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21. In its memory's magic power:
Yet, with all its sorrow, and all its care—
Its dreary and hopeless woe—
I'd not, its luxury of despair,
For the wide world's hopes forego.
'Tis my bosom's dearest and purest shrine,
And fountain of holiest thought,
Where all that is sacred or divine,
Is in deep devotion brought.
That smile and tear are the relics there—
Embalmed in tears of mine—
And the image that claims each fervent prayer,
Is that bright, fair form of thine.
Thou wast then just op'ning to life's gay bloom,
Like springtide's sweetest gleam;
And I played with thee, without thought of gloom,
Or of startling "Love's young dream."
'Twas the last glad hour of my mirthful youth—
My parting hour with thee—
And of thy sweet smile of light and truth,
'Twas the last I'll ever see.
Since, many a care-cloud of dark'ning blight
Hath shaded my youthful brow;
And many a sorrow of deadly weight,
Lies cold on my bosom now.
I've tested the falsehood of life's whole scope,
And heed not the clouds that lower;
But, mid all the wrecks of my early hope,
I cling to that parting hour.
Oft, from the dance, and its wild delight,
The world, and its hollow glee,
I've fled to the silence of moonlit night,
22. To live o'er that hour with thee.
'Tis the one bright spot in this wide, wide waste,
That blooms in its beauty yet;
And to that I'll turn, while life shall last,
From the world's whole love and hate.
Augusta, Ga.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
CANTILENA AMATORIA.
BY GILES McQUIGGIN.
Not love thee, Lelia! ask the rocks
That gird the mountain stream;
Whereon I've knelt and notch'd thy name,
By Cynthia's borrowed beam.
Not love thee! ask the moss that spreads
From Wye-head to the tide,
How oft I've roved at midnight's noon,
And thought of thee and sigh'd.
The ravine winding through the wood,
The terrace walk, the grove,
Are all the faithful witnesses
Of my enduring love.
Night's latest star can tell the times
I've watch'd it as it rose,
When none but it, lone wanderer,
23. Was watcher of my woes.
Pale Cynthia! how I've gaz'd on thee,
And thought of her whose frown
To sorrow's deepest ecstasy
Had borne my spirit down.
Her doubt is worse than death to one
Whose all of earthly bliss
Is in the smile that gives her love
In sweet return for his.
Not love thee, Lelia! witness Heaven,
How oft before thy throne,
I've bent in humble attitude,
To worship thee alone;
And her dear image intervened
Between my thoughts and thee:
Forgive the sin, her sacred form
Seemed dear as thou to me.
Not love thee! when the life-blood chills
That warms my system now—
And to the monster's mandate all
My body's powers must bow,—
Then Lelia thou shalt just begin
A holier love to share;
And if there are blest homes on high,
We'll meet and feel it there.
24. CRITICAL NOTICES.
Mephistopheles in England, or the Confessions of a Prime Minister, 2
vols. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Blanchard. In a long poetical
dedication this book is inscribed "to the immortal spirit of the
illustrious Goethe"—and the design, title, and machinery are
borrowed from the Faust of that writer. The author, whoever he may
be, is a man of talent, of fine poetical taste, and much general
erudition. But nothing less than the vitiated state of public feeling in
England could have induced him to lavish those great powers upon a
work of this nature. It abounds with the coarsest and most
malignant satire, at the same time evincing less of the power than of
the will for causticity—and being frequently most feeble when it
attempts to be the most severe. In this point it resembles the
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. The most glaring defect,
however, in the structure of the book is its utter want of keeping. It
appears, moreover, to have no just object or end—unless indeed we
choose to consider that its object which is the object of the hero
proper himself—"the hell-doomed son of Sin and Death
Mephistopheles"—to cherish and foster the malice, the heart-
burnings, and all evil propensities of our nature. The work must,
therefore, as a whole be condemned, notwithstanding the rare
qualities which have been brought to its composition. To prove that
these qualities exist in a very high degree in the writer of
Mephistopheles, it would only be necessary to spread before our
readers the scene of the Incantation in the Hartz. It is replete with
imagination of the most etherial kind—is written with a glow and
melody of language altogether inimitable—and bears upon every
sentence the impress of genius. It will be found a seasonable relief
from the mingled coxcombry, pedantry, and gall which make up the
body of the book. But we will confine ourselves at present to an
extract of a far different nature, as affording a better exemplification
of what we have previously said.
25. "Between the acts the curtain rose for a divertisement, in which the incomparable
Taglioni made her appearance. She was greeted with the loudest demonstrations of
popularity from her numerous patrons, which she acknowledged by several graceful
courtesies. 'Behold!' said Mephistopheles, directing my attention to the evolutions of
the dancer, 'the progress of civilization. If all this were not so graceful it would be
indecent, and that such an exhibition has a moral tendency is more than doubtful.
Look at that young girl in the pit. She has seen sufficient to crimson her face, neck,
and shoulders with a blush of shame, and she hides her head from a sight which has
shocked her sense of decency. There is no affectation there. She is an innocent girl
fresh from the country who never saw a ballet in her life. Yet all the rest, man,
woman and child, gaze on delighted. Every glass is raised the more closely to watch
the motions of the figurante. Look!—she makes a succession of vaults, and her scanty
drapery flying above her hips discloses to her enraptured admirers the beauty of her
limbs. A thousand hands beat each other in approbation. Now she pirouettes, and
observe the tumult of applause which follows. She stands on her left foot, on the
point of her great toe nail, extending her right leg until the top of her foot is in a
parallel line with the crown of her head. In this position she bends with an
appearance of the greatest ease, till her body nearly touches the ground, and then
gradually rises with the same infinite grace amid enthusiastic bravos and ecstatic
applause. Now on her tip-toe, her right leg still extended, she moves slowly round,
liberally extending to all her patrons within sight the most favorable opportunity of
scrutinizing the graces of her figure, while the whole house testify their infinite
gratification at the sight by every species of applause. Again she comes from the back
of the stage, turning round and round with the speed of a tetotum but with an
indescribable and fascinating grace that seems to turn the head of every young man
in the theatre. During the storm of approbation which ensues she stands near the
footlights, smiling, courtseying, and looking as modest as an angel. Then comes
Perrot, who is as much the idol of the ladies as Taglioni is the goddess of the
gentlemen. He leaps about as if his feet were made of India rubber, and spins around
as if he intended to bore a hole with his toe in the floor of the stage. Then a little
pantomime love business takes place between the danseur and the danseuse, and
they twirl away, and glide along, and hold eloquent discourse with their pliant limbs;
and the affair ends by the gentleman clasping the lady round the waist, while he,
bending his body in the most graceful attitude, so that his head shall come under her
left arm, looks up in apparent ecstacy into her smiling face as the lady raised high
above him on the extreme point of her left foot, extends her right hand at right
26. angles with her body, and looks down admiringly upon her companion. Thus grouped
the curtain drops, and every one cries bravo! thumps the floor with his stick, or beats
his palms together till such a din is raised as is absolutely deafening.'
"'She is a charming dancer,' I observed.
"'Yes'—replied he—'she understands the philosophy of her art better than any of her
contemporaries; it is to throw around sensuality such a coloring of refinement as will
divest it of its grossness. For this she is paid a hundred pounds a night, and is
allowed two benefits in the season which generally average a thousand pounds each.
While you are thus liberal to a dancer, some of the worthiest of your ministers of
religion receive about fifty pounds per annum for wearing out their lives for the good
of your souls; and many of your most exalted men of genius are left to starve. Such
is the consistency of human nature.'"
The District School, or National Education, by J. Orville Taylor. Third
Edition. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Blanchard. This work has met
with universal approbation, and is worthy of it. The book was first
published only a short time ago, and the third impression will
speedily be exhausted, as parents have a direct personal concern in
the matter, and in the important truths, duties, and responsibilities,
herein pointed out. Mr. Taylor is entitled to the gratitude of his
countrymen for that beneficial impulse which his work has been, and
will be the means of giving to the great cause of General Education.
"If a parent," says Mr. Taylor, "does not educate his child—the world
will." We sincerely hope so. As the District School now appears it has
been entirely re-written, and such alterations and additions made as
the experience of the author suggested. We heartily wish it all the
success it so eminently deserves.
27. The New England Magazine for September is unusually rich. Among
its numerous and very excellent articles we would particularly notice
a paper called "My Journal"—and more especially Scraps of
Philosophy and Criticism from a recent work of Victor Hugo's. One of
these Scraps on Style, we are sure we shall be pardoned for
extracting.
"If the name here inscribed were a name of note—if the voice which speaks here
were a voice of power—we would entreat the young and brilliant talents on which
depends the future lot of a literature for three ages so magnificent to reflect how
important is their mission, and to preserve in their manner of writing the most worthy
and severe habitudes. The Future—let them think well of it—belongs only to the
masters of style. Without referring to the admirable works of antiquity, and confining
ourselves to our National Literature, try to take from the thought of our great writers
the expression which is peculiar to it. Take from Moliere his lively, ardent, frank, and
amusing verse, so well made, so well turned, so well finished—take from Lafontaine
the simple and honest perfection of detail—take from the phrase of Corneille the
vigorous muscle, the strong cords, the beautiful forms of exaggerated vigor, which
would have made of the old poet half Roman, half Spanish, the Michael Angelo of our
tragedy if the elements of genius had mingled as much fancy as thought—take from
Racine that touch in his style which resembles Raphael, a touch chaste, harmonious,
and repressed like that of Raphael, although of an inferior power—quite as pure but
less grand, as perfect though less sublime—take from Fenelon, the man of his age
who had the best sentiment of antiquity, that prose as melodious and severe as the
verse of Racine of which it is the sister—take from Bossuet the magnificent bearing of
his periods—take from Boileau his grave and sober manner at times so admirably
colored—take from Pascal that original and mathematical style with so much
appropriateness in the choice of words, and so much logic in every metaphor—take
from Voltaire that clear, solid, and indestructible prose, that crystal prose of Candide,
and the Philosophical Dictionary—take from all these great writers that simple
attraction—style: and of Voltaire, of Pascal, of Boileau, of Bossuet, of Fenelon, of
Racine, of Corneille, of Lafontaine, of Moliere—of all these masters what will remain?
It is style which insures duration to the work, and fame to the poet. Beauty of
28. expression embellishes beauty of thought, and preserves it. It is at the same time an
ornament and an armor. Style to the idea is like enamel to the tooth."
The Western Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, edited by
Daniel Drake, M.D. Professor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine
in Cincinnati College, and formerly Professor of the same in
Transylvania University, and the Jefferson Medical College. Doctors
C. R. Cooper and S. Reed, Assistant Editors and Proprietors. Vol. IX,
No. 33. We have received this Journal with the greatest pleasure,
and avail ourselves of the present opportunity to express our opinion
concerning it. It is an invaluable addition to our Medical and
Scientific Literature, and at the same time one of the very cheapest
publications in the country, each number containing 168 pages of
closely printed matter, and the subscription price being only $3 per
annum. The work is issued on the first day of July, October, January,
and April, and has lately been incorporated with the Western Medical
Gazette. We sincerely wish the publication every possible success—
for it is well worthy of it. Its typographical and mechanical execution
altogether are highly creditable to Cincinnati, and the able and well
known collaborators, a list of whose names is upon the opening
page of each number, and whose editorial offices are engaged in the
service of the Journal, will not fail to impart a sterling character and
value to the Medical, as well as purely Literary portions of the work.
We take the liberty of extracting from page 79, of the present
number, (that for July) an interesting account of a cure of partial
spontaneous combustion, occurring in the person of Professor H. of
the University of Nashville. The portion extracted is contained in a
Review of An Essay on Spontaneous Combustion, read before the
Medical Society in the State of Tennessee, at their annual meeting in
May 1835. By James Overton, M.D.
29. "Prof. H., of the University of Nashville, is a gentleman 35 years old, of middle size,
light hair, hazle eyes, and sanguinolymphatic temperament; he has been extremely
temperate as to alcoholic stimulation of every kind; led a sedentary and studious life;
and been subject to a great variety of dyspeptic affections. On the 5th of January,
1835, he left his recitation room at 11 o'clock, A. M., and walked briskly, with his
surtout buttoned round him, to his residence, three quarters of a mile. The
thermometer was at 8°, and the barometer at 29.248—the sky clear and calm. On
reaching home he engaged in meteorological observations, and in 30 minutes, while
in the open air about to record the direction of the winds—
"'He felt a pain as if produced by the pulling of a hair, on the left leg, and which
amounted in degree to a strong sensation. Upon applying his hand to the spot
pained, the sensation suddenly increased, till it amounted in intensity to a feeling
resembling the continued sting of a wasp or hornet. He then began to slap the part
by repeated strokes with the open hand, during which time the pain continued to
increase in intensity, so that he was forced to cry out from the severity of his
suffering. Directing his eyes at this moment to the suffering part, he distinctly saw a
light flame of the extent, at its base, of a ten cent piece of coin, and having a
complexion which nearest resembles that of pure quicksilver. Of the accuracy in this
latter feature in the appearance of the flame, Mr. H. is very confident,
notwithstanding the unfavorable circumstances amidst which the observation must
have been made. As soon as he perceived the flame, he applied over it both his
hands open, united at their edges, and closely impacted upon and around the burning
surface. These means were employed by Mr. H. for the purpose of extinguishing the
flame by the exclusion of the contact of the atmosphere, which he knew was
necessary to the continuance of every combustion. The result was in conformity with
the design, for the flame immediately went out. As soon as the flame was
extinguished, the pain began to abate in intensity, but still continued, and gave the
sensation usually the effect of a slight application of heat or fire to the body, which
induced him to seize his pantaloons with one of his hands and to pinch them up into
a conical form over the injured part of the leg, thereby to remove them from any
contact with the skin below. This operation was continued for a minute or two, with a
design of extinguishing any combustion which might be present in the substance of
his apparel, but which was not visible at the time. At the beginning of the accident,
the sensation of injury was confined to a spot of small diameter, and in its progress
the pain was still restricted to this spot, increasing in intensity and depth to a
30. considerable extent, but without much if any enlargement of the surface which it
occupied at the beginning. A warmth was felt to a considerable distance around the
spot primarily affected, but the sensation did not by any means amount in degree to
the feeling of pain. This latter sensation was almost, if not entirely confined to the
narrow limits which bounded the seat of the first attack, and this sensation was no
otherwise modified during the progress of the accident, than by its increasing
intensity and deeper penetration into the muscles of the limb, which at its greatest
degree seemed to sink an inch or more into the substance of the leg.
"'Believing the combustion to have been extinguished by the means just noticed, and
the pain having greatly subsided, leaving only the feeling usually the effect of a slight
burn, he untied and pulled up his pantaloons and drawers, for the purpose of
ascertaining the condition of the part which had been the seat of his suffering. He
found a surface on the outer and upper part of the left leg, reaching from the femoral
end of the fibula in an oblique direction, towards the upper portion of the
grastrochnemi muscles, about three-fourths of an inch in width, and three inches in
length, denuded of the scarfskin, and this membrane gathered into a roll at the lower
edge of the abraded surface. The injury resembled very exactly in appearance an
abrasion of the skin of like extent and depth, often the effect of slight mechanical
violence, except that the surface of it was extremely dry, and had a complexion more
livid than that of wounds of a similar extent produced by the action of mechanical
causes.' pp. 25-26.
"His drawers, composed of silk and wool, immediately over the abraded skin, were
burnt entirely through, but the scorching had not extended in the slightest degree
beyond. The pantaloons, made of broadcloth, were uninjured; but over the affected
spot, the extremities of the wool were tinged with a kind of dark, yellowish matter,
which could be easily scraped off with a knife.
"'Considering the injury not to be of a serious character, Mr. H. bestowed upon its
treatment no particular care or attention, but pursued his usual avocations within
doors and in the open air, which was very cold, until the evening of the succeeding
day. At this time the wound became inflamed and painful, and was dressed with a
salve, into the composition of which the rosin of turpentine entered in considerable
proportion. This treatment was continued for four or five days, during which time the
wound presented the usual aspect of a burn from ordinary causes, except in its
31. greater depth and more tardy progress towards cicatrization, which did not take place
till after thirty-two days from the date of the infliction of the injury. The part of the
ulcer which healed last was the point of inception and intensity of the pain at the time
of attack, and which point was evidently the seat of deeper injury than any other
portion of the wounded surface. About the fifth day after the accident, a physician
was requested to take charge of the treatment, and the remedies employed were
such chiefly, as are usual in the treatment of burns from other causes, except that
twice a week the surface of the ulcer was sprinkled over with calomel, and a dressing
of simple cerate applied above it. In the space between the wound and the groin
there was a considerable soreness of the integuments to the touch, which continued
during the greatest violence of the effects of the accident, and then gradually
subsided. The cicatrix is at this time, March 24th, entire; but the surface is unusually
scabrous, and has a much more livid aspect than that of similar scars left after the
infliction of burns from common causes. The dermis seemed to have been less
perfectly regenerated than is usual from burns produced by ordinary means, and the
circulation through the part is manifestly impeded, apparently in consequence of
atony of its vessels, to an extent far beyond any thing of a similar nature to be
observed after common burns.'" pp. 27-28.
The Classical Family Library. Numbers XV, XVI, and XVII. Euripides
translated by the Reverend R. Potter, Prebendary of Norwich. Harper
& Brothers, New York. These three volumes embrace the whole of
Euripides—Æschylus and Sophocles having already been published in
the Library. A hasty glance at the work will not enable us to speak
positively in regard to the value of these translations. The name of
Potter, however, is one of high authority, and we have no reason to
suspect that he has not executed his task as well as any man living
could have done it. But that these, or that any poetic versions can
convey to the mind of the merely general reader the most remote
conception of either the manner, the spirit, or the meaning of the
Greek dramatists, is what Mr. Potter does not intend us to believe,
and what we certainly should not believe if he did. At all events, it
32. must be a subject of general congratulation, that in the present day,
for a sum little exceeding three dollars, any lover of the classics may
possess himself of complete versions of the three greatest among
the ancient Greek writers of tragedy.
Ardent admirers of Hellenic Literature, we have still no passion for
Euripides. Truly great when compared with many of the moderns, he
falls immeasurably below his immediate predecessors. "He is
admirable," says a German critic, "where the object calls chiefly for
emotion, and requires the display of no higher qualities; and he is
still more so where pathos and moral beauty are united. Few of his
pieces are without particular passages of the most overpowering
beauty. It is by no means my intention to deny him the possession of
the most astonishing talents: I have only stated that these talents
were not united with a mind in which the austerity of moral
principle, and the sanctity of religious feelings were held in the
highest honor."
The life, essence, and characteristic qualities of the ancient Greek
drama may be found in three things. First, in the ruling idea of
Destiny or Fate. Secondly, in the Chorus. Thirdly, in Ideality. But in
Euripides we behold only the decline and fall of that drama, and the
three prevailing features we have mentioned are in him barely
distinguishable, or to be seen only in their perversion. What, for
example is, with Sophocles, and still more especially with Æschylus,
the obscure and terrible spirit of predestination, sometimes
mellowed down towards the catastrophe of their dramas into the
unseen, yet not unfelt hand of a kind Providence, or overruling God,
becomes in the handling of Euripides the mere blindness of accident,
or the capriciousness of chance. He thus loses innumerable
opportunities—opportunities which his great rivals have used to so
good an effect—of giving a preternatural and ideal elevation to moral
fortitude in the person of his heroes, by means of opposing them in
a perpetual warfare with the arbitrations and terrors of Destiny.
33. Again; the Chorus, which appears never to have been thoroughly
understood by the moderns—the Chorus of Euripides is not, alas!
the Chorus of his predecessors. That this singular, or at least
apparently singular feature, in the Greek drama, was intended for
the mere purpose of preventing the stage from being, at any
moment entirely empty, has been an opinion very generally, and
very unaccountably received. The Chorus was not, at any time, upon
the stage. Its general station was in the orchestra, in which it also
performed the solemn dances, and walked to and fro during the
choral songs. And when it did not sing, its proper station was upon
the thymele, an elevation somewhat like an altar, but with steps, in
front of the orchestra, raised as high as the stage, and opposite to
the scene—being also in the very centre of the entire theatre, and
serving as a point around which the semi-circle of the amphitheatre
was described. Most critics, however, have merely laughed at the
Chorus as something superfluous and absurd, urging the folly of
enacting passages supposed to be performed in secret in the
presence of an assembled crowd, and believing that as it originated
in the infancy of the art, it was continued merely through caprice or
accident. Sophocles, however, wrote a treatise on the Chorus, and
assigned his reasons for persisting in the practice. Aristotle says little
about it, and that little affords no clew to its actual meaning or
purpose. Horace considers it "a general expression of moral
participation, instruction, and admonition;" and this opinion, which is
evidently just, has been adopted and commented upon, at some
length, by Schlegel. Publicity among the Greeks, with their
republican habits and modes of thinking, was considered absolutely
essential to all actions of dignity or importance. Their dramatic
poetry imbibed the sentiment, and was thus made to display a spirit
of conscious independence. The Chorus served to give verisimilitude
to the dramatic action, and was, in a word, the ideal spectator. It
stood in lieu of the national spirit, and represented the general
participation of the human race, in the events going forward upon
the stage. This was its most extended, and most proper object; but
it had others of a less elevated nature, and more nearly in
accordance with the spirit of our own melo-drama.
34. But the Chorus of Euripides was not the true and unadulterated
Chorus of the purer Greek tragedy. It is even more than probable
that he did never rightly appreciate its full excellence and power, or
give it any portion of his serious attention. He made no scruple of
admitting the parabasis into his tragedies1—a license which although
well suited to the spirit of comedy, was entirely out of place, and
must have had a ludicrous effect in a serious drama. In some
instances also, among which we may mention the Danaidæ, a
female Chorus is permitted by him to make use of grammatical
inflexions proper only for males.
1 The parabasis was the privilege granted the Chorus of addressing the spectators in
its own person.
In respect to the Ideality of the Greek drama, a few words will be
sufficient. It was the Ideality of conception, and the Ideality of
representation. Character and manners were never the character
and manners of every day existence, but a certain, and very marked
elevation above them. Dignity and grandeur enveloped each
personage of the stage—but such dignity as comported with his
particular station, and such grandeur as was never at outrance with
his allotted part. And this was the Ideality of conception. The
cothurnus, the mask, the mass of drapery, all so constructed and
arranged as to give an increase of bodily size, the scenic illusions of
a nature very different, and much more extensive than our own,
inasmuch as actual realities were called in to the aid of art, were on
the other hand the Ideality of representation. But although in
Sophocles, and more especially in Æschylus, character and
expression were made subservient and secondary to this ideal and
lofty elevation—in Euripides the reverse is always found to be the
case. His heroes are introduced familiarly to the spectators, and so
far from raising his men to the elevation of Divinities, his Divinities
are very generally lowered to the most degrading and filthy
common-places of an earthly existence. But we may sum up our
opinion of Euripides far better in the words of Augustus William
Schlegel, than in any farther observations of our own.
35. "This poet has at the same time destroyed the internal essence of tragedy, and
sinned against the laws of beauty and proportion in its external structure. He
generally sacrifices the whole to the effect of particular parts, and in these he is also
more ambitious of foreign attractions, than of genuine poetical beauty."
The Early Naval History of England. By Robert Southey, L.L.D. Poet
Laureate. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Blanchard. The early naval
history of England, and by so fine a writer as Southey undoubtedly
is, either in poetry or prose, but more especially in the latter, cannot
fail of exciting a lively interest among readers of every class. In the
subject matter of this work we, as Americans, have moreover a
particular feeling, for it has been often remarked that in no national
characteristic do we bear a closer analogy to our progenitors in
Great Britain than in the magnificence and glory of our many
triumphs both over and upon the sea. To those who know Southey
well, and we sincerely hope there are not a few of our readers who
do know him intimately, through the medium of his writings at least,
we shall be under no necessity of giving any assurance that the
History of which we are now speaking, is a work of no common
merit, and worthy of all their attention. Southey is a writer who has
few equals any where, either in purity of truly English prose, or in
melody of immortal verse. He is great in every department of
Literature which he has attempted. And even did we feel inclined at
present, with his very happily executed Naval History before us, to
quarrel with some of his too zealous friends for overrating his merely
poetical abilities, we could not find it in our hearts to place him
second to any one—no, not to our own noble Irving in—we will not
use the term classical, but prefer repeating our former expression—
in truly English, undefiled, vigorous, and masculine prose. Yet this
the North American Review has ventured to do, not having, we
think, before its eyes the fear of flat and positive contradiction from
all authorities whose opinions are entitled to consideration.
36. Comparisons of this nature, moreover, rarely fail of appearing, even
although they really be not, invidious; and in the present instance
we are really aware of no reason, or rather of no possibility for
juxta-position. There are no points of approximation between Irving
and Southey, and they cannot be compared. Why not say at once,
for it could be said as wisely, and as satisfactorily, that Dante's verse
is superior to that of Metastasio—that the Latin of Erasmus is better
than the Latin of Buchanan—that Bolingbroke is a finer prose writer
than Horne Tooke, or coming home to our own times, that Tom
Moore is to be preferred to Lord Brougham, and the style of N. P.
Willis to the style of John Neal? We mean to deal, therefore, in
generalities, when we disagree with Mr. Everett in what he has
advanced. Irving is not a better prose writer than Southey. We know
of no one who is. In saying thus much we do not fear being accused
of a deficiency in patriotic feeling. No true—we mean no sensible
American will like a bad book the better for being American, and on
the other hand no sensible man of any country, who pretends to
even common freedom from prejudice, will esteem such a work as
the Naval History of Great Britain the less for being written by a
denizen of any region under the sun.
The Gift: A Christmas and New Year's Present for 1836. Edited by
Miss Leslie. Philadelphia: E. L. Carey and A. Hart—We are really
sorry that we have no opportunity of noticing this beautiful little
Annual at length, and article by article, in our present number: and
this the more especially as the edition is even now nearly exhausted,
and it will be hardly worth while to say any thing concerning the
work in our next, by which time we are very sure there will not be a
copy to be obtained at any price. The Gift is highly creditable to the
enterprise of its publishers, and more so to the taste and talents of
Miss Leslie. This we say positively—the ill-mannered and worse-
natured opinion of the Boston Courier to the contrary
37. notwithstanding. Never had Annual a brighter galaxy of illustrious
literary names in its table of contents—and in no instance has any
contributor fallen below his or her general reputation. The
embellishments are not all of a high order of excellence. The
Orphans, for example, engraved by Thomas B. Welch from a
painting by J. Wood, is hard and scratchy in manner, and altogether
unworthy of the book—while the head of the child in the Prawn
Fishers, engraved by A. W. Graham from a painting by W. Collins,
R.A. has every appearance of a cabbage. But the portrait of Fanny
Kemble by Cheney, from Sully, is one of the finest things in the
world, notwithstanding a certain wiriness above the hair. The
likeness is admirable—the attitude exquisite—and the countenance is
beaming all over with intelligence. The gem of the book, however, is
the Smuggler's Repose, engraved by W. E. Tucker from a painting by
J. Tennant. We repeat it, this is absolutely a gem—such as any
Souvenir in any country might be proud to possess, and sufficient of
itself to stamp a high character upon the Gift.
INDEX
To Volume I of the Southern Literary Messenger.
PROSE.
A
Abolition of Southern Slavery—how regarded in New England 87
Adams' and Everett's Eulogies on La Fayette, reviewed 307
38. Address, Mr. Garnett's, on Associations to promote Education 282
Address, Mrs. Sigourney's, on Female Education 169
Address, President Olin's Inaugural, reviewed 15
Address, President Vethake's Inaugural, reviewed 585
Adventures of Harry Humbug, Esq. 772
Advice to Law Students 33, 34
Advice from a Father to his only Daughter 187
Affectation, Thoughts on 365
Alleghany Levels, described 97
Ambitious Lawyer, Memoir of an 645
American Churches, Visit to, by Doctors Reed and Matheson, notice
of 714
American Literature, its impediments 220
American Novels, recent—The Insurgents 478
Anecdotes of Patrick Henry 332
Annals of Education, recommended 205
Athens, a few days in, by Fanny Wright, notice of 715
Aunts, my two 189
39. Autobiography of Pertinax Placid, extracts from 617, 706
B
Bancroft's History of the U. S. vol I. reviewed 587
Bashful Gentleman 429
Bathmendi, a Persian Tale, from the French of M. Florian 377
Beauties of the Court of Charles II. by Mrs. Jameson, reviewed 312
Belford Regis, by Miss Mitford, noticed 651
Berenice, a Tale, by Edgar A. Poe 333
Black Watch, the, noticed 714
Blackbeard, a Philadelphia Story, notice of 595
Blackstone, Judge, a Poet 315
Blackstone's Commentaries, a note to 227
Remarks on that note 266
Reply to the remarks 388
Bon-Bon, a Tale, by Edgar A. Poe 693
Browne, P. A.—Hints to Geological Students 162, 300
Essay on the Mineral Wealth of Virginia 91
Law Case, involving a question in Hydraulics and Hydrostatics 44
Bryant's Poems, notice of 250
Buffon, his theory of the Earth's origin 302
40. Bulwer, his Pilgrims of the Rhine reviewed 53
Last Days of Pompeii 241
Convicted of Plagiarism 246
Burnet, Thomas, his theory of the Earth 301
Butler, Mrs. (once Miss Kemble) notices of her Journal 459, 524
C
"Calavar, an American Novel," reviewed 315
"Cavaliers of Virginia," reviewed 385
Caucus System, its effects 218
Etymology of "Caucus" 455
"Celebrated Trials of all Countries," notice of 458
"Celebrated Women," Madame Junot's Memoirs of, noticed 458
"Chances and Changes," reviewed 649
Chotank, Recollections of 43
Christian Education, Essay on 432
Churches, American, Drs. Reed and Matheson's visit to, noticed 714
Circumstantial Evidence, its danger illustrated by a narrative 142
Classics, thoughts on the study of 213
Classmates, My, a Tale 106
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