_Record of an Obscure Man. Tragedy of Errors_, Parts I. and II. Boston:
Ticknor and Fields. 1861, 1862.
Among the marked literary productions long to be associated with our
present struggle--among them, yet not of them--are the volumes whose
titles we have quoted. They differ from the recent electric messages of
Holmes, Whittier, and Mrs. Howe, in not being obvious results of vivid
events. "Bread and the Newspaper," "The Song of the Negro Boatmen," and
"Our Orders" will reproduce for another generation the fervid feelings
of to-day. But the pathetic warnings exquisitely breathed in the
writings before us will then come to their place as a deep and tender
prelude to the voices heard in this passing tragedy.
The "Record of an Obscure Man" is the modest introduction to a dramatic
poem of singular pathos and beauty. A New-Englander of culture and
sensibility, naturalized at the South, is supposed to communicate the
results of his study and observation of that outcast race which has been
the easy contempt of ignorance in both sections of the country. Our
instructor has not only a clear judgment Of the value of different
testimonies, and the scholarly instinct of arrangement and
classification, but also that divine gift of sympathy, which alone, in
this world given for our observation, can tell us what to observe.
The illustrations of the negro's character, and the answers to vulgar
depreciation of his tendencies and capacities, are given with the simple
directness of real comprehension. It is the privilege of one acquainted
in no common degree with languages and their history to expose that
dreary joke of the dialect of the oppressed, which superficial people
have so long found funny or contemptible. The simplicity and earnestness
which give dignity to any phraseology come from the humanity behind it.
We are well reminded that divergences from the common use of language,
never held to degrade the meaning in Milton or Shakespeare, need not
render thought despicable when the negro uses identical forms. If he
calls a leopard a "libbard," he only imitates the most sublime of
English poets; and the first word of his petition, "_Gib_ us this day
our daily bread," is pronounced as it rose from the lips of Luther.
The highest truths the faith of man may reach are symbolized more
definitely, and often more picturesquely, by the warm imagination of the
African than by the cultivated genius of the Caucasian. Also it is shown
how the laziness and ferocity with which the negro is sometimes charged
may be more than matched in the history of his assumed superior.
Yet, while acknowledging how well-considered is the matter of this
introductory volume, we regret what seems to be an imperfection in
the form in which it is presented. There is too much _story_, or too
little,--too little to command the assistance of fiction, too much to
prevent a feeling of disappointment that romance is attempted at
all. The concluding autobiography of the friend of Colvil is hardly
consistent with his character as previously suggested; it seems
unnecessary to the author's purpose, and is not drawn with the
minuteness or power which might justify its introduction. We notice this
circumstance as explaining why this Introduction may possibly fail of a
popularity more extended than that which its tenderness of thought and
style at once claimed from the best readers.
The "Tragedy of Errors" presents, with the vivid idealization of
art, some of the results of American Slavery. Travellers, novelists,
ethnologists have spoken with various ability of the laborers of the
South; and now the poet breaks through the hard monotony of their
external lives, and lends the plasticity of a cultivated mind to take
impress of feeling to which the gift of utterance is denied. And it is
often only through the imagination of another that the human bosom can
be delivered "of that perilous stuff which weighs upon the heart." For
it is a very common error to estimate mental activity by a command
of the arts of expression; whereas, at its best estate, speech is an
imperfect sign of perception, and one which without special cultivation
must be wholly inadequate. Thus it will be seen that an employment of
the dialect and limited vocabulary of the negro would be obviously
unsuitable to the purpose of the poem; and these have been wisely
discarded. In doing this, however, the common license of dramatists
is not exceeded; and the critical censure we have read about "the
extravagant idealization of the negro" merely amounts to saying that the
writer has been bold enough to stem the current of traditional opinion,
and find a poetic view of humanity at the present time and in its most
despised portion. The end of dramatic writing is not to reproduce
Nature, but to idealize it; a literal copying of the same, as everybody
knows, is the merit of the photographer, not of the artist. Again, it
should be remembered that the highly wrought characters among the slaves
are whites, or whites slightly tinged with African blood. With the
commonest allowance for the exigencies of poetic presentation, we find
no individual character unnatural or improbable; though the particular
grouping of these characters is necessarily improbable. For grace of
position and arrangement every dramatist must claim. If the poet will
but take observations from real persons, however widely scattered,
discretion may be exercised in the conjunction of those persons, and
in the sequence of incidents by which they are affected. An aesthetic
invention may be as _natural_ as a mechanical one, although the
materials for each are collected from a wide surface, and placed in new
relations. Thus much we say as expressing dissent from objections which
have been hastily made to this poem.
Of the plot of the "Tragedy of Errors" we have only space to say that
the writer has cut a channel for very delicate verses through the heart
of a Southern plantation. Here, at length, seems to be one of those
thoroughly national subjects for which critics have long been clamorous.
The deepest passion is expressed without touching the tawdry properties
of the "intense" school of poetry. The language passes from the ease of
perfect simplicity to the conciseness of power, while the relation of
emotion to character is admirably preserved. The moral--which, let us
observe in passing, is decently covered with artistic beauty--relates,
not to the most obvious, but to the most dangerous mischiefs of Slavery.
Indeed, the story is only saved from being too painful by a fine
appreciation of the medicinal quality of all wretchedness that the
writer everywhere displays. In the First Part, the nice intelligence
shown in the rough contrast between Hermann and Stanley, and in the
finished contrast between Alice and Helen, will claim the reader's
attention. The sketches of American life and tendencies, both Northern
and Southern, are given with discrimination and truth. The dying scene,
which closes the First Part, seems to us nobly wrought. The "death-bed
hymn" of the slaves sounds a pathetic wail over an abortive life
shivering on the brink of the Unknown. In the Second Part we find less
of the color and music of a poem, and more of the rapid movement of a
drama. The doom of Slavery upon the master now comes into full relief.
The characters of Herbert and his father are favorable specimens of
well-meaning, even honorable, Southern gentlemen,--only not endowed
with such exceptional moral heroism as to offer the pride of life to be
crushed before hideous laws. The connection between lyric and tragic
power is shown in the "Tragedy of Errors." The songs and chants of the
slaves mingle with the higher dialogue like the chorus of the Greek
stage; they mediate with gentle authority between the worlds of natural
feeling and barbarous usage. Let us also say that the _sentiment_
throughout this drama is sound and sweet; for it is that mature
sentiment, born again of discipline, which is the pledge of fidelity to
the highest business of life.
Before concluding, we take the liberty to remove a mask, not
impenetrable to the careful reader, by saying that the writer is a
woman. And let us be thankful that a woman so representative of the best
culture and instinct of New England cannot wholly conceal herself by the
modesty of a pseudonyme. In no way has the Northern spirit roused to
oppose the usurpations of Slavery more truly vindicated its high quality
than by giving development to that feminine element which has mingled
with our national life an influence of genuine power. And to-day there
are few men justly claiming the much-abused title of thinkers who do
not perceive that the opportunity of our regenerated republic cannot be
fully realized, until we cease to press into factitious conformity
the faculties, tastes, and--let us not shrink from the odious
word--_missions_ of women. The merely literary privilege accorded a
generation or two ago is in itself of slight value. Since the success of
"Evelina," women have been freely permitted to jingle pretty verses for
family newspapers, and to _novelize_ morbid sentiments of the feebler
sort. And we see one legitimate result in that flightiness of the
feminine mind which, in a lower stratum of current literature, displays
inaccurate opinions, feeble prejudices, and finally blossoms into pert
vulgarity. But instances of perverted license increase our obligation to
Mrs. Child, Mrs. Stowe and to others whose eloquence is only in deeds.
Of such as these, and of her whom we may now associate with them, it is
not impossible some unborn historian may write, that in certain great
perils of American liberty, when the best men could only offer rhetoric,
women came forward with demonstration. Yet, after all, our deepest
indebtedness to the present series of volumes seems to be this: they
bear gentle testimony to what the wise ever believed, that the delicacy
of spirit we love to characterize by the dear word "womanly" is not
inconsistent with varied and exact information, independent opinion, and
the insights of genius.
Finally, we venture to mention, what has been in the minds of many
New-England readers, that these books are indissolubly associated with a
young life offered in the nation's great necessity. At the time when the
first of the series was made public, a shudder ran through our homes, as
a regiment, rich in historic names, stood face to face with death. Among
the fallen was the only son of her whose writings have been given us.
Let us think without bitterness of the sacrifice of one influenced and
formed by the rare nature we find in these poems. What better result of
culture than to dissipate intellectual mists and uncertainties, and to
fix the grasp firmly upon some great practical good? There is nothing
wasted in one who lived long enough to show that the refinement acquired
and inherited was of the noble kind which could prefer the roughest
action for humanity to elegant allurements of gratified taste. The best
gift of scholarship is the power it gives a man to descend with all the
force of his acquired position, and come into effective union with the
world of facts. For it is the crucial test of brave qualities that they
are truer and more practical for being filtered through libraries. In
reading the "Theages" of Plato we feel a certain respect for the young
seeker of wisdom whose only wish is to associate with Socrates; and
there is a certain admiration for the father, Demodocus, who joyfully
resigns his son, if the teacher will admit him to his friendship and
impart all that he can. But it is a higher result of a higher order of
society, when a young man with aptitude to follow science and assimilate
knowledge sees in the most perilous service of civilization a rarer
illumination of mind and heart. In the great scheme of things, where all
grades of human worthiness are shown for the benefit of man, this costly
instruction shall not fail of fruit. And so the deepest moral that comes
to us from the "Tragedy of Errors" seems a prophetic memorial of the
soldier for constitutional liberty with whom it will be long connected.
The wealth of life--so we read the final meaning of these verses--is in
its discipline; and the graceful dreams of the poet, and the quickened
intellect of the scholar, are but humble instruments for the helping of
mankind.
_A Discourse on the Life, Character, and Policy of Count Cavour_.
Delivered in the Hall of the New York Historical Society, February 20,
1862. By VINCENZO BOTTA, Ph.D., Professor of Italian Literature in the
New York University, late Member of the Parliament, and Professor of
Philosophy in the Colleges of Sardinia. New York: G.P. Putnam. 8vo. pp.
108.
This is a most admirable tribute to one of the greatest men of our age,
by a writer singularly well qualified in all respects to do justice
to his rich and comprehensive theme. Professor Botta is a native of
Northern Italy, in the first place, and thus by inheritance and natural
transmission is heir to a great deal of knowledge as to the important
movements of which Cavour was the mainspring, which a foreigner could
acquire only by diligent study and inquiry. In the next place, he has
not been exclusively a secluded student, but he has taken part in the
great political drama which he commemorates, and has been brought into
personal relations with the illustrious man whose worth he here sets
forth with such ample knowledge, such generous devotion, such patriotic
fervor. And lastly, he is a man of distinguished literary ability,
wielding the language of his adopted country with an ease and grace
which hardly leave a suspicion that he was not writing his vernacular
tongue. A namesake of his--whether a relation or not, we are not
informed--has written "in very choice Italian" a history of the American
Revolution; and the work before us, relating in such excellent English
the leading events of a glorious Italian revolution, is a partial
payment of the debt of gratitude contracted by the publication of that
classical production.
But a writer of inferior opportunities and inferior capacity to
Professor Botta could hardly have failed to produce an attractive and
interesting work, with such a subject. There never was a life which
stood less in need of the embellishments of rhetoric, which could rest
more confidently and securely upon its plain, unvarnished truth, than
that of Count Cavour. He was a man of the highest order of greatness;
and when we have said that, we have also said that he was a man of
simplicity, directness, and transparency. A man of the first class is
always easily interpreted and understood. The biographer of Cavour has
nothing to do but to recount simply and consecutively what he said and
what he did, and his task is accomplished: no great statesman has less
need of apology or justification; no one's name is less associated with
doubtful acts or questionable policy. His ends were not more noble than
was the path in which he moved towards them direct. Professor Botta
has fully comprehended the advantages derived from the nature of his
subject, and has confined himself to the task of relating in simple
and vigorous English the life and acts of Cavour from his birth to his
death. He has given us a rapid and condensed summary, but nothing of
importance is omitted, and surely enough is told to vindicate for Cavour
the highest rank which the enthusiastic admiration and gratitude of his
countrymen have accorded to him. Where can we find a nobler life? And,
take him all in all, whom shall we pronounce to have been a greater
statesman? What variety of power he showed, and what wealth of resources
he had at command! Without the pride and coldness of Pitt, the private
vices of Fox, the tempestuous and ill-regulated sensibility of Burke, he
had the useful and commanding intellectual qualities of all the three,
except the splendid and imaginative eloquence of the last.
This life of Cavour, and the incidental sketches of his associates which
it includes, will have a tendency to correct some of the erroneous
impressions current among us as to the intellectual qualities and
temperament of the Italian people. The common, or, at least, a very
prevalent, notion concerning them is that they are an impassioned,
imaginative, excitable, visionary race, capable of brilliant individual
efforts, but deficient in the power of organization and combination,
and in patience and practical sagacity. Some of us go, or have gone,
farther, and have supposed that the Austrian domination in Italy was the
necessary consequence of want of manliness and persistency in the people
of Italy, and was perhaps as much for their good as the dangerous boon
of independence would have been. All such prejudices will be removed by
a candid perusal of this memoir. Cavour himself, as a statesman and a
man, was of exactly that stamp which we flatter ourselves to be the
exclusive growth of America and England. He was nothing of a visionary,
nothing of a political pedant, nothing of a _doctrinaire_. Franklin
himself had not a more practical understanding, or more of large, plain,
roundabout sense. He had, too, Franklin's shrewdness, his love of humor,
and his relish for the natural pleasures of life. He had a large amount
of patience, the least showy, but perhaps the most important, of the
qualifications of a great statesman. And in his glorious career he was
warmly and generously sustained, not merely by the king, and by the
favored classes, but by the people, whose efforts and sacrifices have
shown how worthy they were of the freedom they have won. We speak here
more particularly of the people of the kingdom of Sardinia; but what we
say in praise of them may be extended to the people of Italy generally.
The history of Italy for the last fifteen years is a glorious chapter
in the history of the world. Whatever of active courage and passive
endurance has in times past made the name of Roman illustrious, the
events of these years have proved to belong equally to the name of
Italian.
But we are wandering from Count Cavour and Professor Botta. We have to
thank the latter for enriching the literature of his adopted country
with a memoir which in the lucid beauty and transparent flow of its
style reminds the Italian scholar of the charm of Boccaccio's limpid
narrative, and is besides animated with a patriot's enthusiasm and
elevated by a statesman's comprehension. A more cordial, heart-warming
book we have not for a long time read.
_A Treatise on Some of the Insects Injurious to Vegetation_. By THADDEUS
WILLIAM HARRIS, M.D. A New Edition, enlarged and improved, with
Additions from the Author's Manuscripts, and Original Notes. Illustrated
by Engravings drawn from Nature under the Supervision of Professor
Agassiz. Edited by Charles L. Flint, Secretary of the Massachusetts
State Board of Agriculture. 8vo.
This handsome octavo, prepared with such scientific care, is for
the special benefit of Agriculture; and the order, method, and
comprehensiveness so evident throughout the Treatise compel the
admiration of all who study its beautifully illustrated pages. The
community is largely benefited by such an aid to the improvement of
pursuits in which so many are concerned; and no cultivator of the soil
can safely be ignorant of what Dr. Harris has studied and put on record
for the use of those whose honorable occupation it is to till the earth.
As a work of Art we cannot refrain from special praise of the book
before us. Turning over its leaves is like a spring or summer ramble in
the country. All creeping and flying things seem harmlessly swarming in
vivid beauty of color over its pages. Such gorgeous moths we never
saw before out of the flower-beds, and there are some butterflies and
caterpillars reposing here and there between the leaves that must have
slipped in and gone to sleep on a fine warm day in July.
The printing of the volume reaches the highest rank of excellence.
Messrs. Welch, Bigelow, & Company may take their place among the
Typographical Masters of this or any other century.
_Pictures of Old England_. By DR. REINHOLD PAULI, Author of "History of
Alfred the Great," etc. Translated, with the Author's Sanction, by E.C.
OTTÉ. Cambridge [England]: Macmillan & Co. Small 8vo. pp. xii., 457.
Dr. Pauli is already known on both sides of the Atlantic as the author
of two works of acknowledged learning and ability,--a "History of
England during the Middle Ages," and a "History of Alfred the Great."
In his new volume he furnishes some further fruits of his profound
researches into the social and political history of England in the
Middle Ages; and if the book will add little or nothing to his present
reputation, it affords at least new evidence of his large acquaintance
with English literature. It comprises twelve descriptive essays on as
many different topics, closely connected with his previous studies.
Among the best of these are the papers entitled "Monks and Mendicant
Friars," which give a brief and interesting account of monastic
institutions in England; "The Hanseatic Steel-Yard in London,"
comprising a history of that famous company of merchant-adventurers,
with a description of the buildings occupied by them, and a sketch of
their domestic life; and "London in the Middle Ages," which presents an
excellent description of the topography and general condition of the
city during that period, and is illustrated by a small and carefully
drawn plan. There are also several elaborate essays on the early
relations of England with the Continent, besides papers on "The
Parliament in the Fourteenth Century," "Two Poets, Gower and Chaucer,"
"John Wiclif," (as Dr. Pauli spells the name,) and some other topics.
All the papers show an adequate familiarity with the original sources of
information, and are marked by the same candor and impartiality which
have hitherto characterized Dr. Pauli's labors. The translation, without
being distinguished by any special graces of style, is free from the
admixture of foreign idioms, and, so far as one may judge from the
internal evidence, appears to be faithfully executed. As a collection of
popular essays, the volume is worthy of much praise.
_The Correspondence of Leigh Hunt_. Edited by his Eldest Son. London:
Smith, Elder, & Co. 1862. 2 vols. 12mo.
In Lamb's famous controversy with Southey in 1823, (the only controversy
"Elia" ever indulged in,) he says of the author of "Rimini," "He is one
of the most cordial-minded men I ever knew, and matchless as a fireside
companion."
Few authors have had warmer admirers of their writings, or more sincere
personal friends, than Leigh Hunt. He seemed always to inspire earnestly
and lovingly every one who came into friendly relations with him. When
Shelley inscribed his "Cenci" to him in 1819, he expressed in this
sentence of the Dedication what all have felt who have known Leigh Hunt
intimately:--
"Had I known a person more highly endowed than yourself with all that it
becomes a man to possess, I had solicited for this work the ornament of
his name. One more gentle, honorable, innocent, and brave,--one of more
exalted toleration for all who do and think evil, and yet himself more
free from evil,--one who knows better how to receive and how to confer a
benefit, though he must ever confer far more than he can receive,--one
of simpler, and, in the highest sense of the word, of purer life and
manners, I never knew; and I had already been fortunate in friendship
when your name was added to the list."
With this immortal record of his excellence made by Shelley's hand,
Leigh Hunt cannot be forgotten. Counting among his friends the best men
and women of his time, his name and fame are embalmed in their books
as they were in their hearts. Charles Lamb, Keats, Shelley, and Mrs.
Browning knew his worth, and prized it far above praising him; and there
are those still living who held him very dear, and loved the sound of
his voice like the tones of a father or a son.
A man's letters betray his heart,--both those he sends and those he
receives. Leigh Hunt's correspondence, as here collected by his son, is
full of the wine of life in the best sense of _spirit_.
_The Works of Charles Dickens_. Household Edition. _Martin Chuzzlewit_.
New York: Sheldon & Company.
It is not our intention, at the present writing, to enter into any
discussion concerning the characteristics or the value of the novels of
Charles Dickens: we have neither time nor space for it. Besides, to few
of our readers do these books need introduction or recommendation from
us. They have long been accepted by the world as worthy to rank among
those works of genius which harmonize alike with the thoughtful mind of
the cultivated and the simple feelings of the unlearned,--which discover
in every class and condition of men some truth or beauty for all
humanity. They are, in the full sense of the word, _household_ books, as
indispensable as Shakspeare or Milton, Scott or Irving.
We may fairly say of the various editions of Dickens's writings, that
their "name is Legion." None of them all, however, is better adapted to
common libraries than the new edition now publishing in New York. It
will be comprised in fifty volumes, to be published in instalments
at intervals of six or eight weeks. The mechanical execution is most
commendable in every respect: clear, pleasantly tinted paper; typography
in the best style of the Riverside Press; binding novel and tasteful. A
vignette, designed either by Darley or Gilbert, and engraved upon steel,
is prefixed to each volume. We have to congratulate the publishers that
they have so successfully fulfilled the promises of their prospectus,
and the public that an edition at once elegant and inexpensive is now
provided.