AMERICAN TEAL. (Anas Crecca.Wilson.)

The Green-Winged, or American Teal, (Anas Crecca, Wilson,) has received the name of American Teal from the naturalists of Europe, as being a distinct species from their own, an error exposed in a satisfactory manner by Wilson. Like the Summer Duck, it prefers fresh water, and frequents ponds, marshes, and the reedy shores of creeks and rivers. It is very abundant among the rice plantations of the Southern States; and its flesh is accounted excellent food. It is said to breed in Hudson’s Bay, and to have from five to seven young at a time. It is known, according to Latham and Bewick, to build in France and England, but, so far as we know, it does not breed in the United States. The Common Teal is so highly esteemed in England as to bring five shillings a pound in the London market. We believe that as our sportsmen become in a greater degree scientific naturalists, an advance which cannot be much longer delayed in this progressive age, the highly interesting class of the Anatidæ will become accurately known, the concealment with which it has hitherto been suffered to cloak its habits and its history, will be torn away, and the artifices of the naturalists exposed, who are far too prone, when unable to point out the proper locality of any duck, at any season, to “send it to Siberia,” and put it into sort of Arctic parchment. Thus with many of the ducks, but of those that have been said to rear their broods in the inhospitable climes of the north, very many have never been seen there; and we are greatly inclined to believe that many described as winter visitants are resident birds, passing the summer dispersedly, and in places where they have but little chance of being seen. After the pairing time, the males are peculiarly retired and silent; and the close sitting females do not come abroad until they are able to launch their young ducklings upon that element of which they are in future to be so much the ornament.

REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.

The Life of Napoleon Buonaparte. By William Hazlitt. New York: Wiley & Putnam. 6 Parts, 12mo.

Hazlitt never mistook his powers more than when he aspired to write history and biography. As a critic and essayist his brilliancy and acuteness compensate, in a considerable degree, for his bitterness and prejudice; but as a historian, his faults of mind and disposition are too glaringly evident to pass without rebuke. He could not have selected a subject where his unfitness was more apparent than that of Napoleon. His admiration of the “child and champion of the Revolution,” and his hatred of the established governments of Europe, amounted to a disease. His production, therefore, though containing many striking thoughts, and some splendid composition, reads more like a vigorous party pamphlet than an impartial history. Every thing is seen through a distorting medium of rage and prejudice. The political sins of the monarchs he condemns and inveighs against, were of the same kind which Napoleon himself had no scruple in committing, and we see no reason why an usurper of superior power and abilities, should be puffed for the same crimes for which his adversaries are hooted at. Falsehood and perfidy should be especially branded when they are committed by apostate patriots, and champions of the rights of man. It is well known that Napoleon, among the many “infirmities” of his genius, was one of the greatest liars that ever existed. He not only disregarded truth, but had a contempt for it. One would suppose that such a quality as this ought to give a slightly dark shade to his character, even as delineated by a servile biographer. But Hazlitt’s faith in his hero is proof against all sense and propriety; and, in the name of democracy, he baptizes the most tyrannical and infamous acts committed by the most despotic of modern sovereigns.

This book resembles Carlyle’s Cromwell in its object—and its object is detestable. If history is to be written to any good purpose, the historian must not adopt the passions of the time he describes as the principles by which he judges of persons and events. History, written on the model of Hazlitt or Carlyle, would become more corrupting than the most licentious novels. Men of great abilities, loaded though they be with offences against human nature, would be held up as appropriate examples; and every ambitious politician would be practically told, that the way to win the gratitude of posterity was to trample on the rights of the governed, and violate every principle of legislation and morals. No historian of any acuteness can be at a loss for plausible excuses for crimes if his love for the criminal exceeds his love for justice and truth. The course by which Carlyle makes Cromwell out the wisest and most religious of men, and reconciles morality with massacre, might be advantageously employed to extenuate the offences of many an unfortunate gentleman whom society exhibits on a gallows, or employs in the business of pounding stone in its prisons. There are already too many temptations in the way of selfish ambition to make it desirable that historians should add another.

American Comedies. By James K. Paulding and William Irving Paulding. Phila.: Carey & Hart. 1 vol. 12mo.

This volume contains four comedies, the first of which, entitled “The Bucktails, or Americans in England,” is the production of James K. Paulding, and the remaining three of W. I. Paulding, a young man scarcely one-and-twenty. “The Bucktails” was written shortly after the last war with England. The sentiment of the play, and a good portion of the humor, are somewhat old. The ignorance of the English characters is somewhat overcharged, and the nationality of the American too obtrusively impertinent. The fun of the piece is apt to run either into mere caricature or jokes “which no young lady should read.” There is, however, with many defects in plot and characterization, considerable merit in the dialogue, which is sharp, brisk, and terse, and explodes at times, like a series of percussion caps. The last act is very clumsy, and the patches of blank verse put into the mouths of Frank and Jane, positively ridiculous. We are surprised that Mr. Paulding did not re-write the play, and prune it of many obvious absurdities. It contains a great deal that is excellent.

The remaining comedies are “The Noble Exile,” “Madmen All,” and “Antipathies, or The Enthusiasts by the Ears.” They are the production of a young man of evident talent, and give promise of much excellence in the department of literature to which he has devoted his powers; but they are crude in their present shape, and many of the faults and follies they satirize have been repeatedly ridiculed in the same way. We should judge, also, that the writer’s favorite author was Ben Jonson—a bad model, though a man of great talents and remarkable character. The most laughable piece of comic writing in the plays, is the second scene in the second act of Madmen All, in which Phil, assuming the character of a Vicksburg “screamer,” bamboozles an Englishman with stories of the character and manners of the South and West. Phil is asked what were his sensations on being blown up in a Mississippi steamer, and he replies—“Why, sir, it is the pleasantest and most elevating feeling you can imagine. May I be scalped, sir, if it is not just like being kicked into chaos. No man, sir, knows what the sublimity of life is until he has had a biler burst under him.” The whole scene is exceedingly spirited and effective. Indeed, Mr. Paulding wants but culture and practice to make a good dramatist. The present volume is rather an indication than an exponent of his capacity. He does individual scenes well, and here and there hits off a character happily; but he does not so combine his plot and personages as to produce an artistical effect upon the mind.

History of the Roman Republic. By J. Michelet. Translated by William Hazlitt. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.

In this work Michelet displays his usual qualities of style, with, perhaps, more condensation of remark and peremptoriness of judgment. He never writes without having studied his subject thoroughly, and he seems to conceive that this elaborate preparation qualifies him to decide all debateable points. His intellect has some vices of system, and he is too apt to run his facts into the forms of his theories, and generalize where he ought to narrate. He states an event in language which also contains an opinion of the event. He also bothers the unlearned reader by narrating occasionally by allusion and implication, andthus is condensed at the expense of simplicity and clearness. The present work, though very able and interesting, requires a previous knowledge of Roman history to be appreciated, as much almost as Carlyle’s “French Revolution” demands a previous acquaintance with French history. It is rather an addition to the other histories of the republic, by a man of original and splendid powers, than a work embodying a complete history in itself.

Michelet’s power of picturesque description and delineation of character, and his faculty of applying principles to events, are displayed prominently in this work. His sympathy with the Roman people and their objects, is also strikingly manifested. Nothing but an extended review of the book could do justice to its mingled wisdom and extravagance. The chief defect in this, as in every work of the author, is the obtrusion of his own peculiar personality into every picture and reflection. We cannot get a view of Hannibal, Scipio, Cæsar, Brutus, or Anthony, without seeing Michelet by his side, doing the honors of introduction, and warning us that his is the only shop where the true article may be obtained.

Spaniards and their Country. By Richard Ford. Part 2. New York: Wiley & Putnam.

The second portion of this work is as amusing as the first. It does not give us a high opinion of the author, if we except the gratitude we naturally feel to a person who sacrifices his personal dignity for the pleasure of his reader. The book is flippant, light-hearted, and often shallow, with the egotism and arrogance of the Englishman, modified by the graceful impudence of the Parisian; but it is singularly acute in the detection of the qualities which immediately underlie the superficies of national character, and singularly brilliant in style and description. Without any very sparkling passages, its tone of pleasantry is uniformly sustained, and draws the reader on to the conclusion by the fascination of its volatile spirit. The subject is comparatively new, and rich in materials of interest. These advantages the author has skillfully improved, and made a book worth a hundred “Tours in Spain,” written by gentlemen with a philosophical tone of mind. There is a spirit of enjoyment in the book which is communicated to the mind of the reader. As the author, good-naturedly, takes the world as it is, the reader is content to take him as he is; and thus his coxcombry excites no anger, and his pleasantry is left to operate undisturbed.

Hyperion. By H. W. Longfellow. Fourth Edition. Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.

This is an elegant and tasteful edition of an exquisite book. It has been deservedly the most successful of the author’s prose compositions. Indeed, as a proof of the fertility of Longfellow’s imagination, the delicacy and sweetness of his sentiment, and his general poetic view of nature and life, we should appeal to this romance as readily as to his poems. It is full of delicious imagery, beautiful description, and striking thoughts, and the style is richly sensuous and musical. The strain of sentiment running through the book, however, is not strong and bracing enough for our climate. Its general tone is too much that of a sad sweetness, though passages are replete with a firmer and sterner feeling. It reminds one more of Fletcher than Milton; of the “Faithful Shepherdess” than of “Comus.” The leading characteristic of Longfellow’s mind is that peculiar blending of sensation with imagination, commonly called sensuousness—a characteristic of all poetic genius, but which is apt to bewitch the soul with a sense of the beauty of things, to the forgetfulness of their other qualities and relations, and by this forgetfulness to lead the mind away from the contemplation of the highest intellectual and moral beauty. “Hyperion,” however, ranks among the first books of its kind in English letters, and might be appropriately entitled, “Prose, by a Poet.”

Chefs-d’Œuvre Dramatiques de la Langue Française. Par A. G. Collot. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.

This is an excellent French Reader, worth a thousand of the common collections going under the name. It contains whole dramas by Corneille, Racine, Voltaire, Molière, Piron, Scribe, and Berquin, carefully edited, with explanations to facilitate the progress of the student. Such a work has long been wanted. It enables the student to study the French language as used by some of the master-spirits among Frenchmen. As a collection of five dramas, also, it will be interesting to many who understand the language, but are unable to purchase the whole works of the authors from whom the plays are selected.

Probabilities: An Aid to Faith. By the Author of “Proverbial Philosophy.” New York: Wiley & Putnam.

Tupper seems to have been a little crazed by his popularity, and to have obtained the idea that he was a great philosopher. The result of this self-deceit is contained in the present little book. We confess we have been unable to wade through it. To compel a critic to read a series of works like this, would drive him into the insane hospital in a month. One of the probabilities of Tupper is, that the star Acyone, which Dr. Madier considers the central sun of the systems of stars known to us, is the place of the Christian Heaven, and that our moon is Hell. This may be classed under those probabilities which are important, if true. To use an austere remark of Dr. Johnson, the elaborate consideration of all the trash in this volume, would be to “waste criticism on unresisting imbecility.”

The Amenities of Literature, consisting of Sketches and Characters of English Literature. By J. D’Israeli. New York: Harper & Brothers. 2 vols. 12mo.

This is the fourth edition of a work peculiarly valuable to the student of English literature. It consists of original investigations into the mines of English letters, with some curious speculations grounded upon the results. D’Israeli, however, with all his merit as a literary antiquary, will never be an interesting author. His works are labor-saving machines to all critics and miscellaneous writers, and will always be read; but they are incurably dull. It is fortunate that he did not write a history of English literature. There is no juice in the man. The dust of old folios has entered into his soul, and given an arid character to every opinion and expression. We say this with many twinges of conscience, for he has spent his life in researches which have saved better writers years of toilsome investigation.

Froissart Ballads. By Philip Pendleton Cooke. Phila.: Carey & Hart.

This is one of the most delightful volumes which we have met with for many a day. We have long known and admired the fugitive poems of Mr. Cooke, and now heartily welcome our old favorites, with their new companions, in the beautiful dress which the publishers have given them. In the “Proem To Emily” there is an exquisite freshness which delights us exceedingly. We hardly know how to characterize the peculiar beauty of its spirit; but it seems, while reading it, as if we were dreaming inthe delicious shade of quiet trees, and looking down upon golden valleys, wherein pass to and fro the valiant knights, stately dames, and lovely maids of the misty days of chivalry. So itseemswhile perusing the proem, but in the “Master of Bolton,” we have the reality, and it no longer seems. This poem, while being in Mr. Cooke’s peculiar and happiest vein, has about it a dash, which strikes us as Scott-like, and a spice of the “Christabel;” not in a degree, however, which could be said to amount to imitation, but evincing rather, a mind sensitive to the same romantic impressions. What could be more beautiful and graphic than the following characteristic sketch—or rather let us say picture, which we extract from the “Master of Bolton?”

“All heard a merry signal cry,

And a swift heron, from a marsh,

Mounted with sudden scream, and harsh,

Beating the air in wild alarm.

Then hawks were cast from many an arm;

And it was a gallant sight to see

The fleet birds tower so valiantly,

Each for the vanguard challenging,

But none went forth so swift of wing—

Mounted so boldly on the wind,

As the brave bird of Jocelind.

With winnow and soar he won the height

At point above the quarry’s flight,

And balanced in air, and made his stoop;

But the swift heron shunned the swoop,

And, wheeling aside, a moment stayed,

Just over the gazing cavalcade;

A wild-eyed, terror-stricken bird

The Kentish hawk had canceliered,

But now drove back upon his prey,

Ire-whetted for the fresh assay.

The lady’s heart with pity filled,

The quarry’s mortal dread to see,

And in her gentleness she willed

To ward its dire extremity;

With uplift hands and eager eyes,

And cheeks bereft of their rosy dyes,

‘Gawen, my Gawen!come back,’ she cried,

The hawk, true vassal, turned aside,

Doubtful, upon his pinions wide,

Then, like a servant of a charm,

Sank to his perch on the lady’s arm,

The damsel in her loveliness,

Made lovelier by that kind distress,

Repaid the bold bird’s loyalty

With gentleness of hand and eye.

That silver call, so sweet to hear,

When will it die on the master’s ear?

‘My Gawen—come back!’ the truth to say,

He pondered the words for many a day.”

It must be remembered that the bird had been named in honor of his former owner, the Master of Bolton, and this was he

“Who pondered the words for many a day.”

Mark, too, a little further on, how gloriously our author reproduces the iron-rattle and fiery jostle of the tourney:

“Into the lists Sir Gawen rides,

Manful upon his charger black,”

to break a lance for his lady’s sake.

“At signal of a bugle blast—

Sharp and sudden sound,

The knights set forward, fiery fast,

And met in middle ground;

Met with stern shock of man and horse,

And din of crashing spears;

But neither champion won the course,

They parted there like peers.

Again! again! and respite none

Will not Lord Siampi yield,

Swift he demands, with haughty tone,

Renewal of the field!

Whereto, Sir Gawen urged to speak,

Answers as haughtily,

‘By God! sir knight, I nothing seek

So much as strife with thee.’

Thus spake he, and his visor closed,

As to his post he passed;

Again the armed men opposed

Await the signal blast!

Sudden it came, with hearts of flame,

The champions, at the sound,

Drove each his steed at furious speed,

And met in middle ground.

The Frankish champion struck amain—

Struck with a force so dire—

On Gawen’s helmet, that his brain

Streamed with a flood of fire.

But Gawen smote the knight of France,

Full on his sturdy breast,

And driven, perforce, the trusty lance

Through shield and corselet prest—

Crashing through steel, the weapon good,

Lord Siampi’s bosom found,

Nor broke until the sudden blood

Gushed darkly from the wound.

Manful against the lance’s force

Lord Siampi bore him well,

And passed Sir Gawen in the course,

All upright in his selle—

But with the gallop of his horse,

He reeled—and swayed—and fell!”

“The Mountains,” “Florence Vane,” the poem of “The Bards,” and “Young Rosalie Lee,” are exquisite gems. Altogether, this volume of “Froissart Ballads, and Other Poems,” fully deserves the hearty reception, which we are glad to see so universally extended to it by the press.

A System of Intellectual Philosophy. By Rev. Asa Mahan. Second Edition. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo.

This work is written by one who has evidently studied intellectual philosophy with all the ardor of a lover. The book presents, in a compact form, a system of metaphysics, whose basis is spiritualism. The author acknowledges his indebtedness to Coleridge, Kant, and Cousin. The leading ideas of these philosophers frequently appear in the work. We are aware of no book which gives in a small space, so much that is valuable to the student and thinker. We have been particularly pleased with the analysis of Imagination and Fancy, and the accounts of the various German systems of metaphysics.

An Exposition of the Apocalypse. By David N. Lord. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 vol. 8vo.

This work is valuable to all theologians, and also to all who desire light on the dark topics it discusses. It is very able, and does honor to the author’s learning and ingenuity. We especially admire the courage with which Mr. Lord grapples with the difficulties of his subject. Such a work must have been the result of the patient toil of many years.

Transcriber’s Notes:

Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. Archaic spellings and hyphenation have been retained. Punctuation has been corrected without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of the originals available for preparation of the eBook. A cover has been created for this eBook and is placed in the public domain.

page 266, Frith about noon, ==>Firthabout noon,page 267, and unforseen event. ==> andunforeseenevent.page 270, posssessed of an art, ==>possessedof an art,page 274, theattacheé, or the financier. ==> theattaché, or the financier.page 275, the rich farmers’s house, ==> the richfarmer’shouse,page 277, they eat enough, ==> theyateenough,page 279, enough; and and if it’s ==> enough;andif it’spage 281, The blackberrys grow by ==> Theblackberriesgrow bypage 281, And its grown to a ==> Andit’sgrown to apage 282, baldric and the feather ==>baldrickand the featherpage 284, boddice of her dark ==>bodiceof her darkpage 289, supper-bell rung, which ==> supper-bellrang, whichpage 290, she answerd, “a mere ==> sheanswered, “a merepage 296, assembled at Beverley ==> assembled atBeverlypage 296, relatives of the Beverly’s, ==> relatives of theBeverlys,page 296, I amune de trop. ==> I amunde trop.page 297, Frank felt irresistably ==> Frank feltirresistiblypage 297, sung well. Frank ==>sangwell. Frankpage 297, Never sung so sweet ==> Neversangso sweetpage 300, it be Byron’s, Shelly’s, ==> it be Byron’s,Shelley’s,page 301, captal willian, I call ==>capitalwillian, I callpage 303, his own arrangemants. He ==> his ownarrangements. Hepage 317, under theold regimé==> under theoldrégimepage 317, gingling of a bell ==>jinglingof a bellpage 319, raised a last screach, ==> raised a lastscreech,

page 266, Frith about noon, ==>Firthabout noon,

page 267, and unforseen event. ==> andunforeseenevent.

page 270, posssessed of an art, ==>possessedof an art,

page 274, theattacheé, or the financier. ==> theattaché, or the financier.

page 275, the rich farmers’s house, ==> the richfarmer’shouse,

page 277, they eat enough, ==> theyateenough,

page 279, enough; and and if it’s ==> enough;andif it’s

page 281, The blackberrys grow by ==> Theblackberriesgrow by

page 281, And its grown to a ==> Andit’sgrown to a

page 282, baldric and the feather ==>baldrickand the feather

page 284, boddice of her dark ==>bodiceof her dark

page 289, supper-bell rung, which ==> supper-bellrang, which

page 290, she answerd, “a mere ==> sheanswered, “a mere

page 296, assembled at Beverley ==> assembled atBeverly

page 296, relatives of the Beverly’s, ==> relatives of theBeverlys,

page 296, I amune de trop. ==> I amunde trop.

page 297, Frank felt irresistably ==> Frank feltirresistibly

page 297, sung well. Frank ==>sangwell. Frank

page 297, Never sung so sweet ==> Neversangso sweet

page 300, it be Byron’s, Shelly’s, ==> it be Byron’s,Shelley’s,

page 301, captal willian, I call ==>capitalwillian, I call

page 303, his own arrangemants. He ==> his ownarrangements. He

page 317, under theold regimé==> under theoldrégime

page 317, gingling of a bell ==>jinglingof a bell

page 319, raised a last screach, ==> raised a lastscreech,

[End of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, May 1847]

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