Perhaps it may be as well to introduce here, for the sake of

illustration, although a little prematurely as regards the

description, a view of the grand square of the Admiralty. This is an

immense oblong space in the very heart of the city. The spectator

stands near the manège, the building which projects at the left-hand

corner. Beyond this is the Admiralty, with its gilded spire, which is

visible from almost all parts of the metropolis. Farther on is the

Winter Palace, distinguished by a flag, in front of which, near the

bottom of the vista, is the column raised to the memory of Alexander.

Opposite this, on the right hand, is the palace of the Etat Major, and

returning towards the foreground, the War Office. The group in front

are employed in dragging stones for the new Isaak's church, which

stands in the left hand corner, although the view is not wide enough

to admit it. This is to be the richest and most splendid building in

the world; but it has been so long in progress, and is now so little

advanced, that a notice of it must fall to the lot of some future

traveller. Saint Isaak, I believe, is not particularly connected with

Russia, except by his day falling upon the birth-day of Peter the

Great.

Such is the scale on which St. Petersburg is built; for although this

may be considered the heart of the city, the other members correspond.

The very vastness of the vacant spaces, however, it should be

observed, seems to make the houses on either side look less lofty;

while on the other hand, no doubt the real want of loftiness in the

houses exaggerates the breadth of the area between. But on the present

occasion, any thing like fancy in the latter respect would have been

quite supererogatory. The streets were hardly passable. Here and there

a pond or a morass gave pause to the pedestrian; while the droski

driver was only indebted to his daily renewed experience of the

daily-changing aspect of the ground, for the comparative confidence

and safety with which he pursued his way. The streets, in fact, were

in the same predicament as the roads by which I had reached them; they

had thawed from their winter consistence, and their stones, torn up,

and dismantled by the severities of the frost, had not yet been put

into summer quarters.

The greater part of the streets are what may be termed pebble-roads, a

name which describes exactly what they are. At this moment, in the

whole city, there are upwards of seven hundred and seventy-two

thousand square sagenes[2] of these roads, while of stone pavement

there are only nine thousand four hundred and fifty, and of wood six

thousand four hundred.

[Footnote 2: A sagene is seven feet.]

The wooden pavement, I believe, is peculiar to St. Petersburg, and

merits a description. It consists of small hexagons sawed from a piece

of resinous wood, and laid into a bed formed of crushed stones and

sand. These are fastened laterally into each other with wooden pegs,

and when the whole forms a plain surface, the interstices are filled

with fine sand, and then boiling pitch is poured over all. This pitch

from the porous nature of the wood is speedily absorbed, and on a

quantity of sand being strewed above it, the operation is complete,

and a pavement constructed which is found to be extremely durable, and

which seems to me to suffer much less injury from the frost than the

stone causeway. The honor of the invention is due to M. Gourief; and I

have no doubt he will ultimately see it adopted in most of the great

towns towards the north.

{517}

SUPPLEMENT.

In compliance with the suggestion of many of our friends, and at the

request of a majority of our contributors, we again publish a

supplement consisting of _Notices of the_ “_Messenger_.” We have duly

weighed the propriety and impropriety of this course, and have

concluded that when we choose to adopt it, there can be no good reason

why we should not. Heretofore we have made selections from the notices

received—only taking care to publish what we conceived to be a fair

specimen of the general character of all—and, with those who know us,

no suspicion of unfairness in this selection would be entertained.

Lest, however, among those who do _not_ know us, any such suspicion

should arise, we now publish _every_ late criticism received. This

supplement is, of course, not considered as a portion of the Messenger

itself, being an extra expense to the publisher.

We commence with the _Newbern (North Carolina) Spectator_—a general

dissenter from all favorable opinions of our Magazine.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this periodical has

been on our table for some days, but our avocations have prevented us

from looking into it before to-day. It is as usual, a beautiful

specimen of typography, and sustains Mr. White's acknowledged

mechanical taste. Its contents are various, as may be seen by

referring to another column of to-day's paper, and not more various

than unequal. Some of the articles are creditable to their authors,

while others—indeed a majority of them—would better suit an ephemeral

sheet like our own, which makes no great literary pretensions, than

the pages of a magazine that assumes the high stand of a critical

censor and a standard of correct taste in literature. While its

pretensions were less elevated, we hailed the Messenger as an attempt,

and a successful one, to call forth southern talent and to diffuse a

taste for chaste and instructive reading; and had its conducters been

satisfied with the useful and creditable eminence which the work

attained almost immediately, the Messenger would not only have had a

more extensive circulation, but its labors would have been more

beneficial to the community—the great end at which every periodical

should aim. With the talent available in any particular spot in the

southern country, it is out of the question, truly ridiculous, to

assume the tone of a Walsh, a Blackwood or a Jeffries; and to attempt

it, without the means to support the pretension, tends to accelerate

the downfall of so indiscreet an attempt. We do not wish to be

misunderstood in this remark. We believe, indeed we know, that the

south possesses talent, and cultivated talent too, in as great

abundance perhaps as any population of the same extent so situated;

but the meaning which we intend to convey is, that this talent is

neither sufficiently concentrated, nor sufficiently devoted to

literary pursuits, to be brought forth in support of any single

publication in strength adequate to establish an indisputable claim to

superiority. Without these advantages, however, the Messenger has

boldly put itself forth as an arbiter whose dicta are supreme; and

with a severity and an indiscreetness of criticism, especially on

American works,—which few, if any, of the able and well established

Reviews have ventured to exercise, has been not only unmerciful, but

savage. We admit that the number before, as well as the one preceding,

is more moderate; and this change encourages the hope that justness of

judgment and a dignified expression of opinion will hereafter

characterise the work. The May number, however, is over captious,

unnecessarily devoted to faultfinding, in a few cases. In criticising

“Spain Revisited,” this spirit shows itself. About ninety lines are

occupied in condemnation of the Author's dedication, a very

unpretending one too, and one which will elevate Lieutenant Slidell in

the estimation of all who prefer undoubted evidences of personal

friendship to the disposition which dictates literary hyper-criticism.

The errors of composition that are to be found in the work,

grammatical and other, are also severely handled, we will not say

ably. The following is a specimen.

“And now, too, we began”—says Spain Revisited—“to see horsemen jantily

dressed in slouched hat, embroidered jacket, and worked spatterdashes,

reining fiery Andalusian coursers, each having the Moorish carbine

hung at hand beside him.”

“Were horsemen”—says the Messenger, “a _generic_ term, that is, did

the word allude to horsemen generally, the use of the ‘_slouched hat_’

and ‘_embroidered jacket_’ in the singular, would be justifiable—but

it is not so in speaking of individual horsemen, where the plural is

required. The participle ‘_reining_’ probably refers to

‘_spatterdashes_,’ although of course intended to agree with

‘_horsemen_.’ The word ‘_each_’ also meant to refer to the

‘_horsemen_,’ belongs, strictly speaking, to the ‘_coursers_.’ The

whole, if construed by the rigid rules of grammar, would imply that

the horsemen were dressed in spatterdashes—which spatterdashes reined

the coursers—and which coursers had each a carbine.”

With all deference to the Messenger, we would ask, if it never entered

into the critick's mind that “slouched hat,” “and embroidered jacket”

are here used as generick terms? Lieutenant Slidell evidently intended

that they should be so received: but that he entertained the same

intention respecting “horsemen,” the whole context disproves. Had the

reviewer placed a comma after the word “horsemen,” in the first line

of the paragraph which he dissects, (the relative and verb—_who

were_—being elided, there is authority for so doing,) considered as

parenthetical and illustrative all that follows between that comma and

the one which comes after “spatterdashes,” supplied the personal

relative and the proper verb, which are plainly understood before the

participle “reining,” we presume that this sentence, ill-constructed

as it undoubtedly is, would have escaped the knife, from a conviction

that there are many as bad in the Messenger itself. The only critical

notice which we have had leisure to read since the reception of the

number, is the one which we have named. We may resume the subject in

connexion with the June number.

We are at a loss to know who is the editor of the Spectator, but have

a shrewd suspicion that he is the identical gentleman who once sent us

from Newbern an unfortunate copy of verses. It seems to us that he

wishes to be taken notice of, and we will, for the once, oblige him

with a few words—with the positive understanding, however, that it

will be inconvenient to trouble ourselves hereafter with his opinions.

We would respectfully suggest to him that his words, “_while its

pretensions were less elevated we hailed the Messenger as a successful

attempt, &c. and had its conductors been satisfied with the useful and

creditable eminence, &c. we would have had no objection to it_,” &c.

are a very fair and candid acknowledgment that he can find no fault

with the Messenger but its success, and that to be as stupid as itself

is the only sure road to the patronage of the Newbern Spectator. The

paper is in error—we refer it to any decent schoolboy in Newbern—in

relation to the only sentence in our Magazine upon which it has

thought proper to comment specifically, viz. the sentence above (by

Lieutenant Slidell) beginning “And now too we began to see horsemen

jantily dressed in slouched hat, embroidered jacket, &c.” The

_Spectator_ says, “We would ask if it never entered into the critic's

mind that ‘slouched hat’ and ‘embroidered jacket’ are here used as

generic terms? Lieutenant Slidell evidently intended that they should

be so received; but that he entertained the same intention respecting

‘horsemen,’ the whole context disproves.” We reply, (and the Spectator

should imagine us smiling as we reply) that it is precisely because

“slouched hat” and “embroidered jacket” _are_ used as generic terms,

while the word “horsemen” _is not_, that we have been induced to wish

the sentence amended. The _Spectator_ also says, “With the talent

available in any particular spot in the Southern country, it is out of

the question, truly ridiculous, to assume the tone of a Walsh, a

Blackwood, or a Jeffries.” We believe that either Walsh, or

(_Blackwood?_) or alas! Jeffries, would disagree with the Newbern

Spectator in its opinion of the talent of the Southern country—that

is, if either Walsh or Blackwood or Jeffries could have imagined the

existence of such a thing as a _Newbern Spectator_. Of the opinion of

Blackwood and Jeffries, however, we cannot be positive just now. Of

that of Walsh we can, having heard from him very lately with a promise

of a communication for the Messenger, and compliments respecting our

Editorial course, which we should really be ashamed of repeating. From

_Slidell_, for whom the Spectator is for taking up the cudgels, we

have yesterday heard in a similar strain and with a similar promise.

From _Prof. Anthon_, ditto. _Mrs. Sigourney_, also lately reviewed,

has just forwarded us her compliments and a communication. _Halleck_,

since our _abuse_ of his book, writes us thus: “There is no place

where I shall be more desirous of seeing my humble writings than in

the publication you so ably support and conduct. It is full of sound,

good literature, and its frank, open, independent manliness of spirit,

is characteristic of the land it hails from.” _Paulding_, likewise,

has sent us something for our pages, and is so kind as to say of us in

a letter just received, “I should not hesitate in placing the

‘Messenger’ decidedly at the head of our periodicals, nor do I

hesitate in expressing that opinion freely on all occasions. It is

gradually growing in the public estimation, and under your conduct,

and with your contributions, must soon, if it is not already, be known

all over the land.” Lastly, in regard to the disputed matter of Drake

and Halleck, we have just received the following testimony from an

individual second to no American author in the wide-spread popularity

of his writings, and in their universal appreciation by men of

letters, both in the United States and England. “You have given

sufficient evidence on various occasions, not only of critical

knowledge but of high independence; your praise is therefore of value,

and your censure not to be slighted. Allow me to say that I think your

article on Drake and Halleck one of the finest pieces of criticism

ever published in this country.”

These decisions, on the part of such men, it must be {518}

acknowledged, would be highly gratifying to our vanity, were not the

decision vetoed by the poet of the _Newbern Spectator_. We wish only

to add that the poet's assertion in regard to the Messenger “putting

itself forth as an arbiter whose dicta are supreme,” is a slight

deviation from the truth. The Messenger merely expresses its

particular opinions in its own particular manner. These opinions no

person is bound to adopt. They are open to the comments and censures

of even the most diminutive things in creation—of the very Newbern

Spectators of the land. If the Editor of this little paper does not

behave himself we will positively publish his verses.—_Ed. Messenger_.

From the Augusta Chronicle.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The following flattering tribute to the

merits of this Southern periodical, is from the New York Courier and

Enquirer; and, for its liberality and independence, it is scarcely

less creditable to the Messenger, than to the paper from which it is

extracted. The Courier and Enquirer is ever ready to do justice to the

South, in all its relations, and to defend it when assailed, and

therefore richly merits the warm gratitude and liberal patronage of

its people.

From the Courier and Enquirer.

“We have received the May number of the Southern Literary Messenger,

and its contents are equal to its reputation. We feel no hesitation in

declaring our opinion that this publication is in every essential

attribute, at the very head of the periodical literature of its class,

in the United States. We do not agree by any means with some of its

literary _conclusions_. For instance, it is very wide of our opinion

on the merits of Halleck, in this very number; but there is a vigor

and manliness in most of the papers that appear in the Messenger,

which we are almost ready to admit, are found _no where_ else in

American periodicals. At all events, it holds a proud post among its

compeers, and its criticisms in particular, though sometimes a little

too tomahawkish, have, generally speaking, a great deal of _justice_

on their side.”

From the National Intelligencer.

On the subject of the right of instruction, we find in the June number

of the Richmond Literary Messenger, a very able paper, which, as soon

as we can free our columns from the mass of Congressional matter on

our hands, we will spread entire before our readers. The article comes

to us in the shape of a letter to a gentleman in Virginia, and is

understood to be from the pen of that distinguished jurist, Judge

Hopkinson, of Philadelphia. It was elicited by a recent article in the

Richmond Enquirer in defence of the right of mandatory instruction,

and furnishes a luminous and complete refutation of that, amongst the

most mischievous of the fallacies which obtain occasional popularity

in particular States. Hearing of this letter, the publisher of the

Messenger had the good sense and good fortune to obtain a copy of it,

and the manliness to publish it in his valuable journal. In so doing

he has rendered a service to the public, and enriched his pages with

an article which is, itself, worth five years' subscription to the

Messenger.

From the Richmond Compiler.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—Every body must remember, that a

very short time ago the attempt to establish a magazine in Virginia,

was looked upon as chimærical in the last degree; and when, at length,

the publication was commenced, in spite of a host of difficulties, its

speedy downfall was universally predicted. Such predictions, no doubt,

tended in a great degree to verify themselves, and are the usual

resources of the enemies of any scheme of the kind. But it is saying a

great deal for the enterprize and talent which have been employed in

the service of the Messenger, that it has not only overcome

difficulties such as no other magazine in the country ever

successfully contended with, but that it has succeeded in attaining to

the very first rank among American monthly periodicals. Since the

commencement of the second volume, there has hardly been a dissenting

voice, in this respect, in the many notices of the journal which have

come under our observation. The _first literary names in the Union_

(without reference to mere Editorial opinions) have not scrupled

directly to avow their belief, that the Messenger is decidedly the

first of American Journals, and that its Editorial articles and

management in especial, are far superior to those of any magazine in

America, but have suffered these opinions to be published. Here, then,

there can be no suspicion of puffery. Yet in spite of all these

things,—in spite of the energy which has been displayed in getting up

the Journal—in spite of the acknowledged ability with which it is

conducted, and the admitted talents of its principal contributors

(Judge Hopkinson, Professor Dew, Rbt. Greenhow, Heath, Timothy Flint,

Edgar Foe, Judge Tucker, Groesbeck, Minor, Carter, Maxwell and a host

of others)—in spite, too, of the general acknowledgement that such a

publication is an honor to the State, we find our citizens regarding

the work with apathy, if not treating it with positive neglect. Our

public presses, too, we think to blame, in not entering more warmly

into the cause of the _Messenger_. We happen to be aware that these

presses are, one and all, favorably disposed to the Journal and proud

of its success. But they are, in a measure, bound to some _active_

exertions in its behalf. In such a case as that of the Messenger,

silence amounts to positive dispraise. The public in other States

naturally look to the Richmond presses for opinions in relation to the

magazine, and are at a loss to account for not finding any, except by

supposing some demerit. We are quite sure that Mr. White has neither

any expectation nor desire that we should _puff_ his Journal—that is,

praise it beyond its deserts. Yet we may certainly notice each number

as it appears, expressing freely, although briefly, our opinion of its

deserts. This is nothing more, it appears to us, than our absolute

duty—a duty we owe to the cause of Virginia literature, to Mr. White,

Mr. Poe, and to ourselves.

The present number, we do not think equal as a whole to the March

number, and still less to that for February—which latter may be safely

placed in comparison with any single number of any Journal in

existence for the great vigor, profundity, and originality of its

articles. Yet we do not mean to say that the number now before us is

not an admirable one, and fully equal to any of our Northern magazines

in its communications, while it far surpasses the best of them in its

Editorial department.

The first article is “MSS. of Benj. Franklin,” printed from MSS. in

the hand-writing of Franklin himself, and never published in any

edition of his works. It is unnecessary to say more than this to call

public attention to so valuable a paper. “Lionel Granby,” chap. X. is

the next prose article. We like this chapter as well if not better,

than any of the former ones. The writer of these papers is evidently a

man of genius—we might perhaps express our meaning more fully by

saying that he has that degree of genius which enables him to

appreciate, and keenly feel the labors of men of genius. Some of his

detached passages may be considered as very fine. He has, however, no

capacity to sustain a connected narrative of any length, and these

chapters of “Lionel Granby” are consequently replete with the most

ludicrous incongruities. They evince great ignorance of what is called

the world. They are full of a shallow pedantry. Their style is

excessively turgid, ungrammatical, and _inconsequential_. “The

Prairie” is a delightful little sketch of real scenery. “Random

Thoughts” is an excellent article, evincing much true learning and

acumen. Such contributors as the author of this paper are invaluable

to the _Messenger_. “Odds and Ends” is from the pen of Oliver

Oldschool—a former correspondent of the Messenger. We believe Oliver

Oldschool to be Mr. Garnett, the author of many excellent things on

Female Education. His present essay is exceedingly amusing—but

somewhat old fashioned. “The Hall of Incholese” by J. N. McJilton

should not have been admitted into the columns of the Messenger. It is

an imitation of the Editor's tale of Bon-Bon, and like most other

imitations, utterly unworthy of being mentioned in comparison with its

original. Nothing but the most extraordinary talent can render a tale

of this nature acceptable to the present state of the public appetite.

If not exceedingly good, it is always excessively bad. It must be a

palpable hit or it is nothing. The “Lecture on German Literature” is

in every respect worthy of the talents and learning of its author,

George H. Calvert, Editor of the Baltimore American, and the writer of

several popular works. It is a spirited and accurate sketch of German

Literature from its origin to the present day. The Messenger should

secure Mr. Calvert if possible. “Readings with my pencil, No. IV,” is

a very good paper. “American Social Elevation” is the best

communicated article in the present number, and perhaps one of the

best, if not indeed the best (of a similar nature) which has ever

appeared in any Journal in the country. Its philosophy is bold and

comprehensive without being minute—its style fervid and exceedingly

pure. From the initials and place of date, we are led to attribute

this essay to Mr. Groesbeck of Cincinnati. “Verbal Criticisms” is a

good paper, but we cannot agree with the critic in his strictures on

the phrase “being built.”

The Editorial Department is (as it invariably is,) full, bold,

vigorous and original. The first paper is “Lynch's Law,” and gives the

history and origin, together with a copy of the law. Then follow

Critical Notices. New works are reviewed—of Slidell's, of Professor

Anthon's, of Mrs. Trollope's, of Paulding's, of Walsh's, of Cooper's,

and of Mellen's. Praise and blame are distributed with the soundest

discrimination, and with an impartiality, (even in the case of known

friends,) which it is impossible not to admire; or to impeach.

The Poetical Department is quite limited. Two pieces by Mr. Poe are

very beautiful, the one entitled “Irene,” in especial, is full of his

rich and well-disciplined imagination. The lines on “Camilla” by

Lambert A. Wilmer, are a perfect gem; full of antique strength and

classic sorrow.

From the Baltimore Gazette.

_The Southern Literary Messenger for April_, has been received rather

late in the day. Though the appearance of the Messenger is

occasionally delayed (from us) longer than we might wish, yet we ever

give it the cordial welcome which a most interesting and worthy friend

never fails to receive at our hands. The present number, we perceive,

contains less than the usual amount of matter, owing to the increase

of the pages of the March number occasioned by the insertion of

Professor Dew's valuable address upon the influence of the federative

republican system of government upon literature and the development of

character.

The long and able article on Maelzel's Chess Player, contained in this

number, does credit to the close observation and acute reasoning of

its author, who, as the article is published under the editorial head,

we infer is the talented editor himself. The question whether or not

the chess-player is a pure machine, is, we think, completely put to

rest. The nature of the game of {519} chess is such, that no

_machine_, however ingeniously arranged may be its mechanism, could of

itself perform its constantly varying operations. We have never, at

any time, given assent to the prevailing opinion, that human agency is

not employed by Mr. Maelzel. That such agency is employed cannot be

questioned, unless it may be satisfactorily demonstrated that man is

capable to impart intellect to matter: for _mind_ is no less requisite

in the operations of the game of chess, than it is in the prosecution

of a chain of abstract reasoning. We recommend those, whose credulity

has in this instance been taken captive by plausible appearances; and

all, whether credulous or not, who admire an ingenious train of

inductive reasoning, to read this article attentively: each and all

must rise from its perusal convinced that a _mere machine_ cannot

bring into requisition the intellect which this intricate game

demands, but on the contrary that every operation is the result of

human agency, though so ingeniously concealed as to baffle detection,

unless by long continued and close observation.

This question, so often, and in this instance so ably, examined, was

settled in Baltimore several years ago, by the actual discovery of a

man emerging from the top of the chest or box, on which Mr. Maelzel's

figure moved the chess men, the lid, which moved on a pivot like some

card table covers, being turned on one side. This was seen by two

youths of respectable character, through a window, accidentally open,

in the rear of the room in which Mr. Maelzel's Chess Player was

exhibited. Of the truth of this discovery we are entirely satisfied.

The Lecture “On the Providence of God in the Government of the World,”

from the original manuscript of Benjamin Franklin, and which has not

hitherto been published in any edition of his works, is properly

entitled to the first place in the columns of the Messenger. The

argument of the Providence of God contained in this lecture, is

admirable for its brevity and conclusiveness. Franklin reasoned well,

and wrote as well as he reasoned. Forming his style after the model of

the most chaste and classic writer of the English language, and

drawing from the resources of a capacious and well stored mind, he

never failed both to please and to instruct his readers. His aim was

to benefit his countrymen; and he wrote for them in a way in which

they could understand, appreciate, and profit by every thing that came

from his pen. The epistles published more than a century ago in his

Pennsylvania Weekly Gazette, contain many valuable hints respecting

domestic economy, some of which might be treasured up with advantage

at the present day; for, generally speaking, economy is not an

American virtue. Two of those epistles, one from Anthony Afterwit, and

the other from Celia Single, have made their appearance in this number

of the Messenger. Neither of them, it seems, has been inserted in any

of the editions of the Doctor's works.

The article on “Genius” is perhaps more in accordance with our views

than with those of the editor, who seems to think the writer's

inferences lag behind the spirit of the age, and hence deduces the

important conclusion, that his correspondent is not a phrenologist. We

leave both the editor and his correspondent to the enjoyment of their

own respective opinions, while we pass on to entertain ourselves for a

little while in the “March Court” of our sister State. Nugator

describes to the life the scenes of every day occurrence both in and

_around_ a Virginia Court House, and concludes the picture he has so

happily drawn, by introducing the trial of a negro woman for murder,

during the late war, and at the time the British were ascending the

Potomac.

The article on “Woman,” by Paulina, is sensible and well written—far

more just and philosophical than a vast deal that has been said on

this fair subject. Commend us to the ladies in general, and to Paulina

in particular, for just views of the gentler sex. It is to be hoped

the fair writer may perceive that the subject is not exhausted in a

single essay.

“Leaves from my Scrap Book,” includes much that is excellent within a

limited space. The writer has improved his naturally correct taste by

close communion with the ancient and modern classics.

A Tale of Jerusalem, is one of those felicitous “hits,” which are the

forte of Edgar A. Poe. The point, like that of an epigram, lies in the

conclusion.

The “critical notices” of the present number, evince the usual ability

of the editor in this department; though, what is more to our taste,

not quite so caustic, as hitherto. We accord with the review of the

“Culprit Fay.” The merits of this poem, despite the praise lavished

upon it, when critically sifted, will be found to be like the little

Ouphe himself, rather a small affair.

Our article has been lengthened so far beyond the usual limits as to

preclude attention to the poetical department.

From the Norfolk Herald.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The present number of the

Messenger, although not altogether equal to some previous ones, is

full of highly interesting and valuable matter, and sustains the well

earned reputation of the Journal. The first article is “MSS. of

Benjamin Franklin.” These MSS. are copied from the hand writing of

Franklin himself and have never appeared in any edition of his works.

Among other good things, they include the following question and its

solution. “A man bargains for the keeping of his horse six months,

whilst he is making a voyage to Barbadoes. The horse strays or is

stolen soon after the keeper has him in possession. When the owner

demands the value of his horse in money, may not the other as justly

demand so much deducted as the keeping of the horse six months amounts

to?” The second prose article is “Lionel Granby,” a series of papers

which we cannot consider as at all creditable to the Messenger. The

“Prairie” is a very good sketch. “Random Thoughts” are somewhat

pedantic, but make a very excellent article. “Odds and Ends” we fancy

is from the pen of Mr. Garnett; it is full of humor, and will be

generally liked, although we agree with the Richmond Compiler in

thinking it rather too old fashioned. The “Hall of Incholese” is

decidedly bad, and moreover a direct imitation of Mr. Poe's tale of

“Bon-Bon.” The Editor should have refused to admit it in the

Messenger, if for no other reason, on account of its barefaced

flattery of himself. Mr. Calvert's (of the Baltimore American)

“Lecture on German Literature” will be generally read and admired. It

is a well-written and comprehensive essay, evincing intimate

acquaintance with the literature of which he treats. “Readings with my

Pencil, No. IV” by J. F. O. is like all the other numbers, good.

“American Social Elevation” is most admirable: if we mistake not, this

article is from the pen of Professor Dew. “Verbal Criticisms” are

just, but rather common place.

The “Editorial” of this number is very forcible nod racy as usual.

Among other things we notice an account of the origin of “Lynch's

Law.” The “Critical Notices” embrace all new publications of any

moment, that is, American publications; and we approve of the Editor's

discrimination in not troubling himself, except in rare cases, with

those of foreign countries. The books reviewed are Slidell's “Spain

Revisited,” “Paulding's Washington,” Mrs. Trollope's “Paris and the

Parisians.” Walsh's “Didactics,” Anthon's “Sallust,” Cooper's

“Switzerland” and “Mellen's Poems.” A press of other matters prevented

us from doing what we intended in relation to the last Messenger. We

wished especially to have called public attention to the Editorial

_critique_ on the poems of Drake and Halleck, and the article (also

editorial) on the “Automaton of Maelzel.” Both these pieces are

unanswerable—and perhaps the two best articles of any kind which have

ever appeared in an American Periodical. The essay on the Automaton

_cannot be answered_, and we have heard the Editor challenges a reply

from Maelzel himself, or from any source whatever. The piece has

excited great attention. The poetry of the Messenger improves: there

are some excellent lines in the present number.

From the National Gazette.

The May number of the Southern Literary Messenger contains several

excellent articles. Mr. Calvert's Lecture on the Literature of Germany

may be commended to the attention of all who are either about studying

the German language, or would wish to know something of the authors of

that country. His descriptions, though necessarily brief, are

satisfactory, and his estimates of the comparative merits of the

authors he mentions, are, in general, judicious. The MSS. of Benjamin

Franklin (not in his works) are from the same source which furnished

some for the April number. They will be read with interest by all. The

chapter of Lionel Granby does not advance the thread of the story. It

describes a visit of the hero to Lamb (Elia Lamb,) and pictures his

guests, Coleridge, Godwin, &c. “Odds and Ends” is the title of an

attempt to divide mankind into genera and species, such as have not

yet been named in any work on natural history. It will furnish

amusement and perhaps instruction to the reader. The author (Oliver

Oldschool) is an old correspondent of the Messenger. The essay

entitled “American Social Elevation,” deserves great commendation. How

fatal to the advancement of society too great attention to

money-making and politics is proving in this country, is well

exhibited, and remedies for this are judiciously suggested. A new

account of the origin of Lynch's law is given, which is probably the

true one.

From the Baltimore American.

In the Southern Literary Messenger for April, which reached us a few

days since, the Editor opens the department of “critical notices” with

some spirited and just remarks on the puffing system, as practised in

this country towards native writers, and a vindication of his own

course. He is on the strong side, whatever number or influences may be

arrayed against him, and will do much good even though he run

occasionally into the extreme of severity. Many people really believe,

by dint of reading the repeated praise bestowed on them, that the

marrowless prose fictions and “baseless” verse of the day constitute a

Literature. Let the editor of the Messenger and others, go on purging

their judgment of such crude notions, and assuming a high standard of

literary merit, require substantial qualifications in candidates for

fame, and condemn unsparingly all who do not unite genius with

cultivation, a union indispensable for the production of works of

permanent value.

From the Baltimore Athenæum.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The April number of this excellent

periodical is before us, and fully maintains the dignity and

reputation won by its predecessors. We have read it carefully, and

therefore hold ourselves qualified to pronounce judgment on its

general merit. The articles in prose, are _all_ good. We wish we could

say the same of the poetry; which, with the exception of the dramatic

sketch entitled “The Death of Robespierre,” (admirable by the bye,

although we think the writer has caught somewhat of the reflection of

Coleridge,) we say, with the above exception, the poetry, judged by

the Editor's own standard, that of Ideality, does not rank above

mediocrity. The critical notices, together with the brief introductory

essay “On the present state of American criticism,” are in the

Editor's best vein. We like the independent spirit, and critical

acumen, which {520} he evinces in the performance of his duty; and,

however we may at times be induced to differ with him in opinion, yet

we cannot but say, that in general his dissections of “poor devil

authors,” though apparently severe, are well merited. In making this

admission, we do not withdraw any opinion heretofore expressed when we

have differed from the Editor of the Messenger, for, whenever we

dislike an article we shall, (as we have ever done,) speak our mind

fully though in all friendliness. But we assert our conviction, that

judicious criticism, exercised without regard to persons, has been

long wanting. There was a time when American Reviewers _imported_

their decisions on the works of native authors, and frowned down any

attempt to resist the foreign decree. They have now rushed into the

opposite extreme, the barrier once broken down, the torrent of

adulation has lifted up every man who could fill a book with words;

and changed the current of popular feeling to such an extent, that it

is only by strenuous exertions it can be brought back into its mediate

and true channel. They have given Phæton the reins, and if his steeds

are not checked by a more powerful hand, the most disastrous effects

must inevitably ensue. We, therefore, bid our friends cherish a work

that upholds independent criticism, and pursues the “even tenor of its

way,” the friend of all who deserve its friendship, but the slave of

none. Cherish it we say, that by a more extended circulation it may

fulfil the christian precept, and “go about doing good.”

From the Baltimore Athenæum.

_The Southern Literary Messenger for May_.—This number contains, among

other excellent papers, an address on “German Literature,” by our

townsman, George H. Calvert, Esq., delivered before the Athenæum

Society of Baltimore, on the 11th of February, 1836. The pleasure

derived from a perusal of this admirable lecture was greatly enhanced

by the fact of our having been present at its delivery, and our still

vivid recollection of its varied beauties and excellences, heightened

and rendered impressive by the peculiar manner, emphasis, and

enunciation of the speaker. Of the literature of Germany, deeply

metaphysical, and rich with an abounding store of learning as it is,

we are by far too ignorant, and we owe much to the author of this

address for his labors in opening for us many sources of rich

intellectual enjoyment, in his translations, of which Schiller's Don

Carlos may be named as his most elaborate effort yet published.

We cannot enter into an analysis of the entire number of the Messenger

before us; it is however highly interesting, as is usual with all the

issues of this Magazine. The paper called “Odds and Ends,” we

recommend to the especial perusal of all who have any desire to reform

their manners and morals. It is a pleasant and well conceived satire.

Some of the northern critics have intimated that Simms was the editor

of the Messenger. This is an error. It is now edited, as we

understand, by Edgar A. Poe, formerly of this city, a young gentleman

of excellent talents, and untiring industry. He is earning for himself

a fine reputation.

From the Baltimore Patriot.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this handsome and

ably conducted periodical has just come to hand. It comes late, but in

the case of this Messenger we may truly say “better late than never;”

tor the tales it tells, and its qualities as a temporary visiter and

companion, must always secure it a cordial reception, however it may

procrastinate its stated journeys, or linger by the way side. The

Southern Literary Messenger is now under the editorial conduct of

Edgar A. Poe, Esq. formerly of this city, and has been so, as we

understand, since the commencement of the second volume. This

gentleman has been, the while, a liberal contributor to its columns,

and this thorough identification with a periodical, marked with

unusual ability and attended with extraordinary success, must be

satisfactory to the editor, and afford ample testimony at the same

time that the conduct of the Messenger is in fit and competent hands.

The May number of the Messenger contains the usual variety, and is

marked with the freshness, spirit, and independence, which are

characteristic of the work.

From the Baltimore Patriot.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The April number of this fresh and

spirited periodical has come to hand. Its contents exhibit the usual

variety. The character of this work is now so well established, that

we need not speak to the question of its general merits, and shall

only say that the visits of this “Messenger,” though sometimes tardy

as in the present case, are, to us, always and altogether acceptable.

The number now before us contains a long and ingenious editorial

article, on the _modus operandi_ of Maelzel's Chess Player.

From the New Yorker.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The April number of this spirited

Monthly reaches us somewhat later than its date would indicate, yet so

excellent in matter and manner that the reader will easily be induced

to pardon the delinquency. The remarkable typographical neatness of

the Messenger we have frequently alluded to, in glancing rapidly, as

now, at the more intrinsic character of its contents. Some of those of

the present number deserve a more extended consideration than we have

time or space to give them.

“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” form the opening paper of the

Magazine—three hitherto unpublished though characteristic essays from

the pen of the first eminent philosopher and sage whom America can

claim as her own. ‘A Lecture on Providence’ is replete with the

profound yet perspicuous common sense which was ever so prominent a

feature in the character of the inventor of the lightning-rod; while

the letters of ‘Anthony Afterwit’ and ‘Celia Single’ are in his

lighter vein of humorous utilitarianism which would have done no

discredit to the pen of Addison. (By the way, why have we no

compilation or edition of the Life and Writings of Dr. Franklin at all

commensurate with the dignity of the subject? Such a work would form a

valuable and now desirable addition to American literature.)

“Genius” is discussed in the succeeding prose paper, and to better

purpose than in the majority of essays on the subject. The writer

maintains that “Genius, as it appears to me, is merely a decided

preference for any study or pursuit, which enables its possessor to

give it the close and unwearied attention necessary to ensure

success.” This proposition is stoutly and ably maintained, and, though

we cannot concur in it fully, we believe it much nearer the truth than

is generally supposed. If true at all, it is a profitable truth, and

should pass into an axiom with all convenient celerity.

“Some Ancient Greek Authors Chronologically Considered,” is an article

evincing profitably directed research, which we shall copy.

“March Court” is a sketch so exclusively Virginian, that we can hardly

judge of its merit.

“The Death of Robespierre” is a dramatic sketch—a species of writing

which we do not properly appreciate. We, who do not worship even

Shakspeare, cannot bow to the sway of his humbler satellites.

“Woman” is the topic of the succeeding paper—judicious and sensible,

but not very original or forcible, considering that the essayist is a

lady.

“Leaves from a Scrap Book” will be found among our literary

selections. We regret that its Greek characters and phrases compelled

us to exclude the author's forcible illustration of the disadvantages

under which the earlier poets labor in a comparison with the moderns.

Nothing could be more conclusive.

The Editorials of the number are ably written, though some pages are

devoted to a solution of the mystery of the Automaton Chess-Player,

doubtless the correct one, viz. that, after all the scrutiny which it

has undergone, there is actually a man concealed in the pretended

machinery. We are not sure that this demonstration, conceding it to be

such, is worth the space it necessarily occupies.

In the matter of Criticism, the Messenger has involved itself in a

difficulty with some of our Northern periodicals, either party, as is

not unusual in such cases, being just about half right. The Southern

Editor has quite too savage a way of pouncing upon unlucky wights who

happen to have severally perpetrated any thing below par in the

literary line, like the Indian, who cannot realize that an enemy is

conquered till he is scalped, and some of the mangled have no more

policy than to betray their soreness by attempts at retaliation, under

very flimsy disguises, invariably making the matter worse. We think

the Messenger often quite too severe, as in the case of ‘Norman

Leslie,’ but still able and ingenuous. The Poems of Drake and Halleck

are reviewed this month—neither of them after the fashion of an ardent

and awed admirer—but faithfully, fairly, and with discrimination.

In conclusion, we take pleasure in remarking the fact that the cause

of literature at the South is so flourishing as it appears to be at

present. We believe the whole number of periodicals which may be

distinguished as literary on the other side of the Potomac, has more

than doubled during the last two years, and that their circulation has

increased in at least equal proportion. We rejoice at this state of

things, though it may be justly thought to militate against our own

personal interest. The South has interests and feelings which find

little real sympathy with us, though a profound and respectful

deference elsewhere; and it is right that she should have literary as

well as political journals to maintain those interests and challenge

respect for those feelings. We shall not grudge them a generous

patronage.

From the Charlottesville Advocate.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this work has

appeared, with its usual variety of valuable matter.

Foremost in merit as in place, are more of those MSS. of Dr. Franklin,

which are contained in the April No., and which have never yet been

published in any edition of his works. They seem, all, to have been

communications to a newspaper called the Gazetteer; though we are not

informed whether they actually came forth in its columns or not. One

piece purports to be from a gossipping “young girl about thirty-five,”

who styles herself “Alice Addertongue;” and who makes an ingenious,

(and of course satirical) defence of Scandal. Another consists of some

“Queries to be asked the Junto,” (his club, perhaps;) one of which is,

“Whence comes the dew that stands on the outside of the tankard that

has cold water in it, in the summer time?” The simplicity of this

question would warrant the belief, that the doctor was then but little

advanced in his career of physical knowledge; unless we suppose that

he propounded it only to stimulate some of his friends or readers to

thought. The following question and answer have much of the true

Franklin shrewedness and pungency: “I am about courting a girl I have

but little acquaintance with; how shall I come to a knowledge of her

faults, and whether she has the virtues I imagine she has? _Answer_.

Commend her among her female acquaintance.”

The Messenger has Chapter X. of “Lionel Granby;” a sort of novel, in

which there has been much to admire; but we are {521} altogether

dissatisfied with the present Chapter, crippling, as it does, several

of the good things said in the Essays of Elia, by making the hero of

the story hear them (and very clumsily retail them) from the lips of

Charles Lamb himself, the real “Elia.” We would advise the writer to

bring his hero _tete à tete_ with no more literary lions, if he can

shew them off to no better advantage than he shews Lamb. What will our

readers think of his talking of “the ‘willie-draughts’ which are

pledged to the memory of boyhood,” meaning an allusion to the

“guid-willie waughts” of Burns, in “Auld Lang Syne?”

We like such collections of scraps, as are bundled together in the

piece headed “Random Thoughts.”

“Odds and Ends,” by our old friend Oliver Oldschool, is a whole

gallery of satirical portraits; representing various forms of human

weakness or depravity—sketches of character almost worthy of

Theophrastus, or La Bruyere. Of female characters, the _Tongue-tied,

or Monosyllabic_, the _Bustlers_, the _Tom-boys_, the _Peace-sappers_,

the _Tongue-warriors_, and several other classes, are held up to just

ridicule; and of males, the _Busybodies_, the _Touch-me-nots_, the

_Gastronomes_, the _Devillish Good Fellows_, &c. &c.

“A Lecture on German Literature,” by George H. Calvert, of Baltimore,

is a pregnant outline of a great deal that is inestimable in the

literary store houses of probably the most enlightened nation (if we

set aside politics) on earth.

We welcome No. IV. of “Readings with my Pencil,” from a practised pen,

and full, cultivated mind.

The article headed “Verbal Criticism,” is of a sort which all the

repositories and guardians of Literature ought oftener to contain:

brief reprehensions of too prevalent errors in language; interspersed

with curious philological remarks.

The somewhat long essay on “Social Elevation” has much that is

praiseworthy, neatness (sometimes force) of style, and in the main,

great justness of thought. Its aim is, to expose and rebuke those two

ruling passions of our countrymen, the _love of money_, and the _love

of political preferment_. It justly and forcibly shews how these

obstruct our progress in knowledge, virtue, liberty, and happiness, by

merging all enlarged patriotism in the most narrowly selfish

considerations. Bent on wealth, half our people forget their country's

weal, in contemplating the increase of their private hoards. Bent on

_rising in the State_ (as it is called,) or on ministering to those

who do wish to rise, the other half sacrifice their country to their

party, or to its leaders. God speed the Essayist in the wide, the

universal dissemination of the views on this subject!

After all, the “Critical Notices” of the Editor have afforded us by no

means the least pleasure. They are acute, just, and pungent. There is

one thing we particularly like in the criticisms of the Messenger.

While it displays a becoming pride in whatever excellences our country

and its literature possesses, it does not hold itself bound, like many

of our journalists, to applaud every thing that is American, and to

admit the justice of no animadversions upon us and ours, from foreign

tongues or pens. Thus, in an article on Mr. Cooper's “Sketches of

Switzerland,” it joins him in a just _fillip_ to our national vanity,

which has made us believe for many years past, that “the name of _an

American_ is a passport all over Europe,” a boast which Mr. C. says is

refuted by many mortifying tokens wherever an American travels in

Germany, France, Switzerland, or Italy. In a review of Mrs. Trollope's

_Paris and the Parisians_, the Messenger again justly rebukes the same

American weakness, by averring (what we have always upheld) that her

book upon the “Domestic Manners” of America had many more truths than

our self love would let us acknowledge. “We have no patience,” says

the Messenger, “with that atrabilious set of hyper-patriots, who find

fault with Mrs. T.'s _flumflummery_ about the good people of the

Union. The work appeared to us an unusually well written performance

in which, upon a basis of downright and positive truth, was erected,

after the fashion of a porcelain pagoda, a very brilliant, although a

very brittle fabric of mingled banter, philosophy and spleen.”... “We

do not hesitate to say, that she ridiculed our innumerable moral,

physical, and social absurdities with equal impartiality, true humor

and discrimination; and that the old joke about her _Domestic manners

of the Americans_ being nothing more than the _Manners of the American

Domestics_, is, like most other very good jokes, excessively untrue.”

Of all people on earth, it might be supposed that we, rational

American freemen, would be most ready to bear with unpalatable truths

told us of ourselves, and to profit by the admonitions those truths

involve: that we would most willingly pray

“O would some Power the giftie gie us,

To see oursels as others see us!

It would frae mony a blunder free us,

And foolish notion.”

But instead of doing so, we wince, swear, and call names, at the

slightest hint from a foreigner that our country and all belonging to

it, are not the very beau ideal of perfection. It must be thus, if we

would make those advances towards perfection which the true patriot

covets for his country. Pope's precept applies no less to nations than

to individuals—

“Trust not yourself; but your defects to know,

Make use of _every friend_, and _every foe_.”

“Paulding's Washington,” “Anthon's Sallust,” “Walsh's Didactics,”

“Mellen's Poems,” and Lieutenant Slidell's “Spain Revisited,” (all

native American works) are reviewed in a manner at once kind, just,

and interesting.

The Number contains a good deal of original Poetry; the merits of

which we must consign to the judgment of those who have more

pretensions to taste in poetry than we have.

We wish the Messenger all honor and prosperity—a steadily increasing

list of punctually paying subscribers.

From the New Yorker.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—We believe our respected cotemporary

has profited by our advice this month before it reached him, for we

find the June number on our table in much better season than its

predecessors. We mark the improvement with pleasure, even though we

cannot take credit to ourselves for effecting it. A few words on the

papers which compose it.

“The Right of Instruction” is ably and temperately discussed in the

leading article, which we may safely attribute to the pen of Judge

Hopkinson, of Pennsylvania. The essay denies the right of a

Legislature to instruct authoritatively the U. S. Senators of the

State—or rather, the obligation of the Senators to obey unhesitatingly

such requisition. We shall take cognizance of this subject in another

place at an early day; but, for the present, we must be content with

the remark that the argument drawn from the spirit of the Constitution

and the intent of its framers is formidable, if not conclusive.

“Perdicaris,” a sketch of the Greek scholar now lecturing on the

literature and polity of his native land, is only remarkable for a

translation of a beautiful little poem ‘from the Romaic of

Christopoulos.’

“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” are continued in this number.

“Losing and Winning” is one of the most quietly affecting and

excellent tales that we have perused for months. Let who will declaim

against the evils wrought by fiction, we are sure that this same story

contains more true practical wisdom—more forcible persuasives to the

paths of virtue and duty, than many a well-intended volume of fact or

direct exhortation.

“The Swan of Loch Oich” is fair verse, and fair only.

“Ulea Holstein—A Tale of the Northern Seas,” is touching in its

catastrophe, but not well imagined. The writer is evidently no

veteran.

We have sometimes fancied we had reason to dislike the poetical

contributions to the Messenger, while we were better suited with the

prose. In the number before us there are three articles in verse—“The

Laughing Girl,” “A Birth-Day Tribute,” and “Thy Home and Mine,”—which

would do credit to any periodical. The Editor is evidently ‘weeding

out’ as well as strengthening his crops of contributors, much to the

advantage of his work.

“Court Day” and “My First Attempt at Poetry,” are both well done.

_A Lecture on Education_ concludes the contributed articles, and is

devoted to a portrayal of the parental faults and misdemeanors which

operate as serious obstacles to the inculcation of right principles

and correct ideas in the minds of children. We heartily wish it could

be read and appreciated by all the parents in our country.

The Editorial Criticisms are spirited but just. “Recollections of

Coleridge,” Colton's “Religious State of the Country,” &c. &c. are

praised without stint; while Col. Stone's unfortunate “Ups and Downs

in the Life of a Distressed Gentleman,” is most unsparingly shown up.

We like the independence, the directness, of the Editor, though he

sometimes contrives to tread emphatically on the corns of an author

for whom we have a tenderness. In the present instance, however, he

has managed to be just right throughout, and our appreciation of his

labors is graduated accordingly.

From the National Gazette.

The number of the Southern Literary Messenger, for June, contains,

among other excellent articles, “A reply to a late article in the

Richmond Enquirer in favor of the mandatory right of a State

Legislature to instruct a Senator of the United States, and supported

by the {522} alleged opinions of King, Jay and Hamilton, as expressed

in the Convention of New York.” It is said to be by “a distinguished

jurist of Philadelphia;” and the signature of H., together with the

internal evidence of the composition, leave no doubt that it is from

the pen of the eminent Judge of our District Court. He concludes the

article with stating that a week or ten days before the death of Chief

Justice Marshall, having called upon that great and good man, the

question of instruction being then in high debate in the papers—he

said to him that he thought the Virginia doctrine of instructions was

inconsistent with all the principles of our government, and subversive

of the stability of its foundations. To this the Chief Justice

replied, in these words—“It is so; indeed, the Virginia doctrines are

incompatible, not only with the government of the United States, but

with _any_ government.”

From the Boston Galaxy.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_ is before us. Too much praise cannot

be conceded to the publisher of this Monthly. He started on untried

ground—but has brought forward his forces with such superior skill,

and maintained the combat so manfully, that he has won the entire

victory. The Messenger is an honor to the South. The articles it

contains are for the most part of a superior order, while a spirit

characterizes its editorial department exceedingly gratifying. The

number before us has many most valuable articles; and so long as those

concerned in its publication exert themselves with their present

success, a corresponding flow of patronage must ensue. There is an

original manuscript of Ben Franklin—desirable if only as a matter of

curiosity—a poem by N. P. Willis, furnished by J. F. Otis, to be found

on our outside—an interesting chronology of authors—a story by E. A.

Poe, &c.

From the United States Gazette.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—Backward, like every thing else this

spring, the April number of this periodical made its appearance in the

first week in May. It is a good number, and though the reader may

think the variety of its articles not so great as in some of the

preceding, it contains many interesting papers. The first consists of

“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin,” comprising a Lecture upon Providence,

never before published, and two humorous letters in the manner of

those in the Spectator, published originally a hundred years ago in

the Pennsylvania Gazette, and now republished from the original

manuscripts. The article upon Maelzel's Automaton Chess Player is the

most successful attempt we have seen to explain the _modus operandi_

of that wonderful production. The writer advances a multitude of

reasons to sustain his position, that a human being is concealed in

the box and figure, and might be considered to have achieved complete

success, were it not that an objection at once suggests itself. Could

any human being have played so often and so long without once

betraying himself by a sneeze and a cough? The “March Court” is a racy

sketch, and the writer brings before us the justices, jurors,

counsellors, clients, planters, pettifoggers, constables, cake women,

candidate and jackass, as large as life, to say nothing of the sheriff

running down a man who endeavors to escape, not punishment for some

offence of his own, but the honor of sitting on the jury to decide

upon the guilt of others. Nothing of the kind can be better than the

anecdote in this piece, of the suppression of the British authorities

by the _report_ from the British cannon during the last war. The

dramatic sketch entitled “The Death of Robespierre,” is much to our

taste. The incidents are well told, the language is poetical, and the

versification smooth and harmonious. It is to be hoped that the

readers of the Messenger will hear again from this author. The Essay

on “Woman” is, we conclude from the signature, from a female hand, and

contains just views upon a subject long neglected, but now beginning

to attract a proper share of attention—Female Education. The present

number is smaller than usual, its predecessor having exceeded the

standard, to admit Professor Dew's Address. The subscription list

continues steadily to increase, and includes the names of several

Philadelphians. The citizens of Richmond appear determined to give it

a liberal support, and testify their opinion of its excellence in the

most substantial manner.

From the Methodist Conference Sentinel.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—We are indebted to the politeness of

the publisher for the May number of this periodical. We have looked

over some of its articles with pleasure. Among others “Odds and Ends,”

“German Literature,” and “American Social Elevation” are well worthy

of an attentive perusal. The character of this monthly “Messenger” is,

in the general, unexceptionable, and it will, beyond question, exert a

powerful, and, we trust a purifying, influence upon Southern

literature. “The Hall of Incholese” is not only a failure in that

department of literature with which it claims affinity; but it

certainly possesses a character that can reflect but little credit

upon the heretofore well established reputation of the “Messenger.” It

seems neither fit to “point a moral, nor adorn a tale.” If the author

has any desire for distinction in that particular line of writing, it

will be necessary for him to form a more extensive acquaintance with

“the little figure in black” before he can even hope for success. It

would be better however to withdraw from the association altogether.

In objecting to this article, we cannot be understood to object to the

work in which it is found. The “Editorial Notices” are, to us, the

most interesting part of the periodical. We turn to them with

pleasure, in anticipation of an intellectual feast, and we are _never_

disappointed. Though we sometimes differ with the editor in matters of

taste and opinion, yet we find satisfaction in following the ever

flowing stream of thought along which he leads his readers. We bid it

welcome to our desk, and heartily wish it success.

From the Petersburg Constellation.

_Southern Literary Messenger, for June_.—Our best thanks are due to

the attentive proprietor for his prompt attention in forwarding the

Messenger. As usual, it contains many pleasing articles: the MSS. of

Franklin are literary curiosities. An excellent moral tale, entitled

“Losing and Winning,” adorns the number. Our present limits will not

permit more than these cursory remarks, but if enterprise and talent

are any guaranty for success, Mr. White need feel no alarm for the

ultimate success of his efforts in favor of _Southern_ Literature. Let

the New York Mirror snarl if it will; there are papers in each

Messenger which will outlive all the Norman Leslie “Pencillings by the

Way,” and “Wearies my Love of my Letters?” of its erudite editors.

Kennel a stag-hound with a cur, and the latter will yelp in very fear.

From the Winchester Virginian.

The June number of the _Southern Literary Messenger_ has reached us.

Its contents are of a highly interesting character—among them is a

very able article on the “Right of Instruction,” by a distinguished

jurist of Philadelphia, but one in which the conclusions are not such

as have obtained in Virginia, nor such as we have always inclined to

believe correct. We are rather gratified than otherwise, however, at

the introduction into the Messenger of essays upon such topics. Of the

prose articles, one entitled “Losing and Winning,” by the author of

“Sensibility, &c.” is a most valuable contribution; several others in

the same department are very well written. The poetical articles are

generally in good taste, and the critical notices are, as usual, able,

candid and fearless. The Messenger is taking a higher and still higher

stand among the periodicals of the day.

{523} From the New Hampshire Patriot.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—In acknowledging our obligations to the

publisher for the above work, we cannot do less than express our

unqualified approbation of the character, contents and design of the

Messenger. We have often seen it favorably noticed by our brethren of

the corps editorial, as among the first monthly magazines in this

country—by some even placed at the head of the list—but it is only by

an examination and perusal of the numbers before us, that we have

learned to appreciate the justness of their praise. The correctness,

neatness, beauty and elegance of its typographical execution and

appearance, not less than the rich and attractive guise thrown over

its pages by the combined union of wit, genius and learning therein

displayed, certainly surpass any thing to be met with in any similar

periodical within our knowledge. We have not space to detail its

particular merits, and will only remark generally in the words of

another, that the contributions, prose and poetical, are of a high

grade of excellence, the _critiques_ precisely what they should be in

such a work—faithful mirrors, reflecting in miniature the book

reviewed, and exposing alike its beauties and deformities without

favor or affection. We should be glad to enrich our columns by

transferring to them several articles from the Messenger—perhaps

hereafter we may be enabled to do so. At present we can only commend

it to the countenance and patronage of our literary friends.

From the Charleston Courier.

_The Southern Periodicals_.—We have received the April number of “The

Southern Literary Messenger.” It contains, among other articles of

interest, a highly ingenious attempt to show that Maelzel's Chess

Player is not a pure machine, but regulated by mind—by a human agent

concealed within it.

From the Louisville City Gazette.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_ is the title of a periodical,

published at Richmond, Virginia, that has no superior, either in the

taste and genius of its contributors, or the beauty of its mechanism.

Its criticisms are prepared with peculiar justness and acumen—not

leaning to the side of mercy, and throwing a protecting veil over the

sins and faults of others, but plainly pointing them out—not screening

the errors of a friend, or sparing the tender places of an enemy. Such

guardians we want to preserve the vigor of American Literature. There

are some nurses so tender and so indulgent, that the children under

their tutelage, either die of a surfeit of sweets, or languish through

their too great care and tenderness. This will never be the case with

our literature while guarded by such vigilant sentinels as the

Southern Literary Messenger.

We had an opportunity, while conducting a periodical in a neighboring

city, of seeing some of the earlier numbers of the Messenger, and on

such occasions expressed the gratification and pleasure enjoyed in

their perusal. And it is not only well sustained, but improves. Lionel

Granby is kept up with spirit. Edgar A. Poe sprinkles his gems among

the leaves of the Messenger. George H. Calvert, Esq. of the same city,

freights it with the researches of ripe scholarship in the lore of

German Literature. The May number is excellent, and we shall recur to

it often, before it gives place to its successor.

We are indebted to Mr. White, the publisher, for his present, and

assure him he could not have sent us a budget which would have been

received by us with more pleasure.

From the Oxford Examiner.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—He who assumes to himself the province

of amusing and instructing mankind for “a consideration,” is amenable

at all times to just criticisms. The publisher of a newspaper or

journal of any kind, should never feel _hurt_, as a caterer for the

public appetite, if some of those to whom they minister should growl

and find fault. He ought not to claim pre-emption over all other men,

but should be satisfied if he occasionally received an approving nod.

It is always a strong evidence of a want of force of mind to fly in a

passion at the suggestions of a friend, when they are disposed to

disapprove of our acts, although they may be unjust. We make these

preliminary remarks in allusion to a hasty notice we took of the April

number of the Messenger, which the publisher was polite enough to send

us. Our time is generally much occupied, and we perhaps gave that

number and others which have been occasionally handed us by a friend,

rather a hasty perusal. We felt _then_, as we do _now_, that the

editor's criticisms were unnecessarily, perhaps, strictly severe in

some instances. The eagle who towers above all other birds, and even

dares to look upon the sun, would not, unless hard pressed, condescend

to notice the earthly flutterings of a tomtit—he aspires to higher

game.

We may have done the editor injustice; and we hardly expected him to

send us another number—but perhaps, in his youthful days, he has read

the fable of the gnat and the ox—whether he did or did not, we feel

obliged to him for the May number.

We have always freely accorded to Mr. White almost unrivalled

excellence as a printer, and we now as freely accord to him the most

unqualified praise for the _matter_ as well as the manner of his last

number.

From the Columbia (S. C.) Times.

We acknowledge the receipt of the May number of that chaste and

interesting publication, the “Southern Literary Messenger,” published

by T. W. White, Richmond, Va. It undoubtedly contains more matter, for

the price, than any other southern publication, and in style, is

altogether unlike the mawkish effusions denominated “literary” with

which our community is so liberally inundated.

From the New Hampshire Patriot.

The _Southern Literary Messenger_, for April, has just reached us, and

though rather late in the day, we cannot omit observing that it is

excellent—well sustaining the high reputation of its predecessors. We

renewedly commend the work to the favor of our literary friends, as

one every way deserving their patronage—in many respects unrivalled by

any similar publication in the country.

From the Winchester Virginian.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—We have just received the April No. of

this work, but have barely had time to read the article on “Maelzel's

Chess Player,” which happened to arrest our attention on opening the

book. It is exceedingly well written and interesting. The table of

contents holds out quite a tempting bill of fare.

From the Richmond Whig.

_The Southern Literary Messenger_.—The May number of this periodical

has just appeared. Though not perhaps equal to some of the preceding

numbers, it is far, very far from being deficient either in

entertainment or instruction. As all the supporters of this work, and

indeed the public generally, have a deep interest in its reputation,

it is not only right, but a duty, to pass an occasional judgment upon

its merits—to commend its various excellences, and to point out in the

spirit of liberal criticism, such faults as may be perceived to exist.

The Messenger, to be extensively and permanently popular, must mingle

the useful with the sweet. It must not only mirror the burning

thoughts and glowing images which teem in the world of fancy, but also

condescend an occasional visit to this dull planet, the Earth. It must

mix familiarly with ordinary mortals, take some interest in their

concerns, and lend a helping {524} hand in the struggles which are now

making against power and corruption. Not that the Messenger should

become a vehicle of mere party politics, but that the great principles

of liberty should be boldly and steadily espoused by its conductors

and those various and important measures which concern the welfare and

happiness of the State, freely and frequently discussed in its pages.

If the Star of this Republic, “the world's last hope,” is destined to

go down in darkness, corruption and misery, literature will either

follow its fate, or be no longer worth cultivating or preserving. As

essentially connected with the great cause of civil liberty, sound

morals ought also to find in the Messenger a constant and able

advocate. Without freedom and virtue, it is difficult to conceive the

existence in any community of a pure and exalted literary taste. Such

articles as the “Hall of Incholese,” by J. N. McJilton, are popular

only with a small number of readers, and are not calculated to

increase the moral reputation of the Messenger. The introduction of

the Evil One, as a familiar in human society—as a social companion in

scenes of revelry, has rather a tendency to throw an air of ridicule

upon the truths of Divine Revelation. Milton indeed pierced the

mysterious veil which shrouds the monarch of darkness, but Milton's

Satan, “high on his throne of state,” is invested with a sublime

terror which forbids the approaches of levity, and leaves behind it no

impression inconsistent with revealed truth. No similar exception,

however, can be taken to any other article in the present number of

the Messenger. The MSS. of Franklin are interesting remains of that

great man—interesting as illustrations of the strong common sense

which peculiarly distinguished him. “Lionel Granby” is one of the best

chapters which has appeared under that title. A novel however,

published at intervals in the pages of a monthly miscellany,

necessarily loses by that circumstance much of its interest. The

author of “Odds and Ends” has attempted with much humor and effect, a

new moral classification of that strange compound animal called Man.

His satire is for the most part just, and his style racy and

agreeable. “Random Thoughts,” saving and excepting one or two smutty

allusions, are excellent. They have an air of freshness and

originality, which is quite delightful, considering how little can be

said which is new upon any subject. The Lecture on “German

Literature,” by Mr. Calvert of Baltimore, now for the first time

published, is highly creditable to its author. It evinces much

classical taste, combined with a spirit of philosophical criticism.

Mr. Calvert is sometimes, however, careless in his style, or rather in

the formation of his sentences, which a good writer should study to

avoid; and the great literary sin of this country, _a propensity to

bombast_—is discernible in some parts of his lecture. Take for example

the following passage, “John Wolfgang Goethe, was born at Frankfort on

the Maine, in 1749, ten years before Schiller. ‘Selectest influences,’

leagued with nature, to produce this wonderful man. To give its

complete development to a mighty inward power, outward circumstances

were most happily propitious. _Upon faculties of the quickest

sensibility, and yet of infinitely elastic power—wide convulsions and

world-disturbing incidents bore with tempestuous force, dilating the

congenial energies of the young genius who suddenly threw out his

fiery voice to swell the tumult round him, and announce the master

spirit of the age._” This would certainly be a very unfair specimen of

the general character of the lecture, and it is the more surprising,

that such a sentence should have escaped the vigilance of the author.

The slightest departure from the simplest mode of expression, if it

does not degenerate into bombast, is almost certain to be attended by

a certain degree of obscurity. The author of the “Hall of Incholese,”

is himself not free from this blemish. The following passage is

entirely unintelligible: “The Spanish minister was married; but a star

on the fashionable horizon higher than the vesta of his own choice,

prompted the proffer of his help, in the establishment of a medium

point of lustre.” The meaning might be guessed at by very laborious

study—but popular literature should never levy so severe a tax upon

its subjects. The paper on “American Social Elevation,” contains many

just thoughts and patriotic reflections, expressed in an unusually

agreeable style—and the 4th No. of “Readings with my Pencil,” is quite

passable. The design of the writer is excellent, and deserves to be

imitated. The “Critical Notices,” though in themselves good, are not

generally equal to the Editor's previous efforts. As it was however

permitted to Homer sometimes to nod, so should the really gifted mind

which presides over the Messenger, be allowed occasionally a little

repose. Of the poetry, the writer of this brief notice will say

nothing. Some of it is good—but he is but an indifferent judge.

From the New York Weekly Messenger.

_Southern Literary Messenger_.—The high encomiums which this

periodical has received from all parts of the Union, it most richly

deserves. We have been favored with the five first numbers of the

current (second) volume, and have had an intellectual feast in the

perusal of many articles contained therein. To express our opinion

candidly of the talents and erudition of the worthy editor of this

monthly, would expose us to the charge of plagiarism, because it would

be exactly similar to half a hundred others, who have preceded us in

expressions of approbation. What shall we do then? To go through and

examine every article in five numbers, is more than we have space for.

But we must—we feel bound to say, Virginians especially are indebted

to Mr. White for his _unprecedented_ literary zeal. He ought to meet

with encouragement; in short, we believe he does,—but there should be

an effort made to sustain the undertaking, by a continually increasing

list of _paying_ subscribers.

If our friends in the city or country wish their table filled with

rich literary food once a month, they should immediately order “The

Southern Literary Messenger,” published by T. W. White, Richmond, Va.

There is one article to which we object, the burlesque, or caricature,

not criticism, on Fay's “Norman Leslie,” but in making only one

objection, we think much is said for the periodical, more than can be

said of any other of the monthlies. We really do think it is as good

as any, if not the very best in these United States. We think so

highly of the Richmond “Messenger,” that if we had the numbers of the

first volume, we would have them neatly bound, and placed in our

library as a literary treasure.

From the Norfolk Herald.

The _Southern Literary Messenger_ for May very gallantly holds it own.

The ‘manuscripts of Franklin’ are well worth publishing. The chapter

of Lionel Granby introduces us into the bodily presence of Lamb and

Coleridge, and the ragged regiment of folios and quartos pass in

review before us. The Lecture on German Literature, by Mr. Calvert of

Baltimore, is a very entertaining discourse on the history of the

poetry and philosophy of that wonderful people; but it is clear that

the author of the lecture has paid more attention to the German than

to the English and those languages from which the English flows. The

paper of Oliver Oldschool is worthy of its author, and we were happy

to see the story of ‘Tang Lang’ appended as a foot-note. The critical

notices are very good for the most part; but then we could hardly

expect Mr. Poe to be sour ere the honey moon be past. What has become

of the remaining numbers of the series of articles on the distinctive

differences of the sexes from the pen of one of the strongest writers

of the Commonwealth? We sincerely hope, that, after such a fair

beginning, the theme has not proved too mighty—if it has, the author

may henceforth ponder well on the advice of Horace. Still we are on

the look out for the essays.