claimed that he was the real hero of the Mexican war--in which he served
as a lieutenant of the New York volunteers--has recently published in
London a brace of volumes under the title of _The Rifle Rangers_. In his
preface he alleges that all his statements offered as facts are strictly
true, though at times highly colored for the sake of effect. This will
be obvious to every reader, for the book is full of adventures of all
sorts--perils by sword, fire, rivals, wild animals, bloodhounds,
&c.--which are related in a lively, dashing style, varied at times with
descriptions of the scenery, plants, and inhabitants of Central America.
One of the London journals, in a review of it, observes, "We would not
wish a more lively or interesting companion than Captain Reid,--a
_thorough Yankee soldier_, combining humor, imagination, and dashing
bravery in the highest degree." The thorough Yankee, like many others
much quoted abroad, is a clever Irish adventurer, who was in the United
States altogether some four or five years, engaged chiefly as a writer
for the journals in New York and Philadelphia.
* * * * *
Among our frequent foreign correspondents the reader will be pleased to
recognize the accomplished and adventurous traveler Mr. JOHN E. WARREN,
whose work on South America, _Para, or Scenes and Adventures on the
Banks of the Amazon_, has just been published, in two octavo volumes, by
Bentley, of London. We present the first of a series from him in our
initial number.
* * * * *
The Rev. FRANCIS L. HAWKS, LL.D. will publish in the autumn a collection
of very rare and curious tracts, illustrative of our early Colonial
History, with copious notes, &c. Dr. Hawks may be safely regarded as an
authority of the very highest value, upon whatever relates to the
religious and social history of the country. He adds to persevering and
well-directed research the soundest discrimination, and a judicial
fairness; and we trust an impression which has obtained within a few
years, that he is engaged upon an extensive work that will illustrate
his abilities in this field, is not without foundation.
* * * * *
The celebrated Princess BELGIOSO, whose achievements in the tented
field, as in the showy salons of fashion, have long been familiar, has,
as is well known in the gay world of Europe, been a successful
cultivator of letters, and has frequently delighted the readers of
French and Italian with brilliant sketches of society and manners. She
is now traveling in Greece, whence she will proceed into the romantic
and picturesque regions of Asia, and the proprietors of the _New York
Tribune_ have engaged her as one of the regular foreign correspondents
of that journal.
* * * * *
M. EUGENE SCRIBE, the writer of the libretto of _Tempesta_, just brought
out in London, at the age of eighteen years, was placed under the care
of M. Dupin, now the President of the French Legislative Assembly, to
study the Roman law. Shortly after reaching his majority he began his
dramatic career by writing a vaudeville for the Gymnase. His success
here led to an engagement to write for the Theatre Francais, and to the
establishment of his reputation as a dramatic author. He has composed
ten comedies in five acts, and twenty in one, two, or three acts, for
the Francais. He has written one hundred and fifty vaudevilles for the
Gymnase. As a lyrical poet he stands unequalled for the number of his
_libretti_, having written the poetry of forty grand operas and of one
hundred comic operas. His works, exclusive of novels, are three hundred
and forty in number.
* * * * *
The Literature of the Western States has not yet furnished any name that
shines with a fairer and serener lustre than that of ALICE CAREY,
several of whose poems, of "imagination all compact," and faultless in
rhythmical art, will live among the contributions which this age offers
to the permanent in literary creation. Her younger sister, PH[OE]BE
CAREY, is also a woman of genius, and has written almost as largely as
Alice, in a similar vein of thought and feeling. They are now on a visit
to New York, and will pass the summer among the resorts in the vicinity
of the city.
* * * * *
MRS. OAKSMITH, we are pleased to be advised, is engaged upon an epic
poem, which has been meditated several years. The _Jacob Leisler_ of
Mrs. Oaksmith is probably the finest specimen of dramatic writing of
which we can boast. Her other tragedy, _The Roman Tribute_, is in
rehearsal in Philadelphia, where it will be produced with a strong cast
and the utmost scenic magnificence. Mrs. Oaksmith will pass the summer
among the seaside retreats of Maine, with Fredrika Bremer.
* * * * *
PROFESSOR NICHOL'S sometime expected work upon the United States has
just appeared, from the press of Parker, the publisher of _Fraser's
Magazine_. It is about two years since Professor Nichol returned to
Scotland, after giving his astronomical lectures in our principal
cities, and traveling widely in the agricultural portions of the
country. His book, we understood him to state, was to be addressed to
the middling classes, and to treat principally of points connected with
emigration.
* * * * *
BAYARD TAYLOR'S "El Dorado" is praised in all the English journals as
the best book that has been written upon California. Bohn has published
it in his "Shilling Series," and it is also issued by Bentley.
* * * * *
MR. CYRUS EATON, of Warren, Me. has in preparation a complete History of
St. George's River, from its first discovery; of the early transactions,
Indian wars, and especially the events at St. George's Fort and other
military posts in the neighborhood; an account of the several
settlements commenced under the Waldo Patent, up to the time of their
incorporation as towns; and a full history of the town of Warren to the
present time. The work to consist of about 400 pages octavo.
* * * * *
Among the American Books reprinted by Bentley in the last month are
Bayard Taylor's "El Dorado," and "Letters of a Traveler," by "Bryant,
_the American novelist_." His original books from this country, for the
same period, are "Life in the Forest and the Frontier," by Alfred B.
Street, and a very charming book by a daughter of Fenimore Cooper,
entitled "Rural Hours in the United States."
* * * * *
The REV. DR. CROLY ON BAPTISM.--The Rev. Dr. Croly has again left poetry
and romantic fiction for religious controversy. On the 13th June he
published in London--we suppose in reply to the late work of Baptist
Noel--a volume entitled, "The Theory of Baptism, or the Regeneration of
Infants in Baptism vindicated on the testimony of Holy Scripture,
Christian Antiquity, and the Church of England."
* * * * *
MAJOR HERBERT EDWARDES, the son of a vicar in one of the midland
counties, who went to the East Indies a few years ago, and rose rapidly
by military prowess, diplomatic skill, and learning, has lately returned
to England, and Bentley announces for publication in the month of June,
in two octavos from his pen, a "Narrative of Service and Adventure on
the Punjaub Frontier during 1848 and 1849."
* * * * *
SIR JAMES ALEXANDER, who is well known in New York for his residence
here during a considerable portion of the period described in his work
on the United States, has just published in London, in two volumes, with
illustrations, "Acadie, or Seven Years' Explorations in British
America."
* * * * *
A Second Series of Coleridge's "Friend" has been published in London, in
three volumes, 8vo., under the title of "_Essays on his own Times_," by
S. T. Coleridge; edited by his daughter. It is made up mostly of his
political contributions to the _Post_ and _Courier_.
* * * * *
A Complete Edition of the philosophical works of J. F. Herbart is
announced for publication by Voss, of Leipzig. It will be completed in
twelve volumes, 8vo., edited by Prof. Hartenstein, of Leipzig, and will
be finished in about two years.
* * * * *
MR. BAIRD, of Philadelphia, has in press a richly illustrated edition of
Gray's Poems.
From the London Times.
THE HISTORY OF GREECE
BY GEORGE GROTE.
Mr. Grote's history has yet arrived only at the close of the fourth
century B.C., and the fall of the Thirty Tyrants. Two of the six
compartments in which he proposes, to use his own quaint phrase, "to
exhaust the free life of collective Hellas," still remain to be
accomplished. But the history of Greece is written. Stirring events and
great names are still to come; the romantic enterprise of Cyrus and the
retreat of the Ten Thousand, the elective trust of Thebes, and the
chivalrous glories of her one great man. Demosthenes has yet to prove
how vain is the divinest eloquence when poured to degenerate hearts.
Agis and Cleomenes have yet to exhibit the spectacle, ever fraught with
melancholy interest, of noble natures out of harmony with the present,
and spending their energies in the vain attempt to turn back the stream
of time and call again into existence the feelings and the institutions
of an irrevocable past. The monarchy of Philip is yet due to fate.
Macedon is still to Greece what Russia, before Peter the Great, was to
Europe--a half-unknown and barbarous land, full of latent energy and
power, and waiting for the rise of a master mind to discern its embryo
greatness and turn its peasants into the unconquerable phalanx.
Alexander must arise to carry forth with his victorious arms the seeds
of Greek civilization over the Eastern world. Aristotle must arise to
gather up in one boundless mind the vast results of Greek philosophy,
and found an empire vaster and more enduring than that of his great
pupil in the subjugated intellect of man. But the history of Greece is
finished. Athens and Sparta, the two great antagonistic types of Greek
society, politics, and education, have attained their full development,
passed their allotted hour of trial, and touched upon their doom. The
shades of night are gathering on the bright day of Hellas. The momentous
work of that wonderful people is accomplished; the interest of the great
intellectual and moral contest has centred in one man; the last scene of
the _Phædo_ has been enacted, and Socrates has died.
The history of Greece is written, and the character of the historian is
decided. Mr. Grote has achieved a noble work--a work which, unless the
glory of classical literature is a dream, will well repay, in usefulness
and in renown, the devotion of a scholars life. His book will be called
great while Grecian story retains its interest. Even making allowance
for the wonderful labors of the Germans and the extraordinary addition
which their learned toils have made to our knowledge of the subject, we
should say that the work before us has almost disentombed many portions
of Greek life. We cannot sufficiently extol the wonderful knowledge of
all the feelings, habits, associations, and institutions of an extinct
people which every page exhibits, and the familiar mastery with which a
mind steeped in Grecian lore analyzes, combines, criticizes, and unfolds
the mass of heterogeneous and often conjectural materials on which it
has to work. Not only have we been enabled to read Greek history with
new eyes and a new understanding, but light has been poured upon its
literature; and, to apply to Mr. Grote the compliment he pays to others,
"the poets, historians, orators, and philosophers of Greece have been
all rendered both more intelligible and more instructive to the student,
and the general picture of the Grecian world may now be conceived with a
degree of fidelity which, considering our imperfect materials, it is
curious to contemplate." Two volumes more at least must be yet to come,
but Mr. Grote's pedestal is sure; and nothing can diminish the
satisfaction he must now feel at his decided and proclaimed success but
the consciousness that the moment is approaching when he must part with
the companion of many a sweet though toilsome hour, and experience the
mingled feelings which Gibbon has so well portrayed in writing "the last
page of the last chapter" of the history of Greece.
It is pity that such high intrinsic merits should be marred, both as
regards the pleasure and the instruction of the reader, by a fatal
deficiency of style. It is pity, but it is true. Mr. Grote seems to have
lived in the works of the Greek writers till he has almost forgotten the
forms and cadence of his mother tongue. It is not only that he so
frequently has resort to an uncouth Greek compound when he might easily
express the same idea in two or three English words, if not one; there
is a perpetual clumsiness in his construction of common sentences and
his use of common words. Clarendon himself is not harder or more
tortuous. Even in purely narrative parts, which ought to flow most
easily, the understanding of the reader can seldom keep pace with his
eye. Cyclopean epithets are piled together almost at random on any
substantive which will have the complaisance to receive them. The choice
of expression and metaphor is sometimes such as almost to rival the
achievements of Castlereagh in his happiest hour. We have people
existing, "not as individual names on paper, but simply as an
imposturous nominal aggregate,"--Thucydides "reserving his flowers to
strew on the grave of Nicias,"--the Athenians "sailing out" to action,
having "left their sails at Teichiassa," and their "sailing back" to
Teichiassa for their sails,--Athens, "the mistress and successor of the
Ionian Confederacy,"--inestimable stepping-stones toward a goal, and
oligarchical conspirators against popular liberty "tying down the
patient while the process of emasculation was being consummated." We are
sorry to say that these instances are taken from the last two volumes,
so that Mr. Grote does not improve as he advances. In the first volume,
when relating the legends of early Greece, we are glad he does not
imitate the forced simplicity with which Dr. Arnold tells the legends of
early Rome; but it is too flat to describe Atalanta as "beautiful and
matchless for swiftness of foot, but living in the forest as a huntress,
and unacceptable to Aphrodite." The redeeming point, and a great
redeeming point it is, is the total absence of anything like
affectation. All the peculiarities are genuine, and everything that is
genuine in composition, though it cannot be admired, may be borne. But
for this we should be compelled to class one of the best of English
books among the very worst of English writings. Mr. Grote must remember
that no man who writes for posterity can afford to neglect the art of
composition. The trimmer bark, though less richly laden, will float
further down the stream of time, and when so many authors of real
ability and learning are competing for every niche in the temple of
fame, the coveted place will certainly be won by style.
It is this deficiency of art which can alone prevent Mr. Grote's history
from completely superseding both the works already existing of the same
magnitude. Neither the spirit of Mitford nor the solid sense of
Thirlwall could long preserve them from eclipse. The light of the former
indeed has long grown dim. He is always blundering, and his blunders are
always on the Tory side. Arnold's good word has kept him a few years
longer on our bookshelves. Dr. Thirlwall has higher qualities, but, not
to mention that he has damaged himself by writing against Mitford
instead of ignoring him, he is terribly dry, and Mr. Grote leaves him
far behind in appreciation of all that belongs to Greece, in loving
industry, in warmth of sympathy, and, well read scholars as they both
are, in deep knowledge of his subject. The cheaper and more compendious
histories of course are not affected. The light and credulous Goldsmith
is still left to contend with the more correct but duller Keightley for
the patronage of ingenuous youth. Perhaps both yield to the meritorious
little work published by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge. But a place, and an honorable place, is still left for any
one who can tell the story of Greece in a succinct and lively form,
availing himself of the light which Mr. Grote has shed upon the subject,
cultivating candor and right sympathies, cutting short the
ante-historical period, bringing strongly out the great states and the
great men, limiting himself to two moderate volumes, and addressing
himself especially to the unlearned and the young.
* * * * *
UNIVERSITY OF NEW YORK.--At a recent meeting of the trustees and
faculty, the Rev. George W. Bethune, D.D., was unanimously elected
Chancellor of the University, in the place of the Hon. Theodore
Frelinghuysen. At the same meeting Mr. G. C. Anthon, formerly of the
College of Louisiana, son of the Rev. Dr. Anthon of this city, was
chosen professor of Greek language and literature.
* * * * *
NINEVEH
By Edwin Atherstone.
Of NINEVEH, the mighty city of old;
The queen of all the nations. At her throne
Kings worshipp'd; and from her their subject crowns,
Humbly obedient, held; and on her state
Submiss attended; nor such servitude
Opprobrious named. From that great eminence
How, like a star, she fell, and passed away;
Such the high matter of my song shall be
The vision comes upon me! To my soul
The days of old return: I breathe the air
Of the young world: I see her giant sons.
Like to a gorgeous pageant in the sky
Of summer's evening, cloud on fiery cloud
Thronging upheaped, before me rise the walls
Of the Titanic city: brazen gates,
Towers, temples, palaces enormous piled;
Imperial NINEVEH, the earthly queen!
In all her golden pomp I see her now;
Her swarming streets; her splendid festivals;
Her sprightly damsels to the timbrel's sound
Airily bounding, and their anklets' chime;
Her lusty sons, like summer morning gay;
Her warriors stern; her rich-robed rulers grave:
I see her halls sunbright at midnight shine;
I hear the music of her banquetings;
I hear the laugh, the whisper, and the sigh.
A sound of stately treading toward me comes;
A silken wafting on the cedar floor:
As from Arabia's flowering groves, an air
Delicious breathes around. Tall, lofty browed,
Pale, and majestically beautiful;
In vesture gorgeous as the clouds of morn;
With slow proud step her glorious dames sweep by
And I look; and lo! before the walls,
Unnumbered hosts in flaming panoply;
Chariots like fire, and thunder-bearing steeds!
I hear the shouts of battle: like the waves
Of a tumultuous sea they roll and dash!
In flame and smoke the imperial city sinks!
Her walls are gone: her palaces are dust:
The desert is around her, and within:
Like shadows have the mighty passed away!
Whence and how came the ruin? By the hand
Of the oppressor were the nations bowed;
They rose against him, and prevailed: for he
The haughty monarch who the earth could rule,
By his own furious passions was o'er-ruled:
With pride his understanding was made dark,
That he the truth knew not; and, by his lusts;
The crushing burthen of his despotism;
And by the fierceness of his wrath, the hearts
Of men he turned from him. So to kings
Be he example, that the tyrannous
And iron rod breaks down at length the hand
That wields it strongest: that by virtue alone
And justice monarchs sway the hearts of men:
For there hath God implanted love of these,
And hatred of oppression; which, unseen
And noiseless though it work; yet in the end,
Even like the viewless elements of the storm,
Brooding in silence, will in thunder burst!
So let the nations learn, that not in wealth;
Nor in the grosser pleasures of the sense;
Nor in the glare of conquest; nor the pomp
Of vassal kings, and tributary lands;
Do happiness and lasting power abide:
That virtue unto man best glory is;
His strength and truest wisdom; and that vice,
Though for a season it the heart delight;
Or to worse deeds the bad man do make strong;
Brings misery yet, and terror, and remorse,
And weakness and destruction in the end.
So if the nations learn, then not in vain,
The mighty one hath been; and is no more!
* * * * *
The British Association will meet at Edinburgh, on Wednesday, the 31st
of July, under the presidency of its founder, Sir David Brewster.
* * * * *
A lover gazed on the eyes of his mistress till she blushed. He pressed
her hand to his heart and said--"My looks have planted roses on thy
cheeks; he who sows the seed should reap the harvest."
* * * * *
IF I WERE A VOICE.
If I were a voice, a persuasive voice,
That could travel the wide world through.
I would fly on the beams of the morning light,
And speak to men with a gentle might,
And tell them to be true.
I'd fly, I'd fly, o'er land and sea,
Wherever a human heart might be,
Telling a tale, or singing a song,
In praise of the right--in blame of the wrong.
If I were a voice, a consoling voice,
I'd fly on the wings of air.
The homes of sorrow and guilt I'd seek,
And calm and truthful words I'd speak
To save them from despair.
I'd fly, I'd fly, o'er the crowded town,
And drop, like the happy sunlight, down
Into the hearts of suffering men,
And teach them to rejoice again.
If I were a voice, a convincing voice,
I'd travel with the wind,
And whenever I saw the nations torn
By warfare, jealousy, or scorn,
Or hatred of their kind,
I'd fly, I'd fly, on the thunder crash,
And into their blinded bosoms flash;
And, all their evil thoughts subdued,
I'd teach them Christian brotherhood.
If I were a voice, a pervading voice,
I'd seek the kings of earth;
I'd find them alone on their beds at night,
And whisper words that should guide them right--
Lessons of priceless worth;
I'd fly more swift than the swiftest bird,
And tell them things they never heard--
Truths which the ages for aye repeat--
Unknown to the statesmen at their feet.
If I were a voice, an immortal voice,
I'd speak in the people's ear;
And whenever they shouted "_Liberty_,"
Without deserving to be free,
I'd make their error clear.
I'd fly, I'd fly, on the wings of day,
Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way,
And making all the world rejoice--
If _I_ were a voice--an immortal voice.--_C. Mackay._
From Blackwood's Magazine.
THE GREEN HAND.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "TOM CRINGLE'S LOG."
PART I.
"Come, old ship, give us a yarn!" said the younger forecastle-men to an
old one, on board of an Indiaman then swiftly cleaving the waves of the
western Atlantic before the trade-wind, and outward-bound, with a hearty
crew and a number of passengers. It was the second of the two
dog-watches, and the ship being still in the region of evening
twilights, her men in a good humor, and with leisure, were then usually
disposed, as on this occasion, to make fast their roaming thoughts by
help of a good yarn, when it could be got. There were plenty of
individuals, amongst a crew of forty, calculated by their experience, or
else by their flow of spirits, and fancy, to spin it. Each watch into
which they were divided had its especial story-teller, with whose merits
it twitted the other, and on opportunity of a general _reunion_, they
were pitted against one another like two fighting-cocks, or a couple of
rival novelists in more polished literary society at home. The one was a
grave, solemn old North-Sea whaler with one eye, who professed to look
down with contempt upon all raw head-work, on navigation compared with
seamanship, and fiction against fact. As for himself, he rested all his
fame upon actual experience, and told long dry narratives of old
shipmates, of his voyages and adventures, and sometimes of the most
incredible incidents, with a genuine briny gusto which pleased the
veteran stagers beyond expression. They were full of points of
seamanship--expedients for nice emergencies, tacks, knots, and splices.
He gave the very conversation of his characters, with all the "says he"
and "says I;" and one long recital of the old fellow's turned upon the
question between himself and a newfangled second mate about the right
way to set up back-stays, in which he, the sailor, was proved correct by
the loss of the ship.