for two very instructive and amusing volumes, of which we intend the
reader shall know more hereafter. The first is entitled '_Portfolio
Chinensis_,' or a collection of authentic Chinese State Papers, in the
native language, illustrative of the history of the late important events
in China, with a translation by J. LEWIS SHUCK; the second, a '_Narrative
of the late Proceedings and Events in China_,' by JOHN SLADE, editor of
the 'Canton Register.' In looking over these publications, we are struck
with the vigor and pertinacity with which, when once their minds were made
up, the Chinese authorities pursued their object of abolishing opium
forever from the celestial empire. Edicts against the 'red-bristled
foreigners' from England, and the people of the American or 'flower-flag
nation,' who should hoard up the smoking earth or vaporous drug, were
enforced by others addressed to the natives, intended to lessen or
annihilate the demand. The remonstrances with the opium-smokers themselves
are exceedingly pungent. The 'Great Emperor, quaking with wrath,' having
examined the whole matter, and 'united the circumstances,' saturates the
High Commissioner LIN with his own bright 'effulgence of reason,' who
thereupon promulges: 'Although the opium exists among the outside
barbarians, there is not a man of them who is willing to smoke it himself;
but the natives of the flowery land are on the contrary with willing
hearts led astray by them; and they exhaust their property and brave the
prohibitions, by purchasing a commodity which inflicts injury upon their
own vitals. Is not this supremely ridiculous! And that you part with your
money to poison your own selves, is it not deeply lamentable! How is it
that you allow men to befool you? Thus the fish covets the bait and
forgets the hook; the miller-fly covets the candle-light, but forgets the
fire. Ye bring misfortunes upon yourselves! Habits which are thus
disastrous are unchangeable, being like the successive rolling of the
waves of the sea. Is not your conduct egregiously strange? We the governor
and Fooyuen have three times and five times again and again remonstrated
with and exhorted you, giving you lucid warning. Surely, you are indeed
dreaming, and _snoring_ in your dreams!' These multiplied edicts, and the
offers of _rewards_, to 'encourage repentant and fear-stricken hearts,'
seem to have led to a little trickery on the part of certain cunning
mandarins, if we interpret aright this clause in an ensuing 'lucid
warning:' 'The opium-pipes which are delivered up must be distinguished
clearly as to whether they are real or false. Those having on the outside
of them the marks of use, and within the oily residue of the smoke, are
the genuine ones; and those which are made of new bamboo, and merely
moistened with the smoky oil, are the false ones.' A 'spec.' had evidently
been made by means of false 'smoking-implements.' But the most amusing
portions of these volumes are the vermillion edicts against the 'outside
barbarians,' who had irritated the sacred wrath to the cutting off of
their trade. The estimates of the Fooyuen, it will be seen, are of that
vague kind usually designated among us as 'upward of considerable.'
Alluding to the 'blithesome profits' which had accrued from an intercourse
with China, he says: 'I find that during the last several tens of years
the money out of which you have duped our people, by means of your
destructive drug, amounts I know not to how many tens of thousands of
myriads. Your ships, which in former years amounted annually to no more
than several tens, now exceed a hundred and several tens, which arrive
here every year. I would like to ask you if in the wide earth under heaven
you can find such another profit-yielding market as this is? Our great
Chinese Emperor views all mankind with equal benevolence, and therefore it
is that he has thus graciously permitted you to trade, and become as it
were steeped to the lips in gain. If this port of Canton, however, were to
be shut against you, how could you scheme to reap profit more? Moreover,
our tea and rhubarb are articles which ye foreigners from afar cannot
preserve your lives without; yet year by year we allow you to export both
beyond seas, without the slightest feeling of grudge on our part. Never
was imperial goodness greater than this! Formerly, the prohibitions of our
empire might still be considered indulgent, and therefore it was that from
all our ports the sycee leaked out as the opium rushed in: now, however,
the Great Emperor, on hearing of it, actually quivers with indignation,
and before he will stay his hand the evil must be completely and entirely
done away with.' But these denunciations are not unmingled with
incitements to fear in another direction: 'You are separated from your
homes by several tens of thousands of miles, and a ship which comes and
goes is exposed to the perils of the great and boundless ocean, arising
from curling waves, contrary tides, thunders and lightnings, and the
howling tempest, as well as the jeopardy of crocodiles and whales!
Heaven's chastisements should be regarded with awe. The majesty and virtue
of our Great Emperor is the same with that of heaven itself! Our celestial
dynasty soothes and tranquillizes the central and foreign lands, and our
favor flows most wide. Our central empire is exuberant in all kinds of
productions, and needs not in the slightest degree whatever the goods of
the outer seas.' As matters are about proceeding to an open rupture with
the 'red-bristled foreigners,' and preparations are making to 'fire upon
them with immense guns,' there ensues a bit of Chinese diplomacy, which is
especially rich. After a long interview by a committee with the _Chefoo_,
during which all sorts of arguments are urged upon Snow, the American
Consul, and VAN BASEL, the Netherlands Consul, to induce them to sign a
'duly-prepared bond,' that none of their countrymen shall thenceforth
bring opium to China, the audience is suddenly closed with: 'To-morrow the
Chefoo will be at the Consoo-house, and wait from nine till night to
receive the bonds. _Now go home and go to bed!_' But enough for the nonce
of JOHN CHINAMAN. · · · IN alluding to Mr. COLE'S graphic account of the
_Ascent of Mount Ætna_, in our last issue, we spoke of its late eruption.
While reading the proof of that portion of our 'Gossip,' a friend handed
us a letter lately received from an American missionary lady at the
Sandwich Islands, from which we extract the subjoined vivid description of
the great volcano at Hawaii: 'You know,' says the writer, 'something, I
suppose, of the geological character of this island. It seems as though a
vast crater had boiled over and poured its fiery liquid in every
direction. This lava, having cooled and hardened, forms the basis of the
island. The district of Kau is a rich, luxuriant spot, surrounded by
desolate fields of scoriæ, which renders it difficult of access. We are
situated six miles from the sea, sufficiently elevated to give us a
commanding view of its vast expanse of waters. We can occasionally spy a
sail floating like a speck on its surface. From the shore, the country
gradually rises into a range of verdant mountains, whose summits appear to
touch the clouds. Proceeding northward toward Hilo, there is a gradual
rise, until you reach the Great Volcano, about six miles distant. In
making the tour to Hilo, we camped here the second night, on the brink of
the burning gulf. Suppose a vast area of earth, as large as the bay of
New-York, to have fallen in to the depth of several thousand feet. At the
bottom of this great cauldron, you behold the liquid fire boiling and
bubbling up, partly covered with a thick black scum. There are two or
three inner craters, which have been formed by the lava cooling on its
sides while the liquid sunk below. The gentlemen mostly descended into
this crater, but I was fully satisfied with a look from above. The earth
is cracked all around at the top, and portions of it are continually
falling in. Steam issues from open places in all the region. This volcano
has been in action from time immemorial, as the natives all assert, and
has been with them an object of idolatrous worship. The range of mountains
continues for some thirty miles beyond this, and terminates in the
snow-capped summit of Mounadoa. This mountain is in full sight at Hilo,
and about thirty miles distant. Since we have been here it has been the
scene of the most wonderful volcanic eruptions ever yet seen on this
island. Mr. P----, in company with Mr. C----, visited it a week or two
since, and ascended the mountain to the old crater, from whence the flood
of lava proceeded. Fire has not been seen in it within the remembrance of
the oldest natives. An immense river of burning lava is at this time
running down the side of the mountain, in a subterraneous channel, from
three to four miles wide. They had a good view of it through air-holes in
the lava, over which they were walking, which was like a sea of glass;
frequently sinking in different places in consequence of the intense heat
below. It will probably yet find its way to the surface somewhere, and,
laying prostrate every thing that opposes it, pursue its devastating
course to the sea. Truly we live in a world of wonders!' · · · BY the by,
speaking of volcanos: it will be remembered that in 1831 an island was
thrown up by volcanic eruption in the Mediterranean sea, off the south
coast of Sicily. It presented the form of a round hill, about one hundred
and twenty feet above the sea's level, with thick clouds of white smoke
issuing from it. As may well be imagined, it excited great wonder and
curiosity, and was visited by vast numbers of people. An Austrian, a
French and a British vessel met there at the same time. A dispute arose as
to what power the island should belong, what it should be named, etc.;
when a British sailor leaped on shore, and planted on the topmost peak the
union-jack. Nine cheers proclaimed Britannia victorious. On returning
shortly after, to take another look at their newly-acquired possession,
they found to their dismay that, like Aladdin's palace, the island had
disappeared, leaving the Mediterranean as smooth as if the magic wonder
had never reared its head! This circumstance suggested the following lines
by a correspondent:
FATHER NEPTUNE, one day, as he traversed the seas,
Much wanted a spot to recline at his ease:
For long tossed and tired by the billow's commotion,
''Tis a shame,' cried the god, 'I'm confined to the ocean.
I'll have an island!' To VULCAN he flew,
Saying, 'Help me this time, and in turn I'll help you.
To make a new island's an excellent scheme;
And I think, my dear VULCAN, we'll raise it by steam.'
'Agreed!' cried the god.
Straight to work they repair,
And throw an abundance of smoke in the air.
This mariners saw, and it did them affright;
They straightway concluded all could not be right.
'We'll to Sicily repair, and appeal to powers civil,
For certainly this is the work of the devil!'
The Austrians and French came the wonder to view:
Said Britain, in anger, 'That isle's not for you!
For us, us alone, did Britannia design it,
And, d' ye see, we'll be d----d if we ever resign it!
On that island we'll land! there our standard we'll raise!
We will there plant our jack, if the island should blaze!'
The gods, in great wrath, heard all this contention:
'Dear NEPTUNE,' said VUL., 'this has spoiled our invention.'
'It has,' said the god, 'but, I swear by my trident,
The proud sons of Britain shall never abide on 't!
It was raised for a god, and no vile worthless mortal
On that island shall dwell, to eat oysters and turtle.
Down! down with it, VUL., that will best end the quarrel,
And I'll be content with my old bed of coral.'
* * * * *
'MILK FOR BABES,' an elaborately-concocted satire upon a certain class of
'learned and pious hand-books for urchins of both sexes,' is not without
humor, and ridicules what indeed in some respects deserves animadversion.
We affect as little as our correspondent what has been rightly termed 'a
clumsy fumbling for the half-formed intellect, a merciless hunting down of
the tender and unfledged thought,' through the means of 'instructive'
little books, wherein an insipid tale goes feebly wriggling through an
unmerciful load of moral, religious and scientific preaching; or an
apparently simple dialogue involves subjects of the highest difficulty,
which are chattered over between two juvenile prodigies, or delivered to
them in mouthfuls, curiously adapted to their powers of swallowing. 'The
minor manners and duties,' says our correspondent, 'are quite overlooked
by misguided parents now-a-days;' and this he illustrates by an anecdote:
'THOMAS, my son,' said a father to a lad in my hearing, the other day,
'won't you show the gentleman your last composition?' 'I don't want to,'
said he. 'I _wish_ you would,' responded the father. 'I wont!' was the
reply; 'I'll be goy-blamed if I do!' A sickly, half-approving smile passed
over the face of the father, as he said, in extenuation of his son's
_brusquerie_: 'Tom don't lack manners generally; but the fact is, _he's
got such a cold, he is almost a fool_!' Kind parent! happy boy! · · · WE
would counsel such of our readers as can command it, to secure the perusal
of '_Hugh Adamson's Reply to John Campbell_,' in the matter of
international copy-right. Mr. CAMPBELL, being a paper dealer, and greatly
benefitted in his business by the increased sale of stock consequent upon
the influx of cheap republications, is naturally very anxious to prevent
the passage of an international copy-right law. As might be anticipated of
such an advocate, his real reasons are all based upon the _argumentum ad
crumenam,_ the argument to the _purse_. Mr. ADAMSON, in a few satirical,
well-reasoned, sententious paragraphs, has fairly demolished the
superstructure which Selfishness had reared, and exposed the
misrepresentations upon which alone the unsubstantial fabric could have
rested. It is quiet and good-natured, but _cutting_; and will act as an
antidote to the elaborate sophistry of Mr. CAMPBELL'S ambitious
_brochure_. · · · WE think we shall publish 'L. D. Q.'s '_Parody_;' but
should like him to change the third stanza, which is 'like a mildewed ear,
blasting its wholesome brothers.' The other verses are capital. One of the
cleverest modern parodies which we remember, was written in a Philadelphia
journal, and touched upon some exciting city event, before the Court of
Sessions. It was in the measure of '_The Cork Leg_,' and _ran_ somewhat as
follows:
'The defendant said that it was too bad
To be taken up before Judge CON-RAD.
* * * * *
Now Mr. H----, the lawyer, was there,
With a pretty good head, but not very much hair,
So little, in fact, that a wig he must wear,
Ri tu den u-den a!'
The parody had the jogging, jolting air of the original, and was replete,
we recollect, with whimsical associations. · · · WE shall venture to
present here the comments of two most valued friends and contributors,
upon the performances of two _other_ esteemed friends and favorite
correspondents. Of '_The Venus of Ille_,' the one writes as follows: 'I
fully sympathise with you in your admiration of this tale, as well as of
'The Innocence of a Galley-Slave.' I could not in the perusal of them both
but feel the vast superiority of the Grecian over the Gothic style. For in
spite of all the humor and wit and nature and pathos of the DICKENS and
LEVER school, there is something more of the Gothic and grotesque in their
paintings than in these pure and unforced limnings of the able Frenchman.
Where the ground-work of the tale is of sufficiently bold conception, and
the incidents offer hooks enough to hang interest upon, there can be no
doubt that this cool style is by far the most effectual in the end. The
more strained and heated style of some other modern authors will be very
effectual for awhile, but the excitement of the reader will flag sooner.
The reason is, that too much descriptive and passionate power is expended
on minor portions of the tale; and the enthusiasm of the reader is
partially exhausted before he comes to the grand catastrophe, where it
should be most of all elicited. But writers like WALTER SCOTT, or this
Frenchman, are self-possessed and meditative in a great portion of their
writings; by skilful touches giving the reader every thing necessary for
him to know in reference to characters and scenes; and on any great
emergency their sudden heat carries the reader away captive.' The
admiration expressed by our other accomplished friend for the chaste and
graceful essays of a still more accomplished correspondent (there is
nothing like disparagement in this comparison) is widely shared, as we
have the best reason to know, by our readers on both sides of the
Atlantic: 'JOHN WATERS! There is a drab-coated plainness about the name,
which is at the same time _liquid_ and musical; not more liquid and
musical, howbeit, than those charming commentaries of his on every variety
of quaint topic; full of an amiable grace, tinged with the most delicate
hue of a fine humor; a refined ore drawn from no ordinary mine without
alloy; like the compositions of SAPPHO, to which an unerring critic has
applied the expression, [Greek: chruseiotera chrusou]; the very best of
gold. Doves never bore choicer _billet-doux_ beneath their wings. A
beautiful sentiment always touches the heart, though couched in homely
phrase; but when one knows how to cull from our mother-tongue the most
expressive words, and has gained that enviable mastery, making them fall
into their own places, and thus become inseparable from the idea, the
perfection of art is gained. Serve us up these choice _morceaux_ each
month, dear EDITOR; let them not be missed from the generous board, lest
the banquet be incomplete. Let me tell you, in passing, that your
correspondent HARRY FRANCO'S tale is a caution to dowagers. Never have I
encountered such a startling incident on the high seas, out of 'DON JUAN.'
· · · DID it occur to 'N.' that the change suggested in the mere
inscription of his epigram, '_Religious Disputation_,' would be entirely
out of keeping? 'Uniting the circumstances,' as Commissioner LIN would
say, would produce such discrepancy as was occasioned lately at a
democratic meeting in one of the western States, where a certain
resolution in favor of our old friend and correspondent, Gen. CASS, was
made to undergo a slight metamorphosis by the substitution of the name of
Mr. VAN BUREN; causing it to read something like this: 'Whereas Gen.
MARTIN VAN BUREN emigrated to the west from New-Hampshire in early life
with his knapsack on his back, and unsheathed his sword in repelling the
Indians and fighting against the British!' etc. This historical fiction,
in the antagonistic excitement of the moment, was carried by an almost
unanimous vote! · · · INVERSION of mere words, or involution of phrase and
syntax, let us whisper in the ear of our Troy correspondent, is not a very
great beauty in poetry. His own good thoughts are spoiled by this
affectation. It requires an artist to employ frequent inversion
successfully. The opening of the '_Lines on a Bust of Dante_', by Mr. T. W.
PARSONS, affords a pleasing example in this kind. It is clear and musical:
'See from this counterfeit of him
Whom Arno shall remember long,
_How stern of lineament, how grim
The father was of Tuscan song_.'
Inversion should be naturally suggested, not forced. · · · IT is to be
inferred, we fear, that the late 'principal editor' of the '_Brother
Jonathan_' does not take it in good part that the new proprietors of that
now popular journal saw fit to arrest its rapid decadence, by a removal of
the inevitable cause of such a consummation. Lo! how from his distant
down-east ambush, with characteristic phrase, he denounces them as
'cowards' and 'puppies!' Whereupon, in a response appropriately brief, the
'brave few' of the 'principal editor's' old readers who have 'endured unto
the end,' are informed by the new incumbent, that the tabooed ci-devant
functionary 'seems disturbed because he was not suffered to kill the
'Brother Jonathan' as he had killed every journal in which he was
permitted to pour out his vapid balderdash. He is a perfect BLUEBEARD
among newspapers. He no sooner slaughters one, than he manages to get hold
of another, and butcher that with the same remorseless indifference.' The
editor adds: 'He once enjoyed the honor of some connection with the 'New
World,' and would have consigned that well-known sheet to the tomb of the
Capulets, had not the publishers foreseen the danger, and escaped in
season.' We merely note these facts, as corroborative of a remark or two
of our own, in our last issue. · · · '_An Incident in Normandy_', we
shrewdly suspect, is _not_ 'from the French;' if it be, all that we have
to say is, that such pseudo-rhapsodists as the writer could never by any
possibility _love_ nature. The thing is altogether _over-done_. A
Frenchman's opinion, however, COWELL tells us, should never be taken where
the beauties of nature are concerned, _unless they can be cooked_. There
is another grave objection to the article; which consists in the undue
frequency of Italian and French words and phrases, foisted into the
narrative. We have a strong attachment to plain, perspicuous _English_.
Ours is a noble language, a beautiful language; and we hold fully with
SOUTHEY, who somewhere remarks that he can tolerate a Germanism, for
family sake; but he adds: 'He who uses a Latin or a French phrase where a
pure old English word does as well, ought to be hung, drawn and quartered,
for high treason against his mother-tongue.' · · · '_The Song of the New
Year_, by Mrs. NICHOLS, in a late number,' writes a Boston correspondent,
'is an excellent production, and a fair specimen of the improved style of
our occasional American verse. Suppose a book-worm should light on poetry
of equal merit among FLATMAN'S, FALCONER'S, PRIOR'S, or PARSELL'S
collections? Would it not shine forth, think you? Indeed our lady-writers
are wresting the plume from our male pen mongers unco fast.' 'That's a
fact.' Mrs. NICHOLS has a sister-poet at Louisville, Kentucky, who has a
very charming style and a delicious fancy. A late verse of hers in some
'_Lines to a Rainbow_,' signed 'AMELIA,' which we encountered at a
reading-room the other day, have haunted our memory ever since:
'There are moments, I think, when the spirit receives
Whole volumes of thought on its unwritten leaves;
When the folds of the heart in a moment unclose,
Like the innermost leaves from the heart of a rose.'
MOORE never conceived a more beautiful simile than this. · · · NUMBER TWO
of the '_Reminiscences of a Dartmoor Prisoner_' will appear in our next
issue. We have received from the writer a very interesting and amusing
manuscript-volume, filled with patriotic poetry, containing vivid pictures
of scenes and events in the daily routine of the prison, as well as
sketches of Melville Island Prison, and reminiscences of striking events
in the lives of sundry of the prisoners, in the progress of the American
war. We shall refer more particularly to this entertaining collection in
an ensuing number. · · · THE Lines on '_Niagara Falls at Night_' are
entirely too terrific for our pages. They are almost as 'love-lily
dreadful' as the great scene itself. 'M.' _must_ 'try again,' that is
quite certain; and we are afraid, _more_ than once. · · · TU DOCES!
Doubtless many of our young readers, especially in the country, have often
pondered over the zig-zag hieroglyphics which covered the tea-chests at
the village-store, and marvelled what 'HOWQUA,' which was inseparable from
these inscriptions, could mean. It was the name of the great Hong
merchant, 'the friend of Americans,' who died recently at Canton, at an
advanced age, leaving his vast wealth to two sons. Here is an elegy
written upon his death by his brother-merchant TINGQUA, which is now being
sung about Canton to a dolorous air, accompanied by the _yeih-pa_ and the
_tchung_, a curious sort of guitar and harp in common use. The elegy
comprises a little outline, together with hints and allusions, prettily
conveyed, of the principal biographical events of HOWQUA'S career, and is
entitled
TINGQUA'S TEARS.
I weep for HOWQUA. He was the friend of my youth. We often rose
before day-break, and gazed together at the soft blue clouds round
the retiring moon.
At that time I smiled on HOWQUA. We both grew old together. We
often went to the tombs of our fathers, side by side, and thought
tenderly of the loving dead.
Weep friends of the Hong. All friends at home (literally
_Celestial_ friends,) and all natives of outside countries weep;
weep excessively. For HOWQUA is no more.
HOWQUA was a fixed man. He had reason. Loving old laws, old
customs, and all things long since established as wise, he
therefore hated change.
HOWQUA was very rich. He had no half-thinkers and third-smokers
(meaning _no partners_,) and no branch-breakers to his universal
tea-dealings.
Also he had lands for rice and pasture, and to play at ball, and
villas, and ponds of fish, and fifteen field-bridges of carved
wood gilt, and seven domestic bridges inlaid with ivory birds and
dragons.
Also he had money in the foreign mysteries (probably meaning the
_funds_.)
Also he had doings with several things of great value, and shares
of large ship-loads. But never would he touch the hateful
opium-trade, after the recent mad insolences.
Also he had some wives.
Also the GREAT EMPEROR loved him, though HOWQUA was only as the
poorest man before that Yellow Illumination of our day and night.
The body of my friend was slight, and easily injured; like the
outside of people's pocket-watch when she walk against the sun
(that is, an injured watch that _goes wrong_.) But my dear friend
for whom I shed these tears had a head with many eyes.
HOWQUA knew what to do with his unnecessary gold. He built a
temple to Buddha, and thus made the god a present of 2,000,000
dollars, to the excessive delight of his Essence and Image.
Also, HOWQUA gave 800,000 dollars to assist the ransom of his
beloved Canton from the fangs of the late war; to the excessive
delight of the Fighting-minded Barbarians.
Weep, then, for HOWQUA, even as I weep. He was the friend of my
youth. Together we grew old, walking toward our fathers' tombs. We
might have died together; but it is well that one old friend
should be left a little while to weep.'
* * * * *