In Geissen, Prof.Liebig, has published a Review of the Progress of Chemistry, Mineralogy, and Geology, in the year 1849. He has been assisted in its preparation by Professor Kopp and several other savans connected with the University at Giessen. It is marked by his usual completeness, breadth of scope, and exhaustive treatment of each particular subject. Liebig is now engaged in preparing a new series of Chemical Letters, which will be specially devoted to the growth of this science, in connection with the history of mental progress in general. Professor Knobel, of the same University, has also issued a work on the Genealogies of the Book of Genesis, which excites remark by the thoroughness of its historical investigations. Leopold Schmid's last work is on the Spirit of Catholicism, and also highly spoken of by both Catholic and Protestant writers. This author holds a high rank in the Catholic literature of Germany, and has been chosen Bishop of Mayence. Professor Hillebrand is occupied with a revision of his highly esteemed History of German national literature since Lessing. There seems to be no reason to fear that Giessen is doing less than its share toward keeping the ocean of German books up at a high-water mark.
Beranger, the veteranchansonier, is now occupying himself in writing biographies, anecdotes, criticisms, &c., of the public men with whom, in the course of his long career, he has been in contact. It is five years since he announced his intention of giving such a work to the public, and he thinks it will possess great historical value, while of his songs, which alone will convey his name to the last ages in which the language of France is spoken, he thinks but "indifferently well."
The house, at Paris, in whichEugene Suelaid some of the most exciting scenes of his "Wandering Jew," has lately been advertised for sale, and has been visited by crowds of curious loungers. It is known as the Hotel Serilly, and is situated at No. 5 Rue Neuve Saint François, in the quarter called the Marais. At the time the "Wandering Jew" was published, the street was often filled by groups of gazers at the strange old edifice, which had been so exactly described by the romancer, that no one could mistake it. Some even ventured to knock at the door and seek further information. They were received by a mysterious and taciturn old Hebrew, who looked as if he himself had charge of the great Rennepeal treasure, and three-quarters of the visitors went away convinced that they had seen the veritable Samuel himself. Now that the whole house has been thrown open to the public, there have been found under it vast sub-cellars extending under the large garden in the rear, and in these cellars are seven wells, partially filled up, but with walls of careful masonry, and other indications that they were of great depth and great utility. The opinion was at once set on foot by the explorers, that the millions of the treasure had been concealed in one of these wells. The fact is, that the house formerly belonged to a Protestant family which suffered extreme persecution after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and which doubtless found the subterranean passages extremely convenient. In the year 1791, it was inhabited by the revolutionist Carnot.
TheCount de Tocqueville, a relative of the author of "Democracy in America," has just published a historical work on the Reign of Louis XVI. The writer, an old man almost sinking into the grave, enjoys the advantage of having himself witnessed and even shared in a part of the events he describes. He was intimate with Malasherbes, and personally devoted to the unfortunate Louis. Of his ability as a writer, a former work on the Reign of Louis XV. furnished proofs which are repeated in the present volume. Of course he does full justice to the amiable personal qualities of Marie Antoinette and her husband, without doing injustice to their faults. But he shows that after all what was charged upon them as political crime, was but the consequence of long-standing causes, over which they had no control, or even of measures of reform to which with the best intentions, they had given their consent. In speaking of the mission of Franklin at the French Court, M. de Tocqueville gives some interesting details. "At Paris," he says, "the zeal for the cause of the insurgents constantly increased. The women who exercised a great influence in the reign of Louis XVI., became passionate supporters of the Americans, and made aiding them a question of honor. The simple manners of their envoys,—their hair without powder, their citizens' dress, pleased by a sort of piquant novelty. All who approached Franklin were charmed by his wit. In him people venerated the founder of the liberty of a great nation, and even grew enthusiastic in behalf of that liberty." M. de Tocqueville shows however that the prime minister Maurepas only feared the Americans because he was embarrassed in his position, and thought to relieve himself by making war with England. But as there was no good reason for making such a war, the honesty of the King revolted at it. M. de Vergennes also said in the Council, that England would be much more weakened by a long war with her colonies, than by their loss. "But how," repeated all the women, "can we help embracing the cause of a people which sends us ambassadors without powder, and with shoe-strings, instead of buckles?" So weighty a reason turned the balance, and the war was declared. That war finished the ruin of the French monarchy, not only by inspiring the officers and soldiers sent to the United States with new ideas, but also by completing the exhaustion of its finances. With regard to the Revolution in which Louis XVI. lost his head, it is enough praise for our historian, that while he inclines always to the monarchical side, he is not altogether unjust to the popular virtues which shone with such rare brilliancy amid the gloom of that epoch.
The great work ofJ. G. Audubonand the Rev. Dr.Bachman, upon the "Viviparous Quadrupeds of North America," is much praised by those persons in Europe whose praise is of most value. TheAthenaeumremarks that, hitherto, the mammalia of America have been known chiefly through descriptions by zoologists, in the Transactions of European Societies, and that no systematic attempt has been made to bring together into one connected view the very varied forms of animal life presented by this great continent, while these authors have not only used the materials which were at hand in the works of others, but have themselves observed with great diligence the habits of many of the creatures which they have described. "Their work is creditable to the United States, where a large number of subscribers have induced the authors to undertake it,—and a most valuable addition to our general natural-history literature." The geographical range within which the animals described in these pages are found is not that of the government of the United States merely; it comprehends Russian and British America, in fact, all the country which lies north of the tropics in the New World.
At the lastMichaelmas Book Fairat Leipsic, the Catalogue contained the titles of 5,023 new works published in Germany since Easter. This is from twelve to fifteen hundred more than at any fair since the Revolution of 1848. A great number of these books are large and of remarkable merit, being in some sort, the accumulation of the more profound scientific labors of the past two years.
TheBaroness Von Beckhas just published in London two volumes of "Personal Adventures" in the Hungarian war. She is herself a Hungarian, and she saw her husband fall while cheering his men to defend a barricade at Vienna. In this book Kossuth is her hero, her prophet, her demigod; and she sacrifices all other celebrities without compunction at the altar of his greatness. Dembinsky she treats with manifest injustice; Gēorgey comes out on her pages as a very Mephistopheles. Klapka himself does not escape without animadversion. But without adopting her opinions, either of the man she blames or the subject she discusses, it cannot be denied that she has great cleverness, and a wonderful power of exciting and interesting the reader.
A valuable scientific periodical is theGeographisches Jahrbuchfor the Communication of all the more important New Investigations, edited by the distinguishedBerghaus, and published by Perthes of Gotha. The last number has an article by the editor on the system of "Mountains and Rivers of Africa," which differs altogether from what is laid down in the present maps. The author lays down the river Nile as flowing from the N'Yassi, and as connected with a great number of rivers in Dar Fur, Waday, and Fertil, with relation to which only the vaguest views have hitherto been entertained. The article shows, too, that the newly discovered lake N'Gami, in Southern Africa, has been long known under the name of Nampur. The same number of theJahrbuchalso contains an article from the pen of the late lamentedAlbert Gallatin, on the climate of North America. This article was written in English, and was translated into German for theJahrbuch.
Berghaushas also lately issued a complete work of the highest interest, especially now that so much attention is every where paid to Ethnographic studies. Its title isGrundlinien der Ethnographie(Outlines of Ethnography). It is in two parts, and contains a universal tabular description of all the races of the globe, arranged ethnographically and geographically, and according to languages and dialects, with a comparative view of their manners, customs, and habits. No person who undertakes to investigate the origin of the human family and the mutual relations of its different members, can afford to be without this work. Published in Stuttgart.
Berthold Auerbachhas just brought out a little volume of tales, which we may well infer from his previous performances are charmingly replete with grace, good humor, and a keen perception of whatever is peculiar to his subject. The title of the book isDeutsche Abende(German Evenings). It contains three stories: "Nice People," "What is Happiness?" and "The Son of the Forester." Published at Mannheim.
Baron Sternberg, a dilettante book-maker of Germany, who generally resides at Berlin, has just added a new romance, or rather the beginning of one, to his previous publications. It bears the promising, if not pretentious title, ofThe German Gil Blas(published at Bremen), and claims to be comic, as a matter of course. As a whole, the book is a failure. Though there are passages here and there which may be read with satisfaction, there is not enough unity and connection between the different parts, and the humor is generally but a thin potation. It must be said, however, that the absence of continuous interest is the fault of most comic novels, as well as poems. Even the matchless works of Jean Paul grow tedious by the endeavor to read much of them at a time, a fact which may be ascribed to the sentimentality and mere fantastics with which the kernels of his wit are overburdened. It is certain that no German humorous work can be compared with those great originals in that kind, Gil Blas and Don Quixote, or even with the much inferior works of Smollett and Dickens. Baron Sternberg's last effort forms no exception to this remark, and there is little hope that the second and concluding volume, whose appearance in Germany ought to be made by this time, will prove superior to the first. His "Royalists," an anti-democratic novel, which he had the courage to publish in the chaos of 1848, and which excited much attention, and a great deal of severe criticism, was far better.
"The New Faith sought in Art," is the title of an anonymous little book lately issued at Paris, which, though not of great value, has more poetic originality of thought than is often found in printed pages. The author thinks that the time has gone by in which the subjects of art could properly be sought in the lives of saints and legends of the Church, and wishes to substitute for them the lives of artists and celebrated inventors, who have sprung from the bosom of the people. With this writer, every thing is democratic and popular. For him the people is alone King, and worthy of all honor. "Nothing," he says in one place, "is truer than the song of Beethoven. It is the song of life, the voice of truth, an infallible voice, which will create a world, and cause the old false world to crumble. Born of the people, the people sing in him, although they know him not." In painting, the heroes of the author are Ruysdael, Rembrandt, Claude-Lorraine, and Paul Potter.
The PoetFreiligrathhas received orders to leave the village of Bilk, in the neighborhood of Dusseldorf; where he was residing, and to quit the Prussian territories. He will probably go back to England, where he passed some time in a counting-house or perhaps come to the United States, where he has several friends, to whom he has written of such an event as possible.
InAfrican Discoverygreater advances have been made in the last two years than before since the journeys of the brothers Lander. We mentioned in the lastInternationalthat the American traveller, Dr. W. Mathews, had been heard of at Vienna, and we now learn that he has been very successful in the five years of his adventure in the northern and central parts of the continent. Letters received in Berlin from Drs. Barth and Overweg, contain information of their having accomplished the journey across the Great Desert, or Sahara, and of their arrival near the frontiers of the kingdom of Aīr or Asben, (Aīr is the modern Tuarick, and Asben the ancient Sudan name), the most powerful in that part of Africa after Bornou, and never explored by Europeans. On the 24th of August—the date of their last letter—they were at Taradshit, a small place in about 20° 30' N. latitude, and 9° 20' longitude E. of Greenwich. Among their discoveries are some of peculiar interest, one of which is of several curious and very ancient sculptures, apparently of Egyptian origin. The King of Prussia has, at the instance of the Chevalier Bunsen and Baron Alexander von Humboldt, augmented the funds of the two travellers by a grant of 1,000 thalers.
While Richardson, Barth and Overweg have penetrated theterra incognitaof the north, Dr. Krapf and the Rev. Mr. Rebmann have explored the region described on the common maps as the "Great Southern Sahara," and found it to be fertile, healthy, abounding in mountains, valleys and rivers, and inhabited by a race altogether superior to that which occupies the Atlantic coast. Mr. Mansfield Parkyns is endeavoring to cross the country southward from the Nile to the river Gambia; Mr. Charles Johnson is travelling in Abysinnia; Baron von Müller is conducting an expedition up the White Nile; and the American missionaries and colonists are gradually extending their knowledge over the various settlements on the eastern coast of the continent.
The Prussian Expedition to Egypt,Denkmaeler aus Ægypten und Æthiopien nach den Zeichnungen der von Sr. Majestat dem Könige von Preussen Friedrich Wilhelm IV. nach diesen Ländern gesendeten, und in den Jahren 1842-45, ausgefuhrten wissenschaftlichen Expedition: Herausgegeben von Dr. R. Lepsius; published at the expense and under the guarantee of the Prussian Government, will be completed in eighty parts, or eight hundred plates. Most of the plates are printed with tints, and many in the colors of the originals. This work forms a necessary completion of the celebrated work of the French Expedition under Napoleon. Parts I. to X. are now advertised as ready for subscribers, in London, at three dollars and a half each.
A new work on Africa, by H. C. Grund, is advertised at Berlin.
Almanacs for popular use, offer a means much used in France for the propagation of political, social and religious doctrines. Every sect and party issues its Almanac, and some issue several, crammed to the brim with the peculiar notions whose dissemination is wished for. One of the most successful for the year 1851, is theAlmanach des Opprimés(The Almanac of the Oppressed). In fact, it is aimed wholly at the Society of Jesuits, whose history it exposes in the blackest colors. It begins with the early life of Loyola, depicts his debaucheries, his ambition, the religious mechanism invented by his enthusiastic and fanatical genius, the flexibility of his morality, and goes on to give an account of the intrigues and crimes of his successors in various countries and times, with an analysis of their books, their missions and their miracles. Another of these publications is called theAlmanach du Peuple, containing a very great variety of articles of substantial value. Among the contributors are, F. Arago, Quinet, Charras, Carnot, Girardin, George Sand, Pierre Leroux, Dumil Aeur, E. Lithe, Mazzini, and other republicans distinguished in the political, literary and scientific world. This Almanac had the honor last year of being seized by the Government, but on trial before a jury it was acquitted of the charge against it, of being dangerous to society, and provoking citizens to hate the republic and despise the authorities.
A critic in theAllegemeine Zeitung, in noticing "Ottomar, a Romance from the Present Time," the last novel from the pen of Madame Von Zöllner, takes occasion to give some hard hits at women's novels in general. "It always must and always will be a failure," he says, "when a woman attempts to form a just conception of masculine character, and to put her conception into language. Female writers always comb out smoothly the flaxen hair of their heroes, and dress them up in the frockcoat of innocence. They go into raptures over a sort of green enthusiasm, and a romantic fantasticality of virtue, such as we godless fellows are not guilty of possessing; and in this way they turn out automatons which resemble nothing in earth, heaven, or elsewhere." The critic however admits that Madame Zöllner, who is undoubtedly one of the best living German novel writers, possesses remarkable and peculiar merits. No other woman occupies so high a place with the German public, except it be Fanny Lewald. Madame Zöllner is praised for the pure moral tone of her writings.
One of the most accomplished writers in France—M. de Cormenin—and one of the mostspirituelof thatspirituelnation, said at Frankfort, "It is true that it is difficult to abolish war, but it is far more difficult to abolish death; and yet if people would take the same pains to avoid the one as they did to escape the other, they would certainly accomplish their object."
One of the most ardent and vigorous writers of Young France, Alphonse Esquiros, has brought out at Paris a new book called "The History of the Martyrs of Liberty." The author aims to follow the development of liberty in humanity; to expose the tie which unites ancient and modern society in historic solidarity; to determine the transformation of the doctrines, which, for a century past, have invaded the religious world under the name of philosophy, political economy, and socialism; to set forth the fertile sufferings which have brought about that double triumph of liberty in ideas and in facts, namely Christianity and the French Revolution; to indicate the questions yet undecided; and to call to their solution both the miseries of the laboring classes and the lights of science.
Whatever may be said of the more elaborate writings ofGeorge Sand, it is impossible for the most scrupulous critic to deny or resist the charm of her smaller works, such as the "Mosaic Workers," the "Devil's Love," and "Fadette." To these she has just added another, which is spoken of with the utmost delight by all who have read it, as a work of remarkable genius. It is intended for the use of children, and is called "The History of the veritable Gribonille." The text is accompanied by richly engraved illustrations, designed by Mr. Maurice Sand, the son, we believe, of the author. Why will not some American publisher give us a translation, with the original illustrations?
To the already immense literature of the French Revolution, we now have to signalize another addition, which is worth the attention of those who are not weary of books relating to that momentous epoch. It is a "Biography of Camille Desmoulins," by Ed. Fleury—an octavo volume, lately issued at Paris. The author discusses the history of this famous pamphleteer and revolutionary rhetorician, as an advocate defends a client before a jury.
The History of the Principles, Institutions and Laws of the French Revolution, from 1789 to 1800, is an anti-revolutionary work of elaborate character, and decided ability, published a few weeks since at Paris, by an anonymous author, who thinks he can do something toward getting the world right by rolling back some of its more recent gyrations.
A popular History of the French Revolution, from 1789 to 1799, written byHippolite Magen, and lately published at Paris, in one volume, is having a great success among the laboring classes of Paris and other French cities. It is of course in favor of the Montangards.
A valuable manual for students of French history isM. Louis Tripier'scollection of French Constitutions, since 1789, with the decrees of the Provisional Government of 1848. It has just been issued by Cotillon, at Paris.
Mirabeau, the great revolutionist, is the subject of a new work just published at Vienna, from the pen of Franz Ernst Pipitz, a native of that city, but now a teacher at the University of Zurich. It is in great part the result of original investigations, and in many particulars departs from the received biographies, while in others it casts a new light on facts previously known. The critics of Vienna speak in the highest terms of it, as worthy to be named along with the most brilliant French productions on the same subject. They are, however, bound to say the best thing possible for a book by a Viennese author, since they have but few to rejoice in.
The Memoirs of Massena, which have for some time been in course of publication at Paris, are at last completed, by the issue of the final volume, which contains the history of the campaign of 1810-11, in Portugal. No complete account of this campaign has ever before been published. The book also casts a great deal of light not merely on the history of the Marshal himself, but on the wars of Napoleon in general. It is founded on documents left by Massena, which have not before been published or consulted.
M. Cousin, who, after having exerted a more powerful influence in philosophy than any of his contemporaries, (though this influence was, in a large degree, secondary in its character), has recently been almost forgotten. We see by a paragraph in theDebatsthat he is collecting and editing all his various writings upon the subject of education. They will fill several volumes.
Another tribute to the memory ofLouis Philippe, has just been offered byM. R. Paignon, who has collected and published a volume of the deceased King's thoughts and opinions on matters of State. This work exhibits the mental and political history of its subject in the best light, and has the merit of being arranged with care and fidelity.
M. Felix Pignory, of the Commission despatched by the French Government, in search of the tomb of Godfrey of Bouillon, has returned from Asia, and reports some curious discoveries relative to the object of the mission.
A new and enlarged edition ofZuinet'sGenie des Religionshas appeared at Paris.
The Political Maxims and the Private Thoughts of Frederick the Greatis the title of a curious piece in the last number ofFrazer's Magazine. It is unique as a sample of kingcraft; and every line supplies a proof of the candor, hypocrisy, unscrupulousness, sense of duty, courage, sensuality, and intellect, of the great Prussian, to whom are partially due the literary merits or demerits of the paper.
The new edition of thePoems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, contains besides many original pieces, her translation of the "Prometheus Bound," of Æschylus, never hitherto published, although, as she informs us, once privately circulated in another and less complete form. It bears no mark of a woman's hand: it is rugged, massive, and sublime, as befits the grand old fate drama which the genius of the Greek moulded out of the immortal agony of the beneficent Titan. From the new poems we select the following exquisite love sonnets, from a series scarcely inferior to those in which Shakspeare has given the history of his heart-life:
"I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,As once Electra her sepulchral urn,And, looking in thine eyes, I overturnThe ashes at thy feet. Behold and seeWhat a great heap of grief lay hid in me,And how the red wild sparkles dimly burnThrough the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scornCould tread them out to darkness utterly,It might be well perhaps. But if insteadThou wait beside me for the wind to blowThe gray dust up, ... those laurels on thine head,O my beloved, will not shield thee so,That none of all the fires shall scorch and shredThe hair beneath. Stand further off, then! Go."Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall standHenceforward in thy shadow. Never moreAlone upon the threshold of my doorOf individual life, I shall commandThe uses of my soul, nor lift my handSerenely in the sunshine as before,Without the sense of that which I forbore,Thy touch upon the palm. The widest landDoom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mineWith pulses that beat double. What I doAnd what I dream include thee, as the wineMust taste of its own grapes. And when I sueGod for myself, He hears that name of thine,And sees within my eyes, the tears of two."Beloved, my beloved, when I thinkThat thou wast in the world a year ago,What time I sat alone here in the snow,And saw no foot-print, heard the silence sinkNo moment at they voice; ... but link by linkWent courting all my chains, as if that soThey never could fall off at any blowStruck by thy possible hand.... Why, thus I drinkOf life's great cup of wonder. Wonderful,Never to feel thee thrill the day or nightWith personal act or speech,—nor ever callSome prescience of thee with the blossoms whiteThou sawest growing!Atheists are as dull,Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight."First time he kissed me, he but only kissedThe fingers of this hand wherewith I write,And ever since it grew more clear and white;How to world greetings ... quick with its 'Oh, list,'When the angels speak. A ring of amethystI could not wear there plainer to my sightThan that first kiss. The second passed in heightThe first, and sought the forehead, and half-missed,Half falling on the hair. O, beyond meed!That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.The third, upon my lips was folded down,In perfect purple state! Since when, indeed,I have been proud, and said, 'My love, my own.'"
"I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,As once Electra her sepulchral urn,And, looking in thine eyes, I overturnThe ashes at thy feet. Behold and seeWhat a great heap of grief lay hid in me,And how the red wild sparkles dimly burnThrough the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scornCould tread them out to darkness utterly,It might be well perhaps. But if insteadThou wait beside me for the wind to blowThe gray dust up, ... those laurels on thine head,O my beloved, will not shield thee so,That none of all the fires shall scorch and shredThe hair beneath. Stand further off, then! Go.
"Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall standHenceforward in thy shadow. Never moreAlone upon the threshold of my doorOf individual life, I shall commandThe uses of my soul, nor lift my handSerenely in the sunshine as before,Without the sense of that which I forbore,Thy touch upon the palm. The widest landDoom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mineWith pulses that beat double. What I doAnd what I dream include thee, as the wineMust taste of its own grapes. And when I sueGod for myself, He hears that name of thine,And sees within my eyes, the tears of two.
"Beloved, my beloved, when I thinkThat thou wast in the world a year ago,What time I sat alone here in the snow,And saw no foot-print, heard the silence sinkNo moment at they voice; ... but link by linkWent courting all my chains, as if that soThey never could fall off at any blowStruck by thy possible hand.... Why, thus I drinkOf life's great cup of wonder. Wonderful,Never to feel thee thrill the day or nightWith personal act or speech,—nor ever callSome prescience of thee with the blossoms whiteThou sawest growing!Atheists are as dull,Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight.
"First time he kissed me, he but only kissedThe fingers of this hand wherewith I write,And ever since it grew more clear and white;How to world greetings ... quick with its 'Oh, list,'When the angels speak. A ring of amethystI could not wear there plainer to my sightThan that first kiss. The second passed in heightThe first, and sought the forehead, and half-missed,Half falling on the hair. O, beyond meed!That was the chrism of love, which love's own crown,With sanctifying sweetness, did precede.The third, upon my lips was folded down,In perfect purple state! Since when, indeed,I have been proud, and said, 'My love, my own.'"
The candidateship between Lord Palmerston and the historian Alison for the office of Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow, resulted in a majority for the latter, on the gross poll, of 69. As, however, of the "four nations" into which the students were distributed, each of the candidates had two, the election should have been decided by the vote of the present Rector, Mr. Macaulay; but he declines the duty, and would not go to the university during the contest.
The Official Gazette announces that "the Queen has been pleased to appointAlfred Tennyson, Esq., to be Poet Laureate in ordinary to her Majesty, in the room of William Wordsworth, Esq., deceased." There have been poorer poets than Tennyson among the laureates; but this appointment does not and ought not to give much satisfaction. Mr. Tennyson had already a pension from the government, and was in no need of the salary of this office, as one or two others, and as we conceive, greater poets, are; and it had been hoped that the queen would appoint to the place thegreatest poet of her own sexwho has lived in England—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
The original MS. of "Waverley,"—wholly in the handwriting of Sir Walter Scott,—the same which was sold in 1831 with the other MSS. of the series of novels and romances—has been presented to the Advocates' Library at Edinburgh, by Mr. James Hall, brother of the late Capt. Basil Hall. Several of the MSS. of Scott are in this country, having been sold here by Dr. Lardner, soon after his arrival here with Mrs. Heavyside.
Mr. Horace Mayhew, author of the metropolitan "Labor and the Poor" articles, has ceased to write for the LondonMorning Chronicle, the conductors of that journal wishing him to suppress, in his reports on the condition of the working classes, facts opposed to free trade. This appears to be characteristic of the advocates of that side.
D'Israelihas published an edition of his father's "Curiosities of Literature," with a "View of the Character and Writings of the Author." He is now engaged upon a Life of Lord William Bentinck, which he has undertaken at the request of the Duke of Portland. We do not think the author of the "Wondrous Tale of Alroy" will do very well in history.
TheEarl of Carlislehas recently given two lectures before the Tradesmen's Benevolent Society of Leeds, and the Mechanics' Institute of the same city, upon the Scenes, Institutions, and Characteristics of the United States, which he visited when Lord Morpeth.
Leigh Hunthas probably done a foolish thing in again becoming an editor. He is too old. We have, by the last steamer, "Leigh Hunt's Journal: a Miscellany for the Cultivation of the Memorable, the Progressive, and the Beautiful"—certainly a characteristic title.
A Posthumous work ofJoseph Balmas,—(the celebrated Spanish priest, whose book on Catholicism and Protestantism has lately been translated, and published in Baltimore, and who perished prematurely in 1848), has just been published. It is entitledEscritos Posthumos, Poesias Posthumos, and contains prose and verse on science, literature, and politics.
The Death of the lateMrs. Bell Martin, at the Union Place Hotel, in this city, was briefly noticed in the last number of theInternational. It appears from a statement in the LondonTimesthat the vast estates known as the Connemara property, to which she had succeeded as the daughter and heiress of the late Mr. Thomas Martin, of Ballinahinch Castle, in Galway, was among the first brought into the new "Encumbered Estates Court," and has been for some months advertised for sale. The DublinEvening Mailhas the following remarks upon the melancholy history of Mrs. Martin, whose novel of "Julia Howard" must preserve for her a very distinguished rank among the literary women, of our time:
"The vicissitudes of life have seldom produced a sadder or more rapid reverse than that by which the fortunes of this excellent lady were darkened and overthrown. Born to a noble inheritance which extended over a territory far exceeding the domain of many a reigning German prince, her name was known throughout the United Kingdom as that of "the Irish heiress." Five years ago her expectancy was considered to be equivalent, over and above all encumbrances and liabilities, to a yearly income of 5,000l.Before two years of the interval had elapsed she found herself at the head of her patrimonial estates, without a shilling that she could call her own. The failure of the potato crop, the famine and pestilence which followed, the scourging laws enacted and enforced by an ignorant Legislature to redress the calamity, and the claims of money-lenders, swept every inch of property from under her feet. Her hopes and her prospects were for ever blighted. Her projects for the improvement of the wild district over which she had reigned as a sort of native sovereign were at an end; and she went forth from the roof of her fathers as a wanderer, without a home, and, as it would almost appear, without a friend. Never was hard fate less deserved; for her untiring and active benevolence had been devoted from her childhood to the comfort and relief of those who suffered, and her powerful and original mind was incessantly employed in devising means of moral and physical amelioration in the condition of the tenantry on her father's estates. She gave up her whole time to such pursuits, avoiding the haunts of fashion and those amusements which might be considered suitable to her age and place, that she might perform the various duties of physician, almoner, schoolmistress, and agricultural instructor. Her almost daily habit was to visit the poor and the sick in the remote recesses of that wild region, sometimes on foot—more frequently in her little boat, well provided with medicaments and food, which she impelled by the vigor of her own arm through the lakes which stretch along the foot of the mountains. How grievous it is to reflect that she should so soon have been driven across the ocean in search of a place to lay her head. The American editor intimates that the object of her voyage was to collect materials for literary works. We have no doubt that such was among her projects; for she was a very distinguished writer, and would by no means eat the bread of idleness or dependence; but there is reason to believe that it was a more stringent compulsion which obliged her, at an advanced period of the year, and in a peculiarly delicate situation, when even peasants remain on shore, to encounter the tedium and perils of a voyage in a sailing vessel. We have heard, in fact, from a quarter which ought to be correctly informed, that she was proceeding to the residence of a near relative of her father, with the intention of remaining there till some favorable change might come over the color of her life."
"The vicissitudes of life have seldom produced a sadder or more rapid reverse than that by which the fortunes of this excellent lady were darkened and overthrown. Born to a noble inheritance which extended over a territory far exceeding the domain of many a reigning German prince, her name was known throughout the United Kingdom as that of "the Irish heiress." Five years ago her expectancy was considered to be equivalent, over and above all encumbrances and liabilities, to a yearly income of 5,000l.Before two years of the interval had elapsed she found herself at the head of her patrimonial estates, without a shilling that she could call her own. The failure of the potato crop, the famine and pestilence which followed, the scourging laws enacted and enforced by an ignorant Legislature to redress the calamity, and the claims of money-lenders, swept every inch of property from under her feet. Her hopes and her prospects were for ever blighted. Her projects for the improvement of the wild district over which she had reigned as a sort of native sovereign were at an end; and she went forth from the roof of her fathers as a wanderer, without a home, and, as it would almost appear, without a friend. Never was hard fate less deserved; for her untiring and active benevolence had been devoted from her childhood to the comfort and relief of those who suffered, and her powerful and original mind was incessantly employed in devising means of moral and physical amelioration in the condition of the tenantry on her father's estates. She gave up her whole time to such pursuits, avoiding the haunts of fashion and those amusements which might be considered suitable to her age and place, that she might perform the various duties of physician, almoner, schoolmistress, and agricultural instructor. Her almost daily habit was to visit the poor and the sick in the remote recesses of that wild region, sometimes on foot—more frequently in her little boat, well provided with medicaments and food, which she impelled by the vigor of her own arm through the lakes which stretch along the foot of the mountains. How grievous it is to reflect that she should so soon have been driven across the ocean in search of a place to lay her head. The American editor intimates that the object of her voyage was to collect materials for literary works. We have no doubt that such was among her projects; for she was a very distinguished writer, and would by no means eat the bread of idleness or dependence; but there is reason to believe that it was a more stringent compulsion which obliged her, at an advanced period of the year, and in a peculiarly delicate situation, when even peasants remain on shore, to encounter the tedium and perils of a voyage in a sailing vessel. We have heard, in fact, from a quarter which ought to be correctly informed, that she was proceeding to the residence of a near relative of her father, with the intention of remaining there till some favorable change might come over the color of her life."
Our countrywoman,Mrs. Mowatt, has revised and partially rewritten her novels of "The Fortune Hunter," and "Evelyn, or the Heart Unmasked," and they have just been published in London. TheAthenæumsays of them:
"These tales give us a higher idea of Mrs. Mowatt's talents as an authoress, than her plays did. Taken in conjunction with those dramas, and with the pleasing powers as an actress displayed by the lady,—they not only establish a case of more than common versatility, but indicate that with labor and concentration, so gifted a person might have taken a high place, whether on the library shelf or on the stage. In another point of view, they are less agreeable. Alas, for those primitive souls, who with a perverse constancy may still wish to fancy America a vast New-England of simple manners and superior morals! The society which Mrs. Mowatt describes—whether in 'Evelyn,' which begins with a wedding out of Fleecer's boarding-house, or in 'The Fortune Hunter,' which opens with table-talk at Delmonico's—is as sophisticated as any society under which this wicked old world groans, and which our Sir E. Lytton and Mrs. Gore have satirized—or Balzac (to shame the French) has "shown up."Major Pendennishimself could hardly have produced anything moreblaséin tone than some of the pictures of 'New-York Society' drawn by this American lady,—drawn, moreover, when the lady was young. Evelyn is married to a rich man, without her heart having any thing to say in the matter,—by a mother who is a superfineMrs. Falcon:—and wretched mischief comes of it. Brainard, the fortune hunter, is a heartless and cynical illustration that a Broadway hunter can be as unblushingly mercenary, and as genteelly dishonorable as the veriest old Bond Street hack, bred up in the traditions of the Regency, who ever began life on nothing and a showy person—continued it on nothing and the reputation of fashion—and ended no one cares how or where. There are character, smartness and passion in both these tales—though a certain looseness of structure and incompleteness of style prevent us from being extreme in praising them, or from recommending them by quotation,—and though, as has been said, the tone and taste of the life which they describe must jar on the feelings of those who are unwilling to see the decrepitude of elderly civilization coming down upon a new country, ere its maturity has been reached—or even ere its youth has been sufficiently and steadily trained."
"These tales give us a higher idea of Mrs. Mowatt's talents as an authoress, than her plays did. Taken in conjunction with those dramas, and with the pleasing powers as an actress displayed by the lady,—they not only establish a case of more than common versatility, but indicate that with labor and concentration, so gifted a person might have taken a high place, whether on the library shelf or on the stage. In another point of view, they are less agreeable. Alas, for those primitive souls, who with a perverse constancy may still wish to fancy America a vast New-England of simple manners and superior morals! The society which Mrs. Mowatt describes—whether in 'Evelyn,' which begins with a wedding out of Fleecer's boarding-house, or in 'The Fortune Hunter,' which opens with table-talk at Delmonico's—is as sophisticated as any society under which this wicked old world groans, and which our Sir E. Lytton and Mrs. Gore have satirized—or Balzac (to shame the French) has "shown up."Major Pendennishimself could hardly have produced anything moreblaséin tone than some of the pictures of 'New-York Society' drawn by this American lady,—drawn, moreover, when the lady was young. Evelyn is married to a rich man, without her heart having any thing to say in the matter,—by a mother who is a superfineMrs. Falcon:—and wretched mischief comes of it. Brainard, the fortune hunter, is a heartless and cynical illustration that a Broadway hunter can be as unblushingly mercenary, and as genteelly dishonorable as the veriest old Bond Street hack, bred up in the traditions of the Regency, who ever began life on nothing and a showy person—continued it on nothing and the reputation of fashion—and ended no one cares how or where. There are character, smartness and passion in both these tales—though a certain looseness of structure and incompleteness of style prevent us from being extreme in praising them, or from recommending them by quotation,—and though, as has been said, the tone and taste of the life which they describe must jar on the feelings of those who are unwilling to see the decrepitude of elderly civilization coming down upon a new country, ere its maturity has been reached—or even ere its youth has been sufficiently and steadily trained."
Mrs. Southworth, the authoress of "Retribution," "The Deserted Wife," &c., has a new novel in the press of the Appletons, entitled "Shannondale." Mrs. Southworth is the most popular of our female novelists, notwithstanding the doubtful morality of her works.
Charles Mackay, who, two or three years ago, passed some months in New-York, and who is known for his very candid and intelligent book upon the United States, entitled "The Western World," has gone to India, as an agent of the Manchester Chamber of Commerce, for the purpose of inquiring into the state and prospects of Indian cotton cultivation. Mr. Mackay has had experience in the collection of statistical information; he has lived long enough abroad to know that essential differences sometimes lurk beneath external resemblances in the social arrangements of two countries, and to be on his guard against the erroneous inferences to which ignorance of this fact leads. He is naturally acute, energetic, and cautious. For the difficult task of investigating and reporting upon the condition of an important branch of industry, and the circumstances which are likely to promote or retard its progress among a community so different from the English as that of India, he is probably as well fitted as any man who could have been selected. The foundation of the British Indian empire and the establishment of the United States as an independent nation, were contemporary events. The loss of her American colonies helped to concentrate the attention and exertions of England upon her Indian dominions. The progress made by British India since 1760, in civilization, material wealth, and intelligent enterprise, is barely perceptible; while the United States have expanded from a few obscure colonies into a nation second only to Great Britain in the value and extent of their commercial relations, second to none in intelligence and successful enterprise. The Anglo-Norman inhabitants of the "Old Thirteen" provinces have made the valley of the Mississippi, and the prairies beyond it, which little more than half a century ago were mere wastes, the thronged abodes of a vigorous and wealthy European population. They have done this without the aid of the aboriginal tribes, who have proved irreclaimably addicted to their nomade habits. The Anglo-Normans who rule British India have had to deal with a country thickly peopled with races far advanced in civilization, though of a peculiar character; yet, in every respect, the results of their efforts lag far behind those visible in America. To place the difference in a most striking point of view, it is only necessary to contrast the cotton produce and the mercantile marine of British India with those of the United States. There is actually a more fully-developed steam navigation between Panama and California than between Bombay and China. The causes of these results are plain enough to us, but to the English they are enigmas. The mission of Mr. Mackay will scarcely end in a revelation of the truth, that liberty and independence have kept healthy the blood in the vigorous limbs of the Americans, while trammels and vassalage have deadened the energies of the Indies; but it may have an important influence upon the question whether the East India Company's charter shall be renewed, and it certainly will develop much information interesting to the cotton-growers of the United States.
Mr. De Quinceyis one of the greatest of the elder race of literary men now living in Great Britain, and we believe he is in no very affluent circumstances. The bestowal of a pension by the Government upon Mr. James Bailey, an editor of the classics, residing at Cambridge, on the ground of his "literary services," causesThe Leaderthus to refer to the author of "The Opium Eater"—
"Where is Thomas De Quincey's pension? Some may not regard him, as we do, the very greatest living master of the English language; some may think lightly of those fragmentary works and fugitive articles with which he has for more than thirty years enriched our literature; but, whatever may be the individual estimate of his services, one fact is patent, namely, that you cannot mention De Quincey in any circle of the British Islands, pretending to literary culture, but his name will sound familiar; in most it will awaken responses of gratitude for high pleasures bestowed, in none will it arouse indignation of high power to base uses. Now, this we call a clear case for national beneficence. He has done the state service, and they know it; but they will not reward it."
"Where is Thomas De Quincey's pension? Some may not regard him, as we do, the very greatest living master of the English language; some may think lightly of those fragmentary works and fugitive articles with which he has for more than thirty years enriched our literature; but, whatever may be the individual estimate of his services, one fact is patent, namely, that you cannot mention De Quincey in any circle of the British Islands, pretending to literary culture, but his name will sound familiar; in most it will awaken responses of gratitude for high pleasures bestowed, in none will it arouse indignation of high power to base uses. Now, this we call a clear case for national beneficence. He has done the state service, and they know it; but they will not reward it."
Apropos of pensions: Upon the whole, we have the best exchequer in the world, and tosoldierswe have evinced no special lack of liberality. To give five hundred dollars a year to Mr. Audubon, R. H. Dana, Moses Stuart, Edward Robinson, H. R. Schoolcraft, James G. Percival, C. F. Hoffman, and some half dozen others, would be something toward an "honorable discharge" of the country's obligations in the premises, and probably no slight addition to the happiness of men who have added much to the real glory of the nation, while it would cost less than a morning's useless debate in Congress. In a recent letter to Lord Brougham, on a cognate subject, Savage Landor exclaims:
"Probably the time is not far distant when the arts and sciences, and even literary genius, may be deemed no less worthy of this distinction than the slaughter of a thousand men. But how, in the midst of our vast expenditure, spare so prodigious a sum as five hundred a year to six, and three hundred a year to six more!"
"Probably the time is not far distant when the arts and sciences, and even literary genius, may be deemed no less worthy of this distinction than the slaughter of a thousand men. But how, in the midst of our vast expenditure, spare so prodigious a sum as five hundred a year to six, and three hundred a year to six more!"
AMr. Chubbhas published in London, in a small volume, a paper which he read before the Institution of Civil Engineers, on the construction of locks and keys. It embraces a history of the lock and key from the earliest ages, illustrated profusely with wood cuts. It forms an instructive and entertaining essay; but we think Mr. Chubb might have learned something more of the subject in the lock factories of Newark and this city.
Mr. Ticknor'sHistory of Spanish Literature has been translated into German, and is announced for publication by Brockhaus.
Mr. Dicken's"David Copperfield" is at length completed, and Mr. Wiley has published it in two handsome volumes, profusely illustrated. There is a variety of opinions among the critics as to its rank among the works of "Boz"; but it is not contended by any that it evinces a decay of his extraordinary and peculiar genius. We copy a paragraph which strikes us as just, from theSpectator: