THE CHOICE OF HEARTS.

———

BY THOMAS G. SPEAR.

———

Yelaughing nymphs! ye bright-ey’d girls!Triumphing in your beauty,Who blush beneath the shining curlsThat round your brows the zephyr furls,What kind of hearts will suit ye?“True Valor’s heart,” says one anigh,“Upon his war-horse dashing—That rous’d to fight will never fly,With sword, and plume, and ardent eye,In battle brightly flashing.”“Soft Pleasure’s heart,” another’s word,“Alive to each emotion—That can be blythesome as a bird,Caress or sigh, and oft be heardProclaiming its devotion.”“Ambition’s heart,” one maiden says,“That loves in strife to riot—That spurns control in every place—That rushes on its daring race,And rules ’midst life’s disquiet.”“The generous heart,” says one fair elf,“That thrives amidst confusion—That never hoards or life or pelf,But gives its all, then gives itself,And revels in profusion.”“The cheerful heart,” doth one declare,“With sense and wit united—That joys in music, laughs at care,Still pleased and mirthful every where,And never undelighted.”“Proud Honor’s heart!” another cries,“That brooks no man’s dictation—That’s quick to seek the hero’s prize,And stand, though with the deed it dies,’Gainst wrong and usurpation.”“The constant heart!” says one fair maid,While blushes crown her beauty:—“To ask for more I am afraid,But take the heart that thus is swayed,And trust it for its duty!”Sweet girls! If I might dare express,A word for your discretion,’Twould be, that you should favor lessThe flatterer’s, gamester’s, rake’s address,And man of mere profession.Men’s lives are in their daily deeds—Thought oft disguises action.Choose then the heart that clearly readsIts glory where its duty leads,Amidst the world’s distraction.To such resign’d, of that fair bandOf daughters fit to cherish,Each shall be cheer’d in heart and hand,And feel love’s holy fires expandTill lost to things that perish.

Yelaughing nymphs! ye bright-ey’d girls!Triumphing in your beauty,Who blush beneath the shining curlsThat round your brows the zephyr furls,What kind of hearts will suit ye?

Yelaughing nymphs! ye bright-ey’d girls!

Triumphing in your beauty,

Who blush beneath the shining curls

That round your brows the zephyr furls,

What kind of hearts will suit ye?

“True Valor’s heart,” says one anigh,“Upon his war-horse dashing—That rous’d to fight will never fly,With sword, and plume, and ardent eye,In battle brightly flashing.”

“True Valor’s heart,” says one anigh,

“Upon his war-horse dashing—

That rous’d to fight will never fly,

With sword, and plume, and ardent eye,

In battle brightly flashing.”

“Soft Pleasure’s heart,” another’s word,“Alive to each emotion—That can be blythesome as a bird,Caress or sigh, and oft be heardProclaiming its devotion.”

“Soft Pleasure’s heart,” another’s word,

“Alive to each emotion—

That can be blythesome as a bird,

Caress or sigh, and oft be heard

Proclaiming its devotion.”

“Ambition’s heart,” one maiden says,“That loves in strife to riot—That spurns control in every place—That rushes on its daring race,And rules ’midst life’s disquiet.”

“Ambition’s heart,” one maiden says,

“That loves in strife to riot—

That spurns control in every place—

That rushes on its daring race,

And rules ’midst life’s disquiet.”

“The generous heart,” says one fair elf,“That thrives amidst confusion—That never hoards or life or pelf,But gives its all, then gives itself,And revels in profusion.”

“The generous heart,” says one fair elf,

“That thrives amidst confusion—

That never hoards or life or pelf,

But gives its all, then gives itself,

And revels in profusion.”

“The cheerful heart,” doth one declare,“With sense and wit united—That joys in music, laughs at care,Still pleased and mirthful every where,And never undelighted.”

“The cheerful heart,” doth one declare,

“With sense and wit united—

That joys in music, laughs at care,

Still pleased and mirthful every where,

And never undelighted.”

“Proud Honor’s heart!” another cries,“That brooks no man’s dictation—That’s quick to seek the hero’s prize,And stand, though with the deed it dies,’Gainst wrong and usurpation.”

“Proud Honor’s heart!” another cries,

“That brooks no man’s dictation—

That’s quick to seek the hero’s prize,

And stand, though with the deed it dies,

’Gainst wrong and usurpation.”

“The constant heart!” says one fair maid,While blushes crown her beauty:—“To ask for more I am afraid,But take the heart that thus is swayed,And trust it for its duty!”

“The constant heart!” says one fair maid,

While blushes crown her beauty:—

“To ask for more I am afraid,

But take the heart that thus is swayed,

And trust it for its duty!”

Sweet girls! If I might dare express,A word for your discretion,’Twould be, that you should favor lessThe flatterer’s, gamester’s, rake’s address,And man of mere profession.

Sweet girls! If I might dare express,

A word for your discretion,

’Twould be, that you should favor less

The flatterer’s, gamester’s, rake’s address,

And man of mere profession.

Men’s lives are in their daily deeds—Thought oft disguises action.Choose then the heart that clearly readsIts glory where its duty leads,Amidst the world’s distraction.

Men’s lives are in their daily deeds—

Thought oft disguises action.

Choose then the heart that clearly reads

Its glory where its duty leads,

Amidst the world’s distraction.

To such resign’d, of that fair bandOf daughters fit to cherish,Each shall be cheer’d in heart and hand,And feel love’s holy fires expandTill lost to things that perish.

To such resign’d, of that fair band

Of daughters fit to cherish,

Each shall be cheer’d in heart and hand,

And feel love’s holy fires expand

Till lost to things that perish.

REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

Poetical Remains of the late Lucretia Maria Davidson, Collected and Arranged by her Mother: with a Biography by Miss Sedgwick. Lea and Blanchard: Philadelphia.

Some few months since, we had occasion to speak of “The Biography and Poetical Remains of the late Margaret Miller Davidson”—a work given to the public by Washington Irving. In common with all who read, we had been deeply interested in the narrative set forth. The portrait of the young and beautiful enthusiast, simply yet most effectively painted by one who touches nothing which he does not adorn, could not have failed to excite our warmest sympathies; and we dwelt upon the pleasing yet melancholy theme with a lingering delight. Of the biographical portion of the book we said, indeed, what every one says, and most justly—that nothing could be more intensely pathetic. In respect, however, to the “Poetical Remains,” thetoneof our observations was not fully in accordance with that of the mass of our contemporaries. Without calling in question the extremeprecocityof the child—a precocity truly wonderful—we were forced, in some slight measure, to dissent from that extravagant eulogium, which had its origin, beyond doubt, in a confounding of the interest felt in the poetess and her sad fortunes, with a legitimate admiration of her works. We did not, in truth, conceive it to be either honest or necessary, to mislead in any degree the public taste or opinion, by styling “Lenore,” as it exists, a fine poem, merely because its authormighthave written a fine poem had she lived. We emphasize the “might”; for the history of all intellect demonstrates that the point is a questionable one indeed. The analogies of Nature are universal; and just as the most rapidly growing herbage is the most speedy in its decay—just as the ephemera struggles to perfection in a day only to perish in that day’s decline—so the mind is early matured only to be early in its decadence; and when we behold in the eye of infancy the soul of the adult, it is but indulging in a day dream to hope for any farther proportionate development. Should the prodigy survive to ripe age, a mental imbecility, not far removed from idiocy itself, is too frequently the result. From this rule the exceptions are rare indeed; but it should be observed that, when the exception does occur, the intellect is of a Titan cast even to the days of its extreme senility, and acquires renown not in one, but in all the wide fields of fancy and of reason.

Lucretia Maria Davidson, the subject of the memoir now before us, and the elder of the two sweet sisters who have acquired so much of fame prematurely, had not, like Margaret, an object of poetical emulation in her own family. In her genius, be it what it may, there is more of self-dependence—less of the imitative. Her mother’s generous romance of soul may have stimulated, but did not instruct. Thus although she has actually given lessevidenceof power (in our opinion) than Margaret—less written proof—still itsindicationmust be considered at higher value. Both perished at sixteen. Margaret, we think, has left the better poems—certainly the more precocious—while Lucretia evinces more unequivocally the soul of the poet. In our August number we quoted in full some stanzas composed by the former at eight years of age. The latter’s earliest effusions are dated at fourteen. Yet the first compositions of the two seem to us of nearly equal merit.

The most elaborate production of Margaret is “Lenore,” of which we have just now spoken. It was written not long before her death, at the age of fifteen, after patient reflection, with much care, and with all that high resolve to do something for fame with which the reputation of her sister had inspired her. Under such circumstances, and with the early poetical education which she could not have failed to receive, we confess that, granting her a trifle more than average talent, it would have been rather a matter for surprise had she produced a worse, than had she produced a better poem than “Lenore.” Itslength, viewed in connexion with its keeping, its unity, its adaptation, and its completeness (and all these are points having reference to artisticalknowledgeand perseverance) will impress the critic more favorably than its fancy, or any other indication of poetic power. In all the more important qualities we have seen far—very far finer poems than “Lenore” written at a much earlier age than fifteen.

“Amir Khan,” the longest and chief composition of Lucretia, has been long known to the reading public. It was originally published, with others, in a small volume to which Professor Morse, of the American Society of Arts, contributed a Preface. Partly through the Professor, yet no doubt partly through their own merits, the poems found their way to the laureate, Southey, who, after his peculiar fashion, and not unmindful of his previousfuroresin the case of Kirke White, Chatterton, and others of precocious ability, or at least celebrity, thought proper toreviewthem in the Quarterly. This was at a period when we humbled ourselves, with a subserviency which would have been disgusting had it not been ludicrous, before the crudest criticaldictaof Great Britain. It pleased the laureate, after some squibbing in the way of demurrer, to speak of the book in question as follows:—“In these poems there is enough of originality, enough of aspiration, enough of conscious energy, enough of growing power to warrant any expectations, however sanguine, which the patrons and the friends and parents of the deceased could have formed.” Meaning nothing, or rather meaning anything, as we choose to interpret it, this sentence was still sufficient (and in fact the half of it would have been more than sufficient) to establish upon an immovable basis the reputation of Miss Davidson in America. Thenceforward any examination of her true claims to distinction was considered little less than a declaration of heresy. Nor does the awe of the laureate’sipse dixitseem even yet to have entirely subsided. “The genius of Lucretia Davidson,” says Miss Sedgwick in the very volume now before us, “has had the meed of far more authoritative praise than ours; the following tribute is from the London Quarterly Review.” What this lady—for whom and for whose opinion we still have the highest respect—can mean by calling the praise of Southey “more authoritative” than her own, is a point we shall not pause to determine.Herpraise is at least honest, or we hope so. Its “authority” is in exact proportion with each one’s estimate of her judgment. But it would not do to say all this of the author of “Thalaba.” It would not do to say it in the hearing of men who are sane, and who, being sane, have perused the leading articles in the “London Quarterly Review” during the ten or fifteen years prior to that period when Robert Southey, having concocted “The Doctor,” took definitive leave of his wits. In fact, for any thing that we have yet seen or heard to the contrary, the opinion of the laureate, in respect to the poem of “Amir Khan,” is a matter still only known to Robert Southey. But were it known to all the world, as Miss Sedgwick supposes with so charmingly innocent an air;—we mean to say were it really an honest opinion,—this “authoritative praise,”—still it would be worth, in the eyes of every sensible person, only just so much as it demonstrates, or makes a show of demonstrating. Happily the day has gone by, and we trust forever, when men are content to swear blindly by the words of a master, poet-laureate though he be. But what Southey says of the poem is at best an opinion and no more. What Miss Sedgwick says of it is very much in the same predicament. “Amir Khan,” she writes, “has long been before the public, but we think it has suffered from a general and very natural distrust of precocious genius. The versification is graceful, the story beautifully developed, and the orientalism well sustained.We think it would not have done discredit to our most popular poets in the meridian of their fame; as the production of a girl of fifteen it seems prodigious.” The cant of a kind heart when betraying into error a naturally sound judgment, is perhaps the only species of cant in the world not altogether contemptible.

We yield to no one in warmth of admiration for the personal character of these sweet sisters, as that character is depicted by the mother, by Miss Sedgwick, and by Mr. Irving. But it costs us no effort to distinguish that which, in our heart, is love of their worth, from that which, in our intellect, is appreciation of their poetic ability. With the former, as critic, we have nothing to do. The distinction is one too obvious for comment; and its observation would have spared us much twaddle on the part of the commentators upon “Amir Khan.”

We will endeavor to convey, as concisely as possible, some idea of this poem as it exists, not in the fancy of the enthusiastic, but in fact. It includes four hundred and forty lines. The metre is chiefly octo-syllabic: At one point it is varied by a casual introduction of an anapæst in the first and second foot; at another (in a song) by seven stanzas of four lines each, rhyming alternately; the metre anapæstic of four feet alternating with three. The versification is always good, so far as the meagre written rules of our English prosody extend; that is to say, there is seldom a syllable too much or too little; but long and short syllables are placed at random, and a crowd of consonants sometimes renders a line unpronounceable. For example:

He loved,—and oh, he loved so wellThat sorrow scarce dared break the spell.

He loved,—and oh, he loved so well

That sorrow scarce dared break the spell.

At times, again, the rhythm lapses, in the most inartistical manner, and evidently without design, from one species to another altogether incongruous; as, for example, in the sixth line of these eight, where the tripping anapæstic stumbles into the demure iambic, recovering itself, even more awkwardly, in the conclusion:

Bright Star of the Morning! this bosom is cold—I was forced from my native shade,And I wrapped me around with my mantle’s fold,A sad, mournful Circassian maid!And I then vow’d that rapture should never moveThis changeless cheek, this rayless eye,And I then vowed to feel neither bliss nor love,But I vowed I would meet thee and die.

Bright Star of the Morning! this bosom is cold—

I was forced from my native shade,

And I wrapped me around with my mantle’s fold,

A sad, mournful Circassian maid!

And I then vow’d that rapture should never move

This changeless cheek, this rayless eye,

And I then vowed to feel neither bliss nor love,

But I vowed I would meet thee and die.

Occasionally the versification rises into melody and even strength; as here—

’Twas at the hour when Peris loveTo gaze upon the Heaven aboveWhose portals bright with many a gemAre closed—forever closedon them.

’Twas at the hour when Peris love

To gaze upon the Heaven above

Whose portals bright with many a gem

Are closed—forever closedon them.

Upon the whole, however, it is feeble, vacillating, and ineffective; giving token of having been “touched up” by the hand of a friend, from a much worse, into its present condition. Such rhymes as floor and shower—ceased and breast—shade and spread—brow and wo—clear and far—clear and air—morning and dawning—forth and earth—step and deep—Khan and hand—are constantly occurring; and although, certainly, we should not,as a general rule, expect better things from a girl of sixteen, we still look in vain, and with something very much akin to a smile, for aught even approaching that “marvellous ease and grace of versification” about which Miss Sedgwick, in the benevolence of her heart, discourses.

Nor does the story, to our dispassionate apprehension, appear “beautifully developed.” It runs thus:—Amir Khan, Subahdar of Cachemere, weds a Circassian slave who, cold as a statue and as obstinately silent, refuses to return his love. The Subahdar applies to a magician, who gives him

a pensive flowerGathered at midnight’s magic hour;

a pensive flower

Gathered at midnight’s magic hour;

the effect of whose perfume renders him apparently lifeless while still in possession of all his senses. Amreeta, the slave, supposing her lover dead, gives way to clamorous grief, and reveals the secret love which she has long borne her lord, but refused to divulge because a slave. Amir Khan hereupon revives, and all trouble is at an end.

Of course, no one at all read in Eastern fable will be willing to give Miss Davidson credit fororiginalityin the conception of this little story; and if she have claim to merit at all, as regards it, that claim must be founded upon the manner of narration. But it will be at once evident that the most naked outline alone can be given in the compass of four hundred and forty lines. The tale is, in sober fact, told very much as any young person might be expected to tell it. The strength of the narrator is wholly laid out upon a description of moonlight (in the usual style) with which the poem commences—upon a second description of moonlight (in precisely the same manner) with which a second division commences—and in a third description of the hall in which the entranced Subahdar reposes. This is all—absolutely all; or at least the rest has the nakedness of mere catalogue. We recognize, throughout, the poetic sentiment, but little—very little—of poeticpower. We see occasional gleams of imagination: for example—

And every crystal cloud of HeavenBowed as it passed the queen of even.Amreeta was cold as the marble floorThat glistens beneath the nightly shower.At that calm hour when Peris loveTo gaze upon the Heaven above,Whose portals bright with many a gemAre closed—forever closedon them.The Subahdar with noiseless stepRushed like the night-breeze o’er the deep.

And every crystal cloud of HeavenBowed as it passed the queen of even.

And every crystal cloud of Heaven

Bowed as it passed the queen of even.

Amreeta was cold as the marble floorThat glistens beneath the nightly shower.

Amreeta was cold as the marble floor

That glistens beneath the nightly shower.

At that calm hour when Peris loveTo gaze upon the Heaven above,Whose portals bright with many a gemAre closed—forever closedon them.

At that calm hour when Peris love

To gaze upon the Heaven above,

Whose portals bright with many a gem

Are closed—forever closedon them.

The Subahdar with noiseless stepRushed like the night-breeze o’er the deep.

The Subahdar with noiseless step

Rushed like the night-breeze o’er the deep.

We look in vain for another instance worth quoting. But were the fancy seen in these examples observable either in the general conduct or in the incidents of the narrative, we should not feel obliged to disagree so unequivocally with that opinion which pronounces this clever little production “one which would not have done discredit to our most popular poets in the meridian of their fame!”

“As the work of a girl of sixteen,” most assuredly wedo notthink it “prodigious.” In regard to it we may repeat what we said of “Lenore,”—that we have seen finer poems in every respect, written by children of more immature age. It is a creditable composition; nothing beyond this. And, in so saying, we shall startle none but the brainless, and the adopters of ready-made ideas. We are convinced that we express the unuttered sentiment of every educated individual who has read the poem. Nor, having given the plain facts of the case, do we feel called upon to proffer any apology for our flat refusal to play ditto either to Miss Sedgwick, to Mr. Irving, or to Mr. Southey.

The Seaman’s Friend; Containing a Treatise on Practical Seamanship, with Plates; A Dictionary of Sea Terms; Customs and Usages of the Merchant Service; Laws Relating to the Practical Duties of Masters and Mariners. ByR. H. Dana, Jr.Author of “Two Years Before the Mast.” Little and Brown: Boston. Carey and Hart: Philadelphia.

The publishers of this neat little volume have very prudently stereotyped it; anticipating an extensive and continuous demand. In truth, the work belongs to the class of the obviously needful, and its circulation and appreciation are matters of certainty. Ever since men “went down to the sea in ships,” there has been a difficulty in procuring exact, compact, and universally intelligible information on the very topics which Mr. Dana now discusses. The necessary knowledge was to be gleaned, imperfectly and superficially, from amid a mass of technical jargon, diffused over a world of questionable authority. Books on Seamanship are extant, to be sure—works of the highest scientific merit and ability—and the writings of Captain Basil Hall give, incidentally, a vast fund of intelligence on naval subjects; but the truedesideratumwas a work which could only be written by an individual placed exactly in the circumstances which surrounded Mr. Dana. It is well known that he is a man of talent and well educated; that ill-health induced him to try a sea-voyage in the capacity of common sailor; and that thus he has been enabled to combine the advantages of theoretical and practical science. His “Two Years Before the Mast” was, very deservedly, one of the most popular books ever published, and proved immensely profitable—at least to his booksellers. It gave, in a rich strain of philosophical observation, all the racyspirit, as the present volume conveys all the exactletterof the sea.

There is only one improvement which we could wish to suggest. An appendix, we think, should be added; embracing, first, in as popular, that is to say, in as untechnical a form as possible, the philosophy of latitude and longitude—the general principles of which may be rendered intelligible to almost any understanding—and, secondly, the formulæ employed in the application of these principles to navigation, with concise rules for the use of the sextant and chronometer, and for solar, lunar, and stellar observations.

The Miser, or the Convicts of Lisnamona. ByWilliam Carleton,Author of “Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry.” Two Volumes. Carey and Hart: Philadelphia.

This story originally appeared in the “Dublin University Magazine,” under the title of “Fardorougha, or The Miser.” It was much copied and admired, and has all theIrishmerit for which its author is so famous.

Fragments From German Prose Writers. Translated bySarah Austin.With Biographical Sketches of the Authors. D. Appleton and Company. New York.

This is a book about which little can be said, except in the way of general and pointed commendation. Its title fully explains its character; although the fair authoress is at the trouble of enlarging upon the nature of the fragmentary contents. Thesescrapsembody specimens of every variety of the prose literature of Germany—convey,in petto, its whole soul. The lives of the authors are invaluable. The volume is, in point of mechanical appearance, one of the most beautiful ever issued, even by the Appletons.

Confession; Or the Blind Heart. A Domestic Story. By the Author of “The Kinsmen,” “The Yemassee,” “Guy Rivers,” etc. Two Volumes. Lea and Blanchard: Philadelphia.

In general, Mr. Simms should be considered as one givingindication, rather thanproofof high genius. He puts us in mind of a volcano, from the very darkness issuing from whose crater we judge of the fire that is weltering below. So far, with slight exceptions, he has buried his fine talent in his themes. He should never have written “The Partisan,” nor “The Yemassee,” nor his late book (whose title we just now forget) about the first discovery of the Pacific. His genius does not lie in the outward so much as in the inner world. “Martin Faber” did him honor; and so do the present volumes, although liable to objection in some important respects. We welcome him home to his own proper field of exertion—the field of Godwin and Brown—the field of his own rich intellect and glowingheart. Upon reading the first few pages of “Confession,” the stirring words of Scott arose to our lips—“My foot is on my native heath, and my name is McGregor.”

It is our design to speak in full of the volumes before us; but we have left ourselves no space for the task, and must defer it, perforce, until the new year.

Cecil; Or The Adventures of a Coxcomb. A Novel. Two Volumes. Lea and Blanchard: Philadelphia.

This work is an obvious but very spirited and excellent imitation of the Pelhams and Vivian Greys. It abounds, even more than either of these works, in point, pungency and vivacity, but falls below them in true wit, and in other higher qualities. Altogether, it is richly entertaining, and will meet with success. The theme is a good one well managed.

SECRET WRITING.

The annexed letter from a gentleman whose abilities we very highly respect, was received, unfortunately, at too late a period to appear in our November number:

Dear sir:I should perhaps apologise for again intruding a subject upon which you have so ably commented, and which may be supposed by this time to have been almost exhausted; but as I have been greatly interested in the articles upon “cryptography,” which have appeared in your Magazine, I think that you will excuse the present intrusion of a few remarks. With secret writing I have been practically conversant for several years, and I have found, both in correspondence and in the preservation of private memoranda, the frequent benefit of its peculiar virtues. I have thus a record of thoughts, feelings and occurrences,—a history of mymentalexistence, to which I may turn, and in imagination, retrace former pleasures, and again live through by-gone scenes,—secure in the conviction that the magic scroll has a tale formyeye alone. Who has not longed for such a confidante?Cryptography is, indeed, not only a topic of mere curiosity, but is of general interest, as furnishing an excellent exercise for mental discipline, and of highpracticalimportance on various occasions;—to the statesman and the general—to the scholar and the traveller,—and, may I not add “last though not least,” to thelover? What can be so delightful amid the trials of absent lovers, as a secret intercourse between them of their hopes and fears,—safe from the prying eyes of some old aunt, or it may be, of a perverse andcruelguardian?—abillet douxthat will not betray its mission, even if intercepted, and that can “tell no tales” if lost, or, (whichsometimesoccurs,) ifstolenfrom its violated depository.In the solution of the various ciphers which have been submitted to your examination, you have exhibited a power of analytical and synthetical reasoning I have never seen equalled; and the astonishing skill you have displayed,—particularly in deciphering the cryptograph of Dr. Charles J. Frailey, will, I think, crown you the king of “secret-readers.” But notwithstanding this, I think your opinion that the construction of areal cryptographis impossible, not sufficiently supported. Those examples which you have published have indeed not been of that character, as you have fully proved. They have, moreover, not been sufficiently accurate, for where the key was a phrase, (and consequently the same character was employed for several letters,) different words would be formed with the same ciphers. The sense could then only be ascertained from the context, and this would amount to a probability—generally of a high degree, I admit—but still not to a positive certainly. Nay, a case might readily be imagined, where the most important word of the communication, and one on which the sense of the whole depended, should have so equivocal a nature, that the person for whose benefit it was intended, would be unable, even with the aid of his key, to discover which of two very different interpretations should be the correct one. If necessary, this can easily be shown; thus, for example, suppose a lady should receive from her affianced, a letter written in ciphers, containing this sentence, “4 5663 967 268 26 3633,” and thataandnwere represented by the figure 2,—e,m, andrby 3,—iby 4,—lby 5,—o,s, andvby 6,—uby 7,—wby 8,—andyby 9; a moment’s inspection will show that the sentence might either be “I love you now as ever,” or “I love you nowno more.” How “positively shocking,” “to say the least of it;” and yet several of the ciphers that you have published, have required a greater number of letters to be represented by one character, than any to be found in the example before us. It is evident, then, that this is not a very desirable system, as it would scarcely be more useful than a lock without its key, or with one that did not fit its wards.I think, however, that there are various methods by which a hieroglyphic might be formed, whose meaning would be perfectly “hidden;” and I shall give one or two examples of what I consider such. A method which I have adopted for my own private use, is one which I am satisfied is of this nature, as it cannot possibly be solved without the assistance of its key, and that key, by whichaloneit can be unlocked, exists only in my mind; at the same time it is so simple, that with the practice in it which I have had, I now read it, and write it, with as much facility as I can the English character. As I prefer not giving it here, I shall be compelled to have recourse to some other plan that is more complicated. By aCRYPTOGRAPH, I understand—a communication which, thoughclearlyascertained by means of its proper key, cannot possibly be without it. To most persons, who have not thought much upon the subject, an article written in simple cipher, (by which I mean with each letter uniformly represented by a single distinct character,) would appear to be an impenetrable mystery; and they would doubtless imagine that the more complicated the method of constructing such a cipher, the moreinsoluble—to use a chemical expression—would be the puzzle, since so much less would be the chance of discovering its key. This very natural conclusion is, however, erroneous, as it is founded on the supposition that possession must first be obtained of the key, in order to unravel the difficulty,—which is not the case. The process of reasoning employed in resolving “secret writing” has not the slightest relation to the form or description of the characters used, but refers simply to their succession, and to a comparison of words in which the same letters occur. By these means any cipher of this nature can be unriddled, as experience has fully shown. A very successful method of avoiding detection, would be to apply the simple cipher to words written backwards and continuously. This, I conceive, might be called a perfect cryptograph, since from the want of spaces, and consequently the impossibility of comparing words, it would utterly perplex the person attempting to discover its hidden import, and yet with the help of the key, each letter being known, the words could easily be separated and inverted. I give a short specimen of this style, and would feel much gratified with your opinion of the possibility of reading it.a cryptographShould this not be consideredperfect, (though I suspect it would puzzle even the ingenious editor to detect its meaning,) I shall give another method below, which I can showmustbe, and if I am successful I think you will do me the justice to admit that “human ingenuity” has contrived “a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve.” I wish to be distinctly understood; the secret communication above, and the one following, are not intended to show that you have promised more than you can perform. I do not take up the gauntlet. Your challenge, I am happy to testify, has been more than amply redeemed. It is merely with an incidental remark of yours, that I am at present engaged, and my object is to show that however correct it may be generally,—it is not so universally.Agreeably to a part of my foregoing definition,thatcannot be a proper cryptograph, in which a single character is made to represent more than one letter. Let us for a moment see what would be the result if this was reversed,—that is, if more than one cipher were used for a single letter. In case each letter were represented by two different characters, (used alternately or at random,) it is evident that while the certainty of reading such a composition correctly, by help of the key, would not be at all diminished, the difficulty of its solution without that help, would be vastly increased. This then is an approach to the formation of a secret cipher. If, now, the number of the characters were extended to three or four for each letter, it might be pronounced with tolerable certainty that such a writing would be “secret.” Or, to take an extreme case, a communication might be made, in which no two characters would be alike! Here all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects ofcomparison; and even if half a dozen words were known, they would furnish no clue to the rest. Here, then, is a completenon plusto investigation, and we have arrived at a perfect cryptograph. For, since any given cipher would stand for but one letter in the key, there could be but a single and definite solution; and thus both conditions of my definition are fully satisfied. In the following specimen of this method, I have employed the Roman-capital, small letter, and small capital, with their several inversions, giving me the command of 130 characters, or an average of five to each letter. This is to “make assurance doubly sure,” for I am satisfied that were an average of three characters used for each letter, such a writing would be emphatically secret. If you will be so kind as to give my cipher a place in your interesting Magazine, I will immediately forward you its key. Hoping that you will not be displeased with my tedious letter,I am most respectfully yours.W. B. TYLER.To Edgar A. Poe, Esq.

Dear sir:

I should perhaps apologise for again intruding a subject upon which you have so ably commented, and which may be supposed by this time to have been almost exhausted; but as I have been greatly interested in the articles upon “cryptography,” which have appeared in your Magazine, I think that you will excuse the present intrusion of a few remarks. With secret writing I have been practically conversant for several years, and I have found, both in correspondence and in the preservation of private memoranda, the frequent benefit of its peculiar virtues. I have thus a record of thoughts, feelings and occurrences,—a history of mymentalexistence, to which I may turn, and in imagination, retrace former pleasures, and again live through by-gone scenes,—secure in the conviction that the magic scroll has a tale formyeye alone. Who has not longed for such a confidante?

Cryptography is, indeed, not only a topic of mere curiosity, but is of general interest, as furnishing an excellent exercise for mental discipline, and of highpracticalimportance on various occasions;—to the statesman and the general—to the scholar and the traveller,—and, may I not add “last though not least,” to thelover? What can be so delightful amid the trials of absent lovers, as a secret intercourse between them of their hopes and fears,—safe from the prying eyes of some old aunt, or it may be, of a perverse andcruelguardian?—abillet douxthat will not betray its mission, even if intercepted, and that can “tell no tales” if lost, or, (whichsometimesoccurs,) ifstolenfrom its violated depository.

In the solution of the various ciphers which have been submitted to your examination, you have exhibited a power of analytical and synthetical reasoning I have never seen equalled; and the astonishing skill you have displayed,—particularly in deciphering the cryptograph of Dr. Charles J. Frailey, will, I think, crown you the king of “secret-readers.” But notwithstanding this, I think your opinion that the construction of areal cryptographis impossible, not sufficiently supported. Those examples which you have published have indeed not been of that character, as you have fully proved. They have, moreover, not been sufficiently accurate, for where the key was a phrase, (and consequently the same character was employed for several letters,) different words would be formed with the same ciphers. The sense could then only be ascertained from the context, and this would amount to a probability—generally of a high degree, I admit—but still not to a positive certainly. Nay, a case might readily be imagined, where the most important word of the communication, and one on which the sense of the whole depended, should have so equivocal a nature, that the person for whose benefit it was intended, would be unable, even with the aid of his key, to discover which of two very different interpretations should be the correct one. If necessary, this can easily be shown; thus, for example, suppose a lady should receive from her affianced, a letter written in ciphers, containing this sentence, “4 5663 967 268 26 3633,” and thataandnwere represented by the figure 2,—e,m, andrby 3,—iby 4,—lby 5,—o,s, andvby 6,—uby 7,—wby 8,—andyby 9; a moment’s inspection will show that the sentence might either be “I love you now as ever,” or “I love you nowno more.” How “positively shocking,” “to say the least of it;” and yet several of the ciphers that you have published, have required a greater number of letters to be represented by one character, than any to be found in the example before us. It is evident, then, that this is not a very desirable system, as it would scarcely be more useful than a lock without its key, or with one that did not fit its wards.

I think, however, that there are various methods by which a hieroglyphic might be formed, whose meaning would be perfectly “hidden;” and I shall give one or two examples of what I consider such. A method which I have adopted for my own private use, is one which I am satisfied is of this nature, as it cannot possibly be solved without the assistance of its key, and that key, by whichaloneit can be unlocked, exists only in my mind; at the same time it is so simple, that with the practice in it which I have had, I now read it, and write it, with as much facility as I can the English character. As I prefer not giving it here, I shall be compelled to have recourse to some other plan that is more complicated. By aCRYPTOGRAPH, I understand—a communication which, thoughclearlyascertained by means of its proper key, cannot possibly be without it. To most persons, who have not thought much upon the subject, an article written in simple cipher, (by which I mean with each letter uniformly represented by a single distinct character,) would appear to be an impenetrable mystery; and they would doubtless imagine that the more complicated the method of constructing such a cipher, the moreinsoluble—to use a chemical expression—would be the puzzle, since so much less would be the chance of discovering its key. This very natural conclusion is, however, erroneous, as it is founded on the supposition that possession must first be obtained of the key, in order to unravel the difficulty,—which is not the case. The process of reasoning employed in resolving “secret writing” has not the slightest relation to the form or description of the characters used, but refers simply to their succession, and to a comparison of words in which the same letters occur. By these means any cipher of this nature can be unriddled, as experience has fully shown. A very successful method of avoiding detection, would be to apply the simple cipher to words written backwards and continuously. This, I conceive, might be called a perfect cryptograph, since from the want of spaces, and consequently the impossibility of comparing words, it would utterly perplex the person attempting to discover its hidden import, and yet with the help of the key, each letter being known, the words could easily be separated and inverted. I give a short specimen of this style, and would feel much gratified with your opinion of the possibility of reading it.

a cryptograph

Should this not be consideredperfect, (though I suspect it would puzzle even the ingenious editor to detect its meaning,) I shall give another method below, which I can showmustbe, and if I am successful I think you will do me the justice to admit that “human ingenuity” has contrived “a cipher which human ingenuity cannot resolve.” I wish to be distinctly understood; the secret communication above, and the one following, are not intended to show that you have promised more than you can perform. I do not take up the gauntlet. Your challenge, I am happy to testify, has been more than amply redeemed. It is merely with an incidental remark of yours, that I am at present engaged, and my object is to show that however correct it may be generally,—it is not so universally.

Agreeably to a part of my foregoing definition,thatcannot be a proper cryptograph, in which a single character is made to represent more than one letter. Let us for a moment see what would be the result if this was reversed,—that is, if more than one cipher were used for a single letter. In case each letter were represented by two different characters, (used alternately or at random,) it is evident that while the certainty of reading such a composition correctly, by help of the key, would not be at all diminished, the difficulty of its solution without that help, would be vastly increased. This then is an approach to the formation of a secret cipher. If, now, the number of the characters were extended to three or four for each letter, it might be pronounced with tolerable certainty that such a writing would be “secret.” Or, to take an extreme case, a communication might be made, in which no two characters would be alike! Here all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects ofcomparison; and even if half a dozen words were known, they would furnish no clue to the rest. Here, then, is a completenon plusto investigation, and we have arrived at a perfect cryptograph. For, since any given cipher would stand for but one letter in the key, there could be but a single and definite solution; and thus both conditions of my definition are fully satisfied. In the following specimen of this method, I have employed the Roman-capital, small letter, and small capital, with their several inversions, giving me the command of 130 characters, or an average of five to each letter. This is to “make assurance doubly sure,” for I am satisfied that were an average of three characters used for each letter, such a writing would be emphatically secret. If you will be so kind as to give my cipher a place in your interesting Magazine, I will immediately forward you its key. Hoping that you will not be displeased with my tedious letter,

I am most respectfully yours.

W. B. TYLER.

To Edgar A. Poe, Esq.

a cryptograph

The difficulty attending the cipher by key-phrase, viz: that the same characters may convey various meanings—is a difficulty upon which we commented in our first article upon this topic, and more lately at greater length in a private letter to our friend F. W. Thomas. The key-phrase cryptograph is, in fact, altogether inadmissible. The labor requisite for its elucidation,even with the key, would, alone, render it so. Lord Bacon very properly defines threeessentialsin secret correspondence. It is required, first, that the cipher be such as to elude suspicion of being a cipher; secondly, that its alphabet be so simple of formation as to demand but little time in the construction of an epistle; thirdly, that it shall be absolutely insoluble without the key—we may add, fourthly, that, with the key, it be promptly andcertainlydecipherable.

Admitting, now, that the ingenious cryptograph proposed by our correspondent be absolutely what he supposes it, impenetrable, it would still, we think, be inadmissible on the first point above stated, and more so on the second. But of its impenetrability we are by no means sure, notwithstanding what, at a cursory glance, appears to be thedemonstrationof the writer. In the key-phrase cipher an arbitrary character is sometimes made to represent five, six, seven, or even more letters. Our correspondent proposes merely to reverse the operation:—and this simple statement of the case will do more towards convincing him of his error than an elaborate argument, for which we would neither have time, nor our readers patience. In a key-phrase cryptograph, equally as in his own, each discovery isindependent, notnecessarilyaffording any clue to farther discovery. Neither is the idea of our friend, although highly ingenious, philosophical, and unquestionably original with him, (since he so assures us,) originalin itself. It is one of the many systems tried by Dr. Wallis and found wanting. Perhaps no good cipher waseverinvented which its originator did not conceive insoluble; yet, so far, no impenetrable cryptograph has been discovered. Our correspondent will be the less startled at this, our assertion, when he bears in mind that he who has been termed the “wisest of mankind”—we mean Lord Verulam—was as confident of the absolute insolubility of his own mode as our present cryptographist is of his. What he said upon the subject in hisDe Augmentiswas, at the day of its publication, considered unanswerable. Yet his cipher has been repeatedly unriddled. We may say, in addition, that the nearest approach to perfection in this matter, is thechiffre quarréof the French Academy. This consists of a table somewhat in the form of our ordinary multiplication tables, from which the secret to be conveyed is so written that no letter is ever represented twice by the same character. Out of a thousand individuals nine hundred and ninety-nine would at once pronounce this mode inscrutable. It is yet susceptible, under peculiar circumstances, of prompt and certain solution.

Mr. T. will have still less confidence in his hastily adopted opinions on this topic when we assure him, from personal experience, that what he says in regard to writing backwards and continuously without intervals between the words—is all wrong. So far from “utterly perplexing the decipherer,” it gives him no difficulty, legitimately so called—merely taxing to some extent his patience. We refer him to the files of “Alexander’s Weekly Messenger” for 1839—where he will see that we read numerous ciphers of the class described, even when very ingeniousadditionaldifficulties were interposed. We say, in brief, that we should have little trouble in reading the one now proposed.

“Here,” says our friend, referring to another point, “all reasoning would be entirely baffled, as there would evidently be no objects ofcomparison.” This sentence assures us that he is laboring under much error in his conception of cipher-solutions.Comparisonis a vastaidunquestionably; but not an absoluteessentialin the elucidation of these mysteries.

We need not say, however, that this subject is an excessively wide one. Our friend will forgive us for not entering into details which would lead us—God knows whither. The ratiocination actually passing through the mind in the solution of even a simple cryptograph, if detailed step by step, would fill a large volume. Our time is much occupied; and notwithstanding the limits originally placed to our cartel, we have found ourselves overwhelmed with communications on this subject; and must close it, perforce—deeply interesting as we find it. To this resolution we had arrived last month; but the calm and truly ingenious reasoning of our correspondent has induced us to say these few words more. We print his cipher—with no promise to attempt its solution ourselves—much as we feel inclined to make the promise—and to keep it. Some of our hundred thousand readers will, no doubt, take up the gauntlet thrown down; and our pages shall be open for any communication on the subject, which shall not tax our own abilities or time.

In speaking of our hundred thousand readers (and we can scarcely suppose the number to be less), we are reminded that of this vast number, one and only one has succeeded in solving the cryptograph of Dr. Frailey. The honor of the solution, is however, due to Mr.Richard Bolton, of Pontotoc, Mississippi. His letter did not reach us until three weeks after the completion of our November number, in which we should, otherwise, have acknowledged it.

THE CLOSING YEAR.

Perhapsthe editors of no magazine, either in America or Europe, ever sat down, at the close of a year, to contemplate the progress of their work with more satisfaction than we do now. Our success has been unexampled, almost incredible. We may assert without fear of contradiction that no periodical ever witnessed the same increase during so short a period. We began the year almost unknown; certainly far behind our cotemporaries in numbers; we close it with a list of twenty-five thousand subscribers, and the assurance on every hand that our popularity has as yet seen only its dawning. But if such is the orient, what will our noonday be? Nor, if we may for once play the egotist, is this success wholly undeserved. Everything that talent, taste, capital, or energy could do for “Graham’s Magazine” has been done, and that too without stint. The best typography, the choicest engravers, the finest writers, the most finished artists, and the utmost punctuality in our business department, have lent their aid to forward our enterprise; and what neither could have done singly, all combined have effected. Nothing has been spared. The splendor of our embellishments has never been equalled: the variety and richness of our literary matter are not to be surpassed. We not only present a choicer list of contributors than any other magazine in the country, but we rejoice in more than one writer whom we alone have been able to tempt from their retreats, and who cannot be induced to contribute to any cotemporary. We have secured the exclusive services ofSartain, and have made a permanent engagement withSadd. Our Fashion Plates have become the standards in that department, and the line engravings we have furnished have been universally cited as superior to those of the richest Annuals. In literary rank we are assigned the first place of our class, and our criticisms on books are deferred to as the best in the country. We may speak thus boldly, because, although we may be only Snug the Joiner, yet whenever we roar as now, it is in the character of the lion. Reviewing, therefore, our past success, and taking it—and why not?—as an earnest for the future, we can afford, we opine, to sip our cup of choice Mocha at ease, and if not to “shoulder our crutch,” at least to “tell how fields were won.”

We shall begin the new year determined to surpass even what we have done. As we have introduced a new era into magazine history we shall not pause until the revolution is complete. We shall not follow the namby-pamby style of periodical literature, but aim at a loftier and more extended flight. For this purpose we shall increase the amount of our reading matter, although, at the same time, our embellishments shall even be superior in beauty to what they are at present. We have made arrangements by which the graceful pens of two lady-editors will be added to our strength. Our editorial list will then be as follows:

Geo. R. Graham,Chas. J. Peterson,Mrs.E. C. Embury,Mrs.A. S. Stephens,Edgar A. Poe.

Geo. R. Graham,

Chas. J. Peterson,

Mrs.E. C. Embury,

Mrs.A. S. Stephens,

Edgar A. Poe.

Our Prospectus will show the number of American writers, in addition to the editors, enlisted in the work. With such acorpswe may make any promises.

To ensure a supply of the best original engravings we have, in addition to Messrs. Sartain and Sadd, procured the aid of Messrs. Rawdon, Wright, Hatch and Smillie, and Mr. Dick,—all well known for the elegance of their work. Our chief illustrations shall, however, be as heretofore, mezzotinto engravings,—they being decidedly the most effective, elegant, rare, and desirable. This field we shall enjoy without even an attempt at serious competition, it being impossible for any other like magazine to bring out the same or equal talent in this way.

And now, as the play is over and we have spoken the epilogue, we will draw the curtain with a single wish: “a happy new year, and many of them, to our subscribers.”

Transcriber’s Notes:

Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Obvious punctuation and typesetting errors have been corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For the text only version of this eBook, in the article “A Chapter on Autograpy”, the various signatures which were given in other formats as an illustration, are represented in the text version as text with variable spacing and punctuation representing the way in which the particular signature is handwritten.

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