 
divinity, seems to hare been but litde understood by 
Diyden. The line in ^^rgil, 

Bt qaoconqne detia dream a^ot eg^ hMMStiuB, 

is thus grossly mistranslated : 

On iriiate>er ride he tnnu bia honeat face. 

XacroUus gives tiie form of an in^iecation t^ 

wtadi the Romans believed irtiole towns could be de- 




molisfaed and armies defeated. It commences : " Dis 
Pater sire Jovis mavis sivfl quo alio nomine fas est 
nominare," and ends, " Si hsc ita fazitis at ego sdam, 
aentjam, intelligamqae, turn quisqids TOtom hoc fazit 
recte factum esto, ovibua atris tiibus, TeUos mater, 
teqoe, Jupiter, obtestor." 

Courtier of Baldazzar Castls^one, 1528, is tiw first 
attempt at periodical moral essay witli iriiich we are 
acquainted. The Neetea Atticat of Aulus GelUoB can- 
not be allowed to rank as such. 

These lines were written over the cloaet-door of H. 

huM d'aipfce r , et d« mo ^aindra 
De I'amottr, du grandt, et da lort, 
Cest id qtu j'attends U moit 

Suia la dWrer on la cralndro. 

Martin Luther, in his reply to Henry the Bi^iUi*B 
book, by which the latter acquired tlie tide of ** De* 
fender cA the Faith," calls the monarch very uncere- 
moniously " a pig, an ass, a dunghill, the spawn of an 
adder, a basiliak, a lying bofFoon dressed In a king's 
robes, a mad fool with a frothy mouth and a whoriah 

An wuliapMl Und of Mmethlog flnt appaared, 

is a line in Coiriey's famous description of tiie Creation. 



The Turkiah Spy i> the original of many rimilar 
wtnta, among the beat of which are Hontesqniea's 
PeniMD Letten, and the BfHhb 8pf of oar own 'V^rt 
It was written mdoobtedly by Jdm Paul Wfira"w, an 
Italian^ in Italian, bat probably was first puUislwd in 
Ftandi. Dr. Johnson, ifrtio only saw an En^iditrana- 
lation, supposed it an Bn^lsh work. Mfirn"fl died in 

Comellle's celebrated Moi of Medea is borrowed 
from Seneca. Racine, In Phaedn, has sttden neaily 
dM whole scene of the declaration of lore from the 
same puerile writer. 

The peculiar zodiac at the comets la comprised In 
these verses of Caasini: 

Asttnodt, PacuoaqoB, Andronwda, TWmn, Oiion, 
Vntjon, atqne Hydnis, Ccntanrns, Socnpitu, Arciu. 

A tallglous hubbub, such ai Ihe world has seldom 
seen, was ezdted, during flu reign of Frederick IL, by 
tiu imagined virulence of a book entitled The Three 
Impo&ton. It was attributed to Pierre des ^^gnes, 
chancdJorcf the King, who was accused by the Pope of 
having treated the religions of Moses, Jesas, and Ha- 
luanet as political fables. The work in question, how^ 
ever, irtiich was squabbled about, abused, defended, 
■nd f smiUari; quoted by all parties, is well proved 
sever to have existed. 




Theophrastoi, in his botanical woifai, anticipated 
tiu MxtuU ■jnrtem of Limueug. Philol&us of Crotona 
maintained tliat comets appeared after a certain rev- 
olotion, and Acetes contended for tlie existence of 
what is now called the " New Woild." Puld, The Sire 
el (&e Halt Sertoum ghyme, has a passage ezpresdy 
alluding to a Western continent. Dante, two centnries 
befOTe, has the same allunon: 

Dft TOftri wngl ch' k del rlmsiuato 

Von TOgUatc fugsr t'«9«r«iua, 
Diretro al wcA^ del mondo mum gente. 

The LamentailooM of Jeretnlah are written, ^1b the 
exception <A the last chapter, in acrostic verse ; that is 
to say, every line or couidet begins In alphabetical 
order with some letter in the Hebrew alphabet. In die 
fliird chapter each letter Is repeated three times boo 

The fullest account of tiie Amazons is to be found in 
Diodorus Siculus. 

Cicero makes ihfi masculine; Tflrgil, feminine. U»<' 
que ad evtn Baen — Cicero. Ouae Bab $lmadi / Hate 
Bah Priami Uterum — Virgil. 

Dante left a poem in three languages — Latin, Pro- 
vencal, and Italian. Rambaod de Vachleraa left one in 




Marcus Antooinns wrote a hook eotidad Toh' ix 
ietvroY (Of Hm things wbich concern himself). It 
wouM be a good title for a diary. 

The stream flowing through the middle of the vall^ 
of Jehosaphat is called in the Cotpel of St John " the 
brook of cedars." Li the Septuagint the word is xiS- 
pov (darkness), from tiie Hebrew Idddar (black), and 
not xeSpdrr (of cedars). 

Seneca says that Appion, a grammarian of the age 
of Caligula, maintained that Homer himself """<■ the 
dirisioQ of die Biad and Oiytaey into books, and eri- 
dences the first word of the Biadt M^iv, die ySif <A 
which dgnifies 48, the number of books in both 
poems. Seneca, however, adds "Talia sdat opoitet 
qui molta rult sdre." 

Hedelin, a Frenchman, in the beginning of the 
eig^teentii century, denied that any such person as 
Homer ever existed, and suppoeed the Diad to be made 
up ex tragediht et rariis eaottda de trirh mtadkatort$m 
et circulatotitta — a la man&re dem cbanaona da Port* 

There are about one thousand lines idoitical in die 
Diad and Odywsey. 

The shield of Achilles, in Homer, seems to have been 



co{^ed from some pharos vbich the poet had seen In 
Egypt What he describes on fbe central part of die 
shidd is a map of the earth and of the celestial appear- 

Under a portrait ot TIberio Fiorellit who inrentsd the 
diaracter of Scaramouch, are dieae verses: 

C«t iUustre ComMian 

I>e Mn «rt tnea. U eanitn; 

n fut le nultre d» KoUftre, 
Et U Hatun fat le ttan. 

In Gary's Dante, the following passage : 

And pQgrim newly on his road with Iotb, 
Thrills If he hear the veqwr bell from far, 
That BMms to moam for the expiring day. 

Gray has also, 

The cnrfew tolls the kndl of parting day. 

Mannontel, in ttie Bacyclopi^ie, declares that the 
Italians did not possess a dng^ comedy worth reading, 
therein displaying his ignorance. Some of tiu greatest 
nanus in Italian literature were writers of comedy. 
Barsttl mentions a collection of four thousand dramas 
made by J^ioBtolo Leno, of which the greater part were 
comedies, many of a high order. 

A comedy or opera by Andreini was the origin <^ 



PtnUte Lott Aiidniiii*a " Adamo " ms tha modd 
of MDtoD's " Adam." 

Jdton has the tocgnantaij " Foi^ ihyadf to mar- 
rie.'* Pope has tbe Hne, " I hare not yet forgot mjataf 

The most particnlar hictoiy (rf tha IMoge, and the 
ne«rast at any to the account giren by Moaea, is to be 
found in Ludwi {De Dem Syria). 

Hie Greeks had no historian prior to Cadmus Mi- 
ledus, nor any paMic inscription of iriiich we can be 
certified before the laws (rf Draco. 

So great is the uncertainty of andent history that the 
epoch of Semiramis cannot be ascertained within rS3S 
yaars; for, according to 

PUsTitui « 







BoNUtu « 








AidibUfaop CTalter 






An extract from Tbe Mywtcry ol St Dennla is in the 
** Bibliothkque da Thtttre Fran^aise, depuis son ori- 
gine, Dresde," 176B. In tfus serious drama, St. Den- 



ois, luTing been tortured and at length decapitated, 
rises very quielly, takes his head tinder his ann, and 
walks off the ctage in all the dignity of martyrdom. 

The idea of " ITo light, but rather darkness vliiUe " 
was perhaps suggested to Milton by Spenser's 

A littla ^oominf U|^t mticli like ft ahade. 

Frauds le Brossano engraved these Teises tqion a 
marlde tomb which he erected to Petrarch at Arqua : 

Frigida Fnndad taglt hie Upis OMa PMrarcM. 
Snadpe, virgo parana, animam; Mte Tlrglnie, parca, 
FflMaqna Jam tenia, tali nqniMcat in area. 

Bocfaart derives " Elysium " from the Phoenician 
Efy»otb (joy), through the Greek 'HXvatorf ** Circe " 
from the Phcsnidan Ktrkxr (to corrupt); "Siren,** 
from the Phonidan Sir (to sing) ; " Scylla," from the 
Phanidan Seel (destruction) ; " Charybdis," from the 
Phoenician CborobJtm (chasm of ruin). 

Of the ten tragedies which are attributed to Seneca 
(the only Roman tragedies extant), nine are on QwtA 

Voltaire's ignorance of antiquity is lan^iaUe. In 

his Baaay on Tragedy, prefixed to Bruttt»t he actually 

boasts of having introduced the Roman senate on the 

stage in red mantles. " The Greeks," as he a 




" font parattn see acteun [tragic] snr des espices 
d'Jchasses, le visage coavoit d'un masque qui ezprime 
la dooleur d'lm c6t£ et la joye de rantre." The only 
circtunstance od which he conld posably have f otmded 
such an accusation is that in th« new comedy masks 
were worn with one eyebrow drawn iqi and the other 
down, to denote a busybody or inquisitive meddler. 

There is a book by a Jesuit, P^e Labbe, entitled La 
BSblhUAque de* BBtttotiAquea / it is a catalogue of all 
authors in all nations who have written catalogues of 

Lucretius, lib. v., 93, 96, has the words, 

Una dies daUt «xitlo; 

Ovid the lines, 

CaimliM niblimis time Bunt peritora Locretia, 
Esitlo toTu ciun daUt una dies. 

It is a remarkable fact that during the whole period 
of the Middle Ages, the Germans lived in utter ignorance 
of the art of writing. 

A version of the Psalau in 1564, by Archbishc^ 
Parker, has the following: 


Who itlcketli to God In ataUe tnut, 
Ai Son*! motmt he standi full just, 
Which moreth no whit, nor yet can reel, 
Bat Btandeth foroYer ai itiff ■■ steeL 

A part of the 137th PBalm nms thus: " If I forget 
thoe, O Jenisalem, ma; my right hand foi^et her 
cumiiiig, and may my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
month," which luu been thus paraphrased in a Tersioa 
of the PtalsoM 1 

li I forget thee ever, 

Then let me prosper never, 

But let it cause 

My tongoe and jaws 

To cling and cleave together. 

At the bottom of an obelisk which Pius VL was 
erecting at great expense near the entrance of the 
Quirinal Palace in 1783, while the people were starring 
for bread, were found written these words : 

" Slgnore, dia qoeata pietra chl divenga pane." 
(" Lord, command that these stones be made bread.**) 



f^ J IT getting my t>ooks, I have been always so- 
v^^ lidtous of an ample margitt; this not so 

^t*^ I much through any love of the thing itself, 
however agreeable, as for the facility it affords me of 
pendlling suggested thoughts, agreements, and differ- 
ences of opinion, or brief critical comments in generaL 
Where vdiat I have to note is too much to be included 
within the narrow limits of a margin, I commit it to a 
slip of paper, and deposit it between the leaves, taUng 
care to secure it by an inqierceptible portion of gam 
tragacanth paste. 

All this may be irtiim; it may be not only a very 
hackneyed, but a veiy idle, practice ; yet I persist in it 
still, and it affords me pleasure, which is profit, in 
despite of Mr. Bentham, with Mr. Hill on his back. 

This making of notes, however, is by no means the 

making of mere memoranda, a custom which has its 

disadvantages, beyond doubt. " Ce que je mets but 

papier," says Bemardin de St. Pierre, " je remets de ma 




m&noire, et par cons^uence je I'oubUe "; and, in 
fact, if you wish to f oi^ anything on the spot, make a 
nota that this thing is to be remembered. 

Bttt the purely marginal jottingB, done mth no eye to 
the memorandum-book, have a distinct complexion, 
and not only a distinct purpose, but none at all; this 
it is which imparts to them a value. They have a rank 
somairiiat above die chance and deanltoiy comments 
of literary cUt-chat, for these latter are not nn- 
frequently " talk for talk's sake," hurried out of 
the moulii; while the marginalia are deliberately 
pencilled, because the mind of the reader wishes to 
tmburtlien itself of a thought — however flippant, how- 
ever oily, however trivial, still a thought ; indeed not 
merely a tiling that might have been a thought in timo 
and under more favorable circumstances. In the mar- 
ginalia, too, we talk only to ourselves ; we therefore 
talk freshly, boldly, ori^nally, with abandonnement, 
without conceit; much after the fashion of Jeremy 
Taylor, and Sii Thomas Browne, and Sir William Tern- 
pie, and the anatomical Burton, and that most logical 
analogist, Butler, and some other peoide of the old day, 
who were too full of their matter to have any room for 
their manner, which, being thus left out of question, 
was a capital manner, indeed — a model of mamuiB^ 
with a richly marginalic air. 

The drcumscription of space, too, in these pen- 
dllings, ^"g in it somethli^; more of advantage than 



inconTtniuica. It compels as (whatever diffiueoess of 
id«a we may clandestinely entertain) into Montes- 
quieu-ismf into Tacitus-ism (here I leave out of 'riew 
the concluding portion of the Annah), or even into 
Cariyle-ism, a thing which^ I have been told, is not to 
be confounded with your ordinary affectation and bad 
grammar. I say " bad grammar," through sheer ob- 
stinacy, because the grammarians (who should know 
better) infdst upon It that I should not. But then 
grammar is not what these grammariana will have it, 
and, being merely the analysis of language with the 
result of this analyds, must be good or bad just as the 
analyst is sage or sUly, just as he is a Home Tooke or a 

But to our sheep. During a rainy afternoon, not 
kmg ago, being in a mood too listless for continuous 
study, I sought rdief from eantti in dipping here and 
there, at random, among the volumes of my library — 
no very large one, certainly, but sufficiently miscel- 
laneous, and, I flatter myself, not a little rec&erc&e. 

Peihaps it was what the Gennans call the ** brain- 
scattering " humor of the moment ; but, while the 
{rfcturesqueness of the numerous pencil-scratches 
arrested my attention, their helter-skelterinesa of com- 
mentary amused me, I found myself, at length, form- 
ing a wish that it had been some other hand than my 
own irtiich bad so bedevilled the books, and fancying 
that, in such case, I mig^ have derived no inconader- 



.1 :•:] ; 
Thomas Carlylu. ' ' ' '' 





aUe jdeasare from torning thsm over. From this the 
tramdtion-thought (as Hr. Lyell, or Hr. Murchiflon, or 
Mr. Featherstonhaugh wotdd have it) was natural 
enough : there might be something even in my scrih- 
bUngB which, for the mere sake of scribbling, would 
have interest for others. 

The main difficulty respected the mode of transfer- 
ring the notes from the volumes, the context from the 
textf without detriment to that exceedingly frail fabric 
of intelligibili^ in which the context was imbedded. 
fnUi all apidiances to boot, with the printed pages at 
their back, the commentaries were too often like Do- 
dona's oracles, or those of Lycophron Tenebrosus, ta 
the essays of the pedant's pupils in Quintilian, which 
were " necessarily excellent, since even he (the pedant) 
found it imposnUe to comprehend them " ; what, then, 
would become of it — this context — if transferred ? 
if translated ? Would it not rather be tiwtuit (tra- 
duced), which is the French synonyme, or orerzezet 
(tamed topsy-turvy), which is the Dutch one ? 

I concluded, at length, to put extenave faith in the 
acumen and imagination of the reader; — this as a gen- 
eral rule. But, in some instances, where even faith 
would not remove mountains, there seemed no safer 
plan than so to remodel the note as to convey at least 
the ghost of a conception as to what it was all about. 
Where, for such conception, the text itself was abso- 
lutely necessary, I could quote It; where the title of 



ths book comnunted npcHi was indispeiuaUc, I could 
name it. In short, like « aorel-hero dilemma'd, I 
made up my mind " to be guided by drcumstanceB,** 
in default of more satisfactory rules of conduct 

As for the multitudinous opinion expressed in the 
subjoined farrago ; as for my present assent to all, or 
dissent from any portion of it; as to the postiUliQr of 
my having, in some instances, altered my mind, or as 
to the impoatibllity of my not having altered it often, 
— these are points upon which I say nothing, becauae 
upon these there can be nothing cleverly said. It 
may be as well to observe, however, that just as the 
goodness of your true pun is in the direct ratio of its 
intoleratMlity, so is nonsense the essential sense of the 
Margnal Note. 

One of the happiest examples, in a small way, of the 
carrying-one's-self-in-a-hand-basket logic, is to be 
found in a London weeUy paper called The Papulae 
Record of Modem Sdeoee i A Journal of PbBoaapby 
and GeneraJ lulormathn. This work has a vast cir- 
culation, and is respected t^ eminent men. Some 
time In November, 1845, it copied from the ColuaibUn 
Magazine, of New York, a rather adventurons article 
of mine, called Meamertc Kevelation. It had ikb im- 
pudence, also, to spoil the title by improving it to The 
Laat Converaation of a Soatoambule, a plirase that is 



ootiiiiig at all to the purpose, once the person who 
" converBes " is not a somnembule. He is a sleep- 
waker, not a sleep-walker; but I presume that the 
Record thought it was only the difference of an I 
What I chiefly complain of, however, is that the Lon- 
don editor prefaced my paper with these words : " The 
following is an article communicated to the Columbian 
Magaxine, a journal of respectability and influence in 
the United States, by Mr. Edgar A. Poe. It bears in- 
ternal evidence of anthenticity I " There is no subject 
under heaven about which funnier ideas are in general 
entertained than about this subject of internal evidence. 
It is by " Internal evidence," observe, that we decide 
tqton the mind. But to the Record § On the issue of 
my VaMemar Cage, this journal copies it, as a matter 
of course, and (also as a matter of course) improves the 
title, as in the previous instance. But the editorial 
comments may as well be called profound. Here they 

" The following narrative appears in a recent number 
of the Amerkan Magazine, a respectable periodical in 
the United States. It comes, it will be observed, from 
the narrator of the Latt Cbnvereatfon of a Sanaam* 
bale, published in the Record of the 39th of November. 
In extracting this case, the Morning Pott, of Monday 
last, taksB wbat it conMders the safe side, by rem rk- 
ing: ' For our own parts we do not believe it; and 


Uiere tm several statements made, more especially 
witli regard to the disease of which the patient died, 
which at once prove the case to be either a fabrication, 
or the work of one little acquainted with consumpttoo. 
The story, however, is wonderful, and wb therefore give 
it.' The editor, however, does not point out the especial 
statements which are inconsistent with what we know 
of the progress of consumption ; and as few sdentiBc 
persons would be wilUng to take their pathology any 
more than tbelr logic from the Morning Pott, his cau- 
tion, it is to be feared, will not have much weight. 
Hie reason assigned by the Pott tot publishing the ac- 
count is quaint, and would apply equally to an adven- 
ture from Barott MuacbaoMca i — ' It is wonderful, and 
we tlurefore give it.' . . . The above cose is ob- 
viously one that caimot be received except on the 
strongest testimony, and it is equally clear that the 
testimony by which it is at present accompanied is 
not of that character. The most favorable circum- 
stances in support of it consist in the fact that credence 
is understood to be given to it at New York, within a 
few miles of which city the affair took place, and where 
consequently the most ready means must be found for 
its authentication or disproval. The initials of the 
medical men and of the young medical student must be 
sufficient, in the immediate locality, to establish their 
identity, especially as H. Valdemar was well known, 
and had been so long ill as to render it out of the question 



that then Bhonld be any difficulty in ascertaining the 
names of the physicians by whom he had been attended. 
In the same vay the nuraes and servaats, nnder whose 
cognizance the case must have come daring the seven 
months irtdch it occtqded, aie of course accessiUe to 
all sorts of inquiries. It will, therefore, aiqteai that 
there must have been too many parties concerned to 
render prolonged deception practicable. The angry 
excitement and various rumors which have at lengtti 
rendered a public statement necessary are also suffi- 
cient to show that something extraordinary must have 
taken place. On the other hand, there is no strong 
point for disbelief. The circumstances are, as tile 
A»f says, * wonderful ' ; but so are all circumstances 
that come to our knowledge for the first time, and in 
mesmerism everything is new. An objection may be 
made that the article has ratiier a "'fgA ziniflh air, Kr. 
Poe having evidentiy written with a iriew to effect, and 
so as to excite rather than to subdue the vague appetite 
for the mysterious and the horrible which such a case, 
under any circumstances, is sure to awaken ; but apart 
from this there is nothing to deter a philosophic mind 
from further inquiries regarding it. It is a matter en- 
tirely for testimony. [So it is.] Under this view we 
shall take steps to procure fr<»n some of the most in- 
telligent and inflwntial citizens of ITew York all the 
evidence that can be bad upon the subject No 
steamer will leave England for America till the 3d of 



Pnniuy, Mit wilhui ■ few wcAb ok CHtt tmw wt 
teitbt not it will be poMifek to 1^ tafon Ae icataB €i 
as Meeord infonnaliaa ^ddi wiU easkla Acm to 
caoie to a pnt^ accurate c o nchw M n ." 

Ta; and no doubt Otey came to one a c corat e 
au>u0if in Ae end. Bat aS tiw* rigmarole ii wliat 
people odl telling a Oang by * 
The IkeordiimstB upon tbe trnfli of the stny b 
of certain facts, — becanae " Oie iniliala d Ae yomg 
men nmat be Baffideot to ertahmi their identity*'; 
became " Ae nones most be accessible to all aorta «< 
ifwiifirifs ": «iH becanse *fc* " anny excitement and 
varioos nmu»s iriuch at lengA rendered a public state- 
ment necessary are sufficient to show Aat something 
eztraorduiaiy most hare taken ^ace." To be sorel 
The story is proved by Aese facts, — the facts abont Ae 
students, Ae oorses, Ae excitement, the credence given 
Ae tale in Hew York. And now all we hare to do it 
to ^ore Aese facts. Ahl A^ an proved by the 
stoiy. As for Ae MomiagPo»i it evinces more weak- 
ness in its disbelitf than Ae Record in its credulity. 
What the former says about doubting oo account of in- 
accuracy in Ae details of the phAimcal syn^itoms is a 
mere "fetch," as Ae Cockneys have it, in tnder to make 
a very few littie children believe that it, Ae iV»t& is not 
qidte BO stuind as a post proverbislly is. It knows 
nearly as much about yaOuAagj as it does abont Bng- 



Hflh gmninai, and I really hope it will not feel called 
npott to bluah at the compliment I represented the 
Bymptoms of H, Valdemar as " severe," to be sure. I 
put an extreme case ; for it was necessary that I should 
leave on the reader's mind no doubt as to the certainty 
of death without the aid of the mesmerist ; but such 
symptoms mi^t have appeared, the identical ^mp- 
toms have appeared, and will be presented again and 
again. Had the Post been only half as honest as ig- 
nmwit, it would have owned that it disbelieved for no 
reason more profound than that which influences all 
dunces in disbelieving, — ^it would have owned that it 
doubted the tiling merely because the thing was a 
" wonderful " thing, and had never yet been printed 
in abo(^ 


We mere men of the wtnld, with no principle — a very 
old-fashioned and cumbersome tiling — should be on 
our guard lest, fancying him on his last legs, we insult 
or otherwise maltreat some poor devil of a genius at 
the very instant of his putting his foot on the top round 
of his ladder of triumph. It is a common trick with 
these fellows, irtien on the point of attaining some 
long-cherished end, to sink themselves into the deepest 
possible abyss (rf seeming despair, for no other purpose 
than that <A increaring the space of success throu{^ 
which tiiey have made up thor "^^"^T immediately to 





Dt Carae Cbrktit "l 

r ff ling an 0nt hai keca wiittam, and aflcr 
{an Oct can be ttwu^ht, on ttw tafia «fGo« 
and thcKMil, flw man who has a i^it to ny Aat he 
thinka at an win find hinMclf face to face witti the ca»- 
cbwoo that, on titeae topica, the moat fnCound Aoag^ 
is t*"* v4iicii f" be **»* least eanfy distnwinihcd ficook 

That punctuation is inqwrtant aD agree; but lunr 
few conqireheiid tibe extent cf its nnportancel The 
writer irtio Defects pnnctiiation, or miqnuictaates, is 
UaUe to be misonderBtood; ttiis, according to tlie 
popular idea, is ttie stun of tlie erila arising from heed- 
1ftr*fff or ignorance. It does not seem to lie known 
tiiat, even irtiere the sense is perfectly dear, a sen- 
tence may be deprived tA half its force, its spirit, its 
pc^t, by improper ponctnations. For the want of 
merely a comma, it often occnn that an axiom appears 
a paradox, or that a sarcasm is converted into a ser- 



mondd. There is no treatiM on the to^ snd then U 
no topic on wliich a treatise is more needed. There 
seems to enst a vulgar notion that the subject Is one 
of pure cimventionality, and cannot be l>rou^t witliin 
the limits of Intelligible and conastent rule. And yet, 
if faiily looked in the face, the whole matter is so 
^ain that its rationale may be read as we run. If not 
antidpated, I shall, hereafter, make an attempt at a 
mflgfl T'^y paper on " The Philosophy of Point." In the 
meantime let me say a word or two of the dash. Every 
writer for the press, who has any sense of the accurate, 
must have been frequently mortified and vexed at the 
distortion of his sentences by the printer's now general 
substitution of a semicolon or comma for the dash of 
the MS. The total or neariy total disuse of the latter 
point has been brought about by the revulsion conse- 
quent upon its excessive employment about twenty 
years ago. The Byronic poets were all dash. John 
Neal, In his eartier novels, exaggerated its use into the 
grossest abuse, although his very error arose from tile 
philostqihical and self-dependent spirit which has al- 
ways distingnisbed him, and which will even yet lead 
him, if I am not greatly mistaken in the man, to 
do something for the literature of tlie country which 
the country " will not willingly," and cannot possibly, 
" let die.'* Without entering now into the why, let 
me observe that the printer may always ascertain when 
the dash of the US. is properly and when improperiy 



akore I tunc aaafBtttA ilt sk. The wvk^ "m 
coKodatKHi,'' nc, cpeakiiig with nfamoe to gnn- 

" a iBCOiii Otouf^XL" Hsvinc aiiUcu ttcK lattar 
words, I rdkcted wfaedicr it would not be pn^iMf to 

words. How, imtead of etaBog Out phnae, ** a ■nrnnd 
flMH^tt," ■likJi is ct soms nse, vliiLli paitiallT con- 
vtjt flu idea intended — wliiA advances nw a step 
toward my foil p ur pose, — ^I softer it to remaio, and 
mer^ pot a dash between it and the phrase, **an 
emendation.'* The dash gtres tlie reader a choice be- 
tween two, or among ttuce or more ex pr es si ons, one 
oi iriiich may be more forcible tlian another, bnt all (rf 
which bdp ont the idea. It stands, in general, for 
these words, ** or, to make my meaning more dis- 
tinct." This force it has, and this force no other 
pdnt can hare ; since all other points have well-mider- 
stood uses quite different from this. Therefore the 
dash cannot be dispensed with. It has its phases, its 
variation of tiie force described; bat the one principle — 
that of second tiion^t or emendation — ^wiO be found 
at die bottom of alL 


Diana's Temjde at Ephesos having been bomt on 

the nig^t in which Alexander was bom, some peiBon 




obfletred that " it was no wonder, dnce, at Hie period 
of ttie conflagration, she was gosriping at Pella." 
Cicero commends tiiis as a mtty conceit, nutarch con- 
demns it as senseless; and this is the one pfunt in 
which I agree with the biographer. 

Until we analyze a religion or a idiilosophy In re- 
spect of its inducements, independently of its rati<malit7, 
we shall never be in condition to estimate that religion 
or that philosophy by the mere nomber of its adher- 
ents: unluckily, 

Ho Indian Prince luu to hi> palace 

Hon foUowen than a thief to Ow gallows. 


" If in any point," says Lord Bacon, " I bave re- 
ceded from what is commonly received, it hath been for 
the purpose of proceeding nKlius and not in allud"/ 
but the character assumed, in general, by modem 
** Reform " is simply that of Opposition. 


A strong argument for the religion of Christ Is tills : 

that offences against Charity are about the only ones 

irtiich men on their death-beda can be made, not to 

ondeiBtand, but to feel, as crime. 




The effect derivable from well-managed rhyme i> 
very in^ifectty understood. Conventionally " rhyme" 
implies merely close similarity of sound at the ends of 
▼erse, and it is really curious to observe how long man- 
kind have been content with their limitation of the idea. 
What, in rhyme, first and principally pleases, may be 
referred to the human sense or appreciation of equal- 
ity, the conmion element, as mi^t be eaaly shown, 
of all the gratification we derive from muac in its most 
extended sense, very Dspedally in its modifications of 
metre and rhythm. We see, for example, a crystal, 
and are immediately interested by the equahty between 
the sides and angles of one of its faces; but on bringing 
to view a second face, in all respects similar to the 
first, our pleasure seems to be squared ; on bringing to 
view a third, it appears to be cubed, and so on. I have 
no doubt, indeed, that the delist experienced, if meas- 
urable, would be found to have exact mathematical re- 
lations such, or nearly such, as I suggest ; that is to say, 
as far as a cartain point, beyond which there would be 
a decrease, in similar relations. Now here, as the ul- 
timate result of analysis, we reach the sense of mere 
equality, or rather the human delij^t in this sense; 
and it was an instinct, rather than a clear comprehen- 
sion of this delight as a prindple, which, in the first 
instance, led the poet to attempt an increase of the 


affect aridng from the mere similarity, that is to b^, 
equality, between two sounds, — led him, I say, to at- 
tempt increasing the effect 1^ making a secondary 
equalization in pladng the rhymes at eqoal distances; 
Uiat is, at the ends of lines of equal length. In this 
manner riiyme and the termination of the line grew 
connected in men's thoog^ts, — grew into a convention- 
aliam, the principle being lost si^^t of altt^ther. And 
it was simply because Pindaric verses had, before this 
epoch, existed — ^L e., veiws of unequal length — that 
rhymes were subsequently found at unequal distances. 
It was for this reason solely, I say, — for none more pro- 
found. Rhyme had come to be regarded as of right 
^ipertaining to the end of verse ; and here we com- 
plain that the matter has finally rested. But it is clear 
that there was much more to be considered. So far, 
the sense of equality alone entered the effect; or, if 
fliis equality was sli{^Uy varied, it was varied only 
throu^ an accident — the accident of the existence of 
nndaric metres. It will be seen that the rhymes were 
always anticipated. The eye, catching the end of a 
verse, ^rtiether long or short, expected, for the ear, a 
rtiyme. The great element of unexpectedness was not 
dreamed of, that is to say, of novelty, of originality. 
** But," says Lord Bacon (how justly I), " there is no 
e^tdsite beauty without some strangeness in the pro- 
portions." Take away this element of strangeness, of 
unexpectedness, of novelty, of origiiiality— call it what 



wewfll — and all that h eflmeal in laft Un t m » kit «t 
ODCc We lota, va nds tha imkiiowii, tha Tasoe, flic 
vnconqifdieiidad, be canae offered before we hare time 
to ezandoe and comprdwod. We loae, in short, all that 
aainnlates the beanty of earth with irtiat we dream of 
the beaoty irf haaren. Perfection irf ihyme is attainable 
onfyin the combination of the two elementi, equality 
and me^iectedneH. Bnt as eril camiot exist withont 
good, so mie^ectedness most arise from e^ected- 
nest. We do not contend for mere arbitraiinees ot 
liiyme. In flu first place, we must hare eqtddistant 
or r^nlaiiy recurring rhymes to foim the basis, ez- 
pectednesK, out ai which arises the element, unexpect- 
edness, by the introduction of riiymes, not arbitrarily, 
but with an eye to the greatest amount of nne^iected- 
ness. We should not introduce them, for exanqtle, at 
such points that the entire line is a multii4e of the 
s^laUes preceding the points. When, for instance, I 

And tha iUken, Md, mtcertain nutliiig trf each pmple curtain, 

I produce more, to be sure, but not remarkably mon, 
than the ordinary effect of rhymes regularly recurring 
at the ends of lines ; for the number of sjilaUes in the 
irtiole verse is merely a multiple of the number of 
syllaUes preceding the rhyme introduced at the mid- 
die, and there is still left, Aerefore, a certain degree of 
ezpectednesB. What there is of the element, unex- 



pectodneas, is addressed, in fact, to tli* eye only; for 
the ear divides the veise into two ordinary lines, thos: 

And the "Hfc^", Mid, uncertAin 

I obtain, homrer, the whole effect of anezpectednflai, 
irtunl write, 

TtariUsd mc, 1SSM ma with futsMic terron never fdt befom. 

n. B. — It is very commonly supposed that rhyme, as 
It now ordinarily easts. Is of modem invention ; but 
see the CSoutb of Aristophanes. Hebrew veise, how- 
ever, did not include it, the terminationa of the lines, 
^ere most distinct, never showing anything of the 

Panlus Jovins, living in those benighted times ^en 
diamond-pointed styluses were as yet unknown, 
thougtit proper, nevertheless, to speak of his goose- 
quill as " aliquando ferreos, aureus aliqoando," in- 
tending, of course, a mere figure of speech ; and from 
the class of modem authors who use really nothing 
to write with but steel and gtdd, some, no doubt, will 
let their pens, vice versa, descend to posterity under 
the designation of " anserine,** of course, intending 
always a mere figure of speech. 

VOL. nt^.3. ,53 




Th« Carl^e-ists Bhonld adopt, a a motto, th« in- 
scription on the oid bell from whose metal was cast the 
Great Tom, of Oxford: "In Thonue laude resono 
'BimI BomI' dne frande"; and ** Biml BomI" in 
rach case wotdd be a marreUous ** echo of sound to 


An infinity of error makes Us way into our idiiloso- 
phy throu^^ man's habit of considering liimself a citi- 
zen of a world stdely, oi an Indiridnal {danet, Instead 
<rf at least occasionally contemplating his position as 
coamopcdite proper, as a denizen of the nnirerse. 


Talking <rf ptms: ** Why do they not give us quail 
for dinner, as usual 7 " demanded Count Fessis, the 
other day, of H , the classicist and sportsman. 

" Because at this season," replied H , who was 

dozing " quails sopor fessis ** (Quail is so poor, Fessis). 


The German Sebw Urat e t t i — not ezacfly "hum- 
bug," but " al^-rocketing "—seems to be tlie only 
tenn by irtiich ve can conreolently designate that 
peculiar st^le of criticism irtiich has lately come into 


Cuhion, through the influence of certain members of 
the FaUan family — people who live (upon beans) 
abont Boston. 


Some Kendunan, postibly Montaigne, says: "Peo- 
^ talk about thinUng, but for my part I never Oiink, 
except when I At down to write." It is Uiifl never 
diioking, unless irtien we sit down to write, which is 
tiie cause of so much indllferent compositioii. But 
perhaps there ia something more involved in the 
Frenchman's observation than meets the eye. It is 
certain that the mere act of inditing tends, in a great 
degree, to the localization of thought Whenever, on 
account of its vagueness, I am dlssatisfled with a con- 
ception of the brain, I resort forthirith to the pen, for 
the purpose of obtaining, through its aid, the necessary 
form, consequence, end precision. 

How very commonly we hear it remarked that such 
and such thoughts are beyond the compass of wordsl 
I do not believe that any thought, properly so called, la 
out of the reach of language. I fancy, rather, that 
irtiere difficult in expression is experienced, there is, 
in the intellect which experiences it, a want either of 
deliberatenesa or of method. For my own part I have 
never had a thought which I could not set down In 
words with even more distinctness than that with 
wiiidi I conceived it; as I have before observed, the 



tium^t is logicalized 1^ the effort at (written) ezpres- 
Aon. There is, however, a class of fancies of exquiate 
delicacy, which are not thoughts, and to which, as yet, 
I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt language. 
I use the word " fancies " at random, and merely be- 
cause I must use some word; bat the idea commonly 
attached to the term la not even remotely applicable to 
the shadows of shadows in question. They seem to 
me rather psychal than intellectuaL They arise in the 
soul (alas, how rarelyl) only at its epochs of most in- 
tense tranquillity, when the bodily and mental health 
are in perfection, and at those mere points of time 
wbtm the confines of the waking wortd blend with 
those of the world of dreams. I am aware of these 
" fancies " only whsa I am upon the very brink of 
sleep, with the consdousness that I am so, I have 
satisfied myself that this condition exists but for an in- 
appredaUe pcnnt of time, yet it is crowded with these 
** shadows of shadows " ; and for absolute thought 
there is demanded time's endurance. These " fancies" 
hare In them a pleasurable ecstasy, as far beyond the 
most pleasurable of the world of wakefulness or of 
dreams as the heaven of the Northman theology is 
beyond its helL I regard the visions, even as they 
arise, with an awe which, in some measure, moderates 
or tranquillizes the ecstasy; I so regard them throu^ 
a conviction (which seems a portion of the ecstasy it* 
self) that this ecsta^, in itself, is of a character su- 



pcinal to the haman nature — is a gUmpse ot the spirit*! 
oater world; and I arrive at this condiision, if this 
term is at all applicable to instantaneous intuition, by a 
perception that the delight experienced has, as its ele- 
ment, but the absoluteness of novelty. I say the ** ab- 
soluteness," for in these fancies — let me now term 
them psychal impressions — there is really nothing even 
iqiproziniate in character to impressions ordinarily re- 
ceived. It is as if the five senses were supplanted by 
five myriad others alien to mortality. 

How, so entire Is my faith in the power of words, 
that, at times, I have believed it posedble to embody 
even the evanescence of fancies such as I have at- 
tempted to describe. In e^wriments witti tiiis end in 
view, I have proceeded so far as, first, to control (when 
the bodily and mental health are good) the existence <rf 
tiie condition ; that is to say, I can now (unless when 
ill) be sure that the condition will supervene, if I so 
wish it, at tlie point of time already described ; of its 
supervention, until lately, I could never be certain, 
even under the most favorable circumstances. I mean 
to say, merely, that now I can be sure, wbsa all dr- 
cunutances are favorable, of the supervention of the 
condition, and feel even the capacity of indndog or 
conqtelllng It; the favorable drcomstances, however, 
are not the less rare, else had I con^Mdled, already, the 
heaven Into tiie earth. 

I have proceeded so far, secondly, as to prevent the 



Aa4o«T coDceptiaB cf Ani 
I moot to fa tinitntaod m "TT""T **"* ** 
ctci, or fijnekal imprcaBcm, to vltick I anode, aic I 
fined tSBfiafindaalaclf — axe not, in a word, cran 
to all — **«'*^"#^ for on tiw* point it ■ qnte i^ f ™ 
Ibat I riioald form an o|pinian; feat n ofl iin g can fee 
mon certnndian 0wt ^ren ■ partial racofd irfttaiia- 
p f eario ni would etartle die tmmnal intrlWt ^ man- 
Mnd fey flie lupif mtw of fte mmitj oj ttie material 
m)^03'Mf KDo tt its coaae<{tient sn^jgestuBft. In a 
word, ihonld I erer wiite a paper on Om tt^ic, tlia 
woild iriU be convened to acknowledge that, at last, I 
hare done an original thing. 



Id fba wty of original, striking, and vell-nistaliied 
metaphor, we can call to mind f«w finer things than 
this, to be found in James Pockle's Gray Cap for v 
Green Headf " In speaking of tlie dead, so fold up 
your discourse that their rirtuM may be outwardly 
shown, irtille their vices are wrapped vp in ^enca." 


Talking of inscriptions, how admirable was the one 
drculoted at Paris, for the equestrian statue of Louis 
ZV., done 1^ Rgal and Boochordon : '* Statua Status." 

** This is ri^t," says Eplcunu, " pndsely becattse 
the people are displeased with it" 

** n y a i^tarier," says Chamfort, one of the Kamkars 
of Krabeau, " que toute \ii» pnblique, toute con- 
vention refue, est une sottise car elle a convenue an 
plus grand nombre." 

" Si proflcere cupis," says the great African bishop, 
" primo id venun pota quod sona mens omnium homi- 
num attestatur." 


Who aliaU dodde where Doctoim dliagt«e ? 

To me it spears that in all ages the most preposter- 
ous fslsities have been received as troths by at least tiie 


faco critical in Ae hot MOK, feat Oe BMMi an nn- 
Icanoad. Ulnai^ Guiiiaiiy Am pnaenti ttc ni- 
fldlaf ipcctade of tte impolsTC ^int Murouadd fef 
dw critical, and, of coane^ la aonie uimu re inSu- 
encad tbct^. Entfand, for namp i r, has adranced 
far, and ftanca much fardwr, into dw critical ^odt; 
and thnr effect on die Gemum nnnd is aeu in the 
wQd^ aaomalous conditioo of die Gcnoan fiteratmc 
at larfe. Hut diis latter will be ia^ gorcd by age, 
howerer, riumld nerer be maiotaiiied. As the im- 
palifTe ^irit sttbddes, and die critical iqirises, dwre 



win appear the poUehed insi^dity of the later En^and, 
or that ultimate throe of taste which has found its best 
ezempliflcation in Sue. At present the German litera- 
ture resembles no other on the face of the earth, for it 
is the result of certain conditionii whicli, before this in- 
dividual instance of their fulfilment, have never been 
fulfilled. And dds anomalous state to irtiich I refer is 
the source of our anomalous critldsm upon what that 
state produces ; is the source of the grossly confiicting 
opinions aboat German letters. For my own part, I 
admit the German vigor, the German directness, bold- 
ness, imagination, and some other qualities of im- 
pulse, just as I am willing to admit and admire these 
qualities in the first (or impulaiTe) epochs of British 
and French letters. At the German criticism, how- 
ever, I cannot refrain from laughing all the more 
heartily, all the more seriously I hear it invised. Not 
that, in detail, it afFects me as an absurdly, but in tiie 
adaptation of its details. It abounds in brilliant bub- 
bles of suggestion, but these rise and sink and jostle 
each other, until the whole Tortez of thought in which 
they originate is one indistinguishalde chaos of froth. 
The German criticism is unsettied, and can only be 
settled by time. At present it suggests witiiout de- 
numstrating, or convindng, or afiscting any definite 
purpose under the sun. We read it, rub our foreheads, 
and ask " What then ? " I am not ashamed to say 
that I prefer even VtAtaire to Goetiie, and bfAi Macau- 


t tt ■— ■ ? 


Whtf CM be ««c mooOiag, at owe to a anH 
frfJ* aad to Hi cooKiena, fhn the canictiiH tfaa^ 
is toldi^ ▼ctiC''nK* on ^ ■T-i'Tf ior injiHticc doae 
BnBf he bM Kinplj to do llicm jmticc in ictm ? 

JUoa UairetveBe, defines poeti7 ae " I'art d' eifKiiu er 
lee pensto par la ftetion.** The Gennain ban two 
vorde in full accordance widi fliii definitiaa, abraid as 
it ie— the (cnns Dkbttoatt (the ait of flclioa), and 



dkbteo (to feign) — ^which are generally used toe poetiy 
and to nuke venes. 

Brown, in his Amtuementa, speaks of haTing trans* 
fnsed the blood of an ass into fhe veins of an astndog- 
ical quack; and there can be no doubt tliat one of 
Hague's progenitois was Hit man. 

The chief portion of Professor Espy^s tiuory has 
been antidpated by R(^^ Bscml 

Whatever may be the merits or demerits, generally, 
of the magazine literature of America, there can be 
no question as to its extent or influence. The topic, 
Magazine Literature, is therefore an important one. 
In a few years its importance will be found to have in- 
creased in geometrical ratio. The whole tendency of 
the age is magarinewaid. The Qnorteriy Reviews 
have never been popular. Hot only are they too 
stilted (by way of keeping up a dne dignity), but they 
make a point, with the same end in view, of discussing 
only topics which are caviare to tlie many, and which, 
for the most part, liave only a conventional intsrast 
even with the few. Their issues, also, are at too long 
Intervals; their subjects get cold before being served 



tlKfi«i»t<AavrMcr. Tk hoik ^ ^ pavd «< 
imm wfOrn meaOiiy ■■bitjihi mttm to he ftm'mtj 
■Jaytrf, UmattoaRAe Homy wnts if Oe 4^. at 




lljrMead- — antnerarooiiiiiiaiceiAathcfaBdct 
a poem (hmUm fandftd mn, after all) wiflrant fint 
tUboratdy "tawoUng the Mtnes.** Like so many 
rti*-dogi of JcAm of Sircllea, hovercr, Ae man h« in- 
TokM tlwm, flic moie Ihcy dedme obeying the in- 




Hie nose of a mob is its inugination. By this, at 
any time, It can be quietly led. 


Then Um a de«p and ataUU w«Il 

Within fon leafy torett hid, 
WboM pent uid lonely mten nrall 

Itf Gonflnei *^hlll and droAr unld. 

This putting the adjective after the notm Is merely 
an ine^usahle GalUcism; but ttie putting the prepo- 
sition after the noun is aUen to all language, and In op- 
position to all its principles. Snch thln^^ in general* 
serve only to betray the versifier's poverty of resource; 
and when an inversion of this bdnd occnis we say to 
ourselves, " Here the poet lacked the skill to make 
oat his line without distorting the natural or colloquial 
order of the words." How and then, however, we 
must refer the error not to deficiency of bUU, but to 
Mnnething far less defensible — to an idea that soch 
things belong to the essence of poetry; that it needs 
them to iHn*ing«iah it from prose ; tliat we are poetical, 
in a word, very much In the ratio of our unprosaical- 
ness st these points. Even iriiile employing the 
phrase " poetic license," a phrase i^ch has to 
answer for an infinity of sins, people who think in 
this way seem to liave an indistinct conviction that the 



>kB« • Eai ii apitaa •< • - bnilfc,- Ob IdRc si7 
fc»i<heBBjt»fciilMrf^pwMM. Amtaajor- 


■■, or, m pMfal, to fh« Kon «f 

praMic a podical djk ■, dK fed- 

Smcciy one of tfash 
■carmakii^feiia^fmcTlma the cqnalrf Pope; aad 
to Cbe lUK noK are attribafaOle ttrae fovOB aC tfact 
OBHWU point md fofce far nluLh Moon ■ owliit* 
gutted. It is Uw pFOMkam of Aoe t« 
wbidi if owing thnr a^adal qnolaUB^. 

The KeTCfend Arflmr Coze^ 5»tf < Ail> »tef y , liw- 
fog been condemned m no me wwira d tenne ty Poe, of 



the Broadway /oamal and Green, of The Emporiumi 
A writer in the Hartfotd Coliaabian retorts as ft^ow: 

An nttertaliilng Itiitoi7, 

Entitled Stuti A SfyriOT, 
Bu ncantly been pnblialied bj the Rererend ArUiar Coze. 

The poem ia drunatic, 

And the wit of It ia Attic, 
And its ifftffc'T are ea^hatlc of the doctdnM orthodio. 

But Hr. Poe, the poet, 

Dedaret he cannot go It — 
That the book It nxj ttiQdd, or aomethiiic of diat lort: 

And Oreen, of the EofioHr 

Vat, teUi a kindred Kory , 
And flwaan Uke mnj tory that it la nt worth a groaL 

But nanne all t^" croaUns 

Of the Ami and the joUng 
Of the vardant little fellow of the aaad-to-lM Unlaw, 

The People, in deiirion 

Of their in^ndent decUon, 
Han dadared, without diTiaUm, that the Jlfyrtnr win do. 

The truth, ai coarse, rather iojurea an efdgram than 
otherwise; and nobody will think the worse of the one 
above, irtien I aay that, at the date of its first appear- 
ance, I had ej^treased no opinion whatever of the poem 
to irtiich it refers. " Give a dog a bad name," etc 
Whenever a book ia abused, people take it for granted 
that it ia I who have been abasing iL 


He aiiAv ■ 1^^ ■ c^^ ft A 


the Jl>ite7t If bte dns. ■TWffii|l " 

0htt is BB My. Oc ffwfpnn^rr «f « 

Am CMHtiTWiB in Catnll^ Miilmifc" for a ■ig^liigdfc. 

The pare '••••»p-mttr^ c h ooeB ^ fri^ oAcr feeen^ 

tmt:ittf^ ia diAiacter of WcMto or " m ^ i * t. b tlie 
ratio of dw RcpectiTe bandr or lalltHitr of the tUn^ 
com b ined, ^ncfa ne tfa eim dw e iBH to be t i mi a il t n i 
m etomic, that is to i^, as p rerio m i 
Bat, aa often analogous hi^pena m pl^Bical c 



try, so not onfrequently does It occur in this chemistiy 
(rf the inteUect, that the admixture of two elements 
results in a Bomething that has nothing of the qualities 
of one of them, or even nothing of the qualities (tf 
either. . . . Thug the range of imagination is un- 
limited. Its materials extend throughout the uni- 
verse. Even out of deformities it fabricates tiiaC 
beauty which is at once its sole object and its inevitable 
test But, in ganeral, the riclmess or force of the 
matters combised, the facility of discovering comtdna- 
ble novelties worth combining, and, especially, tiie ab- 
solute ** chemical comlonation " of the completed 
mass, are the particulars to be regarded in our estiniate 
of imagination. It is tiiis thorough harmony of an 
imagioative work which so often causes it to be under- 
valued by the thoughtless, through the character of 
obviousness which is superinduced. We are apt to 
find ourselves asking why it is that these comUnations 
have never been imagined before. 

In *Tittninitig trivial details, we are apt to overtook 

essential generalitieB. Thus M , in ii^^Hng a to-do 

about the " ^rpographical mistakes ** in his book, has 
permitted the printer to escape a scoldli^ lAlch he 
did richly deserve, — a scolding for a " typographical 
mjatmin, " of really vital in^tortance, — the mistake of 
havii^ printed the book at all. 



It has been well said of the French orator, Duj^ 
ttut " he qtoke, as nobody else, the language of every- 
body " ; and thus his maimer Mems to be exactly con- 
vened in fbat of the Progpondian Baphnists, i^o, on 
account of Ihe familiar tone in which tiiey lisp their 
outre phrases, may be said to speak, as everybody, the 
language of nobody; that is to say, a language em- 
phatically their own. 

" He IBulwer] is the most accomplisbed writer of the 
most accomplished era of English Letters, practidng 
all atfisB and classes of compodtion, and eminent in 
all — novelist, dramatist, poet, historian, moral phi- 
loso^er, essayist, critic, political pamphleteer — in each 
superior to all others, and only rivalled in each by him- 
self."— WARD, anthOT of Tremahu. 

The " only rivalled in each by himself ** hen ptrti me 
In mind of 

Hone but hlmadf cut be Ua panlU. 

Bttt surriy Mr. Ward (who, although he did write De 
Vere, is by no means a fool) could never have put to 
paper, in his sober senses, anything so absord as the 
paragraph quoted above without stopping at every 
third word to hold his ddes, or Oirust his pocket-hand- 

ed byGoogIc 


kerchief into his mouth. If the serious intentimi be 
iniiBted upon, however, I have to remark that the 
(qniiion is the mere opinion of a writer remarkable for 
no other good trait than his fadlil7 at putting liis read- 
ers to sleep according to rules Addisonian, and with the 
least posdble loss of labor and time. But as the mere 
opinion of even a Jeffrey or a Macaulay, I have an in- 
alienable rig^t to meet it mth another. 

As a novelist, then, Bulwer is far more than reapect- 
aUe; although generally inferior to Scott, Godwin, 
D'Israeli, Hiss Bumey, Sue, Dumas, Dickens, the aa- 
ttior of Bleo Viuvbaait and tbe aatlior of Jaoe Eyre, 
and several others. From the list of foreign novels I 
could select a hundred which he could neither have 
mitten nor conceived. As a dramatist, he deserves 
more credit, although he receives less. His IQcbeUeu, 
Uoaey, and Lady ofLyona have done much in the way 
of opening the public eyes to the true value of wtiat 
is fiuperdlioudy termed " stage effect " in the liands of 
one able to manage it. Bat if commendaUe at this 
pi^t, his dramas fail egregionsly io points more im- 
pcfftant; so that, upon the whole, he can be said to have 
written a good play only when we think of him in con- 
nection with the still more contemptible " old-drama- 
tist** imitators who are his contemporaries and 
frimds. As historian, he is sufficiently dignified, snffi- 
cientiy ornate, and more than sufficiently self-snffi- 
dent. HSs Atbctu would have received an Etonian 



prize, and has all flu h^ipy air of an Etonian prixa 
easay revamped. Ks political pamphlets are very 
good as political pamphlets, and very disreputable as 
anything else. Wb essays leave no doubt upon ai^- 
body's mind tiiat, with the writer, tiwy have been essays 
indeed, ffis criticism is really beneath contempt. Ss 
moral philosophy is the mxMt ridiculous of all the 
modem philosophies that ever have been ima^ned 
upon earth. 

" The men of sense," says Hdvetius, " those idols of 
the unthinking, are very far inferior to the men of pas- 
sions. It is the strong passions which, rescuing us 
from sloth, can alone impart to us that coDtinuons 
and earnest attention necessary to great intellectual 

When the Swiss philosopher here qteaks of " in- 
feriori^," be refers to inferiority in woridly socceas; 
by ** men of sense " he Intends indolent men of genius. 
And Bulwer is, emphatically, one of the " men of 
passions " contemplated in the apothegm. Wa pas- 
sions, with opportunities, have made him what he is. 
Urged by a rabid amlntion to do much, in doing nothing 
he would merely have proved himself an idiot Some- 
thing he has done. In aiming at Crichton, he has hit 
the target an inch or two above Harrison Ainsworth. 
Hot to such intellects belong the honors of universal- 
ity. His works bear about them the mmiistakable in- 
dications of mere talent — talent, I grant, of an onosual 



9nUf end luuUucd to its cztraoM of widopnsDt win 

And flie proof i^ tkat irtdle ire cAm £m^ oor- 
•dvM about to be ■""■'"■^ beocatti iti mfliwoce, 
fairijonkindled we never arb That Bahm is no poet 
foUtnn as a conAaiy from ^hal haa been abeady said; 
f w to speak of a po«t witfaoat gemas ia merdy to pst 

In ttie tale proper, irtiere tiieic is no qtace hx de- 
valopincnt <rf diaracter or for great profnsoo and 
variety of inddeot, mere ctniBtniction is, of coarse, fax 
more i mp e rati rdy demanded t^v* in Uie novd. Do* 
fectire {dot. In flua latter, may escape observation, but, 
in tbe tale, never. Most of our tale-wiiters, however. 
Defect the distinction. They aeem to b^in their 
stories without knowing how they are to end; and 
Uior ends, generally, like so many goremments of 
Trincnlo, appear to have forgotten tfadr beginnings. 

Quaintness, wltUn reasonable limits, is not only not 

to be regarded as affectation, but has its proper uses 

in aiding a fantastic effect Miss Barrett will afford 

me two exanqdes. In some Unea to a dog, she says: 




Lmpl tbr broad taU rnna a U^iL 
Laapl tliT ilandpr feet en bri^t, 

Canoptod InfringM; 
Lai^l thoae taMelled aan of thine 
lUcker itrangelj, fair and fine, 

Down thdr (Olden Inchaa, 

And again. In the Soog efa Ttee-SpiHt $ 

Tba dirtiu in^ulMon cMavBi 
In dim movenuntf to the learei 
Dropt and lifted, dropt and lifted, 
la the mallght greenly aifted, — 
In the iiinlli^t utiJ th^^ moonliriit 
Gfeenl; elfted through the trees. 
Ever wave tiie Eden treea. 
In the nlghtll^t and the moonlight, 
WiOi a raffling of green branchea, 
Shaded aA to reionancea, 
Hever ttirred b; rain or breeze. 

The thoo^ts hen belong to a hi^ order of poetry, 
but could not have been wrought Into effective ezpres- 
rion vithont the aid of those repetitions, ttiose tm- 
usual phrases, those quaintnesses, in a word, which it 
has been too long the fashion to censure, indiscrimi- 
nately, under the one general head of " affectation.*' 
Ho poet will fail to be pleased with the two extracts I 
have here given ; but no doubt there are some who will 
find it hard to reconcile the psychal impossibility of 
refraining from admiration with the too-hastily ai- 




tained mental coariction tiutt, critically, tiiere is noth- 
ing to admire. 


Mozart dsdaied, on his death-bed, that he " began 
to see irtiat may be done in music " ; and it is to be 
hoped that De Heyer and the rest of the qmsmodiste 
wHl eventually be|^ to understand irtiat may not be 
done in ttiia particoUr branch of the fine arts. 


Far my part I agree wilh Joshua Barnes : nobody 
but Solomon could have written the Iliad. The cata- 
logue of ships was the work of Robins. 


In Cohen's American Xeriew for October, 1845, a 
gentleman, well known for his scholarship, has a 
fordUe paper on The Scotch School ot PhSoaophy aoi 
(Mtkhm. But although the paper Is "forcible," it 
presents the most tiingiiiiir admixture of error and 
truth, the one dovetailed into the other after a fash- 
ion irtiich is novel, to say the least of It Were I 
to dedgnate in a few words what the whole article de- 
monstrated, I should say " the folly of not beginning 
at the beginning; of ns^ectlDg the giant Moulineaa'a 
advice to his friend Ram." Here is a passage from 
the essay in question : 




" Ihe Doctors [Campbell and Johnson] both chai^ 
Pope with error and Inconsistenc;,— error in soppoong 
that in Wng't'^', of metrical lines niLequal in tht num- 
ber of syllables and pronoonced In equal times, the 
longer soggests celerity (this being the principle of fba 
Alexandrine); Inconsistflncy, in that Pope himself uses 
the same contrivance to convey tiie contrary Idea of 
slowness. But idiy In English ? It is not and cannot 
be disputed that, In tiie hexameter verse of the Greeks 
and Latins, which is the model in this matter, what 
1b distingulBhed as the ' iacty\ic line * was uniformly 
applied to express relodty. How was it to do so ? 
Smply from the fact of being pronounced in an equal 
time with, while containing a greater number of s^- 
laUes or ' bars ' than, the ordinary or average meas- 
ure ; as, on the other hand, the spondaic line, composed 
(^ ttie tniniTTnim number, was, upon the same principle, 
used to indicate slowness. So, too, of the Alexandrine 
in En^ish versiflcation. No, says Campbell, then Is a 
difference : the Alexandrine is not, in fact, like the 
dactjrtic line, pronounced in the common time. Bat 
does this alter tiie principle ? What is the rationale of 
metre, whether the classical hexameter or the Sn^ish 

I have written an essay on tlie Ratietule ol Vent, in 
irtiich the whole topic is Burvoyed th ioHh, and with 
reference to general and inunutalile principles. To 



■ T .if , 

1 ■",:-i ■= 


Thonv'is Campbell. 

""""" i 




tbis essay I refer Hr. Bristed. In the maantiiae, mth- 
ont troubling myself to ascertain whether Doctors 
Johnson and Campbell are wrong, or whether Pope Is 
wrong, or irtiether the reviewor is right or wrong, at 
this point or at that, let me saccinctly state what is fhe 
truth on the topics at issue. And, first, the same prin- 
ciples, in all cases, govern all verse. What is true in 
BnjJiBh is true in Greek. Secondly, in a series of lines, 
if one line contains more syllables than the law of the 
verse demands, and if, nevertheless, this line is pro- 
nounced in ttie same time, upon the whole, as the rest 
of the lines, then this line suggests celerity on ac- 
count of the Increased rapidity of enunciation required. 
Hub in the Greek hexameter the dactylic lines — those 
most abounding in dactyls — serve best to convey the 
idea of rapid motion. The spondaic lines convey that 
of slowness. Thirdly, it is a gross niiat«W to suppose 
that tiie Greek dactylic line is " the model in tliis mat- 
ter " — the matter of the En^iah Alexandrine. The 
Greek dactylic line is <rf the same number of feet, bars, 
beats, pulsations, as the ordinary dact^c-spondaic 
lines among wliich it occurs. But the Alexandrine is 
longer by one foot, by one pulsation, than the pentam- 
eters among irtiich it arises. For its pronunciation 
it demands more time, and therefore, eeterh par&u», it 
would weU serve to convey the impression of length, or 
duration, and thus, indirectly, of slowness. I uy 
cetcrh par&uM, But, by varying conditions, we can 


■jAaHn; fhat ii to Kf , it ii aot fincOr caamjii, hA 

of mm U^M- 

» 1 1 1 n J ^ w 

MoWf if we «iA to cdany, ^ 

tr Ci«C nfUitr to ow a 
coMpCMnf the HvcnlfiMt. To cscct on* hDvcw, 
weiMMt lum moKsyUaUH or «c AaD get tkraa^ 
flw whole liiic too qnekfy for Ac taleaded tin*. 
To set mace fjlUUc^ an we here to 4o ie to voe, is 
place of *■■'*■'—. what o«r p roao fi ea caB anapaats.* 
Thus in Oe fine. 

the tyOaUM ** the onhcnd " f onn an a 
mandhig mnmial n^idi^ of emmdatioii, in cwdcf fliat 
we mi^ get diem in ttie ofdhuuy time of an iambm, 
■efre to niggeit oAtntj. By tlie diaraa of " e ** in 
** dM,** aa ia cnttonuny, die -tAuAt of tlie Intended 
effect is toft; for " di' anbend ** it nodnng more than 
die ottial iambos. In « word, iritenerw an Alexand- 
rine ezprenet celerity, we sluU find it to contain one 

'lB«»lh»pni»»a«lword"i n i frt "iM»lr>iP wn h«r»Ih»wB i i> » 

n ihvw what tta t mt\ n im will mdsdl I faara ihttiiclli ifciiBU la tiM tmmj 
nlwnd to; liz., tbat thi adddooal irOabl* iatredac*4 doM not maki Hm 
toot u OMiwit. or Uu •qolTalMit of an «iiiiibiI vrf 0wt, U It dd, ft wooU 
■rail Hu liu. On tUo topic, oal n all (oplci coniiwrM wtUi nn*. Uht* li 
not ■ >roio*T la i dM ii m irtkh i» not » ■— jaaUt al tht gnai it tot. 



or more aoapttsts; the more anapBBts, the more de- 
cided tile iiiq>reB8ion. But the tendency of the Alex- 
andrine, conajating merely <^ the ustud iambuses, is to 
conrey tlownesa; althou^ it conreys this idea feeUy 
on account ol conveying it indirectly. It follows, from 
vbai I have said, that the common pentameter, inter- 
qwrsed with anapssts, would better convey celerity 
than the Alexandrine interspersed with them in a 
similar d^ree; and it unqnesticmaUly does. 

This " qMcies of nothingness '* is quite as reason- 
able, at all events, as any " kind of something-ness.** 
See Coiriey's Creadon, where, 

An onihaped Und of ■oauthliig flnt appeared. 
If any amUtious man have a fancy to revolutionize, 
at one effort, the univeisal worid of homan tiiooj^t, 
human opinitm, and hunan sentiment, the opportunity 
is his own; the road to immortal renown lies straight, 
opQi^ and unincumbered before hitn- All that he has 
to do is to write and publish a very little book. Its 
title should be nmple, a few plain words : " My Heart 
Laid Bare." But — this little book must be true to its 

Now, is It not Tery singular that, with the raUd 

Oint for notorie^ i^ch distinguishes so many of 




mtnWnd — so many, too, irtio can not a fig wbat Is 
thon^t of them after death, then should not be found 
one man having sufficient hardihood to write this little 
book ? To " write," I say. Then an ten Ihousand 
men who, if the book wen once written, would laugh at 
the notion of being disturbed by its poUication during 
tiieir life, and who could not even conceive ^y fhey 
should object to its being published after thdr death. 
But to write it — then is Ihe rub. No man dare write 
it. Ko man ever will dare write it. No man could 
write it, even if he dared. The paper would shrivel 
and Uaze at every touch at the fiery pen. 


All that the man of genius demands for his exaltation 
is moral matter in motion. It makes no difference 
iriiither tends the motion, whether for him or against 
him, and it is absolutely of no consequence " what is 
the matter." 

To converse well, we need the co<d tact of talent; to 
talk well, the glowing abandon of genius. Hen of very 
hi^ genius, however, talk at one time very well, at 
anotiier very ill: well, when they have full time, full 
scope, and a sympathetic listener; ill, iriien Ihey fear 
interruption and are annoyed by the impos^bilify of 
e^iausting the toi^ during that particular talk. The 



partial gesiiu is flashy, scrappy. The true genius 
shudders at incompleteness, impeifection, and usually 
prefeiB silence to saying the something iriiich is not 
everything tbftt Should be said. He is so filled with 
his theme that he is dumb, first, from not knowing how 
to begin, where there seems eternally beginning behind 
beginning, and, secondly, from perceiving his true end 
at so infinite a distance. Sometimes, dashing into a 
subject, he blnnders, hedtates, stops short, sticks fast, 
and because he has been overwtielnied by the rush and 
multiplidty of his thoughts, his hearers sneer at his in- 
ability to think. Such a man finds his proper element 
In those " great occadons " irtiich confound and pros- 
trate tlie general intellect. 

Kflvertheless, by his conversation, the infloence of 
the conversationist upon mankind In general is more 
decided than that of the talker by his talk; the latter 
invariably talks to best purpose with his pen. And 
good conversationists are more rare than respectaUe 
telkeiB. I know many of the latter; and of the former 
only five or six, among whom I can call to mind, just 
now, Mr. Willis, Mr. J. T. S. Sullivan, of Philadelphia, 

Mr. W. M. R., of Petersbnrg, Vo., and Mrs. S d, 

formeriy of New York. Most people in conversii^ 
force us to curse our stars that our lot was not cast 
among the African nation mentioned by Eudoxus — ^the 
savages ^o, having no mouths, never opened them, 
88 a matter of course. And yet, if denied montii, some 


dB I ItMw* ■ BT ejc wmU 
cmUbt OB rtflU, WM tkey d> now, nnM^^h t 

^ tut, mtaa «» airi 
ncn, lo A CMC fli p"**'*'^-f "*"'g, Tvy few •( our 
Voiti OB ja^Bj Ds bcU pnttf oc the ciine in^ntM 
if J^dlei to notoeniM— diat of " bans too nttand.** 

*« Et im a pile of the orrter, wliicb TieUod the pre- 
GioiM pesils of the Suntli, end the ertlst had jii£cioiMly 
peifitwl fome with tiwir fipe parted, and diowinj^ wilhlii 

Spaniih ci^iditr had ahead; pnmd itadf citable of 
cretjr peril aa ma at emy crime. At once troe and 
poetical, no comment conU hare been moic wrere," 
etc— Mr. SnCMS^ Araae/ ofDuritn. 

Body of Baechnal only dnnk of poedcal bean^ in 
the countenance of a gaping oyiterl 

" And how nattual, hi an age m faucifnl, to beliere 
that the start and etany groups beheld m the new 
worid for tiu first time by the native of the old were 
eqiedally assigned for its goremment and protection.** 

Now, if by the old worid be meant Ihe East, and by 
tiie new world the West, I am at a loss to know iriiat 


are the Btan seen in the one which cannot be equally 
seen in the otiier. Mr. Sninis has abundant faults, or 
had, among which inaccurate English, a pronenegs to 
revolting images and pet phrases, are the most notice- 
able. Nevertlieless, leaving out of the question Brock- 
den Brown and Hawthorne (who are each a genus), he 
is immeasurabl; tiie best writer of fiction in America. 
He has more vigw, more imagination, more move- 
ment, and more general capacity than all our novel- 
ists, save Cooper, combined. 

All In a hot end coiner il^ 

The hloody ntn at noon 
Jnat np abova the mut did ctand. 

Ho bigger than the moon. — COLKamOK. 

Is it posaUe that the poet did not know the apparent 
diameter of the moon to be greater ibaa tiut of the 


Here is an edition,' whidi, so far as microscoidcal 
excellence and absolute accuracy of typography are 
concerned, might well be prefaced with the phrase of 
the Koran, '* There is no error in this book." We can- 
not call a single inverted " o" an error, can we ? But ! 
am really as j^ of having found that inverted " o," as 
ever was a Columbus or an Archimedes. What, after 



«n, are continents discorend <v sUrenmitlu exposed 7 
Give OS a good " o " tamed upride-down, and a whole 
herd of bibUomaniac Argnses oreilooking it for years. 

but iqran the face <^ the dying and the dead." — Ernest 

Biilwer is sot the man to look a stem fact in the 
face. He would rather sentimentalize upon a Tulgar 
although picturesque error. Who aver really saw any- 
thing but horror in the smile of the dead ? We so 
earnestly desire to fancy it ** sweet " — that is the 
source tA the mistake, if, indeed, there ever was a 
«"J"*"W in the question. 


The misapplication of quotations is dcmr and has 
a capital effect, when well done ; but Lord Brougham 
has not ezactiy that kind of capacity iriiich Ihe tiling 
requires. One of the best hits in this way is made by 
Tieck, and I have lately seen it appropriated, with in- 
teresting complacency, in an English mags^ne. The 
author of tbE Journey Into the Blue Diataoce is giving 
an account of some young ladies, not very beautiful, 
iriiom he caught ^ii]e(£££fre6iM> at their toilet. "They 
were cuiling their monstrous heads," says he, " as 
Shalnspeare says of the waves in a storm." 




Hen are both Dickens and Bulwer perpettully using 
die adverb " directly ** in the sense of " as soon as." 
** Directly he came I did so and so." — ** Directty I 
knew it I said this and that" But observe I — " Gram- 
nur is bardfy taught " [in the United States], " being 
diottght an unnecessary basis for other learning." I 
quote America and her XetourceSf hy tb» British coun- 
sellor at lav, John Biisted. 

At Ermenottville, too, there Is a striking instance at 
die Gallic rhythm with lAich a Freochnuui regards 
die Elfish verse. There Gerardin has die following 
iascripdoo to the memory of Shenstone : 

Thii idftin ctons 

To William Shautcme. 
In hii writing he lU^l^ed 

A mind natttial; 
At LeuowM b» laid 

Arcadian greeai rand. 

Ihere are few ParisianB speaking En^ish irtio would 
find anything particulariy the matter widi this •pitl^)lt. 

Upon her was lavished the endiusiastic applause of 
the most correct tsste and of the deepest sensibility. 
Human tyt tnirp li, in all that is most exciting «^nd 



delidons, never went beyond that ^rtdch she ezperi- 
uiced, or nerer but io the oue of Ta^onL For what 
are the extorted adulations Uiat fall to the lot of the 
conqueror? — irtiat eren are the eztenslTe honors of the 
pt^ular author, hla far-reaching fame, his high influ- 
ence, or die most deront public appreciation of hie 
works to that rapturous approbation of the personal 
woman, that spontaneous, instant, present, and palp- 
able applaoM, those irrepressiUe acclamations, those 
doquent 0^ and tears which the idoUzed Malibnm at 
once heard, and saw, and deeply felt that she deserred 7 
Her brief career was one gorgeous dream, for eren the 
many sad intervals of her giief were but dust in the 
balance of her g^ory. In this book ' I read much about 
the causes irtiich curtailed her existence; and there 
seems to hang around them, as here given, an Indis- 
tinctness which the fair memorialist tries In vain to 
iUmninfl. She seems never to approach the foil 
truth. She seems never to reflect tiiat the ^eedy 
decease was but a condition of the rapturous life. Ko 
Hiinlring penon, hearing Halibran sing, could have 
doubted that she would die in the spring of her days. 
She crowded ages into hours. She left tlie worid at 
twenty-five, having existed her tliousands <tf years. 

"Accursed be On heart that does not irildly throb, 

• XMak «< £iMi tf Ibdtat IblSMk bj Sm CoonMi ol Mada. 



and palsied be the sye that will not weep over the woei 
of the wanderer of Switzeiland." — Monthly Regittcr, 

This is " ^^a j iin^ damnation round the laud " to 
■ome pmpose, — upon file reader, and not upon the 
author, as omal. For my part I shall be one of the 
damned; for I have In vain eodeavored to see even a 
shadow of merit In anything ever written by dther (tf 
the Montgomeries. 


Strange — that I should here' find the only noo- 
czecmble barbarian attempts at imitation of die Greek 
and Roman measoresl 


In my reply to the letter rigned ** OntiB,'* and de- 
fending Mr. Longfellow from certain charges supposed 
to have been made against him by myself, I took occa- 
rion to assert that " of the class of wilful plagiarists 
nine out of ten are authors of established reputation 
who plunder recondite, neglected, or forgotten books." 
I came to this conduglon a prhri / but experience has 
conflimed me in it Here is a plagiarism from Chan- 
nlng; and as it is perpetrated by an anonymous writer 

*AHknfwn- ow Af IkMfc ln^ «*r W11 1 Dm* Q— O *«< 



^ Stmo 

«< patm, far it ■ MC eaKfcnm* viA the ii^nt aad 
fkbot objecb of Aoa^t. . . . SO, tte dW 
wwkof apanal ii to mffitf fbjmai font, to nmtan 
jbjmal okalime&mm, to armil kuHdl 

Kt OK matter, to ofcnoi 

■fc not tlw U^Mt obiecti oi miaif oa 
dnnnd tatcDieeacc of the U^at wier; an 
ii^lj, it ff**»«*r ■ mofc coouiMMi tliaa to find : 

ae nrai, 
do (her 

in Hi* noUcMt '"f 'T'iff of tka hwI, in ■■ TO if S " irt iin' and 
taite, in die c ap aci ty of enjofing wwks erf cental, in 

the ^^ication of analyM and genenUzation to die 
httoian mind and to lodety, and in od^nal ctmcep- 
tions on dw gnat eobjecta iHuch hare atoorbod dw 

miret potions ntt4»ir m tmnAinp ** 




The thief hi the Ntw Montbfy; myu: 

" MUitary talent, even of the hii^est grade, Is ray 
far from holding the flist place among intellectual en- 
dowments. It is one of the lower forms of genius, for 
it is aerer made conTersant with the wore delicate 
and abatrttae of mental operatSoaa. It is used to apply 
physical force ; to remove physical force ; to remove 
physical obstructionB; to avail itself of physical aids 
and advantages; and aU these are not the highest 
objects of mind, nor do they demand intelligence of 
the highest and rareat order. ITothing la more conn 
mon than to find men eminent in the science and prac- 
tice of war, wholly wanting in the nobler energies of 
the soul ; in lma|^iiati<m, in taste, in enlarged views of 
human nature, in the moral sdences, in the applica- 
tion of analysis and generalization to the human mind 
and to society ; or in original conceptions on the great 
subjects which have occupied and absorbed the moat 
^orious ot human understandings." 

The article in the New Uonthfy Is on The Slate of 
Partka. The italics are mine. 

Apparent plagiarisms frequently arise from an au- 
thor's self-repetition. He finds that something he hai 
already puUished has fallen dead, been overtooked, or 
tiiat it is pecoliaily apnqms to anotlier subject now 
under discusrion. He therefore Introduces the pas- 
sage, often without allusion to his having printed it 


r wtjfit 

if ** aat cowwo M t," ni » «■; die < 

ds"; Aeol^af **ttaenon 

the fhirf flf '* «f»fi opoatkiK.'* rh— mg men- 
tioM " intcIEseacc of the i^tatf oidtr"; dw tliicf 
wiQ lutre it of " tbe higliMt and lamL** Oiiiiiing 
obwrret flutt anKUiT talent ia oftm ** alniMt iriiallr 
wastiac** etc; ttie thirf mahrtafaa it to be "wbxiStf 
waatiBg.** Chamiing aDndea to "Imtge news of 

ICH than ** enlarged" onei. Finally, the Ameiican 
having been laliified with a reference to " mb jects 
wUch hare abaorlted the moat ^orions nnderBtand- 
iofi," the Cockney poti him to ihame at once by di»- 



couTBiiig about " subjedB which have occupied and 
absorbed the most ^orioos of human understandings " 
— as if one could be absorbed, without being occupied, 
1^ a subject; as if " of " were here anything mors 
than two superfluous letters, and as if there were any 
chance of the reader's supposing that the understand- 
ings in question ware the understandings of frogs, or 
jackasses, or Johnny Bulls. 

By the way, in a case of this kind, whenever there 
is a question as to who is the original and who the 
plagiarist, the point may be determined, almost in- 
variably, by observing which passage is amplified, or 
exaggerated, in tone. To disguise his stolen horse, 
theuneducatsdthiflf cuts off the tail; but the educated 
thief prefers tying on a new tail at flie end of the <dd 
one and painting them both sky Uue. 


When I condder the true talent, the real force oi 
Mr. Emerson, I am lost in amazement at finding him 
fittte more than a respectful imitation of Cariyle. la 
it possible that Mr. E. has ever seen a copy of Seneca ? 
Scarcely, or he would long ago have abandoned his 
model in utter confusion at the parallel between his 
own worship of the author of Sartor Setarttu and the 
a}ring of Sallnst by Amnttus, as described ta the 114th 
Epistle. In the writer of the History of the Punk 
Wart, Emerson is pwtrayed to the life. The parallel 



is dofe; for not onfy is the ijiiita.tioa of the same 
dmractw, bttt dw ttiings imitated are identical. Un- 
doubtedly it ia to be said of Sallost, far more plauaUy 
than of Cariyle, Hiat bis obscurity, his unusuality of 
expression, and his Laconism (which had the effect of 
diffuaeness, since the tims gained in th« mere perusal 
of his pithinesses is trebly lost in the necessity of cogi- 
tating them out) — it may be said of SaUtist, more truly 
than of Cail^e, that these qualities bore the impress 
of bis genios, and were but a portion of bis unaffected 
thought If there is any difference between Aruntius 
and Emerson, this difference is clearly in favor of the 
former, irtio was in some measure ezcusaUe, on the 
ground that he was as great a fool as the lattsr is not 


I believe tiiat odors have an altogether peculiar 
force, In affecting us tiirongh association, — a force 
differing essentially from that of objects addresang the 
touch, the taste, the sight, or the hearing. 

It would have been becoming, I think, in Bolwer, to 
have made at least a running acknowledgment of that 
extensive indebtedness to Araay's Prirate Life of the 
Somatu ' which he had so litUe scruple about incur- 
ring, during the compodtion of The La»t Day* et 



PuBpeil He acknoiriedges, I believe, what he owes 
to Sr Wniiam Gell*8 Pompeiaia. Why tfaifl ? wbj 
not that 7 


One of our truest poets is Thomas Buchanan Read. 
His most distinctire features are, first, " teodemess," 
or subdued passioo, and, secondly, fan^. His sin is 
imitativeness. At present, altiiou^ evincing hij^ 
capacity, he is but a copyist of Longfellow, Ihat is to 
say, but the echo of an echo. Here is a beautiful 
thought which is not th« property of Hr. Read : 

And, where the ipring-tline Ban had longer dioiie, 
A violet looked up uid found itedf clone. 

Here again : a spirit 

BioiAj through the Uln deecended, 

nu from her hidden form bdow 

The waters took a golden ^ow, 

Aa if the itar which made her forehead bright 

Had buiat and filled the Uke wtth tight. 

Lowell has some iit»in very similar, *"'<i*ig with 
Ai if a Itar had bmit within hia brain. 

I cannot say that I ever fairiy comprehended the 
force (rf the term '* insult," onto I was given to under- 
stand, one day, by a member of the North American 
Rerkw clique, that this journal was " not only i 




bat amdoiiB to render me that justice triilch had been 
already rendered me by the Xerue Fnofahe and the 
Ikni€ dea Deux FioatteM," but was " restrained from 
BO dcHng " by my " invincible spirit of antagonism.** 
I vish the North American Review to express no opin- 
ion of me whaterer, for I have none of it. In the 
meantime, as I see no motto on its title-page, let me 
recommend it one from Sterne's Letter horn Fraooe. 
Here it is : *' As we rode along the valley we saw a 
herd of asses on the top of one of tiie mnnntain^f — how 
they viewed and reviewed usl " 

Von Kanmer says that Enalen, a German optician, 
conceived the idea of throwing a shadowy figure, by 
optical means, into the chair of Banquo; and that the 
thing was readily done. Intense effect was produced; 
and I do not doubt that an American audience mi|^t 
be electrified by the feat But our managers not only 
have no Invention of their own, but no energy to avail 
themselves td that of others. 


A ca^tal book, genershy speaking; ' but Mr. Grat- 

tsn has a bad habit, — ^that of loitering in the road, <A 

dallying and toying with his subjects, as a kitten irith 

a mouse, instead of grasping it firmly at once and eat- 



ing it up ^tlurat men ado. He takes up too much 
time in the anteroom. He has never d<me vith his 
introductions. Occadonally one introduction is but 
the restibale to another; bo that by the time he arrives 
at hia main inddents there is nothing more to tell. He 
seems afflicted with that curious but common perver- 
sity observed in gaimlous old women — the deure of 
t w " t fllJ7i"g by drcnmlocutlon. Mr. G.'b drcumlocu- 
tion, however, la by no means like HaaX •wbidi Albany 
Ftmblanque describes as a " style of about and about 
and all the way round to nothing and nonsense." 
... If the greasy-looking lithograph here given as 
a frontispiece be meant for Hr. Grattan, then is Hr. 
Grattan like nobody else, for the fact Is, I never yet 
knew an individual mth a wire wig, or the countenance 
of an underdone apple dumpling. ... As a gen- 
eral rule, no man should put his own face In his own 
book. In looking at the audior's countenance the 
reader Is seldom in condition to keep his own. 

Here is a good idea for a iwag^ritiw paper ; let some- 
body " work It t^ " : A flippant pretender to universal 
acquirement, a would-be Crichton, engrosses, for an 
hour or two, perhape, the attention of a large com- 
pany, moat of whom are profoundly Impressed by his 
knoiriedge. He is very wit^, in especial, at the ex- 
pense of a modest young gentleman who ventures to 



make no reply, and who finally leaTos the room as if 
orairtielmed with confusion, the Crichton greeting 
his exit with a langh. Presently he returns, followed 
1^ a footman carrying an armful of books. Those are 
dqKMited on the table. The young gentleman, now, 
referring to some pencilled notes •whieh he had been 
secretly taking during the Crichton's display of erudi- 
tion, idns the latter to his statements, each by eadi, 
and rentes them all in turn, by reference to the very 
authorities dted by the egotist himself, whose igno- 
rance at all points Is thus made apparent 


A long time ago, twenty-three or four years ago at 
least, Edward C. IHnckney, of Baltimore, published an 
ezqui^te poem entitled A Health. It was profoondly 
admired by the critical few, but had little drcnlation — 
this for no better reason than that the author was bom 
too far South. I quote a few lines: 

Aifectloiia an m thouf^ti to her, 

The meMorM of h«r honn; 
Her f Mllngs have the fngnncy, 

The tradmess of jouag flowen. 
To het tiie better elementa 

And UndUer ttan hare given 
A form BO fair, that, like the air, 

'T ia left of earth than heaven. 



ITow, In 1842, Hr. George Hill published The Ktsiaa 
of AtbenM and Other Poena, and from on« of the 
** Other Poenu " I quote irtiat follows: 

And thon^tB go apartiiig throngb lier mlod 

TJW children mjxjuoeul flomn; 
And deeds of gentle goodness are 

The measmes of her lioun. 
In soul or fsce she bears no tcace 

Of one from Eden driven. 
But like the ndnbow seems, though bom 

Of earth, a part of heaven. 

Is this plagiarism or is it not ? I merely ask for 



Had the George Bakawbe of Professor Beverier 
Tucker been the work of any one bom north of Mason 
and Dixon's line, it would have been long ago rect^- 
nized as one of the very noblest fictions ever written 
by an American. It Is almost as good as Caleb Wit" 
liama. The manner in which the cabal of die Nordi 
American Rerkw first write all onr books and thui 
review them, puts me in mind of the fable about the 
lion and the Painter. It is high time that the literary 
South took its own interests into its own charge. 

Here is a plot irtiich, with all its complexity, has no 
adaptation, 00 dependency; it is involute and nothing 



more, hariiig all the air of *s irig, or the cycles 

and ein^defl in Ptolen^s Ahntgegt 
We mlg^t give two plausible derirations of the epl- 
tiiet " weeping," as applied to the willow. We might 
say tliat the word has its origin in the pendulous char- 
acter of the long hranches, which surest the idea of 
water dripping; or we mi^t assert that the term comes 
from a fact in the natural history of the tree. It has 
a vast insensiUe perqriratlon, irtiich, up(m sudden 
C(dd, condenses, and sometimes is precipitated in a 
shower. Now, one might very accurately detemdne 
the bias and value of a man's powers of causality, by 
observing which of these two derivations he would 
adopt The former is, beyond question, the true; and, 
for this reason, — ^that common or vulgar epithets are 
universally suggested by common or immediately ob- 
vious tfaingB, without strict r^;ani to any ezactitud* In 
qqdication; but the latter would be greedily seized 
by nine philologists out of ten for no better cause than 
Its epigranunatism, than the polntedness with which 
the singular fact seems to touch the occasion. Here, 
then, is a subtle source of error i^ch Lord Bacon has 
nef^ected. It is an idol of the Wit 


In a Hymn tar Cbriatma*, by Mrs. Tf«manifj m find 
the following stanza : 




Oh, lord; toIcm of the ik; 

Which hTDuwd the Stnionr'a With, 
An ye not slngiiig ftlU on high, 

Te that Buig " Pmc« on Earth " ? 
To na yet qpoafc the itraina 

Wh«nwlth, In times gone by, 
Te Uesaed the Syrian swaina, 

Oh, vcAcM of the akyl 

And, at page 305 of The ChHstiao Keepgakt aai 
fiiMsionary Aanual for 1840, a Philaddphia Anooal, 
ve find A CbriMtaa» C^tel, by Richard W. Dodson, the 
first stanza running thus: 

Angel Tolcei of the ikyl 

Te that hynuwd Heariah'e Urth, 
Sweetly tinging from on Ugh 

" Peace, good-will to all on earthi " 
Ob, to ui impart thoie itralnal 

Bid our donbti and fears to ceaael 
Te that cheered the Syrian nraina. 

Cheer na with that song of peacel 


" The more there are great excellences in a work tiie 
less am I mipiised at finding great demerits. When 
a book is said to have many faults, nothing is decided, 
and I cannot tell, by this, whether it is excellent or 
execrable. It is said of another that it is without 
faott; if the account be just, the work cannot be ex- 
cellent" — ^TRDBLET. 





cpiiiidBS irf T^vMct n wttittowUyftwwtutttj But tiMjr 
ocMWtteloi^MiHlnMrfilK. UBmeRtrOK 
inddlmce irf gsitt wtatM Im giTCU ttcm cuucucf. 
Tte tralk wcv t» he tkat scniB ^ tte hi^kHt order 
fins in > ttMtc (rf pctpctaal TaaDdHMi bEtwocB snibfr- 
tioo and the Km <tf it. The amtiliaD ^ m great m- 
■ (at bat) nepitiTe. It i 

eia denraUe, tat be- 
eof the 

e gre a tea t "■**"■''*» (a 
dearth p e nt iw ^ Ow langhalde al auidity of htnxutn 
amliition) mnain ccntaiitadly ** mnte and ini^ariotts.'* 
At an eraoti, Ifae Tacfllatiaa of iridch I qpeak is Oe 
prominait featnra of gmim. Alteniat^ tn^iied and 
dcpicawd, ha inequalities of mood are stamped v^on 
its labors. This is the tnttfaf generally, bat it is a 
troth Teiy diffeimt from the uhh iIiihi mri^Ted in the 
" cannot ** trf Tmblet. Give to genios a sufficiently 
wiTifH"g motire, and the result iriD be harmony, pro- 
portion, bean^, perfection — an, in diis case, synony- 
mous tenns. Its siqrposed " inevitable " in^jtilarities 
shan not be fonnd; for it is dear tiiat the sosceptniO'- 
ity to imfnesnons of beauty, that sosccptibinty iridch 
is &e most important element <rf genius, implies an 
eqoany ezqninte sensitireness and aversion to defor- 
mi^. The motive — the eodming motive — has indeed, 



hiHwrto fallen rarely to the lot of genius ; but I could 
point to eereral compositions irtilch, " without any 
faolt," are yet " excellent," supremely so. The worid, ' 
too, is on the threshold of an epoch, wherein, with 
the aid (rf a calm philosophy, such compodtionB shall 
be ordinarily the work of that genius which is true. 
One (^ die first and most essential steps, in orer- 
pasring this ttireshold, will serre to kick oat of Ihe 
worid's way this Tery Idea of Tmblet — this nntenaUe 
and paradoxical idea of die incompatibility of genius 
with art 

It may well be doubted whether a shtj^ paragraph 
<tf merit can be found eilher in die Koran of Lawrence 
Sterne or in the Lacon al Colton, of wiiich paragr^th 
the origin, or at least the germ, may not be traced to 
Seneca, to Plutarch (through Hachiavelli), to Machi- 
avelli himself, to Bacon, to Bnrdon, to Barton, to Bo- 
lingbroke, to Rochefoucauld, to Balzac, the audior of 
La Mao&Tc dc Blea PeoMer, or to Keif eld, the German, 
lAo wrote, in French, Le» Pnmiert Traita de P&vdi* 
lion Uniweraelle, 


A man of genius, if not permitted to choose his own 
subject, will do worse, in letters, than if he had talents 
none at all. And here how imperatively is he con- 
trolled I To be sure, he can write to suit himself — but 
in the same manner his publishers print From the 



^ far Ik bw nniij. it is i 

and* ihnim iif lTi>ii|i. ■■ iliil'i liilil 1j i' ' i 
<rf a* IncH «nt of com' rf¥A«, ^infjiig, the per- 

To we giliiUj Oc ■Mhitiy -tte iriwds and 
ftaaoH — of «■; work of ait is, dii q y wtio o ably , of 
ItMlf, a fleamfc, but one irtkk we an able to enjc^ 
only joKt m fmportian as we do not enjoy tbe l^iti- 
mstc cSBCt ^Mp— J by the artisC; and, in fact, it too 
often happens tlut to n tkn I analytically i^on ait is to 

of Suyfiia, which npreaent the faiiTnl images as 

Witii tteaid <rf a lantern I hare been looking again 
at M^^am aotf Ot&er iV>enis (Lord only knows if that 
be die tme titlet), but ** dun 's nothing in it," at 
leait notidng <rf Mr. Lord's own — nothing iridch is not 
stcden, or (more delicately) transfosed, transmitted. 
By tiie way, Hewton says a great deal abont " fits of 
easy transmisnon and refiectitHi,'* ■ and I have no 
doabt that Niagara was pot together in one of these 
identical fits. 

> Of Ih* Mte far*. In Ow (M> 




A remarkable work,' and caw wbatb I find much 
difBculty is admitting to be the competition of a 
woman. ITot that many good and ^oiious things have 
not been fht composition of women, but because, here, 
the severe precision of style, the thorou^mesa, and the 
Inminoussess are points never observable in even 
the most admirable of Iheir writings. Who is Lady 
Georgiana FuUerton ? Who is that Countess of Dacre 
who edited fiUea Wanbaiot the most passionate of 
fictions, approached, only in some particulars of pas- 
sion, by this ? The great defect of Elten Middleton 
Hes in the disgusting sternness, captiousness, and 
boUet-headedneas of her husband. We cannot sympa- 
thize with her love for him. And the intense selfish- 
ness of the rejected lover precludes that compasnon 
which is designed. Alice is a creation of true genius. 
The Imagination throughout Is of a lofty order, and 
the snatches of original v«iw would do honor to any 
poet living. But the chief merit, after all, is that of 
the style, about niiich it is difScnlt to say too much 
in ttie way of praise, although it has, now and then, 
an odd GalUcism, such as " she lost her head," mean- 
ing she grew cra^. There is much, in the whole man- 
ner iA this book, which puts me in mind of Ci/e& 




The God-abitnctioiu of the modem polytfaeiani in 
nearly in u tad s state of perplexity and promiscnitf 
as were die mi»e substantial deities of the Greeks. Not 
a quality named tiiat does not impinge upon some one 
other; and Porphyry admits that Vesta, Rhea, Ceres, 
Themis, Proeeipina, Bacchus, Attis, Adonis, Slenus^ 
Priapos, and the Satyrs, were merely difierent terms 
for the same tfiing. Even gender was never precisely 
settled. Serrius on "Virpl mentions a Venus with a 
beard. In ICacroUus, too, Calvus talks of her as if 
she were a man; while Valerius Soranus expressly 
calls Jupiter " the Hother of the Gods." 


The next woiIe of Cariyle will be entitted Sew'-Wow 
and the title-page will have a motto from the opening 
chapter of the I^raa i " There is no error in this 


Surely M cannot complain <rf the manner in 

which his book has been received; for the public, in 
regard to it, has {^ven him just such an assurance as 
Polyphemus pacified Ulysses with, while his compan- 
ions were being eaten up before his eyes. " Your 

book, Hr. H ," says the public, " shall be, I pledge 

you my word, the very last that I devour." 



Tbe modem nformist, Philosophy, irtiich annihi- 
lates the individual by way of aiding the mass; and 
the late reformist, Legislation, which prohibits pleas- 
ure with the view <A advancing happiness, seem to be 
diips of that old block of a French feudal law i^ch, 
to prevent young partridges from bdng disturbed, im- 
posed penalties npon hoeing and weeding. 

lliat Demosthenes *' turned out very badly ** ap- 
pears, beyond dispute, from a passage In Maker de 
vet tt ttct from. Ung. Grtetut, where we read " Nee 
illi (Demostheni) turpe videbator, optimis relictis 
magistris, ad canes se conferre," etc., etc., that is to 
say, Demosthenes was not ashamed to quit good 
society and " go to ttie do^" 


When and pawoae^iarwt about the cde- 

brated personages whom they have " seen " in ttidr 
travels, we shall not be for wrong in inferring that 
these celebrated personages were seen tHtis, as Hndar 
says he " saw " Archilochus, who died ages before the 
f onnsr was bom. 

I cannot help thiniring that romance-writers, in gen- 

erolf might, now and then, find their account in **i""g 




a Unt (fom tiw Chinese, irtio, in qdte trf boUdbiK their 
howeB downward, hare still seoae eoon^ to be^ 
ttieir books at die end. 

La Harpe (idto was no critic) has, nererthelcas, done 
litde more than strict justice to the fine taste and pre- 
dae finish ol Radne in aU that regards the minor 
morals d literature. In these he as far excds Pope, 
as Pope the reriest dolt la his own Duadad. 

I hare sometinies amnsed myself by endeavoring to 
fancy irtiat would be the fate of an indlvidiial pfted, 
or rather accorsed, irith an intellect veiy far snperior 
to that of his race. Of course, he would be consdoos 
of his siq>eri<ni^; nor could he (if oUierwise con- 
ititated as man is) help manifesting hig consdousnees. 
Thus he would mate himself enemies at aU points. 
And, since his ofdnions and speculations would ^dely 
differ from those of all mankind, that he would be 
considered a m»Am»n^ is evident How horribly pain- 
ful such a conditioni Hell could invent no greater 
torture than that of being charged with abnormal 
weakuesB on account of being abnormally strong. 

In like manner, nothing can be clearer than that a 

very generous spirit, truly feeling what all merdy 

profess, must inevitably find itself misconceived la 




emy dinctloii, its motiTu misintsrpreted. Just u 
extranes of inteUigence would be thought fatuity, so 
excess of chivalry could not fail of being looked upoo 
as meanness in its last degree; and so on irith other 
virtues. This subject is a painful one indeed. That 
individuals have so soared above the plane of their 
race, is scarcely to lie questioned ; but, in looking back 
through history for traces of their enstence, we should 
pass over all biographies of " the good and the great," 
iriiile we search carefully Ihe ali|^t records of wretches 
irbo died in prison, In Bedlam, or upon Ihe gallows. 


Samuel Butler, of Hudibrastic memory, must have 
had a prophetic eye to the American Congress when he 
defined a rabble as, " A congregation or assembly ot 
the States-Goieral, every one being of a several judg- 
ment concerning lAatever bunness be under constd- 
eratiau." ..." They meet only to quarrel,** he 
adds, " and then-return home full of satisfaction and 


I have now before me a book in which the most 
noticeable thing is the pertinacity witii which " Mon- 
arch " and " King ** are printed with a capital M and 
a capital SI. The author, it seems, has been lately 
presented at Court He irill employ a small ** g" in 



future, I pnBume, irtieiieTer he is so nnliic^ u to 
turn to ^eak at his God. 

Were I called on to define, vei? briefly, the term 
" art," I should call it the " reproduction of vhmt the 
senses perceive in nature throng the veil of the soul." 
The mere imitation, hovever accurate, of what is in 
nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of " ar- 
tist" Denner was no artist. The grapes of Zeozis 
were inartistic, unless in a biid'fr-ere view; and not 
even fba curtain ci Parrhanus could conceal his de- 
ficiency in point of genius. I have mentioned the 
" vtil of the soul." Something <tf the kind appears 
indispensable in art We can, at any time, double 
the true beauty of an actual landscape by half closing 
our eyes as we look at it The naked senses some- 
times see too little, but then always Qwy see too mucW. 


Vntii how unaccoonteble an obstinacy even our 
best writers persist in talking about " moral courage," 
as if there could be any courage that was not moral. 
The adjective is improperly applied to the subject in- 
stead of the object The energy which overcomes 
fear, irtietlier fear of evil threatening tlie person or 
threatening the impersonal dFconutances amid i^ch 
we exist, is, of course, simply a mental energy, — is, of 



coune, limply " moraL" Bat, in speaking of '* moral 
courage " wa Imply the ezistence of physical. Quite 
u reasonaUe an ezpresmon would be that of " Iwdify 
ttuni^t,** or of " muscular imagination." 


I have great faith to fools, — self-confidence my 
friends will call it : 

Si demain, ouhllant d'Cdors, 

Le jour manquait, eb blutl danuin 

QntiqiM fou tronvaralt encore 

Un flambean pour le genre hnmain. 

By the way, what with the new electric light and other 
matters, De BAwigei's idea is not so very extravagant. 

" He that Is bom to be a man,** says Wleland, in 
bis Peregrinus PeoteuM, " neittier should nor can be 
anything noUer, greater, or better than a man." The 
fact Is, that in efforts to soar above our nature, we 
invariably fall below it. Your reformist demigods are 
merely devils turned inside out. 


The phrase of vridch ottr poets, and more eqtecially 

oar orators, are so fond, the phrase " mudc of the 

qtheres," has arisen simply from a misconception of 



dcrdoped in tlK artrooaauomswi. He had no alhi- 
iiao to mnric in oor ODdenbDiAng of the term. The 

tea, in like mamwr, to the p rapo rti on, or hmnonf of 
color, obatrred, or iridch dioald be ol»BrTei, in tiw 

Hot kne Mgo, to an a mm ** ■ greet «irird ** «■■ 
to inriAe for lum fire and fagot; bat now, when we 
with to nm onr protigi for Pniidettt, we jost dob him 
** a little magician.** Hie fact is, that, on accomit of 
tte cnriooa modem toafer er ie m cflf of <Jd opinion, one 
cannot be too cantions of the gnnmds on which he 
lands a friend or v ituperat es a foe. 


" PhnoMphy," sajB SageL, ** is nttariy osdess and 

fraitleis, and, for ttiis very reason, is the snUimest of 

an pnrtoits, flu most deewving attention, and the 




most worthy of our zeaL" Tliis jargon was BuggeBted, 
no doubt, by TertnllUm's " Mortoos Mt Dei fllitut, cre- 
dibile«st quiaineptttm: etsepultusresuctezit; certnin 
eft quia impossiUle.'* 

A derer French writer of Mcmoirt Is qolte lig^t in 
saying ttuit " if the universities had been willing to 
permit it, the disgusting old dibaucbS of Teoa, with 
his eternal Batyllis, would long ago have been buried 
{n the darkness of otdivion." 


It is by no means an irnttional fancy ttut, in a future 
existence, we shall look npon -what we think our pres- 
ent existence, as a dream. 


" Tbe ardst bdongt to hit woik, not the work to the artlet.** 

In nine cases out of ten it Is pore waste of time to 
attempt extorting sense from a German apothegm; or, 
rather, any sense and eveiy sense may be extorted 
from all of them. If, in the sentence above quoted, 
the faitention is to assert that the artist is the slave oi 
his theme, and must conform it to his thoughts, I have 
no faith in the idea, vrtiich appears to me that of an 

* n* o^ A fh^t of Von HaidMkwi. 
as I 



enentislly pro6«ic intdlecL la tiie hands of the true 
artist Hit itiemt, or " work," is bot a mass of day, of 
ivfaich anything (within the compaBS of the mass and 
quality of the clay] may be fashioned at will, or accord- 
ing to ibe skill of the workman. The clay is, in fact, 
the slave of the artist. It belongs to him. Hlsgenins, 
to be sore, is manifested, very distinctively, in Ae 
choice of Ha clay. It shotdd be neither fine nor 
coarse, abstractly, but just so fine or so coarse, just so 
plastic or so rigid, as mfty best serve the purposes of 
the thing to be wrought, of the idea to be made out, 
or, more exactly, of the impression to be conveyed. 
There are artists, however, who fancy only the finest 
material, and lAo, consequentty, produce only the 
finest ware. It is generally very transparent and ex- 
cessively britde. 


Ten a scoundrel three or four times a day that he is 
the pink of probity, and you make him at least the 
perfection of " respectability " in good earnest. On 
the other hand, accuse an honorable man, too per- 
tinadoQsly, of being a villain, and you will fill h'^" 
with a perverse amUtion to show you that yon are 
not altogettier in the wrong, 


The Romans worsliipped the standards; and tbe 

Roman standard happened to be an eagle. Our ctan- 




dard is only (me tenth of an ea^e — a ddlar, but we 
make all even by adoring it with tenf<dd devotitm. 


A pumpkin has more angles than C , and is 

altogether a cleverer tiling. He is remarkable at one 
point only — at that of being remarkable for notiiing. 


" That evil predominates over good, becomes evi- 
dent, when we consider that Hiere can be found no 
aged person who would be willing to relive tiie life 
he has already lived." — Volret. 

The idea here is not distinctly made out; for unless 
throu^ tiie context, we cannot be sure ii^iether the 
auHior means merely this: that every aged person 
f andea he might, In a different course of life, have been 
happier than in the one actually lived, and, for this 
reason, would not be willing to live his life over again, 
but some other life; OT^etherthe sentiment is this : 
that if, upon the grave's brink, the choice between 
tiie expected death and the re-Uving the old life were 
offered any aged person, that person would prefer to 
die. The first proposition is, perhaps, true; but the 
last (which is the one designed) is not only doubtful, 
in point of mere fact, but is of no effect, even if granted 
to be tnie, in sustaining the original proposition, that 



eril pndominateB orer good. It is assumed that tbe 
aged peison will not re-live his life, because he knows 
that its evil predtuninated over its good. The source 
of error lies in tlie word " knows," — in the assumption 
that we can ever be, really, in possession of tiie ^ole 
kno^edge to irtiich allnston is cloudily made. But 
there is a seeming, a fictitious knoiriedge; and this 
very seeming kno^edge it is, of irtut the life Itas been, 
which incapacitates the aged person from deciding tiie 
question on its merits. He blindly deduces a notion 
of tlie happiness of the original real life, a notion of 
its preponderating evil or good, from a consideration 
of die secondary or supposititious one. In his esttmate 
he merely strikes a balance between events, and leaves 
quite out of the account that elastic hope wtiich is die 
Eos of all. Man's real life is happy, chiefly because ha 
is ever expecting that it soon will be so. In regarding 
the supposititiona life, however, we paint to ourwlves 
chill certainties for warm expectations and grievances 
quadrupled in being foreseen, But because we cannot 
avoid doing diis, strain our imaginative facilities as we 
will; because it is so very difficult, so nearly impos- 
sible a task, to fancy the known unknown, the done 
unaccomplished; and because (through our ioability 
to fancy all this) we prefer deadi to a secondary life, 
does it in any manner follow that the evil of the prop- 
erly considered real ezistence does predominate over 
die good? 




In order that a just estimate be made by Mr. Vol- 
ney's " aged person," and from this estimate a jodi- 
cioos choice, — in order, again, that from this estimate 
and choice, we deduce any dear comparison of good 
with evil in human existence, it will be necessary that 
we obtain the opinion, or " choice," upon this point 
from an aged person who shall be in condition to 
appreciate, with predsion, the hopes he is naturally led 
to leave out of question, but ^riiich reason tells us he 
would as stron^y experience as ever in the absolute 
re-living of the life. On the other hand, too, he must 
be in ccmdition to dismiss from the estimate the fears 
■w\ndi he actually feels, and which show him bodily 
the ills that are to happen, but which fears, again, 
reason assures us he would not, in the absolute sec- 
ondary life, encounter. ITow, what mortal was ever 
in condition to make these allowances ? — to perform 
imposiibilities in giving these condderations thtir du« 
wd^t ? What mortal, then, was ever in condition 
to make a well-grounded choice 7 Now, from an ill- 
grounded one, are we to make deductions which shaU 
guide us alight ? How out of error shall we fabricate 


This reasoning is as about convincing as would be 

that of a traveller who, gtring from Mai^and to Hew 

York without entering Penns;^vania, should advance 

this feat as an argument against Leibnitz's Zaw of 




CVmtinnity, according to which nothing puses firom 
cme state to another withoot paaidng throof^ all the 
Intermediate states. 

Macanlay, in his just admiration of Addison^ over- 
rates Tickell, and does not seem to be aware how mnch 
tile author of the Elegy is indebted to French models. 
Boileau, especially, he robbed vithout mercy and with- 
out measure. A flagrant ezam|de is here. B<Mleaa 
has the lines, 

Ea rain contre " L« Cld " un minictn ae ligue. 
Toot Ptrla pour Chlmkne k 1m jenz da Rodrigtio. 

tickell thus appropriates them : 

Wliilfl the dtana'd reader wltlt thy thout^ taa^^iM, 
And Tlewi thy Ro—mond with Hemy'i ejw. 

St<den, body and soul (and spoilt In the stealing), 
from a paper of the same title in the European Staga* 
ziae for December, 1817. Blunderin^y done throne- 
out, and must have cost more trouble than an original 
thing, lliis makes paragraph 33 of my CSiapter on 
Aaerkan Crlbbage, The beauty of these eipotit 
must lie in the precision and unanawerabillty with 
which they are given, in day and date, in chapter and 
verse, and, above all, in an unveiling of the minute 




trickeries by iridch the thieves hope to disguise their 
stolen wares. I must soon a tale unfold, and an aston- 
ishing tale it will be. The C bean away the belL 

The ladies, however, should positively not be guilty of 
these tricks ; for one has never the heart to nnmiialr 
or deplume them. After all, there is this advantage in 
pttrioining one's magazine papers : we are never forced 
to dispose of them under prime coet 


AoMfc et Mp€fe r£r Dea emteedftw, u ftCtiM Soikb w«U 

However acute might be Seneca, still he was not 
snffidendy acute to say this. The sentence is often 
attributed to him, but is not to be found in his works. 
Semel huaaawhnug oaiaet, a phnue often quoted, 
Is invariably placed to the account ot Horace, and with 
equal error. It is from the De Hoomte Amort of 
the Italian Hantnanus, irtio has 

Id conuiraiM sudtim; mhibI InMnaTimtu "«»"«— 
Li the tide, Dt Hoaemto A£aorei by fht way, Hantn- 
anus misconceives the force of honettuM, just as Dry- 
den does in his translation of Virgil's 

Et qnocnaqne Datu drctun aqntt ^t hooaatum, 
irtiich he renders 

On wbete'er Me he titnia hii honest fue. 



Ho: he fdl ky Ui own faaw. Like Sidimaiiii, he 

WM buited bf the fine Imimlf had MM^itnd oMsincd 
ffon the hMTUU. 

How ompowering « etjle ii fliat of Cmrail In 
** or e r po wB rin g " in the aenae of die it"EK«*' **c 

flian die extent of hk doqticnce^ 

How nMctHj hai Uadlae been mistnidentoodl 
Beneath Hs obviotu meening there nms as under- 
current, nnqde, quite intelligible, artistically managed, 
and richly philoeophicaL 

From internal evidence afforded by the twA itself, 
I gather that the attdior auff e i ed frcnn the iUi of a 
mal-orranged marriage, dw Utter reflections thus en- 
gendered JnAn/^ng the f aUe. 

In the contrast between the ardees, thou^hdess, and 
carelew character of Undine before possesnng a soul, 
and her serious, enrapt, and anzions yet happy con- 
dition after possessing it, — a condition iriuch, with all 
its mnltif orm disqaietodes, she feels still to be pref w- 
able to her ori^nal state, — ^Fooqntf has beautifully 
painted the difference between the heart unused to 




lore and the heart vUch bas received Its uuidni'- 

Hie jealoosifls wMcb follow the marriage, arising 
from the conduct of Bertalda, are but the natural 
trouUea of love; but the persecutions of Kuhlebom 
and the other water-spiritB who take umbrage at Huld- 
Inand's treatment of his wife, are meant to picture 
certain difficulties from the interference of relations in 
conjugal matters, difficulties which the author has 
himself experienced. The warning of Undine to Huld- 
brand, " Reproach me not upon the waters, or we part 
fower," is intended to embody the truth that quarreb 
between man and wife are seldom or never irremedi- 
able unless when taking place in the presence of third 
parties. The second wedding of the knight, with hla 
gradual forgetfulness of Undine, and Undine's intense 
grief beneath the waters, are dwelt upon so pathetic- 
ally, so passionately, that there can be no doubt of the 
author's personal opinions on the subject of second 
marriages, no doubt of his deep personal interest in 
the question. How thrillingly are these few and 
simple words made to convey bis belief that the mere 
death of a beloved wife does not imply a separation 
so final ax so conqilete as to justify an union with 

" The flaherman had loved Undine with ezci 
tenderness, and it was a doubtful conduidon to his 



t^fa s» S1A9K:'— « I 

tr«;>^ ■■i»«m«»t» rr r >»»j- 

■< b tfaif pstcM ■■(■<< frioiMirM' 

ioliace of taaicr cnta 

I to diiin at 

t CMtlc. mat *« 

aad hans rf a(Mt Hk, aic- 
< Oh ana iaatfa i< 


swaUoin uui^nd th«m also vith a ditpodtion to 
traval ? " 

I have at length attained the last ptge, lAich is a 
thing to thank Ood for ; and all tliis may be logic, but 
I am snre it is luthing more. TTntQ I get the means 
of refutation, however, I must be content to say, with 
the Jesuits, Le Sueur, and Jaqnier, that " I ackno^- 
edge myself obedient to the decrees of the Pope against 
the motion of the earttL" 


not BO. The first number of the Gentleman's M$ga^ 
xiae was publlahed on ths first of January, 1731 ; hot 
long before this — in 16S1 — there appeared tiie Moatbljr 
Secofder with all the magazine features. I have a 
number ci the Loadea Sifgmdaxt dated 1760; com- 
menced 1733, at least, but I have reastm to think much 


IQtododtf^uie (irtio wrote it?) is brimfoll of music; 


By IMiig >tr«uiii, In i^Tsn tbaSaa, 
When wind and wave iTmpIionlotti uuks 

Rich malodj, the yontha and maids 
Ko mora with choral nnulc wake 
Lone Echo from her tangled trake. 


pB^md. *»«i*fc— • feiat ^hicb fitfmgiBites the Sbb 
Iw total VBOA irf die an cebwe affca. b 
RitEr ii alw^* sirriiic to the reader, ** Sow, 

amaboBt to produce iwi jmi ■ miiaifcaMii imiMiiwiiwi 
Pr^ are to have jour """g™***™*. or jDor fit;, f^tatty 
txtHtd." Tlie wirea are not 011I7 not concealed, but 
dnpl^ed ae *****'gF to be adnnred, fnwally witli 0ie 
poppets they eet in motion. The rcaott is, that in 
penvtng, for ezamirie, a pathetic chapter in the Jifyv- 
terie* efPaHM «c aaj to onn^na, withont shedding a 
tear, ** How, here is something iriiich win be sore to 
move every readn to tears." The philosophical mo- 
tires attributed to Sue are ebsurd in the extreme. His 
first, and in fact his sole, object is to make an exciting 
and therefore salaUe book. The cant (inqdied ct 



direct) about the amelloratioii of society, etc., is Imt a 
Teiy usual tiick among authors, irtierel); they hope 
to add such a tone of dignity or utilitarianism to their 
pages as dudl gild the pill of their licentiousness. The 
ruse is even more generally employed by way of en- 
grafting a meaning upon the otherwise unintelligible. 
In the latter case, however, this rose is an after- 
thought, manifested in the shape of a moral, either 
appended (as in £sop), or doretailed into the body 
of the work, piece by piece, with great care, but nerar 
without leaving evidence of its after-insertion. 

The translation (1^ C. H. Town) is very imperfect, 
and, by a too literal rendering of idioms, contrives to 
destroy the irtiole tone of the original. Or, perhaps, I 
should say, a too literal rendering of local peculiarities 
of phrase. There is one point (never yet, I believe, 
noticed) which obviously should be conndered in trans- 
lation. We should so render the original that ttw 
version should impress the people for irtiom it is liH 
tended, just as the original impresses the people for 
vrhom it (the original) is Intended. IVow, if we rigor- 
ously translate mere local idiosyncrades of phrase (to 
u.y nothing of iiUonis) we inevitably distort the au- 
aior*s dedgned impression. We are sure to produce 
a whimaiwii, at least, if not always a ludicrous effect; 
for novelties, in a case of this kind, are incongru- 
ities, oddities. A distinction, of course, should be 
observed between those peculiarities of phrase which 



fpatain to the asdon and thow irtiich Mong to the 
antboT himwlf, for thaw latter irill hsre a tfmQar 
effect upon all natloiu, and shoald be literally tnuu- 
latad. It ii merely the general inattention to Om piin- 
c^le here pn^osed, irtiich has ^en riae to so much 
international depredation, if not posilne contenqit, as 
regards literature. The "tngHaTi reriem, for example, 
hare abundant allusions to what fhtij call the " friro- 
louaness" of French letters, an idea chiefly derived &rom 
the imprestion made by the French manner merely; 
this manner, ig*!**, having in it nothing essentially 
frivolons, Imt affecting all foreigners as such (the Eng- 
lish eqwdally) through that oddity of iriiich I have 
already assigned the origin. The French return the 
compliment, complaining of the British gmucberie in 
style. The phraseology of every nation has a taint of 
drollery about it in tiie ears of erery ottier nation 
qteaUng a different tongue. How, to convey the trae 
spirit of an anthor, Uiis taint should be corrected in 
translation. We should pride oursetvet less upon lit- 
arality and more upon dexterity at paraphrase. Is it 
not clear that, by such dexterity, a translation may be 
made to convey to a foreigner a jnster conception of an 
original than could the original itself ? 

The distinction I have made between mere idioms 
(iriilch, of course, should never be literally rendered) 
and ** local idiosyncranet of phrase " may be exempli- 
fied by a passage at page 391 of Mr. Town's translation : 



" < ITever mindl Go in therel Ton will take th« 
doak of Calebaase. Ton will wn^ yourself in U^* ** 
etc, etc 

these are the worda of a lover to his mistresB, and are 
meant kindly, although imperatiTely. They embody a 
local pecuUaiity, a French peculiarity of phrase, and 
(to French ean) convey nothing dictatoriaL To our 
own, nevertheless, they sound like the conunand of a 
military officer to his subordinate, and thus produce 
an effect quite different from that intended. The 
translation. In such case, should be a bold paraphrase. 
For example, " I must intist upon your wrapping your- 
self in the cloak of Colebasse." 

Mr. Town's version of the MyttcrltM of Park, how- 
ever, is not objectlonaUe on the score of excessive Ut- 
erallty alone, but abounds In misapprehensions of the 
author's meaning. One of the strangest errors occurs 
at page 36S, irttere we read: 

** * From a wicked, brutsl savage and riotous rascal, 
he has made me a kind of honest man by saying only 
two words to me ; but tiiese words, ■woytz-'woaat were 
like magic"* 

Here vpjnezfVDus are made to be the tiro magical 
words spoken; but the translation should run, " these 
words, do yon see ? were like magic" The actual 


jm,' 'Us— oHi!' AteT 


lovT* tfx MK HUom bofSta aant Id Ow li 

>." Thel 

"Ab attack wm not i 
wonUW *'iro'*; Oat b to n^. ** I enat jnm that it 
would noL" The R wichiMn , however, aasaoi 
"Tm," nwanhife "I agicc vitt iriiat yon e^, it 
wooU noL" Both relics, cf oontse, icaching die 
Mme point, aUhoi^i by oppontc routa. With this 
'vadentudinc it wiD be nen that the true Tcnhai of 
ttie widow's Ua—ouil dioold be, " One attack, I 
gnuit joti,oU^tiiot''; andthatthiiistheTeinonbe- 



conus apparent wbea we read the words Imnwdiatefy 
following, " but every day — every day it is hdl ! " 

An instance of anoflier class of even more reprehen- 
dble Uonders is to be found on page 397, wb»n Bra»- 
Rouge is made to say to a police-officer, " No matter; 
It is not of that I complain; every trade has its 
disagreements," Here, no doubt, the French is dita^ 
gretacDB — inconveniences, disadvantages, unpleasant- 
nesses. Ditagrtmeiit conveys disagreements not even 
BO neariy as, in Latin, eeligio implies religion. 

I WHS not a litde surprised, in turning over these 
pages, to come upon the admirable, thrice-admirable 
story called Gringalet et Coupe ea Deoji irtiich is re- 
lated by Pique- Vinaigre to his companions in La Poret. 
Rarely have I read anything of iriiich the exquisite 
skill so delighted me. For my soul I could not 
suggest a fault in it, except, perhaps, that the in- 
tention of telling ■ very pathetic story is a little too 

But I say that I was surprised in coming upon this 
story, and I was so, because one of its points has been 
suggested to M. Sue by a tale of my own. Q>ape en 
Deux has an ape remarkable for its tize, strengtti, 
ferocity, and propeonty to imitation. 'Ashing to com- 
mit a murder so cnnnin^y that discovery would be 
imposdUe, the master of this animal teaches it to imi- 
tate the functions of a barber and incites it to cot the 
tiiroat of a chUd, under the idea that, irtien iht murder 


eigt) cimM ■■ fwam. I do not «iih, cf caam, to 
Hkofc opm IL Sne^ ■dspisfaoB irf Bf pmpcf^ in u^ 
oAcr ^^ ttutt dtat <tf a co^ffi^caL The nmiUr- 


tiailcr point, ^Uck diis d»nr c 
dw MiAnw fl< Bntltf 7 

ToB • pnofi TMSoiwn ii|iuii goiciiuimt w, os au 
^ m i tte pMqde, the most prapotterooK. Tlwy cn^ 
■rcne too deveriy to pennh my fliinking tfaem silly 
uuni^ to be tliemidTM deoeind by tbdr own argn- 
ments. Tet even this ii po»Ue; for there is sune- 




thing in tlie vani^ of Ic^ irtdch addlBs a man'i 
brains. Yoor true logician gets, in time, to Im logjcal- 
ized, and ttien, bo far as regard! hinuelf , tlie unirerse 
is one word. A thing, for Iilni, no longer exists. He 
deposits npon a sheet of paper a certain assemblage at 
Bj^bles, and fancies that thnr meaning is riveted by 
the act of deposition. I am snions in the opinion tliat 
some such process of thon^t passes throng the mind 
of the " practiced " logician, as he makes note of the 
tliesis proposed. He is not aware that he thinks in 
tliis way, but, onirittingly, lie so thlnlES. The syl- 
lables deposited acqoire, in his view, a new diaracter. 
While afloat in liis brain, lie might have been brought 
to admit the possibUity that these s^lables were vari- 
able exponents of various pluses of thou^t ; but lie 
will not admit this if he once gats them upon the p^ter. 
In a rinj^e page of " Hill " I find the word " force " 
employed foor times ; and each employment varies the 
idea. The fact is, that a prhti argument is much 
worse than useless except in Oie mattiematical sci- 
ences, irtiere It is posdble to obtain predse meanings. 
If there is any one subject in the worid to i^ch It is 
ntteriy and radically inapplicable, that subject is Gov- 
emmenL The Identical arguments used to sustain 
Hr. Bentham's positioiis, mi^it, with litUe exercise of 
ingenuity, be made to overthrow them ; and, by ring- 
ing smaD changes on the words " leg-of-mutton " and 
" turnip ** (changes so gradual as to escape detection), 



I conU " demomtiate ** fliat s bmt^ wtM, ig, ani aC 
di^ht oocht to be, a lec-of-^nnttoo. 

The concwd of Kmiid-Mid-MiiM principle wai nenr 

Piw i it flraa, «t tiU mba dicH 

Wm Gotild hai nmcb in common vHh Mary How- 
ttt, du characteristic trait of each being a qKwtiTe, 
qnaint, epignuomatic grace that keeps clear of the 
abntcd by never en^doying ttadf t^on very exalted 
topics, the verbal style at the two ladies is identicaL 
Miss Gould has the more talent of the two, but is some- 
irtiat the less originaL She has occasional flashes ot 
a far higgler order of merit than appertains to her or^ 
dinary manner. Her Dyiag Sterta "ligtit have been 
written by Campbell. 

Cornelias Webbe is one of Ae best of Aat nomeroos 
scho<d of extravaganzists irtio sprang from the ruins <rf 
Lamb. We must be in perfectly good humor, how- 
ever, with onndves and OH the world, to be much 

■ Br ■• Antoa. Plunliilw. 




{deased witib Boch wtaka as The Man Ahout Town, ia 
iriiich the hamm-scanmi, hyperezcursiTe nuumerism 
is coiiied to an excess irtiich ia freqaently fatiguing. 


Hearly, if not quite, the best Sssay on a Future 
State.' The arguments called " Deductions from our 
Reason " are, r^tly enou|^ addressed mote to the 
feelings (a vulgar term not to be done without) than 
to our reason. The argoments deduced from revela- 
titm are (also rightly enough) brief. The pamphlet 
proves nofliing, of course ; its ttieorem is not to be 


The ttfiib is BO invotnte* that one cannot help fancy- 
ing it must be falsely congtracted. If the use of lan- 
guage is to convey ideas, then it is neariy as much a 
demerit that our wttfds seem to be, as that th^ are, 
indefensible. A man's gnuunur, lilie Cnsar's wife, 
most not only be pure, but above susi^cion tA impurity. 

It is the curse of a certain order of mind that it can 
never rest satisfied with the consciousness of its abil- 
ity to do a thing. Hot even is it content with doing it. 
It most both know and show bow it was done. 


am 1 4o Mt Me tt. laAe 


** So TMait vw dw Aate «f paitin to Bi«buid, Oat 
I was SMored b7 wmal fliat Oe Duke eC Kadbani^ 
warn a cmmd and Ripe a fooL"— T(H.TAIRK. 

BoDi prapoMbcns nan nnoc bam vny aenoaaqr 
mt ert ain ed, quits in d ep endmtly of all pai^ fedfai|. 
That Popa waa a fotd, tndaed aeaaa to be an cstab- 
Hriud point at pnaeot witli tkt &azjitea-^wliat ebe 
diaU I can tbem ? 



Lnttaton sie not necessarily unoriginal, except at 
tbe exact points of fbt Imitation. Hr. Longfellow, 
decidedly the most andadoos imitator in America, is 
markedly original, or, in other words, imaginatiTe, 
upon the irtiole; and many persons have, from the 
latter branch of the fact, been at a loss to comprehend, 
and, therefore, to beliero, fba former. Keen send- 
tdlity of appreciation, that is to say, the poetic senti- 
ment (in distinction from the poetic power) leads 
almost inevitably to imitation. Thus all ^«at poets 
have been gross imitators. It is, howerer, a mere aon 
dhtriballo aedh brace to infer that all great imitators 

« WHh all his faults, however, ttiis author is a man 
of respectable powers." 

Thus disconnes, of \imiiam Godwin, the Lmtdoa 
Monthly Magailnc, Hay, tSiS. 

As a descriptive poet, Hr. Street la to be hl^y 
commoided. He not only describes with force and 
fidelity, giving us a clear conception of the thing de- 
scribed, but never describes irtiat, to the poet, should 
be nondescript. He appears, however, not at any 
time to have been aware that mere description is not 


W«R I to cuBMga flhoe rbtmrniM,^ attogedKr, to dw 

b rmdiiic mow bixAs we occtqry o im rfr w dd^ 
witb the thoB^iti Ot flw mdur; is periHiog odwn, 
•zdadrdy wiUi onr own. And tlds > if ona of die 
**ottien,'* — ft ncfestire boi^ Bat tboe are two 
danw of tncgMtire bodo, tlie pocitiTdy and ttu 
negatirely Kiawtivc- The former suggest by irtut 

■Of ToltatnL 

• - *— ^- " ■ - 



tiny say; the latter by what tiiey mif^t and should 
have said. It makes little difference, after all. In 
Atbet case the true book-purpose is answered. 

U is obserraUe that, In bis brief accotmt of the 
Creation, Moses employs the words, Sara fiinhUwi 
(tile Gods created), no less than thirty times, umng the 
noon in the plural with the verb in the idngolar. Ebe- 
irtiere, howerer, in Deuteronomy, for examjde, he 
employs the singulaT, Ehah. 


It is a thousand pities that the puny wittldsms of a 
few professional objectors should have power to pre- 
vent, even for a year, the adoption of a name for our 
conntiy. At present we have, clearly, none. There 
should be no hentation about " Appalachia." In flu 
first place. It is distinctive. " America " ■ is not, and 
can never be made so. We nuy legislate as much as 
we please, and assume for our country irtiatever name 
we think right, but to us it will be no name, to any 
pnipoee for which a name is needed, unless we can 
take it away from the regions iriiich employ it at pres- 
ent. Sonth America is " America," and will intist 

■ Ml rrirt. In « mwllni \t thi ll»w Tirt TTIitiiilf tl Inrlntj. rrnpntwl lllit 


to tte akaripae% wkoni, hilh e itu , we luve at all 
ponli mmncifaKf JrtfnilBJ, anaMiMtcd, and fii- 
hfloond. Fooittlr, Ob name ii tkt ■ugirtion o^ 

fioiiMn <tf AnMriBan literatim. It li but jot tbat 
Mr. bnog Aoaid name Oe land for iritidi, in kttets, 
he lint cataWdied a name, tlie bnt, and bf far ttw 
miMt tm^ m^ortant caorideratka of all, however, is 
the nmtif at " ^ipaladiia ** itatf ; nodung cotild be 
more sononmi, more liqaid, or <jt foUer vtrimne, irtdle 
ita leogdi is jnst sufficient for dignity. How tiu got- 

t^r^t M All*^«tii« ** fimU tiwmr hmwm hawi p rmt - rw*^ fna- 

a moment is difficult to conccne. I yet hope to find 

The BHdgb Spjr o< Wirt seems an in^tation of the 
TurUsb Spy, upon iriiich Montesqnien's Permian Let* 
ten are also based. ICarana's work was in Italian — 
Dr. Johnson errs, 


11 , as a matter of course, would raflier be 

abused by the critics than not be noticed by them at 



all; but he is hardly to be blamed for groiriing a little, 
now and then, over Aeir criticiBmB, just as a dog B^^tA 
do if pelted with bones. 

About the AntigOMU, as about all Uie ancient jd^B, 
there seems to me a certain baldness, the result of in- 
experience in art, but irtiich pedantry would force us 
to believe the result of a studied and supremely artistic 
simplicity, fflmplidty, Indeed, is a very important 
feature in all true art, but not the simplicity which we 
see In &e Greek drama. That of the Greek sculpture 
is everjrthing that can be desired, because here the 
art in itsdf is simplicity in itself and in its elements. 
The Greek sculptor chiselled his forms from what he 
saw before him every day, in a beau^ nearer to per- 
fection than any work of any Cleomenes in the worid. 
But in tJie drama, the d^ct, straif^tforward, un- 
German Greek had no nature so immediately pre- 
sented from which to make a copy. He did irtiat he 
could, but I do not hetitate to say that that was ex- 
ceedingly little worth. The profound sense of one or 
two tragic, or rather, melodramatic elements, such as 
tlie idea of inexorable destiny, — this sense gleaming 
at intervals from out the darkness of the ancient stage, 
serves, in fht very imperfection of its development, to 
show, not the dramatic ability, but the dramatic in- 
ability of the ancients. In a word, &e ample arts 



^fing into pcifsctioii at thdr ori(^; the coa^ez at 
inevitaUy demaiwl the long and peinfplly pr og rae - 
fire ezpeiience ai ages. To ttie Greeks, beTond donbtf 
ttieir dnuna eeemed peifectiiHi; it fnlly answarad to 
them the dramatic end, excitement, and tiilB fact ii 
urged as proof of tiieir drama's peifection in itsdf. It 
need only be said, in refdy, that their art and diiir 
sense of ait were, necessarily, on a lord. 

That man is not truly brave wbo is afraid flillHr to 
seem or to be, irtien it suits him, a coward. 

A comqit and inqiioos heart, a merely pntrient 
fancy, a Sattunian brain in which invoition has only 
die jdiosphorescent ^immer of rottenness.' Worth- 
less, body and sotd, a foul reproach to the nation that 
engendered and endures him, a fetid battener upon the 
gaihage of thought, — no man, a beast, a fig. Less 
scnqndons than a carrion-crow, snd not very moch 
less filthy than a WUmer. 

Jt ever mortal " wreaked his thoo^ts npfm erp r ss- 
don," it was Shelley. If ever a poet sang as a Urd 
sings, earnestly, impaUvely, with utter abandtmrnent, 
to himself solely, and for tiie mere joy (tf his own song, 

• mehri Mmmb, bkHhc of U Oomr /mi Ah Hk. 



dut poet wu the autiior of 72ie SeotMre Plant Of 
ut, beyond that which ia InstinctiTe vith gejuns, he 
rither had little or disdained all. He really disdained 
that role which is an emanation from law, becaoae 
his own soul was law in Itsdf. His rhapsodies are 
tmt the ron^ notes, the stenographic memoranda ot 
poems, — memoranda which, because they were all- 
sufficient for his own intelligence, he cared not to be 
at the trouble of writing out In full for mankind. In all 
his works ws find no conception thoroughly wrought. 
F(V tins reason he ia the most fatiguing of poets. Yet 
he wearies in saying too little rather than too much. 
What, in him, seems tiie diflfoseness of one idea, is the 
con^omerate conddon of many ; and ttiia spedes of 
concision it is which renders him obscure. With such 
a man to imitate was out of die question. It would 
have serred no purpose; for he spote to his own qtitit 
alone, wlilch would have CMnprehended no alien 
tongue. Thus he was profoundly original. His 
qnalntness arose from intidtlve perception of that 
troth to irtiich Bacon alone lias ^ven distinct utter- 
ance, — ** There ts no exquisite beauty iriiich has not 
some strangeness in its proportions." But iriietlier 
obscure, original, or quaint, 9ielley had no affecta- 
tions. He was at all times dncere. 

From his ruins there sprang into existence, affront- 
ing the lieavena, a tottering and fantastic pagoda; in 
irbidi the salient aii|^ tipped widi mad jangling 


^^^^f*«^ dut fidcRd tfarm^ ^ daaii tf Alw 
tor luid no timiMi wbMtenr in fc^' i ^— g ^ nrntatne 
Tipon, bBt, for the Btfrtnrofe were foRei to be 
coptcBt wnb tb cpMtnnn, m wludt dk Himw s^ 
pMDvd wnnoiit the fin. Hoc tcb uMiliiie ininni tin- 
ImpfiweJ by the co nt e mp laticn of a greater and more 
mattm: ■*"* flttn, gnidtial^ into One school eC cU 
liwlcMOCH, of obecori^, qtuintnea, and tuMfBerm- 
tlon, were intenraren the oot-of •jdace didactidem <rf 
WordiwOTth, and the more anomaloos ntetaphyiidan- 
ino of Cfderidge. Katten were now fast Toging to 
thdrwont; and at length, in Tamjeon, poetic incan- 
lietency attained its extreme. But it was predSBly 
thii extreme (for ttie greateit truth and tiie greatest 
error are scarcely two points in a circle) which, fol- 
lowing the law ai all extremes, wrought in him (Tenny- 
son) a natural and ineritaUe reruUon ; leading him, 
first, to contemn, and secondly, to investigate, bis eariy 
manner, and finally to winnow, from its magnificent 
elements, tiie truest and purest of all poetical styles. 



But not crren yst is the process complete ; and for tiiis 
reason In part, bat chiefly on account of the mere for- 
toitousneM of that mental and moral combination 
which Shan unite in one person (if erer it shaU) the 
Sielley abandon and the Tannysonion poetic sense 
witti the most profound art (based both in instinct and 
analy^) and the sternest will properly to blaid and 
rigorously to control all — chiefly, I say, because such 
combination (tf seeming antagonisms will be only a 
" happy chance," the woild has never yet seen the 
noUest poem lAich, posmbly, can be composed. 

It is not proper (to use a gentle word), nor does it 
seem courageous, to attack our foe by name in spirit 
and in effect, so that all the world shaU know iriiom 
we mean, while we say to onrselres, "I have not 
Attacked this man by name in the eye and according 
to ttie letter of the law " ; yet how often are men 
who call themselves gentlemen guilty of this mean* 
nessl We need reform at this point of our literary 
morality; very sorely, too, at another — the system of 
anonymous reviewing. Not one respectaUe word can 
be said in defence of this most mifalr, this most de^- 
caUe and cowardly practice. 


To TiUfy a great man is Oe readiest way In iriddt 




I hardly kaow how to •ccoant for Ac nptmtmAl^l' 
ncM of Jobn KmI as r^^nb the coortmctioB vi tag 
worka. Hii ait is great and of a hi^ duraster; but 
ft is masiiTe and andetaJled. He seems to be eitlier 
defldent id a sense ti comiteteness, or unstable in 
ten^erament; so that he becomes wearied ■mOi bis 
wocIe before getting it done. He ahrajs begins well, 
^orotuly, starttinj^y, p r oc e eds by fits, mndi at ran- 
dom, now prosing, now gossiping, now running away 
with his subject, now exciting vivid interest ; but bis 
CMidtirioiis are sure to be httrried and indistinct; so 
that the reader, percelTing a falling-t^ iriine he ex- 
pects a climax, is pained, and, closing the book witti 
dissatiafaction, is in no mood to g^e die author credit 
for the vivid sensations irtiich have bem aroused dur- 
ing tiie prepress of perusaL Of all literary f oiUes, the 
most fatal, perhaps, is that of defectiTe climax. Hever- 
theless, I should be inclined to rank John Neal first, 
or at all events second, among our men of indispu- 
taUe genius. Is it or is it not a fact, that the air of a 
democrat agrMS better with mere talent than with 



Among du moralists who keep themselvea erect hf 
flu perpetual BwaUoving of pokers, it is the fashion to 
deciy the " fashionable " novels. These woiks have 
ibmi demerits ; but a vast influence which they exert 
for an undeniable good has never yet bem duly consid- 
ered. " Zngenuoe didicisse fideliter libros, emollit 
mores nee sinit esse feros." Now, the fashionable 
novels are just die books which most do circulate 
among the class nnfashiwiable; and Iheir effect in 
softening the worst callosities, in smoothing die most 
disgusting asperities of vulgarism, is prodigious, '^fli 
the herd, to admire and to attempt imitation are the 
gune thing. What if, in tbia case, the manners imi- 
tated are frippery 7 better frippery than brutality; and, 
after all, there is little danger that the intrinsic value 
of the sturdiest iron will be impaired by a coating of 
even the most diaphanous gilt. 

The ancients had at least half an idea that we trav- 
elled on horseback to heaven. See a passage of Pas- 
seri, De Aohnm TnutMreethne, quoted by Cayloi. 
See, also, many old tombs. 

It is said in TmIbIi^ respecting Idnmea, diat ** tuooB 
shall pass throng diee for ever snd ever." Dr. Keitfi 



hen ' insifts, as tumalf upon imderBtandlDg the pas- 
wge ia its most strictly literal seme. Bb attempts to 
prove that neither Borckhardt aor Irby passed ttiroa^ 
die country, merely penetrating to Petra and return- 
ing. And onr Hr. John Stephens entered Mumea with 
the dellberatfl design of putting the question to test 
He wished to see irtiether it was meant that Idnmea 
should not be passed throng^ and ** accordingly," says 
he, " I passed throng^ it from one end to fbt otiier.*' 
Here is error on all sides. In the first place, he was 
not sufficiently informed in the ancient geogt^thy to 
know that the Idnmea irtilch he certainly did pass 
throtigh is not the Idnmea, or Edom, intended in the 
prophecy, tiie latter lying much fartiier eastward. Jn 
the next place, whether he did or did not pass thron{^ 
tiie true Idnmea, or whether anybody, of late days, did 
or did not pass through It, is a p<nnt of no consequence 
rither to the proof or to the disproof of the litaral fol- 
fllment of the prophecies. For it is quite a mistaln _ 
on the part of Dr. Keith, — his supposition that traf el- 
ling throng Idnmea is prohibited at all. 

The words conceived to embrace tile prohibitum are 
found in Isaiah zzzIt., io, and are Leoeltadi, atU 
radUm c/fl orer bab, literally, Leaetwaett, for an eter- 
nity; iiete«c&£o]^ of eternities ; e£a,not; over, moving 
about; bob, in it That is to say, for an eternity of 
eternities (there shall) not (be any one) moving about 




In it — ^not tbrottf^ it Tho participle owtr refers to 
one moving to and fro, or iqi and down, and is tlte 
tame term iriiicli is tranilated " current " as an epi- 
tliet of money, in Genesis zxiiL, 16. The prophet 
means only that there shall be no mark of life in the 
land, no living being there, no one moving ap and 
down In it. He refers merely to its general abandon- 
ment and desolation. 

In the same way we have received an erroneous Idea 
of tlie meaning of Ezeziel zzzv., 7, where the same 
re^im is mentioned. The conmion version nms, 
** Thus will I make Koont Seir most desolate, and cot 
off from it him Hiat passetii out and him that return- 
eth," a sentence which Dr. Keith views as he does the 
one from Isaiah; that Is, he supposes it to forbid any 
travelling in Idumea under penalty of death, inetanc- 
Ing Burckhatdt'B death, shortly after his return, as 
confirming this si^podtiMi, on the ground that he died 
In consequence of tiu rash attempt 

Now,the words (rfBzekiel are: VenaCbstfe(A^Aar5e£r 
fr^ ^ ftp f^f ne ft ittbmuunMhf veUsbnitf t n h n m ttinit 
ewer nMal/ literally, VeoMtbrnti and I vUl give; dA" 
b*r, the mountain; Seir, Seir; kabhrnnaaub, 1o€ a 
desolation; uaAemunah, and a desolation; vdUe&rae( 
andlwiU cutoff; m&omenntvfromit; ovcuvhimthat 
goeth;va«a( and him that retometii; — ** and I will give 
Mount Seir for an utter desolation, and I will cot off 
from it him that passeth and rqtaBseth therdn.*' The 



BrfwBiMJ hw* ia «■ m Hi* pg iMMimg p aMi j T ■IllllilMI 

ii *niiiff to tlw ttiii^% ^fipii|y of tfif iti^ (g nHninc ■Kfnit 
ia it^ md actir^ foqiloyed in flu bnbiM* of life. I 
■m w i rtwin ed id the tzModatioa of over vasai hf Ge- 
•eniai, 8 5, toL iL, p. 570, Leoi TrmoM. Ccmpne also 

Tin IiIIJiIitH., 14 "w^tr <t Thgl* *" MmmHtwiy «wlw- 

gom in the &fafew-Gnek phiaaei St Acts ix. 38 i(<n V 
^ttf' ovron' eiaxoptvofttros ttat ittxofitvofiti'iX rr 
*lipotMTaXtfft — ** And he me iritti ttiem in Jcmieleni, 
comins in »"'* wdog onL" The ^jHti h i tatiiu rtt is 
P ff i— i y MfjliTirfif Hu *w"t*if te thet s»«* , tlie 
new convertf wu on intimate ***"— witli tlie tme 
bdUereci in Jeroaalem; moring about amoag fbcin to 
and fro, or in and oiit> 


Tbe raOiar of OvmwcJIdoee better ai a writer of 
baUadt tfuu of proae. He lias fan^ end a fine con- 
ception of iliytlun. Bttt his romantico^iisbvies bare 
an die effervescence of bis verse, mttioat its flavor. 
JTottiiiig worse ttian his tone can be invented : turgjd 
sentendoasnesB, involute, qHumodically straining after 
effect. And, to render matters worse, be is as thor- 
ong^y an tmis^ist as Cardinal Chi^ who boasted 
tliat lie wrote with flie same pen for half a century. 

Oar ** bhias ** are inerearing in nmnber at a great 



rate; and should be decimated, at the very least 
Have we do critic witli nerve moogh to hang a dozen 
or two of them, hi terrorem / He most tue a BQk 
cord, of coarse, as they do In Spain, with all grandees 
of the Utie Idood, of the gaagre axul 

Par aU tbe rtietorlcUn's mlM 
TsActa nothing but to lumu the tmdi, — HuMtm. 

What these oft-qnoted lines go to show is, that a 
foMty in verse iriH travel faster and endure longer 
tlian a falsi^ in prose. The man who would sneer 
or stare at a silly proposition nakedly put, will admit 
that " there is a good deal in that " when ** that " is 
the point of an qiigram shot into the ear. The rhet- 
(nidan's roles, if th^ are rules, teach him not only 
to name his tools, but to nse his tools, the capad^ ot 
his tools, their extent, their limit, and, from an ex- 
amination of the nature ci the tools, — an examina- 
tion forced on him by their constant presence, — ^force 
him, also, into scrutiay and conqtrdiension of the 
material on iriiich the tools are employed, and thus. 
Anally, suggest and give birth to new material for new 


Among his ddb/t d the den, the tribe, fba fomm, 

the theatre, etc.. Bacon mi^t wdl have placed the 

peat dthhn of the parlor (or of the wit, as I have 




tamed it in one of the prerioiu Marginalia) — the OtA 
vrhoaa worship blinds man to tmth by ^ j<^*t1 ^* ^ him 
with the ^>po8ite. But wbat titie coold have been in- 
vented for tiiat idd lAich baa propagated, peihapa, 
more oi gross error than all comUoed ? — the one, I 
mean, lAich A^m^nl^^ from its votaries Hiat they re- 
ciprocate cause and effect, reason in a circle, lift them- 
■etres from the ground by palling up their pantaloons, 
and cany themselves on their own heads, in band- 
baskets, from Beersheba to Dan. 

All, absolutely all the argnmentation wideh I have 
•een on the nature of the soul, or of the Deity, seems 
to me nothing but woiship of this unnamable idol. 
** Pour savcHT ce qu'est Dieu," says Bielfeld, although 
nobo^ listens to the solemn tmth, " il faut toe Dieu 
mtaoe," and to reason about the reason is of all things 
the most nnreaeonaUe. At least, he alone is fit to 
discuss the topic who percehres at a gtance the in- 
■anity of its diacussiott. 


I beUere it is Montaigne who says, ** People talk 
about thinking, but, for my part, I never begin to think 
until I idt down to write." A better plan for him 
would have been never to sit down to write until he 
had made an end of thinking. 


Ho dotibt the association of idea is smneirtiat singu- 



Ur, but I never can hear a crowd ot people tint^ag and 
gMticolatiiig, all togsther, at an Italian opera, witii- 
out fancying myself at Athens, listening to Utat peculiar 
tragedy 1^ Sophocles in which he introdnces a full 
chwns (rf tw^eys, ilho set about bewailing tlie death 
of Meleager. It is noticeaUe in this connection, by 
the way, that there is not a goose in the worid wlio, in 
point of sagad^, wotild not feel itself insulted in being 
compared with a tnifcey. The French seem to feel 
this. In Paxis, I am sore, no one would think of say- 
ing to Mr. F , " What a goose you are! '* OueJ 

dhxha tu tal would be the phrase enqtoyed as 


Alasl how many American critics negject the hi^py 
suggestion of M. TImon — ** que le ministre de llnstmo 
tion pnldique doit lul-nUme saToir pailer ftai^ais." 

It Is foUy to assert, as some at present are fond of 
asserting, that the literature of any nation or age was 
ever injured by plain speaking on tlie part of tiie 
critics. As for American letters, ptain-q>ealdng about 
them is dmply tlie one thing needed. They are in a 
ctmditiMi of absolute quagmire — a quagmire, to use 
the winds of Victor Hugo, " d' oft tm ne pent se titer 
par des periphrases — par dei qoemadmodums et dee 




It is certainly Tery rgmarkaMe that slthon^ destiny 
Ii the rttling idea of the Greek drama, the word Ti/xf 
(fortttne) does not appear once in tiie irtiole Wttd. 

Had Jdm Bocnonilli lived to have flu experience of 
Fiiller*B occiput and sinciput, he would have aban- 
doned, in dismay, his theory of the noa-eziBtence oi 
hard bodies. 

They have ascertained, in China, that the abdomen 
Is the seat tA the soul ; and the acute Greeks consid- 
ered it a waste <rf words to employ more than a dngle 
term, ^pirK, for the expression both of the mind and 

of the iHaphfgin . 


Mr. Grattan, vbo, in general, writes well, has a bod 
habit of ItHteiing, of toying with his subject as a cat 
witii a mouse, instead of grasping it flnnly at once and 
devouring it without ado. He to^s up too much 
time in the anteroom. He has never done with his 
introductions. Sometimes one introduction is merely 
the vestibule to another; so that by the time he arrives 
at his main theme there is nooe of it left He is 
afflicted with a perversity common enough even among 



otherwise good talkers, an i rr ep r e ari ble desire at tait- 
taiirtng by drcumlocutioii. 

If the greasy print here exhiUted Is, indeed, like Mr. 
Grattan,' then is Hr. Grattan like nobody else, for ^o 
else ever thmst forth, from beneath a wig of wire, the 
conntenance of an overdone apple-dmnpling 7 

" What does a man learn by travelling ? ** demanded 
Doctor Johnson, one day, in a great rage. " What 
did Lord Chailemont learn in his trarels, except tiiat 
Aiere was a snake in one of the i^ramidB of Egypt ? " 
— but had Doctor Johnson lived in the days of the SOk 
BocUnj^iains, he would have seen that, so far from 
HiinHng anything of flmling a snake in a fgramid, 
yonr traveller would takb his oath, at a moment's 
notice, of having found a pyramid in a snake. 


The autiior of UUerrlmaa might have been W. 6. 
8imms(n4i08e Jlfartiai^i6eris justsochawork); but 
Is * G. X. W. Reynolds, an En^ishmao, who wrote, 
also, A&er* de Ro*mna and Pkkwick iUiraadl— both 
tzcdlent things in their way. 

' Is busy In attempting to prove that his play 
■ WM wiHtn ir W. M. KaTBoito, wko 



was not ftiily d d, that it is only ** skotched, not 

IdUed " ; but if the poor play cooU ^eak from ttie 
tmib I fancy it would dng with tfa« iqwra hsroine, 

Hw flattsriag error gmm to pcofal 
Oh, lat me be deceuedl 


We may safely grant that the effects of Ou oratocy 
of Demosthenes were vaster tlian those wrou^t by 
die eloqoance of any modem, and yet not controvert 
the idea that the modem eloquence, itself, is superitn: 
to tiiat of the Greek. Tlie Greeks were an exdtable, 
unread race, for tliey had no printed iMoks. VMi woee 
ezhortatioos carried with tliem, to tlieir quick appre- 
hendons, all the gigantic force of the new. They had 
much of tliat vivid interest which the first fable has 
tqMm the dawning Intellect of tiia child — an interest 
irtiich is worn away by &e frequent perusal ot dmilar 
ttiings, by tlie frequent inception of similar fandes. 
The suggestions, the arguments, the indtements of the 
andent rhetorician were, when compared with those 
of the modem, absolutely novel, possessLng thus an 
immense adventitious force — a force which has been, 
oddly enough, left out of ugbt in all estimates of the 
tioqoence of the two eras. 

The finest pblUppic of the Greek would have been 

hooted at in the Brltlah House of Peers, while an im- 

pronqitu of Sieridan, or of Brouc^iam, would have 



i;lol .■i<! 



n t f.i:[iy d d, that it 13 only *' skotched, not 

,i " ; i)it :• \.':;e poor play could Speak from the 
> I ! .'icy it wmlil sing witb the opera heroine, 

"• -n !' if", iiig ermr cease to pnret 
<''h. !•■[ □■'■ M deccaffidl 


' -'t'y gra'U that the effects of the oratory 

■ -s ^i-re vaster than those wrought by 

t -:ir of :i\:v rii.dern, and yet not controvert 

.; ' (:. i( i;-.' ! :-.di:;ii el-.quence, itself, is superior 

1 (>f t'.r n:eek. JTkt- Grp'k= were an excitable, 

; '.<tv. f IT iim y h '.J rio^prmtedbdoks. Viva rcce 

:•,:■' ■■:-!• c'':!''I w '!i tbcm, to their quick appre- 

' " -, ' ■ :!.(• 2" ' .mic i'-'Cf of the 'lew. They had 

;: •■; * ■; ■, ■. ij ii ■;■'■ n w^ich the first fabte has 

I tl-; il-.A-.i'i^ ii-.'-:'..t I'f I'le child —an interest 

- ;■; wi ti 1 ■ :iy by Oe fi -'I'l^.-t p-rusal of similar 

. iy I-.-- (!i-)iii;it in. •■:t: a of similar fancies. 

^■. . ■^': .-I-,, I'-i- ;i. -iM.-i;,., ::■,-.■ a. .■i.cTK'nts of the 

;■ : .-■■-; ..:;i «■ •-, v.'..-n ccmjared with those 

■ :::- '...!i. a'-.- .. ^-iy ri.iVL'!, pua-.i-^i-iii)* thus an 

•• -(...fc- ■ t ■• 1 ;;\,i- a f'-rce »' .-.h has hero, 

' ' ■■ .,■■, '■■' •' ■' "I '■„■"' ill -iJl es'i .lates of the 

. ' ;;,'.-;r',- of tit Gi -■ '; w..a!d have bee. 
1- ;.: till! Ij,'i.;s:j H- .;-e f>f Peers, wMIe aa im- 
. v." -■■:■'. :•-, f-r iif Ur'j..' iva.ii, would !:-.'« 




cairiod by Btorm all the heartB and all tiie intdlectB trf 


Much Itas been said of late about the necessity at 
mahitaioing a proper nationality in American letters; 
bttt wbMt this nationality is, or what is to be gained by 
it, has never been distinctly understood. That an 
American should confine himself to American themes, i 
or even prefer them, is rather a political than a literary \ 
idea, and at best is a questionaUe point. We would 
do well to bear in mind that " distance lends enchant- 
ment to the view.'* Ceterh par&uM, a foreign theoM 
is, in a strictly Uteraiy sense, to be preferred. After 
all, the world at large Is the only legitimate stage tor 
the authorial hhtrh. 

But of the need of that nationality iriiich defends 
our own literature, sustains our own men of letters, 
tqAoUa our own digni^, and depends upon our own 
resources, there cannot be the shadow of a doubt. 
Yet here is the very p<Hnt at which we are most siqiine. 
We complain of our want of intemational copyrij^t 
on the ground that this want justifies our pnUishers 
in inundating us with British oj^on in British books; 
and yet when these very puUishers, at their own ob> 
vious risk, and even obvious loss, do puUish an Ameri- 
can book, we torn up our noses at it with s up reme ccn^ 
tempt (this is a general thing) until it (the American 
book) has been dubbed " readable ** by some illiterate 



Cockiwy critic, b it too much to umj dut, witfa 
oif flie opinion d WMhingtmi bring, <t Pnacott, of 
BrTuit, Is a men naDi^ in conqiuison witfi that of 
ai^ anonyiDons rab-sob-editca' of tha Spectmtor, the 
Atbeaaettot, or the London Puach t It Is not la^ng 
too moch to say this. It is a solemn, an absolutely 
awfol fact Erary poUisher in the country will admit 
it to be a fact Thoe Is not a more di^nsting spec- 
tacle imder the sun tiian onr subserriency to British 
critidsoL It is di^nstii^, first, because it is tmck- 
Ung, servile, pusillanimous; secondly, because <A its 
gross irrationality. We know the British to bear as 
littte bttt iU-win ; we know that, la no case, do they 
otter nnUased opinions of American books; we know 
tliat in the few instances in iriiich onr writers hare 
been treated irith common decency in England, these 
writers hare either openly paid homage to English in- 
ttttuti(ais, or lutTe had lurking at the bottom of their 
hearts a secret principle at war with democracy; we 
know all this, and yet, day after day, submit our necks 
to the degrading yoke of tlie crudest opinion that 
•"^"■**f from the fatherland. Now, if we must hare 
oatttMulity, let it be a nationality that will throw off 
this yoke. 

The citlef of tlie rhapsodists who have ridden us to 

death like the Old Han of the Mountain, is the ignorant 

and egotistical Wilson. Weusethetenn*'rhap8odists" 

with perfect deliberation; for, Macaulay and Dilke 




and otM or two otlun excepted, there is not in Great 
Britain a critic wfao can be fairiy conddered wortfay 
the name. Xlie Genoans, and even the French, are 
infinitely superior. As regards Vnison, no man ever 
penned worse criticiBm or better rhodomontade. That 
he is ** egotistical " his works show to all men, nm- 
ning as tliey read, "niat he is " ignorant " let his 
absurd and continuous schoolboy blunders at>ont 
Homer bear witness. Hot long ago we ourselves 
pointed out a series of similar inanities in his review 
of Miss Barrett's poems, — a series, we say, of gross 
Uundeis, arising from sheer ignorance, — and we defy 
him or any one to answer a sin^e syllaUe of what we 
then advanced. 

And 3ret this is tlie man whose simple dictum (to our 
shame be it spoken) lias the power to make or to mar 
any American reputation 1 In tlte last number of 
Siaekwood he has a continuation of the dull ^xd^ 
meat of tbe BriUsb Ceitkat and makes occasion wan- 
tonly to insult one of the notdest of our poets, Mr. 
LowelL The point of the whole attack consists in the 
use of slang epithets and phrases of the most ineffaUy 
vulgar description. ** Squabashes " is a pet term. 
"Faughl" is another. *'We are Scotsmen to the 
qnne I " says Sawney, as if the thing were not more 
ttian self-evident. Mr. Lowell is called a " magpie," 
an " ape," a " Yankee cockney," and his name is in- 
tentionally miswritten John Russdl LowelL How, 



mn ttieae indMendes perpetrated by an American 
critic, that critic wonld be sent to Cmtntrj 1^ tbe 
whole press of tbfl country; bat, since it is Wilson irtio 
insults, we, as in duty bound, not only sobmit to 
Qie insult, but echo it as an excellent jest flmra^toot 
tbe length and breadtii of the land. OuModia Cali» 
Bat t We do indeed demand the nationality of setf- 
re^ecL In letters as in government we require a 
Declaration of Independence. A better tiling still 
would be a Declaration of War — and that war should 
be carried fortiiwith ** into Africa.** 


Tix Dodof has excited great attention in America 
as well as in England, and has given rise to every 
variety oi conjecture and cqiinion, not only concemii^ 
ttic author's individuality, but in relation to tia mean- 
ing, purpose, and character of the book itaelf. It is 
now said to be the work of one author, now of two, 
three, four, five — as far even as nine or ten. llieee 
writers are sometimeB thou^t to have composed 71^ 
Doctor conjointly, sometimfls to have written each a 
portion. These individtul portions have even been 
p<^ted out by the supremely acute, and tiie names of 
ttieir respective fatiiers assigned. Supposed discrep- 
ancies of taste and manner, togetiier with the prodigal 
introduction of mottoes and other scraps of erudition 
(^>parentiy beyond tbe compass of a rin|^ individ- 



tul's reading), have given rise to this idea of a ntolti- 
plld^ of miters, among whom are mentiotud in tum 
all the most witty, all the most eccentric, and especially 
an the most learned of Great Britain. Again, in re- 
gard to Ha nature of the tMok. It has been called an 
imitatloa of Sterne, an angust and most profound ex- 
•n^liflcation, under the garb of eccentricity, of some 
oll-impoftant moral law, a true, under guise of a fic- 
titiouB, biography, a dmple /eu d'emprit, a mad farrago 
by a Bedlamite, and a great multipUd^ of other equally 
fine names and hard. Undoubtedly, the best method 
of arriving at a dedsion in relation to a work of this 
nature is to read it tiirongh with attention, and tiius 
see what can be made of it We hare done so, and 
can make ootMng of it, and are Aerefore cleaily ci 
(pinion that The Doctor Is precisely — nothing. We 
mean to say that it is notiiing better than a hoax. 

That any serious truth is meant to be inculcated \tj 
a tbnu of bizarre and disjointed riiapsodies, iriiose 
general meaning no person can fathom, is a notion 
altogether untenable, onless we suppose the au&or a 
madman. But there are none of the proper evidences 
Hi madness in the book ; iriiOe of mere banter tiiere 
are instances Innumerable. One half, at least, of the 
entire publication is taken up wi& palpable quizzes, 
reasonings in a circle, sentmces, like Hie nonsense 
Tcrsea at Du Bartas, eviden^y framed to mean noth- 
ing, iriiile weaxing an air of profound tfaonj^t, and 



fftAmniie qwculatioits in regard to tiie prolMUe ex- 
dtemeot to be created by the book. 

It spears to hare been written wi& a sole view 
(or nearly wlA Hit sole view) of wTriting inquiry and 
comment That this object should be fully accom- 
plished cannot be thou^t very wonderful, wbea we 
con^der the excessiTe trouUe taken to accomplish it, 
by vivid and powerful intellect That The Doctor is 
flie offspring of such intellect is proved suffidenQy by 
many passages of the book, irtiere the writer appears 
to have been led off from his main dedgn. That it is 
written by more than one man should not be deduced 
dther from the apparent inunenaty of its erudition, or 
from discrepandes of style. That man is a deqierate 
mannerist who cannot vary his style adhiSaitiun / and 
alAongh the book may have been written by a nam- 
her of learned MbUophagi, still there is, we think, 
nodiing to be found in Ihe book itsdf at variance with 
die possibility of its being written by any one individ- 
ual of even mediocre reading. Erudition is only cer- 
tainly known in its total results. The mere grouping 
together of mottoes from &e greatest multiplidty of 
the rarest works, or even the apparently natural in- 
weaving into any comporation of the sentiments and 
manner of these works, are attainments wittiin the 
reach of any well-informed, ingenioos, and indus- 
trious man having access to the great libraries t£. 
London. Horeover, while a dn^e individual possest- 



ing these requisites and opportunities, mi^t, tiirou^ 
ft rabid desire of creating a sensatioo, have written, 
with some trouble, The Doctor, it is by no means easy 
to imagine that a plurality of sensiMe persons coold 
be found willing to eml>ark in such absurdity from a 
nmllar, or indeed from any imaginable inducement 

The present edition of the Harpers consists of two 
Tdnmes in one. Volume one commences with a 
** Prelude of Hottoes " occupjdng two pages. Than 
foQoWB a " Postscript," then a " TaUe of Contents " to 
the first volume, occupying dghteen pages. Volume 
two has a dmilar " Prelude of Mottoes " and " TaUe 
of Contents." The irtiole Is subdlTlded Into *' Chapten 
Ante-Initial,'' " Initial," and " Post-Initial," wi& 
" Inter-<3iapterB." The pages have now and tiien a 
typographical " queerity " — a monogram* a scrap of 
grotesque munc, old En^ish, etc Some characters 
of this lattra bind are printed with colored ink in the 
British edition, \riiich Is gotten up with great care. All 
these oddities are in tiie manner of Sterne, and some 
of them are exceedingly well conceived. The work 
prtrfesaes to be a " Life of one Doctor Daniel Dove 
and hlfi horse Hobs"; but we should put no very 
great faith In this biography. On the back at &e book 
is a monogram, lAich appears again once or twice in 
die text, and whose solution Is a fertile source of 
trouble with all readers. This monogram is a trian- 
gular pyramid ; and, as in geometry, tiie solidity of ever; 



puljliedial Iwdy mxf be campntad tf dnri£iis tiw 
body into pyniiiidi, tiw pyrunid is flm cwiridgred as 
Ae bate or emeuu of enry poljludrDa. Ilw anttHW, 
ttien, after Us own Cuhion, may mean to in^ty that 
fab boiA is the basis of all B(dldity or nadom, «, per- 
h^s, Knee the pfriyfaedrcm is not only a solid, bttt a 
BoBd terminated by jdane faces, that Tie Doctor is liw 
veij esamce of all that ^ mri ons irisdom wliich will 
t»rn\i n »t» in jngf n^ ^hing at all — in a hoax, and a con- 
teqoent mohi^city ct black visages. The wh and 
hnnuv of Tbe Doetat hare sddom beei equalled. We 
caimot diink Sonthey wrote it, but hare no idea lAo 



Theae twelve Leitert * are occtt^ed, in part, widi 
ndnttte details of such atrodties on Hu part of the 
British, during their sojourn in Charleston, as ttie qniz- 
ziog of Hrt. 'VnUdnson and the pilfering <rf her shoe- 
boddeS) the remainder being nnnifi up of the indignant 
comments of Mrs. Wilkinson herself. 

It is very tme, as the preface assures ns^ that " few 
records exist ot American women dther before or 
during the war of the Revolution, and that those fK- 
petuated by histcMy want the chaim of personal narrsr 
tion " ; but then we are well delivered from such 
charms of personal narration as we find here. The 





only sttpposable merit in the com^lation is that dogged 
sir Off tru& wldi which the fair authoress relates the 
laioentable story of her misadTentures. I look in vain 
for that " useful information " alMut which I have 
heard, unless, indeed, it is in the passage where we 
are told that the tetter-writftf " was a young and beau- 
tiful widow ; that her handwtiting is clear and femi- 
nine ; and that tiie letters were copied by herself into 
a Idank quarto book, on which the eztravsgant sale- 
price marks one of the features of Oit times " : there 
are other extravagant ssle-prices, however, bendes 
Uiat; it was seventy-five cents that I paid for these 
Lettert. Besides, they are ally, and I cannot conceire 
why Krs. Gilman thou^t the public wished to read 
them. It is really too bad for her to talk at a body, in 
this st^e, about " gathering relics of post histoiy," 
and ** floating down streams of time." 

As for Mrs. Wilkinson, I am rejoiced tlmt she lost 
her Bhoe-buckles. 


"Advancing briskly with a rapier, he did the 
business for him at a blow." — SMOLLETT. 

This vulgar colloquialism had its type among tlie 
Romans. <* Et ferro subitus grsssatus, ag^t rem." 


It cannot, we Ihink, be a matter of doubt wiiii any 

reflecting mind, that at least one third of the reverence, 




or of the affecdon, wiUi -wbish m ngfui die elder 
poeti of Great Britain alioald be credited to vliat 
ii, in Itself, a thing ^art from poetry — ^we mean to 
the limple lore of tiie antique; and that ag^in a third 
ui e?en the proper poetic sentiment inqiired by these 
writings should be ascribed to a fact irtiich, iriifle it 
has a strict connection with poetry in tiu abstract, and 
also vilh Ota particolar poems in question, must not 
be looted upon as a merit ^pertaining to the writers 
of the poems. Almost eroy devout reader of the old 
BngHrfi bards, if demanded his opinion of their pro- 
dacti<His, would mmtion vaguely, yet iritti perfect ein- 
ceiity, a sense of dreamy, wild, indefinite, and, he 
would pcrtiaps say, ondeflnabte ddi^^L Upon being 
required to point out the source of this so sliadowy 
pleasure, he would be apt to speak of the quaint in 
phrase<dogy and of the grotesque in rhythm. And tliis 
quaintness and grotesqueness are, as we have else- 
vrtiere endeavored to show, very powerful, and, if well 
managed, very admissiUe adjuncts to ideally. But in 
the present instance they arise independently of the 
anthor^fi will and are matters apart from his intention. 


As to this last term (" high-binder '*), which is so 
confidently quoted as modem (" not in use, certainly, 
before 1819 "), I can refute all that is said by referring 
to a journal in my own possession, the Weeify la* 




tpeetoff for Decemtwr 37, 1806, puUished in New 

<* On Christmas Bre, a party of banditti, amounting, 
it is stated, to forty or fifty members of an association 
calling themselTes ' Higli-Binders,' assembled in 
front of St Peter's Church in Barclay Street, expect- 
ing Out die Catholic ritual would be performed mth 
a degree of pomp and splendor which has usually been 
omitted in tliis dty. These ceremonies, however, not 
taking placo, the High-Blnden manifested great dis- 

In a subsequent number tiie association are called 
** mde-Knders." They were Irish. 

Perhaps ICr. Barrow' is right after all, and the 
dearth of genius in America is owing to Uw continual 
teasing of ttie mosquitoes. 


The title of this book* deceives us. It Is by no 
means " talk " as men understand It, not that true 
talk of which Boswell has been the best historiog- 
rapher. In a word, it is not gossip, vrtiich has been 
nerer better defined than by Ba^ who calls it " talk 
for talk's sake," nor more thoron^y comj^ehended 



than hy Honca Walpole and Haiy Worthy Hontago, 
who made it a pntfesdon and a purpose. Embradng 
all thi"Pi it has netther b^^inning, middle, nor end. 
Tbns of the gosaiper it was not property said that " he 
commences his discoorse by jmuping hi media* rcw," 
For, dearly, your gosslper commences not at all. He 
is b^;un. He is already begun. He is always begun. 
In the matter of end he is indeterminate. And by 
these extremes shall ye know him to be of the Csssars 
—poffibyrogealttu, of the right vela, of the tme blood 
— of the blue blood — of the nangn axuL As for laws, 
he is cognizant of but one, the invariable absence of 
all. And for his road, were it as strai^t as the Ap^ 
and as broad as that " which leadeth to destruction," 
nererOuless would he be malcontent without a fre- 
quent hop-sldp-and-jump over the hedges into the 
tempting pastures of digression beyond. Such is the 
gossiper, and of such alone is the true " talk." But 
when Coleridge asked Lamb if he had ever heard him 
preach, the answer was quite happy, " I have never 
heard yon do anything else." The troth is tfiat**TaUe 
Discourse " ml^t have answered as a tide to this 
book; but its character can be folly conveyed only 
io " Post-Prandial Sub-Sermons " or " Three Bottle 


A rather bold and qidte unnecessary plagiaiism, 
from a book too well known to promise impnni^: 


,db,Googlc — 


> ;■ -le and Mary Wortley Montagu, 
;-; ' . .1 aiM a purpose. Embrarir.g 
s !■ I'her l.ffnnning, middle, nor end. 

■■-■I er it w.)< not properly said that *' he 
■ ' -L' Lir e by jumping ia mediis res " 

-.if 1;'' iper commences not at aJl. He 

■i .liu'^ begun. He is alwa>-s begun, 
'■( fA he i» indeterminate. And bj- 
.-.'..iW ■. = kni;w him to be of the Cfesar^ 

'.-■■i -.1 ■'■' f-jM vein, of the true blf>i-d 
If i -i)f t*;e ssngrc azul. As for laws, 

' uf '■.:! o.'v, tJip invariable absence of 
• ri .',1, V.PI ■ it :i¥ <'raii;ht as the Appia 

^ SurmAL^CQlfiei^to destruction," 
••I'A hf ur I....' ' without a fre- 

'-.i:;"!-; .ir.|) f-vcr the hedf^es into the 

'.i of i.-.-.f ■;,:: b. .jud. Such is the 

I -. ..ii a'.vi;-* is r'.t true " talk." But 
■> r i I. ■"■■ ;f f<- f -cr heard him 
■, -r A -> f. ;■;■- I. ,, py, " I have never 
■}' :■.:,-.'■ ■■■" The tnrii is that "Table 
ii '.... i P .--r'j.fd PS a title to this 

<l><\-' : T c.n be fi.:;y t-'iiveyed only 
: .i] S..!;->t:;.' Us" or " Three Bottle 

•r 1. 3 a'.i (,ii-( U" :.i.-e3,-ary plagiari^ 
1-: r "> v,t.' i-i"v a tti p'l-n '.'■■: impunity: 





" It Is now fall time to begin to brush away the iit- 
aects of literature, irtiether creeping or flattering, 
which hare too itmg crairied over and soiled the iotel- 
tectoal ground of this coantry. It is high time to 
shake the little sicfedy stems of many a puny plant, and 
make its fading flowerets faU." — Mootbljr Rtgitteti p. 
343, voL ii., Hew York, 1807. 

On the otiier band: 

" I have brushed away the Insects of literature, 
irtiether fluttering or creeping; I hare shaken the little 
stems of many a puny plant, and the flowerets have 
fallen." — " Preface '* to flie PurstMH* of LUttattm. 


Hen of genius are far more abundant than is Biq>- 
poeed. In fact, to appreciate thoroughly ib» woil trf 
irtiat we call genius is to possess all tiie genius by 
irtiich tiie work was produced. But the person q>- 
preciating may be utteriy incompetent to reproduce tiie 
work, or anything nmilar, and this solely through 
lack of what may be termed the constructiTe ability, a 
matter quite independent of iriiat we agree to under- 
stand in the tarm " genius " itself. This ability is 
baaed, to be sure, in great part, upon the facul^ of 
analyris, enabling the artist to get full view of tiis 
machinery oi his proposed effect, and thus work it and 


Rfiialc it M «■; hit ■ pert And «q 

0900 omuatBi^wtmtmt ar Ac f t/w u d holfing the 

to Ac «■■ fVffsae, 1900 idf -de- 

« is Ihit iHt, Atf it Maj wO be doabted 
if aajlUoe to ^Uck *e hate beca accatfiMMd to ^re 
the tide of a ** ««k o< BEBv" n cm Mxaa^fidied 
vithoot it; aad it is dneflf becaoK ttn quafitr and 
gBiB an aeBdr incan^atiUe 0iat " vwki of gen- 
ioa ** are few, vkile men men of genn aie^ as I say, 
ab un d apt . The p«mm«— ^ wbo "wr^UmA og hi acnte- 
ncm of obTfatiuB vUle falling bdow at In indnc- 
tiflo from facts obacrrcd, seem to hare beca bo fnlly 
a«an of ttie ioaepanble '■«"***■*»«■' between indostt; 
and a " woik <d gemas" as to bate adopted the error 
r, in great maasnn, «ns genins itadf. The 
A by a Kcnnan, when, <rf 
an epic, or anything vmiUr, he nys that it is mitten 
ladtmtria MoirattU or h tar JA iM laJimirl^ 


The merdy M*j->»at»i«'ai st^ of Atbeom is far bettar 
ttian that ct any erf BulweHs pnrions books. In gen- 
eral be is atrodoosly inT<riate — this is his main defect. 
He wr^pa one sentence in ano&er ad inSnttuait very 
much in ttie fashion of those " nests of boxes " sold 




in oar woodenware Bhops, or like the islands wiUiin 
Iftkes, wiHiin islands witliin lakes, within islands iriUiin 
lalns, of wtiich we read so much in tlie Peripliu of 


All true men must rejoice to perceive the decline of 
the miserable rant and cant against originality, which 
was so much in vogue a few yeais ago among a class of 
microscopical criticB, and which at one period threat- 
ened to degrade all American literature to the levd of 
Flemish art. 

Of puns it has been said that those most dislike irtio 
are least able to utter them; but with far more of 
truth may It be asserted tlut invectives against origi- 
nality proceed only from persons at once hypociitical 
and commonplace. I say " hjrpocritical," for the love 
of novelty is an indisputable element of the moral 
nature of man ; and since to be original is merely to be 
novel, the dolt who professes a distaste for originality, 
in letters or elseirttere, proves in no degree his aversion 
for the ttiing in itself, but merely tliat uncomfortable 
hatred irtiich ever arises in the heart of an envious 
man for an excellence he cannot attain. 


When I call to mind the preposterous " addes ** and 
soliloqnies of the drama among civilized nations, the 
shifts enjoyed by the Chinese playwrights ^tpeai 



ahogedur n^cctahle. If a genenl, on a Pskia or 
Cutoo itage, is ordeivd on an apoditioo, " he bran- 
diihes a whip," says Davis, " or takes in his hand tfw 
idns of a bridle, and striding fliree or fonr times 
around a jdatf omif in du midst of a tnmendoos crssli 
of gongs, dnmis, and trumpets, finaUy stops short and 
tdls ttie audience ^ere he has arrfred.** It woold 
aometimes pozrie an European stage hero in no Uttte 
d^ree to " teU an audience iriiere he has arrived." 
Host of them seem to have a very imperfect concep- 
tion of XhtiT vrtiereabouts. In tiu Mori de Cmmar, for 
ezanqde, Voltaire makes liis populace rush to and fro, 
ezdaiming, * CouteoM ma CapHole I ' Poor fellows — 
Quy are in the capitol all the time; in his scnqdes 
about nnity d place the author has never once let 
them out at it 

Sallust, too. He had much the same free-and-easy 
idea, and Mettemich himself could not have qoarrelled 
with his " In^tune qua libet fadle, id est esse regem." 

A ballad entitled biJito Sercaade, and put into the 

mouth oi the hero, Vasco Hunez, is, perhiqie, Hie most 

really meritorious portion of Mr. Smms's Daauelof 

Daf^n. This stsnza is full of music: 




And thdr wUd ud mellow vtAcM 
Stin to hear Blong the deep, 

Btbij trooding aUr lejolcei, 
While the billow, on iti jdllow, 

LnlM to dence ■mmn to ileep. 

T it the wan to ttb Uwr « 

By Suuuut't jlelding al 
ViXb the ten^Mtt It !■ shaken; 

The irild ocean is la modtm, 
And the long ia heard no mora. 

'* Hera is a man who ia a scholar and an artist, wlio 
knovB predsdy how trvery «fiect has been produced 
by erery great writer, and who is restdved to reproduce 
them. But the heart passes 1^ his pitfalls and traps 
■nd carefully planned springes, to be taken captive by 
tome simple feUow who expected Ihe event as little as 
did his prisoner." ' 

Perhiqw I err in quoting these words as the author's 
own — they an in tibe mouth of one of his interlocu- 
tors; but whoever daims them, tliey are poetical and 
no more. The error is exactly that common one of 
separating practice from the theory which Includes it. 
In all cases, if the practice fail, it is because the tfaeoiy 
is imperfect. If Mr. Lowell's heart be not catight in 
the pitfall or tnqi, then ih» pitfaU is iD-ctmcealed and 



the trap is not properiy baited or set One lAut has 
•ome artistical abUity may know how to do a tlmi^ 
and even thow how to do it, and yet fail in doing it 
after all; but the artist and the man of some artistic 
aUli^ mnst not be confounded. He only is the f onDer 
who can carry his most shadowy precepts into succei 
fol application. To say that a critic could not ban 
written the woifc irtiich he critidsea^ ii to put forth a 
cmtradietion in terms. 


Talking of conundnuns: Why will a geolo^ pnt 
no faith In die fable of the fox that lost his tail ? Be- 
cause he knows tlut no animal remains have ever been 
found in trap. 


We have l<nic learned to reverence the fine intdlect 
trf Bulwer. We take up any production of his pen with 
a poritlve certainty tliat, in reading it, the wildest pas- 
sions of our nature, the moat profound of our thou^ts, 
the brightest vidons of our fancy, and the moat en- 
nobling and lofty of our aspirations will, in due tnm, 
be kindled within us. We feel sure of rinog from fho 
perusal a wiser if not a better man. In no instance are 
we deceived. From the brief tale, from the flooo* 
tad DahnoaoM of the author to his most ponderona 
and labored novels, all is richly and ^owln^y intd- 
lectual, all is energetic, or astute, or brilliant, or pro- 



found. Hun may be men now living iriio possess the 
power of Bulwer, but it is quite evident that very few 
have made that power bo palpably manifest Indeed, 
we know ot none. Viewing falm as a novelist, a point 
of view exceeding unfavorable (if we ludd to Ou 
c<nnmon acceptation of ** the novd ") for a proper 
cMitemplation of his genius, he is unsurpassed by any 
writer living or dead. Why should we hesitate to say 
this, feeling, as we do, tliorou{^y persuaded of Its 
truth ? Scott has excelled him in many points, and 
The BfUc of LaauDertaoor is a better book than any 
individual work by the author of Petbam i Inaboc is, 
peiit^ts, equal to any. Descending to particulars, 
D'Israeli has a more brilliant, a more lofty, and a more 
delicate (we do not say a wilder) imagination. Lady 
Dacre has written EUea Vanbam, a more forcible 
tale of pas^on. In some species of wit Theodore 
Hook rivals, and in broad humor our own Paulding 
surpasses him. The writer of Godolpbht equals him in 
energy. Banim is a better aketcher trf character. 
Mo^ is a richer colorist. Captain Trdawney Is as 
original, Hoore is as fanciful, and Horace &nith is as 
leamed. But who is there uiiting in one person the 
imagination, tiie passion, the humor, the energy, tiie 
knowledge of the heart, ^u artist-4ike eye, the origi- 
nality, the fancy, and the learning of Edward Lytton 
Bulwer ? In a vivid wit, in profundity and a Gothic 
masaivauas of thon^t, in st;^ in a calm certainty 



and dsfliiitiTaien <rf pttrpow, in Isdosby, and, aborc 
•II, In the power of contndUng and ragnlatiiig bf vod- 
tion his inimitable facohiaa at ndnd, Im ie oneqoalled, 
he is tmapproached. 


The antiur of Stdwlka and Dmrahy Is lauded, by 
a great majorily of tiiose irtio land him, from mere 
motiTes of duty, not of inclination — duty erroneously 
concetred. He is looked upon as the head and repra- 
sentatiTe tA fltoae novelists who, in iilstorical romance, 
attempt to blend interest with instruction. His senti- 
ments are fonnd to be pure, iiis morals unquestionable 
and p(Hntedty shown forth, his language indispntaUy 
correct And for all Ibis, praise, assuredly, but ttien 
only a certain degree of praise, should be awarded him. 
To be pure in his expressed ofdnions is a duty; and 
were liia language as correct as any qioken, he would 
qwak only as ereiy gentleman should speak, la. re- 
gard to his historical information, were it much more 
accurate and twice as ezten^e as, from any vidble 
indications, we have reason to believe it, it shonld still 
be remembered that similar attainments are possessed 
by many thousands of well-educated men of all coun- 
tries, who look upon their knoitledge witii no more 
tium ordinary complacency; and that a far, very fat 
bi^er reach of erudition is within the graqi of any 
general reader having access to the great litnnries of 



Puifl or the Vatican. Somatiiittg more than we hare 
menttoned is necessary to place our anthor upon a 
lerd with the best of tbt En^ish ooreliBts, for here 
hia admirers would desire ua to place him. Had Sir 
Walter Scott never existed, and Warerlty never been 
written, we would not, of course, award Mr, J. ttie 
merit tt being the first to blend history, even sucess- 
fuUy, with Action. But as an indifferent imitator oi 
die Scotch novelist in this respect, it Is unnecessary 
to qwak of the author of SkbeJleu any farther. To 
genius of any kind It seems to us that he has little pre- 
tendon. In the solemn tranquillity of his pages we 
seldom stumble across a novel emotion, and if any 
matter of deep interest arises in the path, we are pretty 
sure to find it an interest ^pertaining to some histori- 
cal fact equally vivid or more so in the original chron- 


Jack Bi^»nhead, apud Bishop Sprat, says diat " a 
great ^t's great work is to refuse." The apoth^m 
must be swallowed cum grano aaib. His greatest 
■work is to originate no matter that shall require refusal. 

" Frequently since hia recent death," says the 

American editor irf Hood, " he has been called a great 

author, a phrase used not inconnderately or in vain.** 

Tet, if we adopt the conventional Idea of " a great 




■ivij. perhaps, no writer =-f t':e . ■ 
. v":;i e-^ual notoriety, was le<> -. 
t I be so called. In fact, he wis: 
', v:'. -c main stock in trad<> vi 
.-.. , ;■., larger portiDn of hid life ;; 
.-■ .' I '111- purpose of periii'' 
ir . i' litude that i!'f ■ 

' I. f Ml • -rrittLag them, i> >■■ 

■t .. . :, -Ue. Whatever 

:t :- .' - s altogethcE f- 

: Thomas H6dti?"e°'. »"'<' '- '«' 

■ ■ .■ -iibiaalion i.i 
From a steel engraving. 

■ ■ :■ ,aire '.he ::. 

r ,-, Ar/i:.. ; 

. ■• » - . ■ ■, a ?!>;«■■■■." * 





vinced of his luUttul despondency; and the spedei 
of false wit in qusgtion is precisely of that character 
vliich would be adopted by an anttior of Hood's tem- 
perament and cast of intellect, when compelled to 
write at an emergency. That his heart had no interest 
in Aese nlahcrlea is clear. I allude, of cowBe, to his 
mere puns for the pun's sake, a class of letters by ^rtiich 
he obtained his widest renown. That he did more in 
this way than in any other is but a cortdlary from what 
I have already said, for, generally, he was unhappy, and 
almost continually he wrote inrita Mlaerwa. But his 
true province was a very rare and ethereal humor, in 
irtiich the mere pun -was left out of ti^t, or took die 
character of tibe richest grotesquerie, impressing the 
imaginative reader with remarkaUe force, as if by a 
new phase of Uie ideaL It is in this species of bril- 
liant, or, rather, (Rowing grotesquerie, uttered with a 
rushing abandon vastly heightening its effect, that 
Hood's marked originality mainly consisted; and it 
is this niiich entitles him, at times, to the epithet 
"great," for that undeniably may be considered great 
(of whatever seeming littleness in itself) ^lich is 
capable of inducing intense emotion in the minds or 
hearts of those who are themselves undeniably greaL 
The field in irtiich Hood is distinctive is a border- 
land between fancy and fantasy. In this re^oo he 
reigns supreme. Nevertheless, he has made success- 
ful and frequent incursions, although vadllatinf^y, 






like tha imet UoMomt of tlw Mmj, 
WtaoM fragnuiG* «nda In muat 
|^T« h«r, tlMn, h«r tilbiito jut, 
Bar iigha and toan, and mtuin(i holrl 
Than ia no music In tha life 
Iltat aotmda with Idiot langjitar adUji 
Tlwra '■ not a atring a ttu ned to mirth 
Ent hai tti chorda of melancholy. 

The Dream of Eageae Aram is too weU known In 
America to need comment from tu. It hu more of 
troe inutgination tlum almost any other compodtion 
of its author; bat even when engaged on so serious a 
subject he found great difficulty In keeping aloof from 
the grotesque, — the result, we say, of warm fancy im- 
pelled IqrhypochondiiasiB. The opening stanza affnds 
an example: 

T wai fai Uie prime of itnnmer time. 

An ereninc calm and cool, 
wnen fottrHuid~twenty happy boya 

Came bounding oat of achool; 
There were iome that ran, and aome Uiat iaivt 

like trootleta in a pooL 

Hie twui^-fonrth stanza approaches more neariy 
die imatfnatjre qiirit than any passage in the poem, 
but the taint of the fantastical is over it still: 

And peace went with titem one and all. 
And each calm pillow apread; 



Bttt goUt WM my giim duuaberiain. 

That lighted nw to bwl, 
And dmr mj taiinlfiibt cortaiiu rounds 

^nth fingers hlood; r»dl 

MEm KihttMnMegg and her Prtdota Leg is, peiliaps, 
more titorott^y cluracteristic of Hood's genius than 
any siiif^ thing which he has written. It is quite a 
long poem, compiisixig nearly three thousand lines; 
and its author has evidently labored much with iL Its 
chief defect is in its versification: for this Hood has no 
ear ; of its principles he knew nothing at alL Not that 
his verses, individually, are very lame, but that they 
have no capacity for running together. The reader is 
continually getting balked, not because the lines are 
anreadable, but because the lapse of one rhythm to 
anottier is so inartiatically managed. 

The story concerns a very rich heiress irtio is ex- 
cessively pampered by her parents, and \riio at length 
gets thrown from a horse and bo injures a leg as to 
render amputation inevitable. To supply tlie place of 
the true limb, she insists upon a leg of solid gidd, a leg 
of the exact proportions of the original. She puts up 
wiOi its inconvenience for ttie sake ttf tiie admiration 
it ndtes. Its attraction, however, exdtes tlie cupid- 
ity of a cberalier d'iadtutrkt who cajoieg her into wed- 
lock, dissipates her fortune, and, finally, purloining 
her golden leg, dashes out her brains with it, elopes, 
and puts an end to the story. It is wondnfuUy wdl 



told, and abotrnds in the most brilliant pidnts, emiMti- 
dng Bomething of each of the elementary facnltiM 
iriiich we have been discussing, but most espedally 
rich in that which we have termed " fantas^y." 

The most remarkable poems, however^ are those 
which we have still to speak of. They ctmTey, too, 
most distinctly the genius of tiie author; nor can any 
one thon^tfully read them without a conviction that 
hitherto that genius has been greatly misconceived, 
iriUiout perceiving that even the wit of Hood had Its 
birth in a taint of melancholy, perhaps hereditary, and 
nearly amounting to mcmomania. 

The Soag of the Shirt is such a composition as only 
Hood could have conceived or written. Its popularity 
has been unbounded. Its effect arises from that gro- 
tesquerie which we have referred to the vivid fancy of 
tiie author, impelled by hypochondria^ ; but The Soag 
of tite Shirt has scarcely a claim to the title of poeoh 
This, however, is a mere question of words, and can by 
no means affect the hi^ merit of the composition, to 
whatever appellation it may be considered entitled. 

The Haunted HooMe we prefer to any composition 
of its author. It fat a master^ece of its kind, and that 
kind belongs to a very lofty, if not to the very loftiest, 
order of poetical hterature. Had we seen this piece 
before penning our first notice of Hood we should have 
bad much hesitation in speaking of fancy and fan- 
tasy as his pvdominant features. At all events we 



ihotdd hare ^Ten him credit for much more ot tme 
imagiiution than we did. Rot the least merit of the 
work IB its rigoroos rimpUd^. There is no naiimtiTe 
and no d(^gerel philosiqthf . The whole subject is the 
description of a deserted house, which the populsr 
superstition considers haunted. The thens is one of 
die truest in all poetry. As a mere diesis It is really 
difficult to conceiTe anything better. The strength (^ 
flie poet is pnt forth in the invention of traits in keep- 
ing with the ideas of crime, abandonment, snd Mostly 
visitation. Every legitimate art is lirou^t in to aid 
in conveying the intended effects; and, irtiat is quite 
lemarksMe in Ute case of Hood, nothing discordant is 
at any point Introduced. He has here very litde of 
irtiat we liave designated as the fantastic; little iriiich 
is not strictly harmonious. The metre and rhythm are 
not only is themselves admiiaUy adapted to the whi^ 
design, but, with a true artistic feeling, the poet has 
preserved a th<nmigfa monotone dirou^out, and ren- 
dered its effect more impressive by the repetition 
(gradually increasing in frequency towards the Saah) 
of one ci die most pregnant and effective of the stanzas : 

O'er all there hung a wbmAaw and a fear, 
A eeiue of mjtUrj the ipirtt dcunted, 

And Mid, u plain u irtilip«r In the eax, 

" The {dace ii haunted." 

Had Hood only written The Hattated Houmc it would 
have sufficed to render him immortaL 



Ibere ii an old German chronicle about Reynard 
ttie Fox iriien croned In lore, — about how he detired 
to torn hermit, but could find no spot in irtiich he 
could be " thorou^y alone," until he came upon the 
desolate f ortreas trf Malspart He should have talcen 
to reading tiu " American Drama " of WHcbcralt I 
fancy he would have found himself "tiiorou^y 
alone " in that 

Snce it has become fashionaUe to trundle houses 
about the streets, should there not be some remodel- 
ling of ttu legal deflnitioa of realty, as ** that which is 
permanent, fixed, and immorable, that cannot be car- 
ried out of its place " ? According to this, a house ii 
by no means real estate. 

The enormous multiplication of boohs in every 
branch of knowledge is one of the greatest evils of Ihis 
age; dnce it presents one of the most serious ob- 
stacles to the acquisition of correct information, by 
throwing in the reader's way pUes of lumber, in which 
he most painfully grope for the scraps oi nstfol matter 
peradventare interspersed. 

That Professor ^Vllson is one of (he most gifted and 



«ltogedi«r cat eC the most runaAalile men of his 
day, few penons will be weak eoou^ to deny. His 
ideality, his eathtuiastic qiioeciation of tiie beaatifiil, 
conjiriiied witii a temperanuDt compelling him into 
action and eipn— Jcm, has been the root ot ius pre- 
eminent raecem. Huch of it, nndonbtedly, most be 
referred to that u-caUed moral coorage wliich is but 
the conaeqaence oi the temperament in its physical d- 
ements. In a word, Professor Wilson is what he is, 
becaoae he poeiei a e p ideally, energy, and andadty, 
each in a reiy unusual degree. Jh» first, almost un- 
aided by tile two latter, has enabled htm to produce 
mncta impiession, as a poet, upon the secondary or 
tertiaiy grades of tht poetic comprehension, ffis 
bU of Pmtnu appeals effectirely to all those poetic 
faitellects in which the poetic predominates greatiy over 
tiie intellectual element It Is a composition vrtiich 
delists throng the g^ow of its imagination, but iriiich 
repels (comparatively, of course), tiirough the aiab^ 
erfe* of its general conduct and construction. As a 
critic, Professor Wilson has derived, as might easily be 
supposed, the greatest aid from the qualities for irtiich 
we hare given him credit, and it is in criticism espe- 
tially that It becomes very difficult to say which of 
these qualities has asdsted him the most It is sheer 
audacity, however, to which, periups, after all, he is 
the most particolariy indebted. How littie he owes to 
intellectual pre-eminence, and how much to the mere 




07«fbeaiing impetuod^ of hit opininu, would be • 
riagnlar nibject for speculation. Herertiielefle, it it 
true, that this rash spirit of domination would have 
served, without his rich ideality, but to hurry him into 
c(»itempt. Be this as it may, in the first reqi^te of 
a critic the Scotch Aristarchus is grossly deficient. Of 
one irtio instructs we demand, in the first instance, a 
certain knowledge of the principles which regulate the 
instruction. Professor Wilson's capability is limited to 
a keen appreciation of the beautiful, and fastidious 
sense d the deformed. Why or how either is either, 
be never dreams of pretending to inqtdre, because he 
sees cleariy his own inability to comprehend. He is 
no analyst. He is ignorant of tlie machinery of his 
own thon^ts and the thoughts of other men. His 
critidsm is emphatically on tiie surface — superficial, 
ffis opinions are mere dkta — unsupported rerba tna* 
gbtrir and are just or unjust at the variable taste of 
the individual vrtLo reads them. He persuades, he be- 
wilders, he overwhelms, at times he even argues; but 
tbere has been no period at irtiich he ever demon- 
strated anything b^ond his own utter incapacity for 

One of tiie most «i«g"i«'' st^es in fiie world, cer- 
tainly one of the most loose, is that of tlie elder D'ls- 
raeli. For examfde, he thus begins liis chapter on 
BiUiomania : *< The preceding article [tlut on Idlnaries] 



li hoiiMtlde to literature." Here no adt-^pnim is 
Intended. The writer means to say merely UtaX ttie 
facts narrated in the preceding article are honoraUe, 
etc Ihree tourths of hia sentences are constructed in 
a simiUr manner. The blunders evidently arise, hov- 
ever, from the aathor's preoccupation with his soh- 
ject Bia thou^t, or, rather, matter, oatrans his pen, 
and drives him npon condensation at the expense of 
l umi n n^nifHw. ^le imhht of D'lsraell has many of 
the traits of Gibbon, altbou^ little of the tatter's pie- 


Words — sprinted ones especially — are murdenms 
things. Keats did ( or did not) die of a criticism, Crom- 
well of lotus's pamphlet KUIiog no Hatdtr, and Kont- 
fleury perished of the Aadlromache. The author of the 
Parnasstf IHhrmS mokes him thus speak in Hades: 
" LHiomme done qui voodr^t savdr c« dont je suis 
mort qn'il ne demande pas s'il fftt de flivre ou de 
podogre on d'aatre chose mala qn'U entende que ce fftt 
de PAadromaebe," As for myself, I am fast dying oC 

ttie Sartor Xeaartua, 


Captain Hall is one of the most sgreeaUe of writers. 

We like him for tiie same reason that we like a good 

drawing-room conversationist, — there is snch a fdeaa- 

ure in listening to his elegant nothings. ITot that the 

captain is unable to be profound. He has, on the con- 




tnry, aome reputation for sdeoM. Bat in his hands 
aren the most trifling personal odvestnrea become in- 
teresting firom the very piquancy -with, irtiich they are 

How truthful an air of deep lamentation hangs 
here ' upon every gentie sjilalde I It perrades all. It 
conies over the sweet melody of the words, over the 
geotieneas and grace irtiich we fancy in the little 
maiden herself, even over tlie half-playful, half-petu- 
lant air with which she lingers on tiie beauties and 
good qualities of her favorite, like the cool shadow of 
a summer cloud over a bed ot lilies and violets and 
" all sweet flowers." Hie whole thing is redolent iritik 
poetry of tbe very loftiest order. It is posttivdy 
crowded with nature and with pathos. Every line is 
an idea, conveying either the beauty and idayfolneas 
of the fawn, or tlie artlessness of the maiden, or the 
love of the maiden, or her admiration, or her grief, or 
tiie fragrance and sweet warmth and perfect appro- 
priateness of the littte nest-Uke bed ot lilies and roses, 
which tiie fawn devoured as it lay upon them, and 
could scarcely be distinguished from tliem by tiie onca 
happy iittie damsel irtio went to seek her pet with an 
arch and rosy smile upon her face. Consider tlie 
great variety <^ truth and ddicate thought in the few 
lines we have quoted, the wonder of the maiden at the 

■ n> ibMn Hia^bi br An/ br lirinw KlivtlL 




fleetness of htr favorite, the " little silver feet," 
the fawn challenging his mistress to the race, " witii 
the pretty ikippiog grace," nuining on before, and then, 
witti head tamed back, awaiting her approach tmly to 
fly from it again, — can we not distinctly perc^e all 
tiiese things ? The exceeding vigor, too, and beauty 
(tf theUne: 

And tn>d M if on tl» four wloda, 
which are vividly apparent when we regard the artleas 
nature of the speaker, and the four feet of the favorite, 
one for each wind. Then the garden of " my own,** 
BO overgrown — entan^ed — with lilies and rMes as to 
be " a littie wilderness," the fawn loving to be there 
and there " only," the maiden seeking it " where it 
should lie," and not bung able to distinguish it from 
the flowers until " itsdf would rise," the lying among 
the lilies " like a bank at lilies," the loving to " fiU ** 
itself with roses, 

And it! pnra viigin Umba to toli 
In iriiltart ihoatB of Uliea coU, 

and tiwse things being its " chief " delights, and then 
the pre-eminent beauty and naturalness of the con- 
dwUng lines, whose very outrageous hyperbole and 
absurdity only render them the more true to nature 
and to propriety, ^en we consider the innocence, the 
artlesaness, the enthusiasm, the passionate grief, and 
more pasdonate admiration oi the bereaved child. 


Had it Und long It mmU ban bMB 
lillM without, FOMs wtthln. 


We are not among those vrtio legaxd the genltis of 
Petrarch as a subject for enthudaBticadiiiinitioii. The 
characteristics of liit poetry are not traits of the hi^ 
est, or even of a hi^ order; and, in accounting for 
Ilia fame, the discriminating critic will look rather to 
the drcumstances irtiich surrounded the man than to 
the literary merits of the pertinacious sonneteer. 
Grace and tenderness we grant him, but these qualities 
are surely insufficient to establish his poetical i^iothe- 

In otiier respects he is entitied to hi{^ condderation. 
As a patriot, notwithstanding some accusations which 
have been ratiisr uiged than estaUiahed, we can only 
regard him with approvaL In his repuUican prin- 
ciples, in his support of Kienzl at tlte risk of the dis- 
pleasure of the Colonna family, in his vbole political 
conduct, in short, he seems to have been nobly and 
disinterestedly zealous for the welfare of his country. 
But Petrarch is most inqmrtant when we look npon 
him as the bridge by iriiich, over the dark gulf of the 
IDddle Ages, the knovrtedge of the old wcnld made its 
passage into the new. His Influence on irtiat is termed 
the Revival (^ Letters was pertiapa greater than fluit 
of any man who ever lived ; certainly far greater than 



dut of BOf of his iim«*^«t» contcn^tKviw. Hig ar- 
dent zeal In tecoming and transcriUiig die lost treas- 
nret ot antique lore cannot be too lii^bly iqipredated. 
Bat for him, many of our most raloed classics mi^t 
have been nombered with Kndar's hymns and dithy- 
lunUcs. He devoted days and nif^ts to this labm of 
love; ^■*fhiiig numerous predous books from die 
very brink of oUivion. His judgment in these things 
was strikin^y correct, iriiile his erudition, for the age 
In iriiich he lived, and for the o^ortnnities he enjoyed, 
bas always been a subject of surprise. 

One of die most wngniT pieces of Hteraiy mosaic is 
Mr. Longfellow's MUoijgfif Jffevs for the Dying Year. 
The general idea and manner are from Tennyson's 
Death of the OU Year, several of die most prominent 
ptdnts are from the deadi scene of Cordelia in Lear, 
and die line about the " hooded friars " is from the 
Comua of IClton. Some approach to this patchwoik 
may be found in these lines from Taaso: 

OIkm I'alU Ccrta^o: k pou i Mgid 
J>» I'alte Rti miiM U lido Nrta: 
Hwitno 1« dttA, nuurino i rggnl; 
Copn 1 futl le pompe amw «t barbe; 
E llmam d'eMsr mortal per che rf wlagnL 

This is entirely made iq> from Lttcan and Su^lciilSi 
The former says cl Troy: 



lun loU taputtnr 
Psrganu dnmetlfl : etiun peiire rniiue. 

9iil|dciu8, in a letter to Cicero, ujrs of Ibgara, Egina, 
and Coiindi: " HemI nos homunculi iodignamor si 
quia nostnun interiit, qnomm vita brerior esse debet, 
cum nno loco tot (qipidonimcadaTeraprojectajaceant" 

The rardlnary pickpocket fflehea a purse, and the 
matter is at an end. He neither takes honor to him- 
self, openly, on the score of the puriotned purse, nor 
does he subject tlie Indirldnal robbed to Ihe charge d 
jrfckpocketism In his own person ; by so much the less 
odions is he, ttien, than the filcher of literary property. 
It is impoMiUe, we should think, to imagine a more 
sickening spectacle than that of the plagiarist, who 
walks among mankind with an erector step, and who 
feels his heart beat wlHi a prouder impulse on account 
(rf plaudits which he is consdons are the due of an- 
other. It is the puri^, Uie nobility, the ethereality of 
just fame ; it is the contrast between this ethereally 
and the grossnesa of tiie crime of th^ lAlch places 
the sin (^ plagiarism in so detestable a lij^t We are 
horror-stricken to find existing in tlie same bosom the 
soul-uplifting thirst for fame and the debasing pro- 
pendty to pilfer. It is the anomaly, the discord, which 
BO grossly offends. 



is wiick A* imtffiiu rf kii 
alk-xit t» tnrd, are mU to be dd 
^tf allcM, In* wnr bees cncac« 
<*IW byUm, m Ac Ucafad fenw. 



For this reason it may well be doubted if he has vritttti 
any thing so imiTetsally popular. That hia attach- 
ment for this " Mary ** (in whose very name there in- 
deed seemed to exist for him an " enchantment ") was 
earnest and long-abiding, we hare eveiy reason to be- 
lieve. There are a hundred evidences of this fact, 
scattered not only throuj^ his own poems and letters, 
but in the memoirs of hit relatives snd cotemporaries 
in general. But that it was thus earnest and enduring 
does not controvert, in any degree, the opinion that 
it was a passion (if passion it can properly be termed) 
ot Uie most thoron^y romantic, shadowy, and Ima^- 
native character. It was bom of the hour and of the 
youthful necesrity to love, while it was nurtured by 
the waters and the hills, and the flowers, and the stars. 
It had no peculiar regard to the person, or to the char- 
acter, or to the reciprocating affection of Hazy Cba- 
wortb. Ai^ maiden, not immediately and positivdy 
repulsive, he would have loved under the same dr- 
cnmstances of houiiy and unrestricted communion, 
such as the engravings of the subject shadow forth. 
They met without restraint and without reserve. As 
mere children they sported together ; in boyhood and 
girihood they read from the same books, sang the same 
songs, or roamed hand-in-hand ttirou^ the grounds 
of the conjoining estates. The result was not merely 
natural or merely probable, it was as inevitable as 
destiny itself. 



aad iwmriiliry vt nonce «u dkitgi dmiimg, Oe 
^Dwtfifid MMMiatiaa, ii to be attrikoted altogEtkEr to 
dMpoeL B Ae felt at an, it «n oolr lAae Oe ■!■£- 
neHamcf hii actual pnaencecompdled her to teL U 
riwraqM»ded at all, it wai merdy tecaut Ifce oecro- 
man^ of Ida words «< ftrc coidd not do otterviae ttan 
oztort ■ r w pona e . In ahaence, die baid bon eantf 
wiOi Um all tfw fanciea irinch wen the baaia «< hit 
flaoM, — a flame wludi abanice itadf bat serred to 
k*^ in vigor, iriule ttw leaa ideal but at ttw same 
time ibm leaa really tabatantial affec&m eC Int lady- 
ton periahed utterly and f mttwith, fliroiigfa atnqde 
lack of tiie element wliicli h«d fanned it into being. 
He to her. In brief, was a not onliandsome, and not 
igooUe, bnt iomeirtiat portioolese, sonmriiat eccen- 
tric, and ratlier lame young man. She to him was 
the Egeria of his dreams, the Venns i^ibrodite that 
sprang, in foU and at^ersal lorelinesa, from the 



bright foam apon the storm-tormented ocetn of hlB 


Kll ssys that he has " demonstrated " his proposi'- 
tiooB. Jtiit in the same way Anazagoraa demon- 
etrated snow to be black (which, perti^w, it ia, if we 
could see the ttiing in the proper light) ; and jtut in the 
iame waj the French advocate, Zingoet, with Hippoc- 
rates in hia hand, den»uistrated bread to be a liow 
poison. The wont of tlie matter is, that propositions 
snch as diese seldom stay demonstrated loag enon|^ 
to be ttaoron^j understood. 


We hare read Mr. Paulding's Uk of WMbiagloa 
with a iegnt of Interest seldom exdted in as by the 
perusal of any book iriuiterer. We are convinced hf 
a deliberate examination of tfie design, manner, and 
rich material of the wo^ that, as it grows in age, it 
wUl grow in the estimation of our countrymen, and, 
finally, will not fail to take a deeper hold upon the pub- 
lic mind, and vpoa Oie public affectlonk than any woric 
upon the same subject, or of a similarnature, irtiich has 
been yet written, or, possibly, which may be written 
he r eafte r , bdeed, we cannot perceire die necead^ 
of anything further upon the great theme of Wash- 
ington, lb. Paulding has completely and most bean- 
ttfulty filled Oie vacuum irtiich tite works of Marshall 


OHM it ■ kit am, cnMt fiS «i 

an. Tel it a vcfly poakte fhd Ae palfic b^, ior 

wtMf jcsfs to eiHCi svcriMk Ac ckc nsiti trf • 
WHfc vfeoK Vial «f afncm MmqiiaK it sa Gid* 
in teqnc Witt Oe wiScs <rf Oc <^, Mi vkMB Blrik- 

ymteiity Kkc rith winu, witt s mtuutf ok being mon 
Tihied M tfacf p^ Tlief force ***—■■■* ■■■ wtfli ttw 
Badtul bnt Tt^Uij accsnuilctiiig power of strong 

In regard to tiie wtfit at Mr. Puldiag*B ViKUiv*>4 
it wooU Karcdj be doing it jmtice to ^eak of it 



merely as wdl adapted to its subject and to Its Imme- 
diate design. Peilups a rigorotis examination would 
detect an occadonal want of eufdiony and some inao 
cnracies of syntactical ursngement. But nothing 
could be more out of {dace than any such examination 
in respect to a book whose forcible, rich, vivid, and 
comprehen^e Eni^ish mi|^t advantageously be held 
up as a model for the young writers of the land. Tben 
is no better literary mannor than the manner <rf Kr. 
Paulding. Certainly no American, and possibly no 
living writer of England, has more of those numerous 
peculiarities which go to the fonnation of a happy 
st^e. It is questiooalde, we think, whether any 
writer of any country combines as many of these 
peculiarities with as much of that essential negative 
virtue, the absence of affectation. We repeat, as our 
confident opinion, that it would be difficult, even with 
great care and labor, to improve upon the general 
manner of the volumes now before us, and that they 
contain many long individual passages of a force and 
beauty not to be surpassed by the finest passages of the 
finest writers In any time or country. It is this strik- 
ing charactw in the Wublpgtoa of Mr. Paulding, — 
striking and peculiar Indeed at a season when we are 
so culpaldy inattentive to all matters <rf this nature, as 
to mistake for style the fine airs at second hand of tiie 
silliest romancers, — ^it is this character, we say, wtiich 
should insure the fulfilment of the vniter's principal 


Scott, io BM AcJB^lenMi BtP^Mcacc^ipHUiaf **flMt 
anciatt faUe, not nadb kBon,** in wladii a trial of 

aadi bird had done *"■ beit, tbt lu n jir e dedand that 
^e iii^Knp U mif eztremelj wdl, but that " for a 
food flain ■cog gin him the cockoo." Hw judge 
with the long eais, in this caw, is a fine Qrpe irf the 
tribe o( oitici wlKi loaiit h^ob «bat tber call ** qoie- 

«4io rail at Te ony ao n and elerate Addisoo into apotfae- 
ogii. By the waj, the following pavage fnnn Sterne's 
Letter horn Fnoee shonld be adi^ted at nice as a 
motto bf the Dowtt'Eagt Mtritwi ** As ve rode along 
Ae Teller, m >*^* > i*"^ o< *<■«■ on Oe top (rf one of 
die mountains. How tfa^ viewed and reviewed tul ** 


A bandied criticiBmB to the contraiy notwithstand- 
ing, I mnst regard TTie Lady of LyooM as ime of &e 
most snccessfol dramatic efforts of modem times. It 
is popular, and justly so. It could not fall to be popu^ 
lar so long as the peoide luTe a heart It abounds 
In sentiments which atir the soul as the sound of a 



tnmqtet It proceeds rspidly and consequentially, 
tbe Interest not for one moment being permitted to 
flag. Its incidents are admirably conceived and skil- 
folly wrought into ^mention. Its draniatis pcnontt, 
thrOD^iout, have the hif^ merit of bong natural, at* 
though, except In the case of Pauline, there is no 
marked individnality. She is a creation irtiich would 
have done no dishonor to Shakespeare. She excites 
^ofonnd emotion. It has been sUlUy objected to her 
that she is weak, mercenary, and at points ignoble. 
She is; and what then ? We are not dealing with 
CUiissa Hailowe. Bulwer has painted a woman. The 
chief defect of the play lies in the heroine's consent- 
ing to wed Beaoseant, iriiile aware of the existence 
and even the continued love of Claude. As the plot 
runs, there is a question in Pauline's soul between 
« conqMumtively trivial (because merely worldly) in- 
jury to her father, and utter ruin and despair Inflicted 
upon her husband. Here there should not have been 
an instant's hesitation. The audience have no sym- 
pathy with any. ffothing on earth should have In- 
duced the wife to |^ve up the living Mdnotte. Only 
the assurance of his death could have justified her In 
sacrlfldng herself to Beauseant. As It Is, we hate her 
for the sacriflce. The effect is repulsive, but I must 
be understood as calling this effect obJectionaUe solely 
on the ground of its being at war with the whtAt genius 
of the play. 




** Contonqrt," lays an Sastem proverb, <* |dttces 

av«n through the shell of the tortoise " ; bat the skitll 

at a Fuller would feel itself insulted by a comparison 

in point of impermeabili^ with the shell td a Oala- 



^w thofoo^y comprehensive is the account <rf 
Adam, as given at the bottom of the old picture in the 
Vatican 1 — " Adam, dlvinitus edoctns, primus sdenti- 
arum et literarum inventor." 


If need were, I should have litde difficult, perii^a, 
in defending a certain apparent dogmatism to which I 
am prone on the topic of versification. 

" What is poetry ? " notwithstanding Z^eigh Hunt's 
rigmarolic attempt at answering it, is a query that, 
with great care and deliberate agreement beforehand 
on the exact value of certain leading words, nuty, poa- 
ribly, be settled to the partial satisfaction of a few 
analytical intellects, but irtiich, in the existing condi- 
tion of metayhysics, never can be settled to tlie satis- 
faction of the majority; for the question is purely 
met^ysical, and the irtiole sdenca of metaphysicB is 
at present a chaos, through the imposmtnlity of fixing 
the meanings of the words which its very nature com- 
pels it to employ. But as regards veiriflcation this 



difficalty iB only partial; for although one third of the 
topic may be considered metaphysical, and thos may 
be mooted at the fancy of this individual or of that, 
idll the remaining two thirds belong tmdeniafdy to the 
mathematics. The questions ordinarily discussed vith 
BO moch gravity in regard to ihytiim, metre, etc, are 
tosceptible of positive adjustment by demonstration. 
Their laws are merely a portion of tiie Median laws of 
form and quantity — of relation. In respect, then, to 
any of these ordinary questions, these siUlly moot 
points irtiich so often arise in common ciiticisni, tlie 
prosodist would speak as weakly in saying " this or 
that proposition is probably so and so, or possiUy so 
and BO," as would tlie mathematician is admitting 
that, in his humble opinion, or if lie were not greatiy 
"■*«*■*■", any two sides of a trian^ were, together, 
greater than the third side. I must add, however, as 
some palliation oi the discusstons referred to, and of 
tiie objections so often urged with a aneer to " particu- 
lar theories of verriflcation hinjing no one but their 
inventor," tliat there is really extant no such work as 
a Prosody Raiaonnee. The prosodies of the schools 
are merely collections of vague laws, with their more 
vague exceptions, based upon no principles whatever, 
but extorted in the most speculative manner from the 
usages of the andents, irtio had no laws beyond those 
of their ears and flngais. " And these were suffi- 
cient,*' it will be said, '* since the IHad Is melodious 


and h a nno tti oot beyond anything (tf modem times.** 
Admit tills; but nridier do we write in Gieek, nor has 
the inrention of modem times been as yet eihausted. 
An analysia based on Hie natural laws of wliich tlu 
bard oi Sdo was ignorant, would soggest multitudinoaB 
inqnorements to the best passages of even the Wad/ 
nor does it in any manner follow from the stqipo- 
aititioiis fact that Homer found in his ears and fingers 
a satisfactory system <^ rules (Hie point which I ha^ 
just denied), nor does it follow, I say, from this, that 
the rules which we deduce from the Homeric e&cts 
are to supersede those immutaUe principles of time, 
quantity, etc., — the mathematics, in short, of mutic, — 
Kiiich must have stood to these Homeric effects In the 
relation ttf caoses, the mediate causes of which these 
" ears and flngeiB " are simply the iateratedla, 


Of Benyer somebody says, " He is ttie man in wiioia 
descriptioa is Uie greatest posriUe consumption of 
antithesis." For " description ** read " lectures," and 
the sentence would apply well to Hudson, the lecturer 
on Shakespeare. Antithesis is his end: he has no 
other. He does not employ it to enforce thouf^t, but 
he gathMi thon^t from all quarters with the salt 
view to its capatity for antithetical expression. His 
essays have thus only paragraphical effect; as wholes, 
they produce not the sli^test impresdon. ETo man 


Hring could say what it is Hr. Hndsoo fmpotui to 
demonstrata; and If the qawtion wen propounded to 
Mr. H. hiinself, we can fancy how particolariy em- 
barrassed he would be for a reply. In flu end, were 
be to answer honestly he would say — " antithesis." 

As for his reading, Julius Ctesar would have said at 
him that he sang ill, and undoubtedly he must hare 
** gone to the d(^ " for his experience in pronouncing 
ttie**r" as if his throat were txoed like a lifle-barrel.' 


It is James Montgomery lAo thinks proper to st^ 
McFherson's Ouiaa a collection of " halting, dandng^ 
lumbering, grating, nondescript paragraphs." 


A book * irtiich puzzles me beyond measure, since, 
iHiile agreeing with its general conclusions (except 
where It discusses prevision), I invariably find fault 
with the reasoning through which the conclusions are 
attained. I think the treatise grossly illogical through- 
out. For example, the origin of tiie work is thus 
stated in an Introductory chapter : 



"About Iml r u mootiw mnsm, I «w nted br soow 
frimdi to mtte a p^wr agMinit mcHiiefimi, andlwai 
fnnttihed wlfli materialB hy a Iti^iljr *«***iw*^ quon- 
dam papUf irliicli prorod fauootestabtf that ondcr 

tOOW rimmn^^tti-mm (lu opuatOT lUI|>llt be Jllped, tltat 

bondndi of ^n«^fmnmA pmoiH mi^t eqaaHy be do- 
c^ad, and certahUr went far to show that tbe jm- 
tended tcieiice wu itiioUy a ddnsioii, a system ef 
fraud and jugglery by which the imagmatioM <rf the 
cndtUons were held in tfaraMom ttmm^ tiie arts of 
the designing. Pnhaps in an erfl honr I assented ta 
the proposition Ihns made ; hot on reflection I found 
that the facts before me only led to the direct proof 
that certain phenomena ndg^t be countofeited ; and 
the existence of connteif eit ctnn is ratiier a proof that 
there is sonwirtiere the genuine standard g<dd to be 

The fallacy here lies in a mere rariation of iriiat is 
called " begging the question." Counterfut coin is 
said to prove the existence of genuine ; this, of course, 
is no more Hum the truism that tiiere can be no coun- 
terfeit iriiere there is no genuine, just as there can be 
no badness iriiera there is no goodness, the terms being 
purely relative. But because there can be no counter- 
frit irtiere there is no original, does it in any manner 
follow tliat any undemonstrated original exists ? la 
■eelng a spurious coin we know it to be such hj com- 



parifon with coins admitted to be genuine ; but, vere 
no eoia admkted to be genuine, how should we estab- 
lish the counterfeit, and «4iat li^t should we hare to 
talk of counterfeits at all ? Now, in the case of mes- 
merism, our author is merely begging the sdmission. 
In saying that the existence of counterfeit proves the 
•zistence of real mesmeriam, he demands that the real 
be admitted. Either he demands this or there is no 
■badow of force in his proportion, for it is clear that 
we can pretend to be that irtiich is not A man, for 
instance, may feign himself a sphinx or a griffin, but 
it would never do to r^ard as thus demonstrated the 
actual existence of either griffins or qthinxes. A word 
alone — tiie word " counterfeit " — has been sufficient to 
lead Mr. Newnham astray. People cannot be prop- 
erly said to " counterfeit " prevision, etc, but to feign 
tliese phenomena. Dr. Hewnham's argument, ai 
course, is by no means original with him, alfiiouj^ he 
seems to pride himself on it as if it were. Dr. More 
says: " That there should be so miiversal a fame and 
fear of that wliicb never was, nor is, nor csn l>e ever 
in the world, is to me the greatest miracle of alt. If 
thne had not Iwen, at some time or otiier, true mir- 
acles, it had not been so easy to impose on the pe<qile 
by false. The alchemist would never go about to 
sophisticate metals, to pass them off for true gtdd and 
rilver, unless that such a thing was ackwnriedged as 
true gold and tihrer in the world.** This is precisely 



flia nme Me* «■ that ai Dr. Newnluuii, and bdongs to 
that eztniiiTe clan of ai|rumaitati(m irtiicli ia an 
point — dariving its vliole effect from epigrammatisin. 
That the belief in ghogts, or In a Duty, or in a fotnre 
state, or In anything dae cr«diUe or inorediUe, — tiiat 
any lach belief is nniveraal, demonstrateB nothing more 
than liiat irtiich needs no denuHistralion, die hnman 
unanimity, the Mentity (rf constmction In fb.e human 
hrsin, — an identity of -wtdch the inevitaUe result must 
be, iq>on the irtiole, similar deductions from similar 
data. Host ei^ecially do I disagree with the author 
(rf this book in his (Implied) diqtaragement of the ■wotk 
at Chauncey Hare Townshend — a vork to be valued 
prqpeily only in a day to come. 


Tlu iaj Is dona, and tha daikmsi 

Falli from the wings of ni^t. 
Am a faattaer la wafted downward 

From an aa^ in Iti Sight.' 

The sing^ featiier here Is imperfectly iUustratiTe of 
the omnipreralent A»T\m»aa • but a more eqtecial ob- 
jection is the liirMiitig of one feather to flie falling of 
another. IH^t is personified as a Urd, and darkness, 
the feather of this bird, falls from it, hov? — as 
another feather falls from another bird. Why, It does 
this of course. Hie illustration is identical, that is to 




s^, nalL It has no more force tlutn an Uenfleal 
pn^KMilioD inlog^ 


The qneidixi of International copyright haa been 
oreiloaded vith words. The right of property in a 
Hteraiy work n disrated merely for the sake of dispn- 
tatimi, and no man should be at tiie trouble of arguing 
the p<^t. Iliose who deny it have made op tlieir 
minds to deny everything tending to fuitlier the law 
in contemplation. Nor Is the questioi of expediency 
bi any reqtect relevant Expediency is only to be dis- 
cnned when no ri^ts interfere. It would, no doul>t, 
be very expedient in any poor man to pick tiie pocket 
of his wealthy neighbor (as the poor are the majori^, 
Ihe case is precisely parallel to tlie copyright case) ; Irat 
irtiat would the rich tiiink if expediency were permitted 
to overrule tlieir rlj^t ? But even the expediency is 
untenable, grossly so. The immediate advantage aris- 
ing to the pockets of our people, in the eristing con- 
dition of things, Is no doubt suffidestiy plain. We get 
more reading for less money than if the international 
law existed ; but the remoter disadvantages are of in- 
finitely greater wel{^t. In brief, they are these : First, 
we hove injury to our national literature 1^ repre s s 
ing tile efforts of our men of genius; for genius, as a 
general rule, Is poor in woridly goods and cannot write 
for nothing. Our genius being thus repressed, we are 


: s n ^. r i 

■rtC ttU *&Kk en 

TW Mlfc«rial bo^ b the wrt a 



the earth. How, then, c«n those institntlons even 
hope to be safe iriiich fyntematically pernat in tramp- 
Ung it under foot ? 


The drama, as the chief ot the imitative arts, has a 
tendency to beget and keep alive in its votaries the 
imitative propensity. This might be supposed a prhfi, 
and experience confirms the supposition. Of all imi- 
tators, dramatiBts are the most perverse, the most un- 
conscionable, or the most unconscious, and have been 
so time out of mind. Euripides and Sophocles were 
merely echoes of £schylus, and not only was Terence 
Henander and nothing beyond, but of the sole Roman 
tragedies extant (the ten attributed to Seneca), nine 
are on Gzeek subjects. Here, then, is cause enon^ 
for the " decline of the drama," if we are to bdieve 
that the drama has declined. But it has not ; on the 
contrary, during the last fif^ years it has materially 
advanced. All other arts, however, have, in the same 
interval, advanced at a far greater rate, each very 
nearly in the direct ratio of its non-imitativeness, — 
painting, for exanqtle, least ot all, — and the effect on 
the drama is, of course, that ai apparent retrograda- 


The Swedenborgians inform me that they have dli- 

corered all that I said in a magazine article, entitled 

Metmerte XeveJatbOf to be absolutely true, although 



■•vtr drccinal of not dooMniE iBfKiL ThsMDCyka 
fmt nfriiiii fiiiiii titiiiiiHH til mi 


Han li a book of ** ■■■■■■' "g tmrii,'* which k full 

taoQ^ e€ itrtiilki to hare been the joint conqioit- 

tfon erf Monioan ^^" ^ ^ 'ng , HimeL Cunubitdii Gna- 

pm, Ontmnttti, and ^""T**? 

I ban nercr yrt feoi an BoiJirii henic TCfie on dw 

proper modd of the Greek, olthon^ there hare been 
famtunenUe a tte mp t a , among irtiich those <rf C<rie- 
ridge u«, perhape^du most absurd, next to those of 
Sir Philip Sidney snd Longf eOow. The author of The 
Vhiea of Rabeta has done better, and Perdval better 
jet; bat no <me has seemed to suspect that tlie natural 
prepcnderance of qmndaic words in the Latin and 
Greek must, in tiie En^ish, be supplied by art, tiiat is 
to say, by a careful calling of the few spondaic words 
irtiich the language affords, as, for example, here : 

Han If a | con^lax, | coxi^oiiiid, | contort, | yet la he | Ood- 

This, to all intents, is a Greek hexameter, but then its 
spondees are ^ondees, and not men trochees. The 




Tflrtss of Oderidge and otiun an dissoitaiit for the 
ain^ta reason that there ia no eqaality in time between 
a trochee and a dactyL When Sir Philip Sidney 

So to the I woodi LoTC Irmiiui u| wdl ulridM to the | 

he makea an heroic veiM only to the eye; for"wooda 
Love " is the only true spoaAvt, " mnnes as," " well 
as," and " palace," have each the flnt syllaUe long 
and the second short ; that is to say, they are all trochees 
and OGCiq^y less time than tbt dact^ or spondee — 
hence the halting. How, all tiiis seems to be tiie sim- 
plest thing in the worid, and the only wonder is how 
men professing to be scholan shonld attempt to en- 
graft a verse, of which the spondee is an element, upon 
a stock irtiich repds the spondee as antagonisticaL 


In Hu sweet UfyofNhhtdale we read, 

Sha '■ gane to dwall in hMven, nrf luria; 

She '■ guu to dwell in heaven: 
Te 're owre pnre, qno' the voice of Ood, 

For dwdling ont o' heaven. 

The " owre " and the " o* " of the two last verses 
shonld be Ang^dzed. The Deity at least should be sup- 
posed to speak so as to be understood, althou^ I am 


*!« luaf lamm s a 

■brw iT «• ■!■ 

« ovw Am MM *• 4^ 



How these linee aie not to be Bcanned. They are 
r«feratle to no true principles of liiythm. Hie general 
idea is Hut of a succession of anaptests; yet not oily 
is this idea confotmded with that of dactyls, but this 
succession is improperly interrupted at all points — 
improperly, because by unequlvalent feet The par- 
tial prOBoidsm thus brought about, however (without 
any interference with the mere melody), becomes a 
beauty solely tliroagh the nicety of its adaptation to 
the tone of the poem, and of this tone, again, to the 
matter in hand. In his keen sense of this adaptation 
(which conveys the notion of what is vaguely termed 
** ease "), the reader so far loses si^t of the rhythmi- 
cal impeifection fbaX he con be convinced of its exist- 
ence only by treatijig in the same rhythm (or, rather, 
lack of riiythm), a subject of different tone — a subject 
in which deci^on shall take the place of nonchalance. 
Row, undoubtedly, I intend all this as complimentary 
to Mr. Longfellow; but it was for tiie utterance vi 
these very opinions in the New YorkUirror tiiat I was 
accused, by some of the poet's friends, of inditing what 
they ttiink proper to call " stri ct ur es " on the author 
of Outfi'Mer. 


We might contrive a very poetical and very sugges- 
tive, although, perhaps, no very tenatde philosophy, by 
supposing that the virtuous live while tiie wicked suffer 
annihilation hereafter; and that the danger of the 



annihilatioii (which danger would be in ttu ratio at 
the ain) might be indicated ni|^tly by {dumber, and 
occasioiially, with more distinctneas, by a swoon. In. 
proportion to the dreamlessness of the sleep, for a.- 
ampie, would be the degree of the wml's liability to 
annihilation. Zn the same way, to swoon and awake 
in utter unconsdousnesa of any lapse of time during 
the syncope, would demonstrate Hit soul to have been 
then in such condition Uiat, had death occurred, anni- 
hilation would haTe followed. On the other hand, 
when the revival is attended with remembrance of 
visions (as is now and then the case, in fact), then the 
soul is to be considered in such condition as would 
insure Its eiistence after the bodily death, the Uiss or 
wretchedness of the existence to be indicated by the 
character of the visions. 


When we attend less to " authority ** and more to 
jnindples, lAen we look less at merit and more at de- 
merit (instead of the converse, as some persons sug- 
gest), we shall then be better critics than we are. We 
must neglect our models and study our capabilities. 
The mad eulogies on what occa^onally has, in letters, 
been well done, spring from our imperfect compre- 
henaon of irtiat it is possible for us to do better. " A 
man who has never seen Uie sun," says Calderon, 
" cannot be blamed for thinHng ihat no ^ory can 



eneed that of ttie mooo; a man vtao has seen ndtho* 
moon n<»- son, cannot be Uanud toe expatiating on 
the incomparaUe effolgence of ttie morning star.** 
Now, it is the boainega of tlu critic so to soar that he 
shall see the son, eren althoof^ its Mb be far bdow 
die ordinary horizon. 


Hu United SUtea motto, B ptur&u» unum, may 
possibly hare a sly allusioa to Pythagoras* definition 
of beauty — Uie redaction of many into one. 


The great feature of the OU QsrtoMHy Shop is Its 
chaste, Tigorons, and j^orions imagliuttion. This is the 
one cbann, aU potent, which alone would suffice to 
compensate for a world more of error than Mr. Dickens 
ever committed. It is not only seen in the conception 
and general handling of the story, or in tiie Invention 
of character, but it pervades ereiy sentence of tiie book. 
We recognize Its prodigious influence in every Inspired 
word. It is this triilch Induces the reader who is at an 
ideal to pause frequently, to re-read the occasionally 
quaint phraaes, to muae In uncontrollable ddight over 
thoi^^ which, irtiUe he wondeis he has never hit 
upon them before, he yet admits that he never has 
encountered. In tect, it la the wand of the enchantsr. 

Had we room to particularize, we would mention as 



points e^ndng most disdacfly die Ueali^ of the Old 
Curio»ltf Shop th« picture of the shop itself, the tumtf 
bon desire of tlie voiidly old men for the peace <rf green 
fidds, his whole character and conduct, in short; ttie 
ichoohnaster, viUi his desolate fortunes, seeking affec- 
tion in little children ; the haunts <^ Quilp anumg ttw 
irtuuf-rats; the tinkering of the Punch-nun anuHig the 
tombs; the gjorious scene where the man of tiie foi^ 
aits poring, at deep midnif^t, into diat dread fire — again 
the whole conception of this character; and, last and 
greatest, the stealthy approach of Hull to her death — 
her gradual sinbdiig away on the journey to the village, 
so skilfnlly indicated rather dian described; her pen* 
sive and prescient meditation; the fit <rf strange mus- 
ing which came over her lAen tiie house in irtiich she 
was to die first broke upon her sight; the descripti<m 
of this house, of the old church, and of the church- 
yard — everything in rigid consonance with the one 
impresBon to be conveyed; that deep, meanin^ess 
well, tlie conuientB of the sexton upon death and upon 
his own secure life, — this whole world of mournful yet 
peaceful idea merging at length into the decease of the 
child Kelly, and the uncomprehending despair of tiie 
grandfather. These concluding scenes are bo drawn 
fliat human language, urged by human thought, could 
go no farther in the excitement of human feelings. 
And tiie pathos is of that best order which is relieved, 
in great measure, by ideality. Here the book has 



nerer bean equalled, nerer approached, except In one 
inHtance, and that is In the case of the Uadine <rf De 
La Motte Foaqu£. The imai^nation is periiaps as 
great in this latter work, but the pathos, althoui^ 
tmly beautiful and deep, fails of much of its effect 
throngji the material from which it li wrou^t The 
diief character, being endowed with purely fandfnt 
attributes, cannot command our fuU sympathies as can 
a simple denizen of earth. In saying, a page or 
so ahore, tiiat ttie death of the child left too panful 
an impression, and should therefore hare been avoided, 
we must, of course, be understood as referring to the 
work as a whole, and in respect to its general appreda- 
tion and populari^. The death, as recorded, is, we 
repeat, of the highest order of literary excellence ; yet 
ndiUe none can deny this fact, there are few irtio will 
be wlUing to read the concluding passages a second 

Up<m ttw tAuAt wr think the OU Otrlothjr Shop 
▼cry much ttte best of the works of Mr. Dickens. It 
is scarcely possible to speak of it too welL It is in all 
respects a tale irtiich will secure for its author the 
enthusiastic admiration of every man of genius. 


It is not every one who can put ** a good dting " 
properiy together, although, perhaps, iriien thus prop- 
erly put together, erreiy tenth person you meet with 



may be o^aUe <tf botti concnring and appreeUtiim; it. 
We cannot bring onnelves to beUeve tlwt less actoal 
aUU^ U required in Oxt conqwntioa of a really good 
" brief article," than in a fashionable novel of die 
usual dimendons. The novel certainly requires what 
Is denominated a sustained effort ; but this is a matter 
of mere perseverance and has but a collateral relation 
to talent. On ttie other hand — unity al effect, a quai- 
ls not ea^y appreciated or indeed comprehended by 
an ordinary mind, and a desideratum difficult of attain- 
ment, even by those irtio con conceive it, is indispen- 
sable in the " brief article," and not so in the comoum 
noveL The latter, if admired at all, is admired for 
its detached passages without reference to the work 
as a whole, or without reference to any general de- 
dgn, which, if it even exist in some measure, will be 
found to have occupied but little of the writer's atten- 
tion, and cannot, from the length of the narrative, be 
taken in at one view by tlie reader. 


I am not sure that Tennyson is not tiie greatest <rf 
poets. The uncertainty attending the public conc^K 
tion of tile term " poet " alone prevents me from 
demonstrating that he is. Other bards produce effects 
which are, now and then, otherwise produced tlian by 
what we call poems; but Tennyson an effect which 
only a poem does. His alone are idiosyncratic poems. 



IBf the enjoymetit or non-enjoym«it of ths Motie 
J'Aftbuf, or of the Oeaoae, I would test any one's ideal 
■ense. There are passages in his works which rivet a 
conviction I had long entertained, that the indefinite 
is an element hi the true nobjais. Why do some 
persons fatigue Uiemselves hi attempts to unravel such 
fantasy-pieces as The Lady e/Sbaiottf As well un- 
weave the reatum textUem, If the author did not 
deliberately propose to himself a suggestive indeflni- 
ttveness of meaning, with the view of bringing about a 
definitivaness of vague and therefore of sidritual effect, 
this, at least, arose from ttie ^ent analytical pron^it- 
ings of that poetic genius iritlch, in its supreme devel- 
(qtment, embodies all orders of intellectual c^wcity. 
I know tiiat Indefinitivenesa is an element of the true 
music — I mean the true musical eipresslon. Give to it 
any undue decision,lmbue it with any determinate time, 
and you deprive It at once of its ethereal. Its ideal, its 
intrindc and essential character. Yon dispel its luxury 
ct dream. You dissolve ttie atmosphere of the mystic 
opon which it floats. You exhaust It of Its breath of 
fllery. It now becomes a tangible and eanly appreci- 
able idea, a thing of the earth, earthly. It has not, In- 
deed, loot its power to please, but all irtiich I consider 
the <Ustinctivenes8 of that power. And to the uncul- 
tivated talent, or to the unimaginative apprehendon, 
this deprivation of its most delicate nore will be, not 
nnfreqoentiy, a recommendation. A determinateness 



of txpnadoa is aooj^t, — and dtea by conqwwrs who 
diould knov better, — is Bou^^t as a beaa^ rattier 
tttan rej«ct«d as a blemish. Thus we have, eren from 
hi^ authorities, attempts at absidute imitatioD In 
mudc Who can forget the silliness of the Battk of 
Pngut t What man of taste but must lau(^ at the 
interminable dnuns, trumpets, blunderbusses, and 
thunder 7 " Vocal mvuic," says L'Abbate GraTina, 
who would have said tfie same thing of instrumental, 
" ou^ to imitate the natural language of the human 
fedings and pasrions, rather than the warblings of 
canary birds, iriiich our singers nowadays affect so 
vastty to mimic wltti their qnaverings and boasted 
cadences." This is true only so far as ttie " radier *' 
is ccmcemed. B any music must imitate anything, it 
were assuredly better to limit the imitation as Gnvina 
suggests. Tennyson's shorter pieces abound in minute 
Aythmical lapses sufficient to assure me that, in com- 
mon with all poets living or dead, he has ne^ected 
to make precise investigation of the principles of 
metre; but, on the olher hand, so perfect is his rhyth- 
mical instinct in general, that, like the present Viscount 
Canterbury, he seems to see with his ear. 

There are some facts in the physical woiid irtiich 

hare a really wonderful analogy with others in the 

worid of thouf^t, and seem thus to give some color of 




trotb to the (false) rtietoilcal dognu that metaphor 
or simile may be made to strengthen an argument as 
well as to embellish a description. The prindple of 
ttie vh inertiae, for example, with the amount of mo- 
mentum proportionate wifb. it and consequent up<ni it, 
seems to be identical in physics and metaphysics. It 
ifl not more true in the former that a large body is irith 
more difflcolty set in motion than a smaller one, and 
tiiat its Bubeeqaent impetus is commensurate witii this 
difBculty, than it is, in the Utter, that hitdlects of the 
vaster capad^, while more forcible, more constant^ 
and more eztendre In their movements than those of 
Inferior grade, are yet the less readily moved, and are 
more embarrassed and more full of hetf tation in the 
first few steps of tiielr progress. 


Thomca Hoore is tiie moat skilful literary artist of 
his day, — ^perh^ts of any day, — a man who stands in 
tiie singular and really wonderful predicament of being 
onderralued on account of the profudon wiUi which 
he has scattered about him his good things. The bril- 
liancy on any one page of Lalla Ihoib would have 
sufficed to establish that very reputation i^ch has 
been in a great measure self-dimmed by the galaxled 
lustre of the entire book. It seems that the horrid 
laws of political economy cannot be evaded even by ttie 
insured* and that a perfect verslflcatioii, a vigorous 



■r '.It!'-; fancy may, like the v-ai^ 
rliout, yrt despise, be sn plcntn'i'' 
' lit.-' . (.f no value at all. 

: ~ Uriik/ which its author rep.ii ■■ 

try, but urpeally called for," f*- 

' <■ mass of the people are ignor,*- 

;, h'.'.t bocaii-f those who prf.!'* -■: 

: .;, .i:-.J evi;a those who makv it.<. 

* <Tiias[ias:.MofntQid upon es ini- 

■ ir f;.:i; ;j ■l-r-'dnding its pji-i- 

y'r>i--: S ■■■pna tr.f SHfe old plan ■■: 
■'i.ri s- ^nor, — whether he is one of 
...< ..:i- <•■ K' 'ii'.iu himself among tj" 
,i.-.: .- uniy a desperate u . ■ 
■ - II c ,. - , .'l■^ to say; but the ■.. 
£' .•. : - ■i.itj two scia!! ' 
h..:ru ■■ . ; '( which s?f-i;- '■ ' 
:>t. ■' . :i >:-;'.;■:, he h i> ?-■ -■ 

•■■■:< 11 .- u;s cf b."i 
, . - ," ' • ■- lir. Tilt !■; t<j s,iy, ■ 
1.,-. '.^ •;.. K r I a:.d . -.:;-.■ 





letters. A mode tiiat affords more opportuiity for 
pUdoness, familiarity, instmctioii, •nj entertainmeot 
ttum any other. A mode tiiat was adopted by Chester- 
field In his celebrated instmctiona on politeness. A 
mode that was adopted by Smollett in many of his 
norels, which, even at this day, hold a distinguished 
idace in the wold of fiction. A mode that was adopted 
by Wmiam Cobbett, not only in his admirable treatise 
on English Grammar, but in neoriy every work fbat 
he wrote." " To lb. Cobbett," adds the instnictor of 
" every American yoath," — " to Mr. Cobbett I acknow- 
ledge myself hidebted for the greater part of the gram- 
matical knoiriedge iriilch I possess.** Of the fact 
stated there can be no question. Hobody but Cobbett 
could have been the grammatical Mentor of Mr. Pua, 
lAose book (which is all Cobbett) speaks plainly upon 
tfie pdnt — nothing but the {^ost of Vniiam Cobbett, 
kxAing over the shoulder of Ho^ A Pne could have 
iiuirtred the latter gentleman with the brif^ Idea of 
strin^ng together four consecutive sentences, in each 
of v^ch the leading nominative noun is destitute of a 

lb. Pue may attempt to justify hit phraseology here 
by saying that the several sentences, quoted above, 
commencing with the words, " A mode," are merely 
ctmtinuatitHUi of the one beginning " For tiiese'pur* 
poses "; but this Is no justification at all. By the use 
of the period he has rendered each sentence distinct, 



and wch must be examined as such in respect to its 
grammar. We are only taking the liberty of con- 
demning Mr. P. by the words of his own mouttL Tam- 
ing to page 73, iriiere he treats of punctuation, we read 
as follows : " The fall point is used at the end of ereiy 
complete sentence ; and a complete sentence is a col- 
lection oi words maldng a complete sense withont 
being dependent upon another collection of words to 
convey the full meaning intended." Now, what Idnd 
ot a meaning can we give to such a sentence as " A 
mode that was adopted by Chesterfield in his cele- 
brated instructiona on politeness," if we are to have 
** no dependence upon " the sentences that precede it ? 
But eren in the supporition that these five sentences 
had been ran Into one, as they should lutve been, they 
woold still be ungnunmatical. For example: "For 
ttiese purposes I have written my lessons in a series of 
letters — a mode that affords more cqiportunity for 
idainness, familiarity, instruction, and entertainment 
Uian any other — a mode," etc. This would have been 
the proper method of punctuation. " A mode " is 
placed In apportion with " a series of letters." But 
it 1b evident that it is not the ** series of lettera " lAich 
Is the ** mode." It is Uie writing the lessons in a 
aeries which is so. Yet, in order that the noun " mode " 
can be property placed in apportion with iriut pre- 
cedes it, this latter must be either a noun or a sen- 
tence vrtiidi, taken collectively, can serve as one. 



Thus, in iny ihape, all that we have qnotsd Is bad 

We say " bad grammar," and say it through sheer 
obstinacy, because Mr. Pne Bays we should not. '* Why, 
what is grammar ? " asks he, indignandy. " Ready 
all grammarians tell as that grammar is the wilting 
and speabdng of the gngHah language correctly. What, 
then, is bad grammar ? Why, bad grammar must be 
tiie bad writing and speaking of the Buf^iah language 
correcttyll " We ^e the two admiration notes and 

In the first place, if grammar be only the writing and 
qteaking the Eng^sh language correctly, then the 
French, or the Dutcli, or the Eickapooe are miserable, 
nngnunnutical races of people, and have no hopes ai 
being anything else, unless Mr. Poe proceeds to their 
assistance ; but let us say nothing of this for tlie pres- 
ent. What we wiati to assert is, tliat the usual defini- 
tion of grammar, as "the writing and speaking 
correctly," is an error iriiich should have been long 
ago exploded. Grammar is the analyris of language, 
and this analyns will be good or bad, just as the capa- 
city employed upon It be weak or strong — just as the 
grammarian be a Home Tooke or a Hugh A. Pue. 
But perhaps, after all, we are treating this gentleman 
^scourteously. ffis book may he merely intended as 
a good joke. By the by, he says, in liis Preface, that 
" irtiile he informs the student, he shall take particular 



can to entertain him." IFow, the troth is, we have 
been exceedingly entertained. In Bach paBsagee as the 
loUoiring, however, yAich we find npon the second 
page o£ tb» Introduction, we are really at a loss to 
determine iriiether it is the utik or the duke irtiich 
prevails. We give the italics of Mr. Pne; without 
irtdch, indeed, die «";"'■«■ force and beauty of the 
paragraph cannot be duly appreciated: 

" The proper study ctf Kngti^h gnmmar, so far from 
being dry, is one (rf the most rational enjoyments 
known to ua; one that is hi^y calculated to rouse 
the dormant energies of the student; it requiring con- 
tinual mental eff rat ; iiii™«ing exercise ctf mind. It 
is, in fact, fbt Mpreadingof a tbougbUprodudng plaa* 
ttt ot Pari* upon tbe ezfraa/ve grounda of iatellect I 
U is file parent of idea and great cansatton of leflcc- 
titm ; the mighty htatigaior of foaurrecdoo in tbc hf 
tariori and, above all, the rniflintthing cbamphn of 
htterttal improvetneat I * We know nothing about 
{faster of Paris; hut the analogy which subalats be- 
tween ipecac and grammar — at least, between ipecac 
and the grammar of Hr. Pue — never, certainly, struck 
us in so clear a point of view as it does now. 

But, after all, irtiether Mr. P.'s queer litde book 
shall or shall not meet the views <A ** vttxj American 
youth " will depend pretty much upon anothu' ques- 
tion of high moment — whether " every American 
youth " be or be not as great a nincompoop as Hr. Pue. 



Hut Lord Bron^um was an eztraonUnary man no 
one in his auues will deny. An intellect of unusual 
capacUy, goaded into diseased action by passions neariy 
ferocious, enabled him to astonish the worid, and espe- 
dally the " hero-worshippers," as the autiior of Suior 
Xetartus has it, by tiie combined extent and variety of 
his mental triumphs. Attempting many things, it may 
at least be said that he egregiously failed in none. But 
ttiat he pre-eminently excelled in any cannot be af- 
firmed with truth, and mi^t well be denied a prhrL 
We have no faith in Admirable Crichtons, and tliia 
merdy because we have in^dt faith in nature and 
her laws. " He duit is bora to be a man," says 'VRe- 
land, in his PercgrinuM Proteua, " neither should nor 
can be anything nobler, greater, nor better than a 
man." The Brou^iams ctf the human intellect are 
never its ITewtons or its Bayles. Tet the contem- 
ponmeoas reputation acquired by tht former is natur- 
ally greater than any vtAvh the latter may attain. 
The versatility of one ^om we see and hear is a more 
H^TTJing and nune readUy appreciable merit than his 
profundity, iriiich latter is best estimated in the si- 
lence ai the doeet and after the quiet lapee of years. 
What impression Lord Broosfham has stamped upon his 
age cannot be accuratdy determined until time has 
HxaA and rendered definite the lines of the medal; and 
fifty years hence it mil be difficult, perii^is, to make 


ovt the deepest indentatioa of tiie extrgue. like Cole- 
ridge he sliotild be rq^arded as one -wbo might have 
done much had he been aatiifled with attemptiiig but 


The art of Mr. Dickuu, althon^ doborate and 
great, leenu only a hiqipy modificaticHi erf natore. In 
this req>ect he differs remarkaUy from the author oi 
tUgbt and Jikmiag. The latter, by ezcestf ve care and 
by patient reflection, aided I7 much ritetorical know- 
ledge and general Inf onnation, has anived at the capa- 
bility of producing books iriiich ml^t be mistaken by 
ninety-nine readers out of a hundred for the gennine 
Insi^rations of genius. The fonDm, by the prompt- 
ings <rf fht truest genius itself, has been brought to 
compose, and eridendy without effort, works iriiich 
have effected a long-sought consummation, which 
hare rendered him the idol of the people, while defy- 
ing and enchanting the criticB. Mr. Bulwer, tiiroug^ 
art, has almost created a genius. Mr. Dickens, 
ttirough genius, has perfected a standard from which 
art itadf will derive its essence in rules. 


Whfle Defoe would have been f airiy entilled to im- 
mortality had he never written Xobhuoa CroMoe, yet 
his many other vny excellent writings have nearly 



faded from oar attration in the superior luitre of flie 
Adrcature* of the Mariner of York. What better pOB- 
BiUe species of reputation could the author have de- 
sired for that book than the spedes which it lias so 
long enjoyed 7 It has become a household thing in 
nearly every family in Christendom. Tet never was 
admiration <A any woric — ^universal adndration — ^more 
indiscriminately fa more Iniqipropriately bestowed. 
Vot one person in ten — nay, not one person in five 
hundred, has, during the perusal of JEbUcwoii Grusocv 
the most remote conception that any particle of gen- 
ins, or even of common talent, has been employed In 
its creation I Men do not look upon it in the 11^^ of 
a literary performance. Defoe has none of their 
thoughts — Robinson all. The powers irtilch have 
wrought tibe wonder have been thrown into obscurity 
by the very stupendousness «A the wonder they have 
wron^t I We read, and become perfect abstractions in 
the intensity of onr interest ; we close the book, and ate 
quite satisfied that we could have written as weU om> 
selves. All this is effected by the potent magic of veri- 
similitude. Indeed, ttie author of Cratoe must have 
possessed, above all other faculfies, v^taX has been 
termed the facul^ of identification — tiiat dominion 
eierdsed by volition over imagination irtiich enables 
the mind to lose Its own in a fictitious individualify. 
This includes, in a very great degree, the power of 
abstraction; and with these keys we may partially 



nnlock the myBtny tit that ipell which has so long in- 
Tested the Tolome beftnv us. But a con^Iete aaalyas 
of oar hiterest in it cannot be thus afforded. Defoe is 
largely indebted to his sobjecL The idea of man in a 
state (tf perfect isolation, althoo^ often entertained, 
was nerer before so eomprehensirely carried out In^- 
deed, the frequency of its occorruice to the thou^ts 
of numkind argued the extent (rf its influence on Oidr 
■ympattiies, irtiile tiie fact of no attempt having been 
made to give an embodied form to the conception went 
to prove the difficulty of tlie undertaking. But the 
true narrative of SeUdzk in 1711, with the powerful 
fanpresdon it then made upon the puUic mind, sufficed 
to inspire Defoe with botii the necessary courage for 
his work and endre confidence in its success. How 
wonderful has been the result! 


The increase, within a few years, of the msgaiine 
liteniture is by no means to be regarded as indicating 
what some critics would suppose it to indicate, a 
downward tendency in American taste or in Anwiican 
letters. It Is bat a sign of Ihe times, an indica t ion ni 
an era in irtiich men are fenced upon the curt, the con- 
densed, the well-digested, in place of the volaminous, — 
in a word, upon journalism in lieu of dissertation. 
We need now the li^t artillery rather than the peace- 
makers of the intellect I will not be sure that men 



at pnwnt think more pn^oundly than half a centnT;' 
ago, bat beyond qoeBttoo th^ think witii more rar- 
ity, witii more skill, vidt more tact, with more oi 
method and less of excrescence in the tiiought. Be- 
tides all tills tiiey have a vast increase In the »*»*""«*; 
material; tiiey have more facts, more to think about. 
For this reason they are disposed to put the greatest 
amount of thouj^t in the smallest compass and dis- 
perse it with the utmost attainable rapidity. Hence 
the jonroalism of tlie age ; hence, in espedal, maga- 
zines. Too many we cannot have, as a general propo- 
sition ; but we demand tiiat they have sufficient merit 
to render ttiem noticealde In the beginning, and that 
they continue in existence snfflcientty long to permit ua 
a fair estimation of their value. 

One half the pleasure Kqterienced at a theatre arises 
from the spectator's sympathy with tiie rest of the 
audience, and, espedally, from his belief In their sym- 
pathy wifli him. The eccentric gentleman who, not long 
long ago, at the Park, found himself the stditary occu- 
pant of box, pit, and gallery, would have derived but 
little eojoyment from his vMt had he been suffered to 
remain. It was an act of mercy to turn him ouL The 
present absurd rage for lecturing is founded in Uie 
feeling in question. Essays iriiich we would not be 
hired to read, so trite Is their subject, so foeUe it their 

»0U JX.-H- 269 


ezecatioa, ao much easier is it to get better informa- 
tion on similar themes out of any encydopsdia in 
Christendom, we are brought to tolerate and, slasi 
even to applaud in their tenth and twentieth repetititHi, 
tiiron^ the iriiole force of our sympathy with the 
tiirong. In the Bame way we listen to a story with 
greater zest irtien there are others present at its oar- 
rattcHi besides ourselves. Aware of this, authore, 
without due reflection, have repeatedly attempted, by 
supposing a circle of listeners, to imbue their narTatives 
with tlie interest of sympathy. At a cursory ^ance 
tile idea seems plaunble enough. But, in the one case, 
there is an actual, personal, and palpaUe sympathy, 
ccmveyed in looks, gestures, and brief comments — a 
syn^Kithy of real individuals, all with the matters dis- 
CDBsed, to be sure, but then especially each with each. 
Jn the other instance, we alone in our closet are re- 
quired to sympathize with the sympathy of fictitions 
listeners who, so far from being present in body, are 
often studiously kept out of sig^t and out of mind for 
two or ttiree hundred pages at a time. This is sym- 
patiiy double-diluted, the shadow of a shade. It is 
unnecessary to say that the design invaiiaUy foils of 
its ^Fect. 


The qualities of Heber are well understood. Bia 
poetry is of a hi^ order. He is imaginative, Rowing, 
and vigorous, irith a skill in the management of his 




means tmsuipassed by that of any writer of his time, 
but without any high degree of originality. Can there 
be any thing in the nature of a " dasticol " life at war 
with nardty per «e / At all events, few fine scholars, 
such as Heber truly was, are origtoaL 


Original characters, so called, can only be critically 
praised as Buch, either when presenting qualities known 
In real life, but never before depicted (a combination 
neariy impossible), or when presenting qualities (moral 
or physical, or both) iriiich, although unknown, or 
eren known to be hypothetical, are so skilfully adapted 
to the circumstances -widch surround tiiem, that our 
sense of fitness is not offended, and we find ourselves 
seeking a reascm why those things might not have 
been, iriiich we are still satisfied are not. The latter 
qtedes of originality appertains to the loftier regions 
of the ideal. 


George Bakoabe we are induced to regard, upon 
the whole, as the best American novel. TheFs have 
been few books of its peculiar kind, we think, written 
in any country, much its superior. Its interest is in- 
tense from beginning to end. Talent of a lof^ order 
Is evinced in every page of it Its most distinguishing 
features are invention, vig(»', almost audacity, of 



IS u m^ A , gnat TaAtf at -what (lie Oennan ciitia 
tmn ** intricue,** md »»'***i«'|; ing uuiitj snd fioiA 
in tlie «<l«pt«tion of ill conqtonant pcrts. Hodtiiig it 
vmtmg to a eonqdete lAole, ud nothiiig it ottt of 
^ace or ottt of time, ^ntliotit bong cbajgeablm in the 
Uaat Aegfut wiA imitation, the oartl bean a strong 
family reaemUance to the CUeb WUHaaa of Godifin. 
TbinUng thtia lii^bfy ai George B^oonAe, we sfiQ do 
not widi to be onderetood aa ranking it witli the Joan 
brilliant flctiona of aome of llie firing novelists of 
Great Biitain. Iniegaidtotlieaiiflionliipof thebook, 
fome little conTersation haa occurred and iha matter 
ia Btin coiuideFed a aecreL Bitt irtiy so 7 — or, ratiier, 
how so ? The mind of the chief personage of the story 
is the transcript cA a wind familiar to us, an imin- 
tentional transcript, let us grant, but still one not to 
be "*i«*"^*"i George BakotiAe thlnha, qieaks, and 
acts as no person, we are convinced, bat Judge Bereily 
Tucter em precisely tiiou^it, spoke, or acted before. 


Fifty Suggestions 

/^ y T it obserraUe that, irtiile among all nations 
^MS t^c Dnmi-color, irtiite, lias been leceiTad as 

^^* I an emblem of the ptire, the no-color, black, 
has by no means been generally admitted as snffldentty 
typical (rf impnrity. There are blue devils as well as 
tdack ; and when we Hunk veiy ill of a woman and 
wish to Idacken her character, we merely call her " a 
Uoe-etocbing," and advise her to read, in Rabelals's 
Gargantua, tiie chatter de or qui ett tlgoiBt par lea 
oouleura blaae el bleiu There is far more difference 
between tiiese coukuta, in fact, than tiiat irtilch 
exists between simple black and vidta. Tour " blue," 
when we come to talk of stockings, is black in hahao, 
— nigrum nigritu nigro, — like the matter from irtlich 
Raymond LuUy flnt manof actured his alcdboL 


Mr. , I perceive, has been ^ipointed librarian 

to the new Atiunsom. To him, the ai^Ktintment 



Fif^ SnggesdoDS 

ia adranttcsooi in many nspecti. BipwciaBy, ** Mm 
c«iiin, Toid one bdDs occwioo poor i^pccndtB k 

I far M I can nndentand dn "kninf oar m- 

ui I'Mwwwfnrtng oof onuun With gnry soop, iM 
doubt we have taken a hint from Htwace, iriio sayif 

Zte ri gntn non Mt, 
Qtut ptisui inUuin Trntmn puucwit ttctu 

Of much ot oar cottage ardiitectore we may saf dy 
•ay, I think (admittine flw good intention), Uiat it 
would have been Gothic if it had not felt it its duty 
to be DutdL 


Janui'fl multitudinotu norda seem to l>e wilttoi 
iqun ttie plan of *' tiie songs of the Baid ot Schiraz," 
in which, we are assured by Fadladeen, " ttie same 
beautiful thought occurs again and again in ereiy pos- 
dtde variety of phrase." 


Some oS our fordgn lions resemUe the human brain 

in one very striking particoiar. They are without any 

sense tiiemselvee, and yet are the centres of sensation. 



Fifty Suggestions 

Htrmbeao, I fancy, acquired hia woiid«rfal tact at 
fanaeeing and meeting contingendM during Us resi- 
dence in tlie Btronghold (tf If. 

Cottle's Fanlaitoencet of CoJerUge ia juat socli a 
book as damns its perpetrator forever in the oi^nion 
of every gentfeman who reads it More and more 
every day do we modems paToneggiarti aboat our 
Christianity; yet, so far as the spirit of Christianity is 
concerned, we are immeasurably behind the andents. 
Mottoes and proverbs are the indices fd national char- 
acter; and the An^o-'Sazons are disgraced in having 
no proverbial equivalent to the Dc moriaiM aU aU 
bonum. Moreover, where, in aU statutory Christen- 
dom, shall we find a law so Christian as the DetuaeH 
iafuria ue afBdaatvr oS the Twelve TaUes 7 The 
aimple negative injunctttm of the Latin law and pro- 
verb—the injunction not to do ill to the dead — seems, 
at a first glance, scarcely susceptiUe of improvement 
in the delicate respect of its terms. I cannot help 
thinking, however, that the sentiment, if not tiie idea 
Intended, is more forciUy conveyed in an iqiothegm l^ 
one of the old English moralists, James Pnckle. ^ 
an ingenious figure ot speech he cdntrives to imbue the 
negation of the Roman command with a spirit (rf 
active and podtive beneficence. " When ^eaUng of 


Fifty Suggestions 

dw drad," he stjn, in his Grm^ Cap tor m Gnen 
SUmi, ** So fdd vf yonr di ^ c o un e tiiat fluir Tirtnci 
nuy be uutwuiUy thown, irtiila Huir tIgm sn wrapped 

I hare no doobt ttiat the Fomieritefl hooeitly fancy 
** a natty poet fit for nothing " to be tlie tme tranila- 
tion of " poeta nascitor non fit." 

Ihere aarely cannot be " more things in hearen and 
earth than are dreamt of" (oil, Andrew Jackson 
DstIsI) " in your philoeophy." 


** It ia only aa the Urd tit paradiae quite na in f i^^g 
wing," obserres, or should obeerve, some poet, " that 
we obtain a fnU ^w of the beanty vi its plomage "; 
and it Is only as the poBtidan is about being ** turned 
out " that, like the snake of the Irish Chronicle viien 
tonched by St Patrick, he " awakens to a sense of his 


Newspaper editors seem to have constitntions closely 
dmllar to those of the deities in Valhalla, irtio cut 
each other to pieces every day, and yet get up per- 
fectly sound and fresh every morning. 


Vaty Suggestions 

As far M I can conqmhend the modem cant in faror 
of *< unadnUeratsd Saxon," It U fast leading ns to the 
tangtutge at ibat region iriiere, as Addison has it, 
" they sen the best flsh and speak the plainest English." 


The frightfully long money-pouches, " like the co- 
camber called the Gigantic,** irtiich have come in 
■rogm among our belles, are not of Paridan origin, as 
many suppose, but are strictly indigenous here. The 
fact is, such a fashion would be quite out (rf place In 
Paris, where it Is money only that women lieep in a 
pttiM. The pmw of an American lady, howerer, must 
be large enough to cany both Im money and the soul 
(rfits owner. 


I can see no objection to gentlemen " standing for 
Congress,** provided they stand on one side; nor to 
their " running for Congress,'* if dtey are In a very 
great hurry to get there ; but It would be a blessing if 
some of them could be persuaded into sitting still, for 
C<mgres8, after they arrive. 

If envy, as Cyprian has it, be " the motfi at tba 
soul,** whether shaQ we r^ard content as its Scotch 
snuff or its camphor 7 



Fifty Suggestions 

M , hnlng been "used t^" in tli» RerieWf 

goee ■bottt town Unding bis critic, u an ^icttre Imudt 
die best Lmidui moitanl — ^with die tears in his e;«L 

" Con tsl que las costombres de tin aator sean pnras 
y castas," says the Cattudic Don Tonus de las Toms, 
in the preface to his Amatory Poodm, " importo maj 
poco qui no seen Ifroalmente sereras sus obras," mean- 
ing, in plain English, that, provided the person&l 
morals <A an audior are pure, it matters little «4iat 
those of his booln are. 

For to onprinc^led an idea, Don Tomas, no doubt, 
is still having a bard time of it in Purgatory; and, by 
way of most pointedly manifesting their disgust at his 
I^iiloBophy on the topic in question, many modem 
theologians and dinnes are now bualy squaring thdr 
conduct by his proposition ezactiy ctmversed. 

Children are never too tender to be vrtilpped; lite 
tough beef-steaks, the more you beat them the man 
tender diey become. 


Lndan, In describing the statue " with its surface <A 

Parian marUe and its interior filled with rags," must 



Piffy Suggestions 

hAT« bean looking with a prophetic eya at some (A oar 
gnat " nuauiyti institutlotu." 


That poets (ndng the word compnbeiatrdj, as in- 
dnding artists in general) are a genua hrHabUe is weU 
tmdeistood ; bat the whj seenu not to be commonly 
seen. An artist is an artist only by dint ctf his exqui- 
site sense of beauty — a sense affording him rapturous 
enjoyment, but at the same time implying, or Involv- 
ing, an equally ezqni^te sense of deformity of dispro- 
portion. Thus a wrong, an injustice, done a poet irtio 
is really a poet, exdtee him to a degree iriiich, to ord^ 
nary apprehension, i^pears disproportionate with the 
wrong. Poets see injustice, never where it does not 
. exist, but very often where the unpoetical see no In- 
justice whatever. Thus tiie poetical iiiitaUlity has no 
r^erence to * temper " in the vulgar sense, but merdy 
to a more than usual clear-rightedness In respect to 
wrong; this clear-d^tedness being nothing more 
tiian a ctnollary from the vivid perception of right, <rf 
justice, of proportion — in a word, of to xeAor. But 
one thing is clear, that the man 1^10 is not " irritable ** 
(to die ordinary apprdiension) is no poeL 

Let a man succeed ever so evidratiy, ever so demon- 
strably, In many different displays of genius, the envy 


Fifty Sug^stions 

oi Giitidam win agTM with the popular Tcuce in deny- 
ing him more than talent in any. Hiiib a poet vho 
hai achlflred a great (by irtiich I mean an effective) 
poem, should be cantiona not to iiiaHngiii^ti himself Jq 
any other walk of letten. In especial, let him make 
no ettort in science, nnleas anonymously or with the 
view of waiting patiently the judgment of posteri^. 
Because nniversal or even Tersatile geniuses have 
rarely of nsrer been known, therefore, thinln the 
world, none such can ever be. A " therefore " of this 
Und is, witti die world, condudve. But what is the 
fact, as taught us by analysis of mental power ? Sta- 
{fly that the highest genius — that the genlos iriiich all 
men instantaneously acknowledge as such, i^ch acta 
upon individuals as well as upon the mass, by a qtedes 
at magnetism incomprehenahle but irresistiUe and 
never redsted, — that this genius iriiich demonstrates 
itsdf in the simplest gesture, or even by the absence ci 
all; thisgeniosiriiichgpeahsirithoutavoiceandflBshes 
h-om the unopened eye, is but the result of gonerally 
laige mental power existing hi a state of absolute 
proporti<ni, so fliat no one faculty has undue pre- 
dominance. That factitious " geniua," that " genius " 
in the popular sense which is but the manifestation of 
the abnormal predominance of some one faculty over 
an the others, and, of course, at the expense and to 
ttie detriment of all the others, is a result of mental 
disease or, rather, of organic malformatitni of mind; 


Fifty Su^estions 

it is this and uoQiiiig more, Ifot only will such " gen- 
ius " fail, if turned a^de from tiu path indicated bj its 
predominant facul^; but, eroi when pursuing this 
path, ^en producing those works in which, certainly, 
it is best calculated to succeed, will give unmistakable 
indications of unsoundness In reqiect to general intel- 
lect Hence, indeed, arises the just idea that 

GtMt wit to madnw nurl; b allied. 

I say " just idea ** ; for by ** great wit," in this case, 
the poet Intends precisely the pseudo-genius to iriiich 
Iiefw. The tnie genius, (m the otiier hand, is, neces- 
sarily, if not nnirefsal In its manifestations, at least 
c^aUe of universality; and if, attempting oil things. 
It succeeds in one rather better than in another, this 
is merely on account of a certain tnas by iriilch taste 
leads it with more earnestness In the one dlrectttm than 
intheother. With equal zeal it would succeed equally 

To Btmi up our results in respect to this very timpU 
but much rezaia queMtkt i 

What the world calls " genius " is the state of men* 
tol disease arising from the undue predominance of 
some one (rf the faculties. Tlie worhs t^ such geaiut 
are never sound in themselves, and, in eqwdal, always 
betray the general mental insanity. 

Hie proportion of the mental foctiltles. In a case 
irtiere the general mental power is not inordinate, 



Fifty SuG^stioi» 

0¥ta tbM nsolt irtiich we dlstingaish ss talent; and 
the talent ia greater ot len, first, as the general mental 
power ia greater or less ; and, secondly, as the proper- 
tioo qS the faculties is more or leas absolute. 

Ihe proportion of the faculties, in a case where the 
mental power is inordinatelj great, gives ttiat result 
irtilch Is iba true genius (bat iriiich, on account of the 
proportion and se em ing simplicity of its worics, is sel- 
dom acknowledged to be so) ; and the genius is greater 
or less, first, as the general mmtal power is more ot 
less inordinately great ; and, secondly, as the propor- 
tion of the faculties is mtnv or less absolute. 

An objection will be made, that the greatest excess 
of mental power, howerer proportionate, does not seem 
to satisfy oar idea of genius, unless we have, in addi- 
tion, sendUlity, passion, energy. The reply is, that 
the ** ftb6<date pr(qK>rtion " ^oken of, irtien applied to 
Inordinate mental power, gives, as a result, the appre- 
ciation of beauty and horror <rf deformity lAich we 
call senslUli^, togetiier with Ihat intense vitality irtiich 
Is liiq>lied irtien we qteak of '* energy " or " passion. " 

** And beauty draws us by a ain^ hair.** — C^H- 
lary attraction, of course. 


It is by no means clear, as regards the present revo^ 

httionary ^Irit of Eur<^e, that it is a spirit wiutib 



Fifty Suggestions 

« moTfltli altogether if it more at all." In Great Brit- 
ain it may be kept quiet for half a century yet, by pla- 
cing at the head of aflaira an experienced medical man. 
He should keep his forefinger constantly on the pulse 
of the patient, and exhibit panem in gentle doses, with 
as much chvciueB as the stomach can be made to 


The taste manifested by our transcendental poets is 
to be treated " rererentiaUy,** beyond doubt, as one of 
Mr. Emerson's friends suggests, for the fact is, it is 
Taste on her death-bed — ^Taste kicking £a udeulo 

I should not say, of Ta^oni, exactly that she dances, 
but that she laughs with her arms and legs, and diat If 
she takes vengeance on her present oppreasoiB she will 
be amply justified by the hx (athaJM. 


The worid is infested Just now by a new sect of 
philosophers, irtio have not yet suspected themselves 
of forming a sect, and who, consequenfly, have adopted 
no name. They are the Believers in everything Odd. 
Their Mgh-piest, in the East, is Charles Fourier, in the 
West, H<nace Greeley; and high-priests they ore to 
some poipoee. The only common bond among the 


Pif^ Suggestions 

sect If cradulit; — let us call it insuuty at once and be 
done vifli It Aik any one of them why he beUeres 
this or Out, and, if he be cooadentioiu (ignorant 
peo^ ntoally are), he will make yon very mnch such 
a nidy as Talleyrand made vbta asked why he be- 
liered in the KUfc ** I bdiere in it, fiist," said he, 
** becaoae I am Bishc^ of Antiin; and, secondly, be- 
came I know nothing about it at alL" What these 
philosophera call " argnmeot,** is a way tiuy hare db 

E , the puUisher, trying to be critical, talks 

about books pretty mnch as a washerwoman would 
about Niagaim falls or a poulterer about a phoeniz. 


The ingantdty (rf critical malice would ottea be 
laughable but for the disgust which, even in the most 
perverted qdrits, injustice never fails to ezdte. A 
common trick is that of decrying, im^iedly, the hitler, 
by inarting upon the lower merits of an author. Ma- 
caulay, for example, deeply feeling how much critical 
acumen is enforced by cautious attention to the mere 
" rhetoric " which is its vehicle, has at length become 
the best of modem rhetoricians. His brother review- 
ers — antmymous, of course, and likely to remain so 
forever— extol <* the acomen of Cari^ the analyns <d 



Fifty Sui^stions 

ScUegel, «nd the stylo of Macanlay." Bancroft is a 
philoBcqthical historian; bat no amount of philosophy 
has yet taught him to despise a minote accuracy in 
point of fact. Ws brother historians talk of " tlie grace 
of Prescott, the erudition of Gibbon, and the painstak- 
ing precision (tf Bancroft" Tennyson, perceiving how 
Avidly an ima^native effect is aided, now and ften, by 
a certain qusintness jadidously introduced, brings this 
latter at times in support of his most ^orious and most 
delicate imagination ; whereupon his Invther poets 
hasten to laud the imagination of Mr. Somebody, irtiom 
nobody imagined to have any, " and the somewliat 
affected qtiaintness of Tennyson." — ^Let tlie noUest 
poet add to liis other excellence, if he dares, fliat of 
faoltless reraification and scrupulous attention to 
graminar. He is damned at once. His rivals have 
it in didr power to disconise of " A, the tme poet, 
and B, die versifier and disciple of lindley Murray." 
The goddess Lavema, who is a head without a body, 
could not do better, periiaps, than make advances to 
" La Jeone France," which, for some years to come, 
at least, must otiierwise remain a body without a liead. 

H calls his verse a « poem," very much as 

Francis the First bestowed the titte, tnea dimetitt upon 
his snug little deer-paik at FontaineUean. 


Fifty Sug^^estioiis 

lb. A Is fnqtwntly spoken of u ** ona d ottr 

most indnstrioos writers " ; and. In fact, when we cim- 
sider how much he has written, we percrire at onoe 
that he most have been indnstrioos, or he coold nenr 
(lUn an honest woman as he is) have so thorooghly 
tocceeded In keeping himaslf from bring "talked 


That a cause leads to an effect is scarcely more cer- 
tain than that, so far as morals are concerned, a repe- 
tition of effect tends to the generation of cause. Herein 
lies the principle of what we so ragndy term " habit." 

"VnOi the exception of Tennyson's LodMky Hall, I 
luiTe nerer read a poem combining so much of tiie 
fiercest passion with so much of Oie most delicate 
imagination as the L»dy GeraUiae'f Courttblp of Hiss 
Baiiett. I am forced to admit, however, that the lat- 
ter work is a palpaUe imitation oi. the former, irtiich 
it surpasses in thesis, as much as it falls below it in a 
certain calm energy, Instrons and indomitable, such as 
we might ima^ne in a brood river of molten gtdd. 

What has become of the inferior ^anet irtiich De- 
cuppis, about nine ysani ago, declared lie saw traTore- 
ing the disk of the tun ? 


Fifty Suggestions 


M Ignonnce is bliss," but, tliat the Uiss be real, ^e 
ignonnce most be so profound as not to suspect itself 
ignorant With this understanding, Btrilean's line 
mar bereadttius: 

Le plu foa tonioun Mt I0 plu utlsfeit, 
— " toitfoun " in place of * Moareat" 

Bfyaat and Street are both essentially descriptive 
poets; and descriptive poetry, even in its happiest 
manifestation, is not of the highest order. But the 
distinction between Bryant and Street is very broad. 
While the former, in reproducing the sennUe images 
of nature, reproduces the sentiments with irtiich he 
n^ards them, the latter gives us the images and noth- 
ing beyond. He never forces us to feel what we feel 
he must have felt 

In lauding beauty, genius merdy evinces a filial 
affection. To genius beauty gives life, reaidng often 
a reward in immortality. 


And this is the " American Drama " of 1 Wcllt 

— diat ** conscience irtiich make cowards of us all " 

win permit me to say, in praise of the performance, only 



Fifty Suggestions 

that it is not quite so bad as I expected it to be. But 
dieo I alwajn eqtect too mach. 


What we feel to be fancy vill be found f andful sdll, 
iHiateTer be tlie theme wliich engages it. No subject 
exalts it iato imagination. When Moore is termed " a 
fandful poet," the epithet is i^lied with precision. 
He is. He is fandful in Lalln XooU^ and had he 
written ttie lahroo, in &e Infcrao he would hare con- 
ttired to be still fandful and nothing beyond. 

When we speak of ** a suspidous man," we may 
mean either one ^o suspects, or one to be suspected. 
Our language needs either fte adjectire " suqiectfal," 
at the adjective " suspectable." 


** To lore," lays ^tenser, " is 

To fawn, to crondi, to wait, to iM«, to nm. 
To qwed, to glTO, to mut, to be nndoM." 

The philosophy here mig^t be rendered more pro- 
found by the mere omis^on of a comma. We all know 
the willing blindneBB, the vfduntary madness of Lore. 
We ezpresB this in thus punctuating the last line: 


Fif^ Suggestions 

to I pw if, to gjtn — to want to be tmdoae. 
It Is a caae» In flfaort, irture we gain s ptHiit by ond^ 



IBm EdgBWortti bmiiu to hare had only an approzl'* 
mate conq>reheiirion of ** fashion,** for she uyi: *' U 
it was th« fashion to bum me, and I at the stek^ I 
hardly know ten penuu of my wcqnaintance who 
would rafuse to throw on a fsgot.** lime are many 
irtio, in such a case, would " refose to throw on a 
facot " — for fear of smothering out the flte. 


I am beginning to fUnk with H(»riey, that " the 
People have notiiing to do with the taws bat to ob«y 


" It Is not fair to review my book without reading it," 
says Mr. Mathews, talUng at the critics, and, as usual, 
expecting impossibilities. That man who is derar 
enouf^ to write such a woric Is clever enouf^ to read 
It, no doubt; but we should not look for to much 
taknt in Ote woiid at large. Mr. Mathews wUl not 
imai^ that I mean to Name him. The book alone 
is in fault, after alL Tbe fact is that, er /sot fieb 
aiebt legen (it wQl not permit itself to be read). Bring 
a hobby of Mr. Mathews's, and brimful of ^Irit, it will 
let nobo^ mount it but Mr. Mathews. 


Pif^ Su£^:estioQ8 

tth only to teach his children gftocrafhy Chat 
wean a boot, 0w picture of Italy upoa the map. 

la Ui great dictioiiaiy, Webster seems to hare had 
an idea of being more Bw gHy h fluui the Wngiinh — 
** pins Axmbe qa'en Aralri*.** ■ 

That there were once ** seren wise men " is by no 
means, strictly speaking, an historical fact ; and I am 
rather inclined to rank the Idea among the Eabbala. 

Painting Ihdr faces to look like Macanlay, some of 
om' critics manage to resemble him, at length, as a 
HaaiBfrinn does a Raftaellian Viipn ; and, except that 
ttie former is feebler and thinner than the other, 
suggesting the idea of its bring tht ghost of the othw, 
not one connoisseur in tan can perceive any differ- 
Mice. But then, anh^>idly, eren the street lazzaioni 
can feel the distinction. 


,db,Googlc — 






' b« tdwn fiwn llie UbtMr witfaaal