The old Hibernian boast, revived and embalmed by Moore in a melody, that

a fair and virtuous maiden, decked with gems both rich and rare, might

travel through Ireland unprotected and unmolested, may now be made by

America. So, at least, the author of _Hochelaga_ instructs us, avouching

his belief that a lady of any age and unlimited attractions may travel

through the whole Union without a single annoyance, but aided, on the

contrary, by the most attentive and unobtrusive civility. And many

American ladies do so travel; their own propriety of behaviour, and the

chivalry of their countrymen, for sole protectors. The best seat in

coach and at table, the best of every thing, indeed, is invariably given

up to them. This practical courtesy to the sex is certainly an excellent

point in the American character. A humorous exemplification is given of

it in _Hochelaga_. An Englishman at the New York theatre, having

engaged, paid for, and established himself in a snug front corner of a

box, thought himself justified in retaining it, even when summoned by an

American to yield it to a lady. A discussion ensued. The pit inquired

its cause; the lady's companion stepped forward and said, "There is an

Englishman here who will not give up his place to a lady." Whereupon the

indignant pit swarmed up into the box, gently seized the offender, and

carried him out of the theatre, neither regarding nor retaliating his

kicks, blows, and curses, set him carefully down upon the steps, handed

him his hat, his opera-glass, and the price of his ticket, and shut the

door in his face. "The shade of the departed Judge Lynch," concludes the

narrator of the anecdote, "must have rejoiced at such an angelic

administration of his law!"

On his route from New York to Boston, the Yankee capital, our author

made sundry observations on his fellow travellers by railway and

steam-boat. They were very numerous, and the fares were incredibly low.

There was also a prodigious quantity of luggage, notwithstanding that

many American gentlemen travel light, with their linen and brushes in

their great-coat pocket. Others, on the contrary, have an addiction to

very large portmanteaus of thin strong wood, bound with iron, nailed

with brass, initialed, double-locked and complicated, and possessing

altogether a peculiarly cautious and knowing look, which would stamp

them as American though they were encountered in Cabul or Algeria. Round

the walls of the reading-room at the Boston hotel were hung maps of the

States, the blue of the American territory thrusting itself up into the

red of the English to the furthest line of the different disputed

points. "At the top they were ornamented by some appropriate national

design, such as the American eagle carrying the globe in its talons,

with one claw stuck well into Texas, and another reaching nearly to

Mexico."

A remarkably clean city is Boston, quite Dutch in its propriety,

spotless in its purity; smoking in the streets is there prohibited, and

chewing has fewer proselytes than in most parts of the States. It is one

of the most ancient of American towns, having been founded within ten

years after the landing of the first New England settlers. The

anniversary of the day when

"A band of exiles moor'd their bark

On the wild New England shore,"

the 21st December 1620, is still celebrated at Plymouth, the earliest

settlement of the pilgrim fathers. Thousands flock from Boston to assist

at the ceremony. On the last anniversary, the author of _Hochelaga_ was

present. The proceedings of the day commenced with divine service,

performed by Unitarian and Baptist ministers. This over, a marshal of

the ceremonies proclaimed that the congregation were to form in

procession and march to the place where the "Plymouth Rock" had been,

there "to heave a sigh." The "heaving" having been accomplished with all

due decorum and melancholy--barring that a few unprincipled individuals

in the tail of the procession, fearing to be late for dinner, shirked

the sighing and took a short cut to the hotel--the banquet, not the

least important part of the day's business, commenced. The president sat

in a chair which came over with the pilgrims in their ship, the

Mayflower. Beside each plate were placed a few grains of dried maize--a

memento of the first gift of the friendly natives to the exiles. The

dinner went off with much order. A large proportion of the persons

present were members of temperance societies, and drank no wine. The

grand treat of the evening, at least to an Englishman, was the

speechifying. The following _resumA(C)_ is given to us as containing the

pith and substance of the majority of the speeches, which were all

prepared for the occasion, and, of course, contained much the same

thing. The orators usually commenced with "English persecution,

continued with,--landing in the howling wilderness--icebound

waters--pestilence--starvation--so on to foreign tyranny--successful

resistance--chainless eagles--stars and stripes--glorious

independence;--then; unheard of progress--wonderful industry--stronghold

of Christianity--chosen people--refuge of liberty;--again; insults of

haughty Albion--blazes of triumph--queen of the seas deposed for

ever--Columbia's banner of victory floating over every thing--fire and

smoke--thunder and lightning--mighty republic--boundless empire. When

they came to the 'innumerable millions' they were to be a few years

hence, they generally sat down greatly exhausted." Mr Everett, the late

American minister in London, was present at this dinner, and replied

with ability, eloquence, and good feeling, to a speech in which the

president had made a neatly turned and friendly reference to Great

Britain.

We prefer the American volume of _Hochelaga_ to the Canadian one,

although both are highly interesting. But, as he proceeds, the author

gains in vivacity and boldness. There is a deal of anecdote and lively

sketching in his account of the States; there are also some novel

opinions and sound reasoning. The chapter on the prospects of America

affords themes for much curious speculation concerning the probable

partition of the great republic. The discussion of the subject is,

perhaps, a little premature; although our author affirms his belief that

many now living will not die till they have seen monarchy introduced

into the stronghold of republicanism, and a king governing the slave

states of North America. He recognises, in the United States, the germs

of three distinct nations, the North, the West, and the South. Slavery

and foreign warfare, especially the former, are to be the apples of

discord, the wedges to split the now compact mass. The men of the North,

enlightened and industrious, commercial and manufacturing, are strenuous

advocates of peace. They have shown that they do not fear war; they it

was who chiefly fought the great fight of American independence; but

peace is essential to their prosperity, and they will not lightly forego

its advantages. This will sooner or later form the basis of differences

between them and the Western States, whose turbulent sons, rapid in

their increase, adventurous and restless, ever pushing forward, like

some rolling tide, deeper and deeper into the wilderness, and ever

seeking to infringe on neighbours' boundaries, covet the rich woods of

Canada, the temperate shores of Oregon, the fertile plains of

California. They have dispossessed, almost exterminated, the aborigines;

the wild beasts of the forest have yielded and fled before them, the

forest itself has made way for their towns and plantations. Growing in

numbers and power with a rapidity unparalleled in the world's history,

expansion and invasion are to them a second nature, a devouring

instinct. This unrestrained impulse will sooner or later urge them to

aggressions and produce a war. This they do not fear or object to;

little injury can be done to them; but the Northern States, to whose

trade war is ruin, will not be passively dragged into a conflict on

account of the encroaching propensities of their western brethren. These

differences of interests will lead to disputes, ill blood, and finally

to separation.

Between South and North, the probabilities of a serious, and no very

distant rupture, are strong and manifest. "Slavery" and "Abolition" will

be the battle-cries of the respective parties. It may almost be said

that the fight has already begun, at least on one side. An avowed

abolitionist dare not venture into the South. There are laws for his

chastisement, and should those be deemed too lenient, there are plenty

of lawless hands outstretched to string him to a tree. A deputy from

South Carolina openly declared in the House of Representatives at

Washington, that if they caught an abolitionist in their State, they

would hang him without judge or jury. A respectable Philadelphian and

ardent abolitionist confessed to us, a short time ago, not without some

appearance of shame at the state of things implied by the admission,

that it would be as much as his life was worth to venture into certain

slave-holding states. Hitherto the pro-slavery men have had the best of

it; the majority of presidents of the Union have been chosen from their

candidates, they have succeeded in annexing Texas, and latterly they

have struck up an alliance with the West, which holds the balance

between the South and the North, although, at the rate it advances, it

is likely soon to outweigh them both. But this alliance is rotten, and

cannot endure; the Western men are no partizans of slavery. Meantime,

the abolitionists are active; they daily become more weary of having the

finger of scorn pointed at them, on account of a practice which they

neither benefit by nor approve. Their influence and numbers daily

increase; in a few years they will be powerfully in the ascendant, they

will possess a majority in the legislative chambers, and vote the

extinction of slavery. To this, it is greatly to be feared, the fiery

Southerns will not submit without an armed struggle. "Then," says the

author of _Hochelaga_, "who can tell the horrors that will ensue? The

blacks, urged by external promptings to rise for liberty, the furious

courage and energy of the whites trampling them down, the assistance of

the free states to the oppressed, will drive the oppressors to

desperation: their quick perception will tell them that their loose

republican organization cannot conduct a defence against such odds; and

the first popular military leader who has the glory of a success, will

become dictator. This, I firmly believe, will be the end of the pure

democracy."

May such sinister predictions never be realised! Of the instability of

American institutions, we entertain no doubt; and equally persuaded are

we, that so vast a country, the interests of whose inhabitants are in

many respects so conflicting, cannot remain permanently united under one

government. But we would fain believe, that a severance may be

accomplished peaceably, and without bloodshed; that the soil which has

been converted from a wilderness to a garden by Anglo-Saxon industry and

enterprise, may never be ensanguined by civil strife, or desolated by

the dissensions and animosities of her sons.

FOOTNOTE:

[4] _Hochelaga; or, England in the New World._ Edited by ELIOT

WARBURTON, Esq. Two Volumes. London: 1846.

LETTERS ON ENGLISH HEXAMETERS.

LETTER III.

DEAR MR EDITOR,--I hope you will be of opinion that I have, in my two

preceding letters, proved the hexameter to be a good, genuine English

verse, fitted to please the unlearned as well as the learned ear; and

hitherto prevented from having fair play among our readers of poetry,

mainly by the classical affectations of our hexameter writers--by their

trying to make a distinction of long and short syllables, according to

Latin rules of quantity; and by their hankering after spondees, which

the common ear rejects as inconsistent with our native versification. If

the attempt had been made to familiarise English ears with hexameters

free from these disadvantages, it might have succeeded as completely as

it has done in German. And the chance of popular success would have been

much better if the measure had been used in a long poem of a religious

character; for religious poetry, as you know very well, finds a much

larger body of admirers than any other kind, and fastens upon the minds

of common readers with a much deeper hold. Religious feeling supplies

the deficiency of poetical susceptibility, and imparts to the poem a

splendour and solemnity which elevates it out of the world of prose. I

do not think it can be doubted that Klopstock's _Messiah_ did a great

deal to give the hexameters a firm hold on the German popular ear; and I

am persuaded that if Pollok's _Course of Time_ had been written in

hexameters, its popularity would have been little less than it is, and

the hexameter would have been by this time in a great degree

familiarised in our language. Perhaps it may be worth while to give a

passage of the _Messiah_, that your readers may judge whether a

hexameter version of the whole would not have been likely to succeed in

this country, at the time when the prose translator was so generally

read and admired. The version is by William Taylor of Norwich.

The scene is the covenant made between the two first persons of the

Trinity on Mount Moriah. The effect is thus described:--

"While spake the eternals,

Thrill'd through nature an awful earthquake. Souls that had never

Known the dawning of thought, now started, and felt for the first time.

Shudders and trembling of heart assail'd each seraph; his bright orb

Hush'd as the earth when tempests are nigh, before him was pausing.

But in the souls of future Christians vibrated transports,

Sweet pretastes of immortal existence. Foolish against God,

Aught to have plann'd or done, and alone yet alive to despondence,

Fell from thrones in the fiery abyss the spirits of evil,

Rocks broke loose from the smouldering caverns, and fell on the

falling:

Howlings of woe, far-thundering crashes, resounded through hell's

vaults."

It seems to me that such verses as these might very well have satisfied

the English admirers of Klopstock.

You will observe, however, that we have, in the passage which I have

quoted, several examples of those _forced trochees_ which I mentioned in

my first letter, as one of the great blemishes of English hexameters;

namely, these--_first tAe-me_; _bright Arb_; _agaAe"nst GAd_;

_hAe"ll's vAefults_. And these produce their usual effect of making

the verse in some degree unnatural and un-English.

It is, however, true, that in this respect the German hexametrist has a

considerable advantage over the English. Many of the words which are

naturally thrown to the end of a verse by the sense, are monosyllables

in English, while the corresponding German word is a trochaic

dissyllable, which takes its place in the verse smoothly and familiarly.

In consequence of this difference in the two languages, the Englishman

is often compelled to lengthen his monosyllables by various artifices.

Thus, in _Herman and Dorothea_--

"Und er wandte sich schnell; de sah sie ihm ThrA€nen im _auge_."

"And he turned him quick; then saw she tears in his _eyelids_."

In order that I may not be misunderstood, however, I must say that I by

no means intend to proscribe such final trochees as I have spoken of,

composed of two monosyllables, but only to recommend a sparing and

considerate use of them. They occur in Goethe, though not abundantly.

Thus in _Herman and Dorothea_, we have three together:--

"Und es brannten die strassen bis zum markt, und das _Haus war_,

Meines Vaters hierneben verzchrt und diesar zug_leich mit_,

Wenig flA1/4chtehen wir. Ich safs, die traurige _Nacht durch_."

None of these trochees, however, are so spondaic as the English ones

which I formerly quoted, consisting of a monosyllable-adjective with a

monosyllable-substantive--"the weight of his _right hand_;" or two

substantives, as "the heat of a _love's fire_."

Yet even these endings are admissible occasionally. Every one assents to

Harris's recognition of a natural and perfect hexameter in that verse of

the Psalms--

"Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a _vain thing_?"

The fact is, that though the English hexameter, well constructed, is

acknowledged by an English ear, as completely as any other dactylic or

anapA|stic measure, it always recalls, in the mind of a classical

scholar, the recollection of Greek and Latin hexameters; and this

association makes him willing to accept some rhythmical peculiarities

which the classical forms and rules seem to justify. The peculiarities

are felt as an _allusion_ to Homer and Virgil, and give to the verse a

kind of learned grace, which may or may not be pedantic, according to

the judgment with which it is introduced. Undoubtedly, if the hexameter

ever come to be as familiar in English as it is in German poetry, our

best hexametrists will, like theirs, learn to convey, along with the

pleasure which belongs to a flowing and familiar native measure, that

which arises from agreeable recollections of the rhythms of the great

epics of antiquity.

And, I add further, that the recollection of classical hexameters which

will thus, in the minds of scholars, always accompany the flow of

English hexameters, makes any addition to, or subtraction from, the six

standard feet of the verse altogether intolerable. And hence I earnestly

protest--and I hope you, Mr Editor, agree with me--against the license

claimed by Southey, of using _any foot_ of two or three syllables at the

beginning of a line, to avoid the exotic and forced character, which, he

says, the verse would assume if every line were to begin with a long

syllable. No, no, my dear sir; this will never do. If we are to have

hexameters at all, every line _must_ begin with a long syllable. It is

true, that this is sometimes difficult to attain. It is a condition

which forbids us to begin a line with _The_, or _It_, or many other

familiar beginnings of sentences. But it is a condition which must be

adhered to; and if any one finds it too difficult, he must write

something else, and leave hexameters alone. Southey, though he has

claimed the license of violating this rule, has not written many of such

licentious lines. I suppose the following are intended to be of this

description:--

"That nAt for lawless devices, nor goaded by desperate fortunes."

"UpAn all seas and shores, wheresoever her rights were offended."

"His rAe"verend form repose; heavenward his face was directed."

The two former lines might easily be corrected by leaving out the first

syllable. The other is a very bad line, even if the licence be allowed.

For the same reason it must be considered a very bad fault to have

supernumerary syllables, or syllables which would be supernumerary if

not cut down by a harsh elision. A final dactyl, requiring an elision to

make it fit its place, appears to me very odious. Southey has such:--

"wins in the chamber

What he lost in the field, in fancy conquers the _conqueror_."

"Still it deceiveth the weak, inflameth the rash and the _desperate_."

"Rich in Italy's works and the masterly labours of _Belgium_."

And no less does the ear repudiate all other violent elisions. I find

several in the other translation of the Iliad referred to in your notice

of N. N. T.'s. And I am sure Mr Shadwell will excuse my pointing out one

or two of them, and will accept in a friendly spirit criticisms which

arise from a fellow feeling with him in the love of English hexameters.

These occur in his First Iliad.

"_Wheth'r_ it's for vow not duly perform'd or for altar neglected."

"Hand on his sword half drawn from its sheath, on a _sudd'n_ from

Olympus."

"Fail to regard in his envy the _daught'r_ of the sea-dwelling

ancient."

Such crushing of words is intolerable. Our hexameters, to be generally

acceptable, must flow on smoothly, with the natural pronunciation of the

words; at least this is necessary till the national ear is more familiar

with the movement than it is at present.

I believe I have still some remarks upon hexameters in store, if your

patience and your pages suffice for them: but for the present I wish to

say a word or two on another subject closely connected with this; I mean

pentameters. The alternate hexameter and pentameter are, for most

purposes, a more agreeable measure than the hexameter by itself. The

constant double ending is tiresome, as constant double rhymes would be.

Southey says, in his angry way, speaking of his hexameters--"the double

ending may be censured as double rhymes used to be; but that objection

belongs to the duncery." This is a very absurd mode of disposing of one

objection, mentioned by him among many others equally formal and minute,

which others he pretends to discuss calmly and patiently. The objection

is of real weight. Though you might tolerate a double ending here and

there in an epic, I am sure, Mr Editor, you would stop your critical

ears at the incessant jingle of an epic in which every couplet had a

double rhyme. On the other hand, an alternation of double and single

endings is felt as an agreeable form of rhythm and rhyme. We have some

good examples of it in English; the Germans have more: and the French

manifest the same feeling in their peremptory rule for the alternation

of masculine and feminine rhymes. And there is another feature which

recommends the pentameter combined with the hexameter. This combination

carries into effect, on a large scale, a principle which prevails, I

believe, in all the finer forms of verse. The principle which I mean is

this;--that the metrical structure of the verse must be distinct and

pure _at the end_ of each verse, though liberties and substitutions may

be allowed at the beginning. Thus, as you know, Mr Editor, the iambics

of the Greek tragedians admit certain feet in the early part of the line

which they do not allow in the later portions. And in the same manner

the hexameter, a dactylic measure, must have the last two feet regular,

while the four preceding feet may each be either trissyllabic or

dissyllabic. Now, this principle of pure rhythm at the end of each

strain, is peculiarly impressed upon the hexameter-pentameter distich.

The end of the pentameter, rigorously consisting of two dactyls and a

syllable, closes the couplet in such a manner that the metrical

structure is never ambiguous; while the remainder of the couplet has

liberty and variety, still kept in order by the end of the hexameter;

and the double ending of the strain is avoided. I do not know whether

you, Mr Editor, will agree with me in this speculation as to the source

of the beauty which belongs to the hexameter-pentameter measure: but

there can be no doubt that it has always had a great charm wherever

dactylic measures have been cultivated. Schiller and GA¶ethe have

delighted in it no less than TyrtA|us and Ovid: and I should conceive

that this measure might find favour in English ears, even more fully

than the mere hexameter.

But, in order that there may be any hope of this, it is very requisite

that the course of the verse should be natural and unforced. This is

more requisite even than in the hexameter; for, in the pentameter, the

verse, if it be at variance with the natural accent, subverts it more

completely, and makes the utterance more absurd. But it does not appear

to be very difficult to attain to this point. In the model distich

quoted by Coleridge--

"In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column,

In the pentameter still falling in melody back;"

the pentameter is a better verse than the hexameter. Surry's pentameters

often flow well, in spite of his false scheme of accentuation.

"With strong foes on land, on sea, with contrary tempests,

Still do I cross this wretch, whatso he taketh in hand."

I will here terminate my criticisms for the present, but I will offer

you, along with them, a specimen of hexameter and pentameter. It is a

translation from Schiller, and could not fail to win some favour to the

measure, if I could catch any considerable share of the charm of the

original, both in versification, language, and thought. Such as the

verses are, however, I shall utter them in your critical ear--and am,

dear Mr Editor, your obedient,

M. L.

THE DANCE. FROM SCHILLER.

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 60, No. 372, October 1846 · 第 15 / 21 段