“MY NATIVE LAKE.
“Thy verdant banks, thy lucid stream,
Lit by the sun’s resplendent beam,
Reflect each bending tree so light
Upon thy bounding bosom bright.
Could I but see thee once again,
My own, my beautiful Champlain!
“The little isles that deck thy breast,
And calmly on thy bosom rest,
How often, in my childish glee,
I’ve sported round them, bright and free!
Could I but see thee once again,
My own, my beautiful Champlain!
“How oft I’ve watch’d the fresh’ning shower
Bending the summer tree and flower,
And felt my little heart beat high
As the bright rainbow graced the sky.
Could I but see thee once again,
My own, my beautiful Champlain!
“And shall I never see thee more,
My native lake, my much-loved shore
And must I bid a long adieu,
My dear, my infant home, to you?
Shall I not see thee once again,
My own, my beautiful Champlain?”
In the way of criticism upon these extraordinary compositions, Mr.
Irving has attempted little, and, in general, he seems more affected by
the loveliness and the purity of the child than even by the genius she
has evinced—however highly he may have estimated this latter. In
respect, however, to a poem entitled “My Sister Lucretia,”—he thus
speaks—“We have said that the example of her sister Lucretia was
incessantly before her, and no better proof can be given of it than in
the following lines, which breathe the heavenly aspirations of her pure
young spirit, _in strains to us quite unearthly. We may have read poetry
more_ _artificially perfect in its structure, but never any more truly
divine in its inspiration._” The nature of inspiration is
disputable—and we will not pretend to assert that Mr. Irving is in the
wrong. His words, however, in their hyperbole, do wrong to his subject,
and would be hyperbole still, if applied to the most exalted poets of
all time.
* * * * *
_Incidents of Travel in Central America, etc. By_ John L.
Stephens. _Two Volumes. New York: Harper and Brothers._
Mr. Stephens’ former book, “Incidents of Travel in Egypt, Arabia Petrea,
and Palestine,” was everywhere well received, and gained him high
reputation—reputation not altogether well deserved. No one can deny his
personal merits as a traveller, his enthusiasm, boldness, acuteness,
courage in danger, and perseverance under difficulty. His manner of
narration is also exceedingly pleasing; frank, unembarrassed and direct,
without pretension or attempt at effect. But neither were his
reflections characterised by profundity, nor had he that degree of
education which would have enabled him to travel, with benefit to
himself or to others, through regions involving so much of historical
importance as Egypt, and especially as Arabia Petrea. Through a
deficiency of previous information in regard to the moot points of this
classical ground, he suffered many things to pass unexamined, whose
examination would have thrown light upon history, and lustre upon his
own name. Our remarks here apply more particularly to the southern
regions of Arabia. In regard to Arabia Petrea, he committed some errors
of magnitude. Before entering upon his travels, he had been much
interested in Keith’s book upon the literal fulfilment of the Biblical
Prophecies. In this work the predictions of Isaiah, respecting the
ancient Idumea, are especially insisted upon, and the sentence, “_None
shall pass through thee forever and ever_,” quoted as a remarkable
instance of literal fulfilment. Dr. Keith states roundly that all
attempts at passing through Idumea have actually failed, and expresses
his belief that such will always be the case. Mr. Stephens resolved to
test this point, and congratulates himself and his readers upon the
success of his attempt at traversing the disputed region from one end to
the other. The truth is, however, that Arabia Petrea, through which he
unquestionably did pass, _is not at all the Idumea alluded to in the
prophecies_, this latter lying much farther to the eastward. The
traveller had contented himself with the usual understanding upon this
subject. In the matter of the prophecy, both he and Dr. Keith might have
spared themselves much trouble by an examination of the Biblical text in
the original, before founding a question upon it. In an article on this
head, which appeared in the New York Review, we pointed out an obvious
mistranslation in the Hebrew words of the prediction—a mistranslation
which proves Mr. Stephens to have thrown away his courage and labor. The
passage in Isaiah 34, 10, which is rendered in our bibles by the
sentence, “And none shall pass through thee forever and ever,” runs in
the original Hebrew thus—
_Lenetsach metsachim ein over bah._
Literally—_Lenetsach_, for an eternity; _metsachim_, of eternities;
_ein_, not; _over_, moving about; _bah_, in it. For an eternity of
eternities (there shall) not (be any one) moving about in it. The
literal meaning of _bah_ is “in it,” and not “through it.” The
participle _over_, refers to one moving to and fro, or up and down, and
is the same phrase which is rendered “current,” as an epithet applied to
money, in Genesis, 23, 16. The prophet only intends to say that there
shall be no marks of life in the land, no living being there, no one
moving up and down in it. A similar mistranslation exists in regard to
the prophecy in Ezekiel, 35, 7, where death is threatened (according to
the usual construction) to any traveller who shall _pass through_. The
words are
_Venathati eth har Seir leshimmamah ushemmamah, vehichrati
mimmennu over vasal_—
Literally, “And I will give the mountain Seir for a desolation and a
desolation, and I will cut off from it him that goeth and him that
returneth.” By “him that goeth and him that returneth,” reference is had
to the passers to and fro, to the inhabitants. The prophet speaks only
of the general abandonment and desolation of the land.
We are not prepared to say that misunderstandings of this character will
be found in the present “Incidents of Travel.” Of Central America, and
her antiquities, Mr. Stephens may know, and no doubt does know, as much
as the most learned antiquarian. Here all is darkness. We have not yet
received from the Messieurs Harper a copy of the book, and can only
speak of its merits from general report, and from the cursory perusal
which has been afforded us by the politeness of a friend. The work is
certainly a magnificent one—perhaps the most interesting book of travel
ever published. An idea has gone abroad that the narrative is confined
to descriptions and drawings of Palenque; but this is very far from the
case. Mr. S. explored no less than six ruined cities. The “incidents,”
moreover, are numerous, and highly amusing. The traveller visited these
regions at a momentous time; during the civil war, in which Carrera and
Morazan were participants. He encountered many dangers, and his
hair-breadth escapes are particularly exciting.
* * * * *
_The Marrying Man. A Novel. By the Author of_ “Cousin Geoffrey.”
_Two Volumes. Philadelphia: Lea and Blanchard._
This novel is _inscribed_ to Theodore Hook, who, we are given to
understand in the preface, was the _chaperon_ of “Cousin Geoffrey,” and
“The Old Bachelor,”—two books of which we indistinctly remember to have
heard. The “Marrying Man” is not badly written, and will answer
sufficiently well for the ordinary patrons of the circulating library.
Better books might have been re-published, no doubt; but this, we
presume, will sell, and thus serve its purpose.
* * * * *
_The Poems and Prose Writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield. Two
Volumes. Vol. the First. Philadelphia. Printed for the
Proprietor._
This is a large octavo, embracing, we believe, the principal poems of
Mr. Fairfield, if not all of them, and to be followed by a collection of
his prose writings. His prose, so far as we have had an opportunity of
judging, is scarcely worth reading. His poems have, in many respects,
merit—in some respects, merit of a high order. His themes are often
well selected, lofty, and giving evidence of the true spirit. But their
execution is always disfigured by a miserable verbiage—words meaning
nothing, although sounding like sense, like the nonsense verses of Du
Bartas.
* * * * *
_The Moneyed Man. By_ Horace Smith. _Two Volumes. Philadelphia:
Lea and Blanchard._
This is a good book, and well worth the re-publication. The story is
skilfully constructed, and conveys an excellent moral. Horace Smith is
one of the authors of the “Rejected Addresses.” He is, perhaps, the most
erudite of all the English novelists, and unquestionably one of the best
in every respect. His style is peculiarly good.
* * * * *
_The Science of Government. Founded on Natural Law. By_ Clinton
Roosevelt. _New York: Dean and Trevett. Philadelphia: Drew and
Scammel._
Will _any_ one be kind enough to tell us who is Mr. Clinton Roosevelt?
We wish to know, of course. Mr. Roosevelt has published a little book.
It consists of a hundred little pages. Ten of these pages would make one
of our own. But a clever man may do a great thing in a small way, and
Mr. Roosevelt is unquestionably a clever man. For this we have his own
word, and who should know all about it better than he? Hear him!—
“Learned men have long contended that it was impossible for any human
intellect to grasp what has been here attempted;—that a Cyclopædia only
could embrace in one view all the arts and sciences which minister to
man’s necessity and happiness—and _that_ they give but little credit
for, as a Cyclopædia is a mere arbitary [we follow Mr. R.’s spelling as
in duty bound] alphabetical arrangement. _We_ [Mr. Roosevelt is a _we_]
would not say we have done even what we have without much toil and
sacrifice. It has cost the best ten years of the writer’s life to settle
its great principles, and give it form and substance. The great
interests of man were in a state of chaos, and this science [Mr.
Roosevelt’s] is to harmonise them, and run side by side with true
religion so far as that is meant ‘to feed the hungry, clothe the naked,
and make on earth peace and good will to man.’”
Ah!—we begin to breathe freely once more. We _had_ thought that the
world and all in it (this hot weather) were going to the
dogs,—“proceeding to the canines,” as Bilberry has it—but here is Mr.
Roosevelt, and we feel more assured. We entrench ourselves in security
behind his little book. “A larger work,” says he, “would have been more
imposing in appearance, but the truth is, large works and long speeches
are rarely made by men of powerful thought.” Never was anything more
true. “As to boasting,” he continues, very continuously, “the writer is
well aware that it is the worst policy imaginable.” In this opinion we
do not so entirely acquiesce. “The little man”—says he—the reader will
perceive that we are so rapt in admiration of Mr. Roosevelt that we
quote him at random—“The little man may say this book was not done
_secundum artem_—not nicely or critically.” He must be a _very_ little
man indeed, who would say so. _We_ think he has done it _quite_ nicely.
“My tone”—we here go on with Mr. Roosevelt—“may seem not strictly
according to _bien science_.” Oh, yes is it, Mr. Roosevelt; don’t
distress yourself now—it is, we assure you, very strictly according to
_bien science_, (good heavens!) and to every thing else.
“These remarks,” he observes, “are made that none may lightly damn the
work.” Of course; any one who should damn it lightly should be damned
himself. “But liberal criticism [ah! that is the thing,] will be
accepted as a favor, [the smallest favors thankfully accepted] and
writers who may undertake the task will confer an obligation by
directing a copy of their articles to the author, at New York, from
England, France or Germany, or any part of our own country where this
work may reach.” Certainly; no critic could do less—no liberal critic.
We shall send Mr. Roosevelt a copy of our criticism from Philadelphia,
and we would do the same thing if we were living at Timbuctoo.
* * * * *
_Life and Literary Remains of L. E. L. By_ Laman Blanchard. _2
vols. Lea and Blanchard._
This work contains the most authentic biography of the lamented L. E. L.
yet issued from the press, together with a collection of her posthumous
pieces, and several lighter effusions already published. The volumes
possess uncommon interest. The detail of her every-day life, the picture
of her gaiety and sweetness, and the criticisms on her genius, will
commend it to all who have loved, in other days, the poetry of this
sweet writer. Nor will the details of her melancholy death prove of less
interest. After fully examining all the evidence relating to this
tragedy, the author arrives at the conclusion that her death was
natural, and instigated neither by her own sorrows nor by the jealousy
of others. The conduct of her husband seems, in every respect, to have
been without censure.
Of the genius of Miss Landon it is almost unnecessary to speak. Without
the elegance of Mrs. Hemans, she had considerable grace; with a fine
ear, she was often careless in her rhythm; possessing a fancy exuberant
and glowing, she showered her metaphors too indiscriminately around her.
But few equalled her—if we may so speak—in the _passionate purity_ of
her verse. Affection breathed through every line she wrote. Perhaps
there was a mannerism, certainly an affectation, in her constant
reference to love, and blighted love especially; but even this error was
made seductive by the never-ceasing variety which she contrived to throw
around her theme, and the sweetness, richness, and enthusiasm of her
song. Her great faults were a want of method, and a careless, rapid
habit of composition. From first to last, she was emphatically an
“_improvisatrice_.” She wrote from whim rather than from plan, and
consequently was often trite, and always careless. These observations
will apply, we think, equally to her prose. Her “Ethell Churchill” may
be taken as a specimen, and the best specimen, of her style in romance
writing. It would be almost invidious to name any one of her long poems
as the finest. In her shorter pieces she is often more successful than
in more extended flights; and some of her most carelessly written
stanzas glitter most with the dew of Castaly. Without fear of
contradiction, we may say that she has left no living female poet to
compete with her in fame, unless Mrs. Norton may be said to be her
rival; and even with Mrs. Norton, so different are the two writers, no
parallel can be drawn. Let us be contented with placing Hemans, Landon
and Norton together in one glorious trio—the sweetest, brightest,
loftiest of the female poets of the present generation.
* * * * *
_Lectures on the Sphere and Character of Woman, and Other
Subjects. By_ George W. Burnap, _Pastor of the First Independent
Church of Baltimore. Philadelphia: Kay and Co._
These lectures are designed as a _pendant_ to a course delivered to the
Young Men of Baltimore, last winter, by Mr. Burnap. From the “Sphere and
Duties” of Woman the author has excluded all allusion to her physical
education and her political rights—regarding the first as a topic for
the physician, the last for the jurist. Perhaps this subdivision is
injudicious. At all events, from what we here know of Mr. Burnap, we
should have been pleased to have his subject extended to Woman in all
her relations.
The volume appears to us not only well written, but forcibly original in
many of its views and illustrations. A passage, at page 50, in which the
lecturer suggests the idea of an instinctive reverence in which each sex
holds the other, is not only new, but embodies a truth of important
result. Mr. B. justly styles the feeling a human religion. Its moral
effects are unquestionably great. The deterioration of every community
which isolates the sexes, or prevents their free intercommunication, is
here traced to a distinct and sufficient cause.
These lectures are handsomely printed and bound, and would form an
appropriate present to any lady.
* * * * *
_The Lady of Refinement in Manners, Morals and Religion. By_
Mrs. Sandford, _Author of “Woman in her Social and Domestic
Character.” James Loring: Boston._
Mrs. Sandford is the wife of an English clergyman, and has given
frequent evidences of her capacity. Her former work, “Woman in her
Social and Domestic Character,” was well received in her own country.
Whether it has been re-published here we cannot say. “The Lady of
Refinement” is well written, and appears to be carefully matured in its
opinions.
* * * * *