RETROSPECTION

The account given by Mr.Green, of the voyage, is one of intense interest; and we regret that our space compels us to abridge it of many exciting particulars. Mr. Cocking had desired to reach an elevation of one mile and a quarter, before detaching himself from the balloon, and commencing his descent. At first, the upward progress was slow, and it became necessary to discharge several pounds of ballast through a tube, constructed for the purpose, leading from the balloon over the outer edge of the parachute. The lower end of this tube subsequently became detached, by the swinging to and fro of the parachute, and the ballast was thrown over in small bags, not without danger to the people on terra firma. The balloon soon entered a tier of clouds, and the aëronauts were lost to the earth, though still some three thousand feet lower than the desired elevation of Mr. Cocking, who now manifested much anxiety, frequently requesting of the 'upper house' to know when every addition of five hundred feet had been attained.

When at the height of about five thousand feet, and in a range with Greenwich, the intrepid occupant of the parachute, fearing that he would be unable to reach the earth until after dark, said to his companions in the balloon above him, 'I shall soon leave you,' adding, that the practical trial, thus far, had borne out the sanguine calculations he had made, and that he never felt more comfortable or delighted in his life, at the same time bidding Mr. Green and his companion 'good night,' who returned the courtesy, with hearty good wishes for his safe descent. A sudden jerk ensued, the parachute was liberated, and the balloon instantly shot upward with the velocity of a sky-rocket, while the gas, rushing in torrents from the lower valve by reason of the pressure of the dense atmosphere upon the top of the balloon, nearly suffocated the aëronauts, and rendered them totally blind for four or five minutes. But for a bag, containing fifty gallons of atmospheric air, into which were inserted tubes from which they breathed it, both Mr. Green and his companion must inevitably have perished. So soon as the thermometer could be examined, it was ascertained that they were above four miles and a quarter from the earth! Yet even this was nothing like their greatest altitude, since they were now effecting a rapid descent. A wise precaution in enlarging the lower valve, alone prevented the bursting of the balloon, from the great pressure of the atmosphere. The aëronauts suffered severely from the cold, the thermometer indicating twenty-four degrees below the freezing point. 'We were at this period,' says Mr. Green, 'apparently about two miles and a half above a dense mountain of clouds, which presented the appearance of impenetrable masses of dark marble, while all around us was shed the brilliant rays of the setting sun. We continued to descend with great rapidity, and as we approached the clouds, that velocity considerably increased. At this time, so large had been our loss of gas, that the balloon, instead of presenting to our sight its customary rotund and widely-expanded form, now merely looked like a comparatively small parachute, or half-dome, without any aperture in its centre. We parted with at least one-third of our gas, and were as far beneath the balloon itself as fifty or sixty feet.'

Apprehensive of difficulty in ascertaining the nature of the ground toward which they were descending, from the darkness below them,(though blessed, in their position, with a magnificent light,) they hastened their progress, and landed in safety a few miles from Maidstone, and twenty-eight from London; having been in the air one hour and twenty minutes. But let us return to the unfortunate man who had reached the earth before them.

The annexed engraving exhibits the parachute in the three stages of the descent: first, immediately after the separation from the car; next, at the time when the collapse took place from the weight and pressure of the external atmosphere; and, lastly, when it approached near to the ground:

After being detached from the balloon, it would appear that the machine immediately lost its shape, by the breaking of the rim which surrounded it, which was feebly constructed of tin. It was the opinion of all the scientific gentlemen who testified at the coroner's inquest, that the parachute was of insufficient strength, and greatly inefficient for the purpose it was intended to serve. Prof.Airey, Astronomer Royal of Greenwich, who saw it from the beginning, through a telescope of a twelve-times magnifying power, states, that after leaving the balloon, 'he was quite sure that it did not retain its shape for more than four seconds, for he put his eye instantly to the glass, and found it in a collapsed state. He was convinced there had been no turning over. Had it been turned over, the basket would have been displaced. He observed the sides of the parachute flickering backward and forward. His opinion as to the efficacy of the construction was, there was not sufficient account taken in such construction as to unavoidable disturbances, and the tendency of the air was to force it in at the side, and the pressure of the air would, in case of its getting out of shape, only aggravate the evil, and the experiment must fail. This must therefore be considered as a construction quite wrong, and he should have thought that a person with common sagacity might have been aware of this. With regard also to the tin tube, of which the circular ring was formed, it was hollow throughout, it was without stops, which would have strengthened it, and consequently as bad a thing as could have been used. Had stops been introduced, it would have saved it from a great deal of the tremor to which the pressure of the atmosphere exposed it. Had the weight been a little greater in the top, it would probably have come down side-ways, and turned upside down. In this respect, it was very badly constructed, and very inferior in many respects to parachutes of the old construction.'

In answer to a question from a juror, whether his opinion agreed with that of Mr. Green, that, having resisted the force of the atmosphere, it was safe to come down with the parachute, Prof. Airey replied, that he believed the very reverse; since the 'air, by pressing upon the canvass, would keep the ring of tin to which he had alluded expanded, but the force of the air under, would have the effect of bending it, and thus allowing the parachute to collapse.'

Mr. Green stated, 'that throughout the whole of the voyage, up to the moment he released himself from the balloon, Mr. Cocking displayed the greatest courage and fortitude; and the expression of his features, and the light and joyous, although earnest way, in which he made his inquiries, and conversed with him, manifested his great satisfaction that at length a theory, to which he had devoted the last twenty-five years of his life, was about to be triumphantly put to the test.' But it was a fatal test. He fell to the ground at Lee, several miles from London, and when discovered, and extricated from the car, (which was a confused heap, covering the mangled body of its ill-fated occupant, with all its ribs and tubes broken into fragments,) he but slightly moved his hand, groaned, and expired. Some idea of the dreadful death which befell him, may be gathered from the dry and technical description given of the appearance of the body, by the surgeon who was called to examine it: 'On the right side, thesecond, third, fourth, and fifth ribs were broken, near their junction with their cartilages; the second, fourth, fifth, and sixth broken also near their junction with the vertebræ; the second, fourth, fifth, and sixth ribs broken at their greatest convexity. On the left side, the second, third, fourth, and sixth ribs broken near their cartilages, and also near their angles. The clavicle on the right side fractured at the juncture of the external with the middle third; the second lumbar vertebræ fractured through its body, the tranverse of several of the lumbar vertebræ broken, commutated fracture and separation of the bones of the pelvis, the right ancle dislocated inward, the astragalus and os calcis fractured, the viscera of the head, chest, and abdomen, free from any morbid appearances.'

Time!let me stand upon that wallWhich bounds the future and the past,While at my feet thy moments fall,Like billows driven by the blast:Cold, brief, and dim must be the gaze,Back o'er the fields laid waste by thee;And clouds, impervious to all rays,Brood o'er futurity.

II.

Yet backward let me take one look,Through memory's glass, grown dim by age,And ponder on life's tattered book,Too late to re-peruse one page;As when the ear, in quest of notesAn unlearned melody has shed,Calls for each echo where it floats,When all its tones are fled.

III.

Thy scythe and glass, O Time! are notThe symbols of thy gentler powers:Thou makest the most dejected lotSeem light, through thy inverted hours:Thou makest us cherish infant grief,And long for all the tears it cost;Thou art to thy own woes relief—Thou beautifiest the lost!

IV.

Then let me stand upon the wallWhich bounds the future and the past,And gaze upon the waste where allLife's hopes have perished by thy blast.Though dark and chilling to the gazeAre all the fields laid waste by thee,'Tis sunshine to the hopeless raysWhich light futurity.

Buffalo, May, 1837.G.

The Scourge of the Ocean: A Story of the Atlantic. By an Officer of the United States' Navy.In two volumes, 12mo. pp. 431. Philadelphia:E. L. Carey and A. Hart.

With many defects, incident to a first attempt at fictious narration, these volumes exhibit undeniable talent, and still more promise. They have been written, it seems, in haste; though this excuse would be hardly valid, save in consideration of the fact, that the young author, momentarily expecting to be ordered to sea, was hence compelled to hasten their publication. The common faults of a first production, it must be admitted, are sufficiently apparent; among the more prominent of which, may be mentioned the want of a natural order of progression, the liberal introduction of matters not correlative to the story proper, and an occasional carelessness of language. But these blemishes are well atoned for, by a general freedom of delineation, both of character and events, so easy and natural, that it often requires no stretch of the imagination to fancy the volumes actually alive, and talking with the reader. All who have read 'Jack Marlinspike's Yarn,' heretofore published in these pages, and introduced episodically in the work before us, will not need to be told, that our author has an unvarnished way of delivering his sentiments, whatever they may be, through his various characters; and this, in our judgment, constitutes an agreeable feature of the work. We had rather encounter occasional nervous inelegance of expression, and even a slight assault and battery upon Priscian, now and then, than the affectation of big words and fustian phrases, or the precise and prime sententiousness which many of our modern authors so much affect. We shall not attempt to trace the involutions and denouément of the story, since we lack both time and space for the purpose, and moreover, are unwilling to rob the labors of a new candidate for public favor of the strong interest of curiosity; but shall endeavor to present a sort of running commentary upon the principal features of the work.

We like our author better afloat than on shore. He is at home on the ocean; and some of his ship-board pictures strongly remind us of the kindred sketches ofCooperandMarryat, orLeggett, who is in no respect behind either in the power of graphic description. We subjoin an elaborate etching, which will exemplify the justice of our praise:

"It was evening; the blushes of sunset still lingered in the west, faintly relieving the far-off coast of America, that seemed more like some blue cloud sleeping upon the surface of the ocean, than a vast continent rising from its depths. The round full moon was ascending from the opposite sky with that increased magnitude she seems to possess when low in the horizon, and her light came over the sea, tinged with the mellow hue of paly gold, that always characterizes it when the luminaries rise and set at the same moment. A gentle breeze came sweeping up from the southward, and a balmy influence was respired in the air. Upon that part of the Atlantic to which we wish the reader to direct his attention, a ship was seen moving along toward the land that was but just perceptible in the west. She was a small vessel for her taunt and heavy appurtenance; and evidently intended for the purposes of war. Her long sharp hull seemed much too diminutive to sustain the pressure of the broad sheets of canvass that rosetoweringly above it, and there were moments when it seemed that the lofty spars and wide-spread sails glided over the ocean without the support or aid of that most important part of the machinery of a vessel. Although the wind was very light, the foam curled in snow-white piles about her cut-water, and ever and anon, as she rose and pitched deeper into the element, masses of glittering spray would fly over her forecastle. It was evident from her speed in so gentle a breeze that she was a very superior sailer, but a single glance at her construction would scarcely need another or more convincing proof of her superiority in that respect. Aloft, every thing indicated the nicest care and attention; the masts, from the deck to the trucks, were stayed in line, and in an exact parallel to each other, while the rigging that supported them on every hand seemed to possess the inflexibility of so much iron. Each sail was hoisted taut up, so as to yield as little as possible to the bellying influence of the breeze, while their corners were drawn out upon the yards to their full extent. No ropes hung dangling from the rigging or tops; and, in short, every thing exhibited the characteristic regularity of a man-of-war."Upon deck, the arrangements were as neat as they were aloft. Eight twenty-four pound carronades, and a long eighteen, thrust their frowning muzzles out from either side; and rows of bright battle-axes, cutlasses, and pikes, were ranged along the bulwarks, in glittering and beautiful array. Each rope was carefully coiled upon its respective pin; and no unnecessary lumber obstructed the gangways or quarter deck. Between the fore and main masts, a large boat was nicely stowed, while its black cover served the double purpose of protecting it from the weather, and imparting a neater air to the arrangements of the deck. Abaft the mizzen-mast, or on that part distinguished as the quarter-deck, every thing was rich and expensive. Railings of polished brass surrounded the hatchways, and ladders of grated work communicated with the depth of the ship. The wheel and binnacles were of the rarest wood, and constructed in the most tasteful and elegant manner. The hammock boards were adorned with gilded ornaments, and the bolt-heads in the deck were screened by inserted mahogany, cut diamond-wise. In a word, that ship seemed to have been built by Profusion as an offering to Beauty. * * * Groups of seamen sat between the guns in discourse, or reclined with characteristic listlessness upon the deck, while a few, who were discharging the duties of look-outs, stood at their various stations with their faces turned toward the ocean."

"Upon deck, the arrangements were as neat as they were aloft. Eight twenty-four pound carronades, and a long eighteen, thrust their frowning muzzles out from either side; and rows of bright battle-axes, cutlasses, and pikes, were ranged along the bulwarks, in glittering and beautiful array. Each rope was carefully coiled upon its respective pin; and no unnecessary lumber obstructed the gangways or quarter deck. Between the fore and main masts, a large boat was nicely stowed, while its black cover served the double purpose of protecting it from the weather, and imparting a neater air to the arrangements of the deck. Abaft the mizzen-mast, or on that part distinguished as the quarter-deck, every thing was rich and expensive. Railings of polished brass surrounded the hatchways, and ladders of grated work communicated with the depth of the ship. The wheel and binnacles were of the rarest wood, and constructed in the most tasteful and elegant manner. The hammock boards were adorned with gilded ornaments, and the bolt-heads in the deck were screened by inserted mahogany, cut diamond-wise. In a word, that ship seemed to have been built by Profusion as an offering to Beauty. * * * Groups of seamen sat between the guns in discourse, or reclined with characteristic listlessness upon the deck, while a few, who were discharging the duties of look-outs, stood at their various stations with their faces turned toward the ocean."

This is but a fair example of many spirited descriptions to be found in the work; nor is the lively, though sometimes rather confused, dialogue unworthy of laud; excepting always the forced colloquies of Handsaw and Ramrod, two eminent bores, and unmitigated draw-backs, whom all the bad spelling in the world would fail to render entertaining. Much as the reader must condemn the tyrant Stanley, and little as he may think of his opinions, he will be inclined to agree with him on one point, namely, that Handsaw's ever-active 'propensity to talk about his wife,' renders him ridiculous, and in reality 'a source of uneasiness' as aggravating to the reader as it must have been to the hearer. With these exceptions, the sailor-dialogue is extempore and natural. Nothing can be finer than the description of the mutiny on board the Ganymede, the burning of the merchantman at sea, and the escape of the 'Scourge' from a labyrinth of pursuers, by a bold but politic and adroit manœuvre. If the reader, however, while perusing the account of the escape of Everett from New-York, his first introduction to the family of General Adair, and his meeting the heroine with her father, at sea, should pause to ask himself how all this happened to occur so opportunely, he might be led to think that in all this the possible was taking precedence of the probable. Happily, such is the interest awakened, that he has no disposition to propound queries, but is tempted to 'keep due on,' until he has gained the end of the book.

We are sorry to perceive that the volumes are marred by an occasional grammatical error, ('laying down the musket, hedoneas much justice,' etc., and kindredlapsus pennæ,) and by not infrequent typographical blunders, which should be looked to, in a second edition, should it be called for.

To sum up, we consider the 'Scourge of the Ocean' a very clever performance, for a first and hurried effort; open, indeed, to many minor objections, but exhibiting much talent, and more promise; and as such, we commend it to our readers.

Gleanings in Europe. England: by an American.In two volumes, 12mo. pp. 530. Philadelphia:Carey, Lea and Blanchard. New-York;Wiley and Putnam.

Whatevermay be said of this work, no one will pretend to deny that it is well and vigorously written, and that it possesses more than common interest. The volumes are presented, we should infer, pretty much as composed, 'in their naturals.' They are full of slight descriptive sketches, comments, and brief arguments, upon conventional, moral, social, and political topics; insomuch, that the reader is compelled to believe, that the author 'could an' if he would, or if he list to speak,' easily furnish a portable volume, embracing all things that are to be known, or believed, or practised, by the world at large, and gentlemen-republicans in particular. As for the English, heaven help them! they will here find some of the pegs let down that make their national music; and will learn that there is at least one American writer, who 'does na care a button for 'em,' and who has not hesitated to pick holes in the weak sides of their governmental, religious, and social edifices. Mr.Cooperis certainly no flatterer. He is in no awe of bishops, whom he meets in society, 'with wigs that set at naught both nature and art, and little silk petticoats called stoles;' he cares not for the clergy, however high they may stand, who fight duels; nor is he carried away with 'the first body of gentleman in the world,' the British Parliament. He is led to doubt a little, when he sees a speaker half drunk, and at the same moment, six members with one foot on the back of the seats before them, and three with both; he does not recognise the justice of this laud, when he hears one member, in debate, for the purpose of interrupting an opponent, crowing like a cock, another bleating like a sheep, and numbers making a very pretty uproar, byqua-a-cking, like a flock of ducks. Our author would not succeed as a courtier; for one who declares that the king is an ignoramus, and cannot write intelligible English, is too plain-spoken, ever to be on the high road to preferment.

Mr.Cooperis not less unmincing in his consideration of, and remarks upon,things, than he is in relation to usages and men. He says the houses in New-York and Boston are generally better furnished, (though not so profusely,) than those of the English; that New-York is a better town for eating and drinking, than London; and, save that our tables are invariably too narrow, they are better served with porcelain, glass, cutlery, and table-linen, than are those of our British metropolitan neighbors. He is in no extacies at Westminster Abbey, nor the Tower; he condemns the pinched and mean towers of the former, and considers the latter quite inferior to the donjon at Vincennes, or the Tower of Paris. Half the brilliants here exhibited in the crown, he has no doubt, are paste! Windsor he thinks far beneath Versailles, and hardly worthy the name of a palace, greatly lacking magnificence, although not without a certain pleasing quaintness and picturesque beauty; yet exhibiting in the state apartments, which are far inferior to the French, 'such vulgarisms as silver' andirons, and other puerilities.' The London bridges are out of proportion, too heavy for the stream they span, and quite unnecessarily solid. Moreover, American women, in all except the shoulders and bust, possess more beauty than the English women, and their complexion and features will better bear a close examination; while our men, too, he believes, are taller than the mass in England, English travellers to the contrary notwithstanding.

In his pungent remarks upon society and manners in England, Mr.Cooperseems to have been impelled, by considerations mainly personal, to praise or condemn. And we cannot resist the impression, that he is himself, with all hisamor patriæ, a marked exception to the mass of Americans, who, he says, 'care no more for a lord than for a wood-chuck.' Titled personages are lugged in, on almost every page of hiswork. Lord This, Lord That, and Lord T'other, are as plenty as blackberries; and not an earl or a duke, who can by any possibility be alluded to, but is compelled to do duty in confirming the somewhat questionable hypothesis, that 'a man isalwaysknown by the company he keeps;' and if there be a chance to establish a remote connection between any member of the writer's family, and the 'nobility or gentry,' the opportunity is eagerly embraced, no matter how awkward themodus operandi. This penchant is in miserable taste; and we venture to say, will counterbalance, by way of example, whole pages of most unexceptionable precept.

Our author dwells continually upon the assumption, that the English hate the Americans with a perfect hatred. He says this spirit mingles with every thought, colors every concession, and even tempers the charities of life. He saw a thousand proofs of it himself; and it was so well known to another American, that heblushedwhen the land of his birth was mentioned before Englishmen! Now we very much question whether this feeling prevails in England to any thing like the depth or extent imagined by Mr.Cooper. WouldWashington Irving, in whose character there is a happy conjunction of civility, freedom, ease, and sincerity, and who has had ample opportunities of inspecting beyond the surface and rind of things, support these declarations? We think not. Doubtless Mr.Cooperin London, as in Paris, was not without the idea that the American republic was represented in his own person. Such certainly appears to have been his impressions, if one may judge from his deductions from any real or imaginary slight or discourtesy which may have crossed him in society. He is ever on the rack, lest his pretensions should be overlooked. He instantly resents what he deems indifference, and yet seems to be suspicious of any one who is particularly civil, without some apparent reason. Mr.Cooper's claims, as a gentleman of good manners, cannot be very exalted, if it be true, as we believe it is, that he is the best bred man who makes the fewest persons uneasy in society; and we conceive the offensive observation, which sent 'head to head, beyond the salt,' and caused the host to declare 'It is too bad,' as both pertinent and impertinent, and as sufficient proof of the correctness of our position, even if there were not ample kindred testimony.Personal concessionis a prominent part of real politeness, and springs from a courteous spirit, and a generous nature; and no one possessing these qualities would cavil at a gentleman who should, without at all incommoding him, look at the same public print, on the wall-file of a reading-room, or enlarge unduly upon a slight, and probably wholly unintentional, infraction of etiquette toward him.

We agree with Mr.Cooper, entirely, in very many of his views in relation to the society and manners of England and America. The ridiculous affectation of simplicity, the heartlessness and the flippancy of the English, whom he met in society, are defects which lay them bare to the lash, and the lash has been well laid on. This putting a rein upon the lungs, and drilling of muscles to order, for mere fashion's sake, is a legitimate theme for satire; and we are glad to see, by the squirming of the malevoli among the English critics, who are nibbling away at the excrescences of the work, that our author's random shots have 'told' well. Mr.Cooperis equally just and felicitous in many of his comments upon American society. The mere tyranny of public opinion he sets forth in its true light. He very justly, too, repudiates the influence of those among us, whose narrow souls never moved in a wider circle than the circumference of a dollar, and who carry their brains in their pockets; and he ridicules, with proper motives and good grounds, the American propensity to use 'great swelling words' to express the commonest ideas, or merest matters of fact, which he illustrates by a characteristic anecdote. A rail-car companion, at Bordentown, who wished to say, 'They have laid the foundations of a large building here,' oracularly observed, instead: 'Judging from external symptoms, they have commenced the construction, in this place, of an edifice of considerable magnitude, calculated,most likely, to facilitate the objects of the rail-road company!' This lingual magniloquence is proverbial of American parvenus. Some months since, just as that sweet singer, Mrs.Austin, was leaving New-York in the steam-boat for a Liverpool packet, lying in the stream, some inflated personage called out: 'It is proposed to pay a parting tribute to the distinguished vocalist who has, by her fine powers of music, so long delighted our citizens, and who is now about to depart from us!' 'Three cheers for Mrs.Austin!' would have been understood, and heartily responded to; but this rigmarole only induced a sort of bastard applause, which fell feebly on the ear, and sent its prompter away, covered with confusion.

Our author's repeated sneers at the public press, and literary men, coming from one who is a writer by profession, and sucks his sustenance through a quill, is in exceeding bad taste; and his allusion to New-England editors, constitutes a characteristic specimen of aimless spite, which is quite beneath a person of his standing as an author. Some one native of New-England, obnoxious, from some cause, to Mr.Cooper, is undoubtedly at the bottom of this sweeping allusion. Had we that honor, or had we leisure, we should be glad to showwhoare the men whom Mr.Cooperwould thus traduce,en masse.

We have imperceptibly extended our remarks beyond reasonable limits; and must close, for the present, by recommending their subject to the perusal of our readers, satisfied that, amid much to condemn, they will find a great deal to admire; and well assured, that none will deem their time misspent in the perusal.

Poems by William Thompson Bacon.In one volume. pp. 134. Boston:Weeks, Jordan and Company.

'Thesepoems are the results of my leisure at college, and published for experiment. If the public find any thing worth reading in them, they may be followed by another volume.' Such is the sensible and sententious preface to this very beautiful little book, which we have read with much gratification. The preface itself, so often a medium for childish extenuation, forced egotism, or the long-winded dissertations of those adepts in the art of being deep-learned and shallow-read, who are ambitious of 'showing off,' led us to anticipate something more than mere respectable mediocrity at the hands of the author; and we have by no means been disappointed. As might be expected, we find in this little work no affected phrases, nor new-conceited words. The young writer has evidently chosen the best models; and the good taste which generally characterizes his productions, evinces that he possesses, to a great degree, the ability to separate beauty of thought and style from the corruption which apes it. He is a quiet but acute observer of nature; his ever-veering spirit catches naturally its sunlight and shadow; and he has the power often to clothe the heart of the reader with the changeful vesture which robes his own. In the blank verse, we sometimes detect examples of false rhythm, and inharmonious words now and then mar the construction of an otherwise well-turned poetical sentence. These faults, however, are amply counterbalanced by abounding graces of language and diction, and by a pervading spirit of pure feeling, and moral and religious sentiment. We had prepared for insertion an extract from a poem entitled 'Other Days,' with one or two passages from 'A Forest Noon-Scene;' and although in type, for the intended gratification of the reader, we are compelled to postpone their publication until the November number. We repeat, we welcome this little volume with unaffected pleasure, and commend it to the reader's favorable suffrages.

'Bianca Visconti: or the Heart Overtasked.'—A successful tragedy, at the present day, is an event too rare to be passed over with indifference. The modern stage has been poverty-stricken so long, that it welcomes every thing in the shape of its natural food; although it is constantly reminded of its too credulous judgment, in the repeated nausea which it suffers from the flatulent and unsubstantial trash which its starved condition urges it to attempt to swallow. The American drama, if indeed we have any claim to such a possession, is such as may reasonably be expected, more lean and wretched than the drama of any of the more cultivated nations. But wehaveno national drama, as yet, although we think the corner-stone of its structure has been laid, and that there is bright promise of a noble edifice, in the aspiring efforts of the many able writers whom a few years have brought to light, as well as in the encouragement which the taste of the American people seems inclined to afford to this branch of literature.

The tragedy now before us, is the first dramatic effort of a pen whose easy and finished tracings have made its master, even in the spring-time of his life, well known to fame. A mere experiment, in this most difficult department of literature, is worthy of praise. Whoever has considered the difficulties attendant upon the production of a play, of any class of the drama, would shrink from the task of bringing an original tragedy before the public, unless urged on by that firm confidence which genius gives to its possessor, and upheld through all by the hope of that ample reward which must attend the successful dramatist.Scott, in his letters to a theatrical friend in London, often adverts to the restraining of taste which the purveying for conceited or interested actors and actresses demands at the hands of a dramatic author, whose success is at their mercy, not less than at that of those of the audience who come to the theatre with palled animal and spiritual appetites, to 'snooze off their dinners and wine.' An expressionless 'oratorial machine,' high in the 'supe' department, whose delivery of the commonest matter of fact is Stentorian and Ciceronian, may have it in his power, by ludicrousmal addresse, to mar the best acting play, and to render ridiculous the most refined poetry; while a higher order of Thespian, by slumbering over a level part, in a villanously indifferent manner, inadmissible as acting, may jeopardize an entire drama. But to return to 'Bianca Visconti.'

Mr.Willishas bravely accomplished his task; and without the slightest thought of depreciating the efforts of others of our countrymen who have written for the stage, we must honestly declare, that his work deserves the place of honor above them all. 'Bianca Visconti,' if considered merely as a dramatic poem, is replete with enduring beauties of poetry. Considered as a tragedy, it has many of the essential qualities of an acting play; not all, perhaps, in their highest perfection, but sufficiently marked, to convince the most fastidious of the power which the writer possesses, and of a certain promise of future efforts more decidedly faultless. The story of Bianca Visconti is well told. Although it proceeds without the aid of any extraordinary incidents, yet an interest is awakened, continued, and increased to the catastrophe. The characters are naturally drawn, and they have the especial merit of possessing in themselves anindividuality—a form of their own, defined and marked out; and not, as is too often the case in modern dramas, made with the sole quality of filling up the space not occupied by the principal character. In other words, they have a merit in themselves, detached from the heroine, and are only subservient to the natural progress of the drama.

There is hardly incident enough in the first three acts, to keep up that melo-dramatic influence which the artificial appetite of the present day delights in. The author seems to have scorned theclap-trapwhich has become the chief merit of many modern playwrights. In this we think he has done wisely, on more accounts than one. In the first place, clap-trap is dangerous. We have seen an audience 'bathed in stillness,' the pulse of a crowded theatre beating like that of one man, convulsed by some blundering misconception of a forced dramatic point, into roars of laughter, though the play were a deep tragedy. We have seen the devil, in 'Faust,' by reason of a 'solution of continuity' in the waist-band of his diabolical unmentionables, make a palpablehiton the stage, dropping unexpectedly from an upward distance of some twelve feet, with the emphasis of 'a squashed apple-dumpling.' We have seen the cauldron in Macbeth, through some defect in the subterranean witch-craft, return, after its disappearance, before the eyes of an enrapt auditory, with the greasy hats and dirty coats of the prime movers exposed to the general eye. In short, we have seen enough to convince us, that profuse clap-trick, whether of language or scenic addittaments, although it may make the million stare or applaud, seldom fails to 'make the judicious grieve.'

The character ofBianca Viscontiis drawn with marked power. She is truly a fond, doting, enthusiastic lover; a woman who devotes her present and eternal peace to love, and breaks her heart in the unrequited sacrifice. Hers is an enthusiasm which all must admire, and still regret, in pity.Sforzais a bold, not heartless, but ambitious hero. His love for Bianca is concealed beneath the grand passion of his soul. It is shut out for a time, only to burst forth at last with dazzling but hopeless splendor. The quaintPasquali, the courtly poet and the philosophic lover, is a creation worthy the pen of aKnowles. He is to this tragedy whatFathomis to the 'Hunchback;' a bright gleam of sunshine ever and anon breaking through the darkness of the rising storm, in striking contrast to the gloom of the gathering clouds. His admirer,Fiametta, although not an apt scholar in the mazes of poetry and philosophy, is, like theAudreyof 'As You Like it,' most willing to learn, and ambitious to share in the laurelled honors of her sage teacher.

As a literary composition, 'Bianca Visconti' abounds with beauties. The images are clear, and radiant with poetical and delicate imaginings; and there are occasionally those fine bursts of feeling, which seem to come fresh from the soul, and to raise up a kindred sentiment, with their spirit-stirring words, in the souls of all who listen. What, for example, can be more like the picture of the bright thoughts of a young, enthusiastic girl, than Bianca's rapturous anticipation of a life of love:

'Oh, I'll buildA home upon some green and flowery isleIn the lone lakes, where we will use our empireOnly to keep away the gazing world.The purple mountains and the glassy watersShall make a hush'd pavilion with the sky,And we two in its midst will live alone,Counting the hours by stars and waking birds,And jealous but of sleep!'

Or what more glorious to the fancy that would clothe the delicacy of the female character in the gorgeous robes of heroic majesty, than Sforza's description of the fair Giovanna:

'Gods! what a light enveloped her! She leftLittle to shine in history; but her beautyWas of that order, that the universeSeemed governed by her motion. Men look'd on herAs if her next step would arrest the world;And as the sea-bird seems to rule the waveHe rides so buoyantly, all things around her—The glittering army, the spread gonfalon,The pomp, the music, the bright sun in heaven—Seemed glorious by her leave!'

Bianca's picture of the two Sforzas, though often quoted, is too beautiful and striking to be here omitted:

'Mark the moral, Sir:An eagle once, from the Euganean hills,Soared bravely to the sky.In his giddy track,Scarce marked by them who gazed upon the first,Followed a new-fledged eaglet, fast and well.Upward they sped, and all eyes on their flightGazed with admiring awe: when suddenlyThe parent bird, struck by a thunder-bolt,Dropped lifeless through the air. The eaglet pausedAnd hung upon his wings; and as his sirePlashed in the far-down wave, men look'd to see himFlee to his nest affrighted!Sforza.'Did he so?'Bianca.'My noble lord, he had a monarch's heart!He wheeled a moment in mid air, and shookProudly his royal wings, and then right on,With crest uplifted, and unwavering flight,Sped to the sun's eye, straight and gloriously!'

Sforza.'Did he so?'

Bianca.'My noble lord, he had a monarch's heart!He wheeled a moment in mid air, and shookProudly his royal wings, and then right on,With crest uplifted, and unwavering flight,Sped to the sun's eye, straight and gloriously!'

There is a fine opportunity for the display of the power of the actress, in the scene where news is brought to Bianca of her father's death. The struggle between the joy which this event produces, by giving a chance of the coronet to her husband, and the sorrow which affection for her parent should cause, one acting against the other, present a scene which calls for the highest powers of the histrionic art to portray faithfully; and it is but just to say, that MissCliftondid it justice. There is a great deal of quaint humor, and many truths wittily delivered, in the part ofPasquali. His exposition of the true meaning of the word imagination, to the homely understanding of his pupil, is as ingenious as true. One ofGoldsmith's characters, if we do not mistake, reasons not unlike the Milanese bard, upon the same or a similar theme:

Pasquali.Answer me once more, and I'll prove to thee in what I am richer. Thou'st ne'er heard, I dare swear, of imagination.Fiametta.Is't a Pagan nation, or a Christian?Pasq.Stay; I'll convey it to thee by a figure. What were the value of thy red stockings, over black, if it were always night?Fiam.None!Pasq.What were beauty, if it were always dark?Fiam.The same as none.Pasq.What were green leaves better than brown, diamonds better than pebbles, gold better than brass, if it were always dark?Fiam.No better, truly.Pasq.Then the shining of the sun, in a manner, dyes your stockings, creates beauty, makes gold, and diamonds, and paints the leaves green?Fiam.I think it doth.Pasq.Now mark! There be gems in the earth, qualities in the flowers, creatures in the air, the Duke ne'er dreams of. There be treasuries of gold and silver, temples and palaces of glorious work, rapturous music, and feasts the gods sit at, and all seen only by a sun, which to the Duke is black as Erebus.Fiam.Lord! Lord! Where is it, Master Pasquali?Pasq.In my head! All these gems, treasuries, palaces, and fairy harmonies, I see by the imagination I spoke of. Am I not richer now?

Pasquali.Answer me once more, and I'll prove to thee in what I am richer. Thou'st ne'er heard, I dare swear, of imagination.

Fiametta.Is't a Pagan nation, or a Christian?

Pasq.Stay; I'll convey it to thee by a figure. What were the value of thy red stockings, over black, if it were always night?

Fiam.None!

Pasq.What were beauty, if it were always dark?

Fiam.The same as none.

Pasq.What were green leaves better than brown, diamonds better than pebbles, gold better than brass, if it were always dark?

Fiam.No better, truly.

Pasq.Then the shining of the sun, in a manner, dyes your stockings, creates beauty, makes gold, and diamonds, and paints the leaves green?

Fiam.I think it doth.

Pasq.Now mark! There be gems in the earth, qualities in the flowers, creatures in the air, the Duke ne'er dreams of. There be treasuries of gold and silver, temples and palaces of glorious work, rapturous music, and feasts the gods sit at, and all seen only by a sun, which to the Duke is black as Erebus.

Fiam.Lord! Lord! Where is it, Master Pasquali?

Pasq.In my head! All these gems, treasuries, palaces, and fairy harmonies, I see by the imagination I spoke of. Am I not richer now?

The tragedy was well received, and attracted large audiences; and its success has satisfied us, that were the author to essay another attempt, with the additional knowledge of stage effect which the production and presentation of the present effort must have given him, he could scarcely fail of acquiring a high rank as a dramatist. The vein which has been opened, cannot have been exhausted at one running, as we hope yet to see made manifest.

'The Times that tried Men's Souls.'—'Advance, ye future generations! We would hail you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence, where we are passing, and soon shall have passed, our own human duration!' Such appeared to be the sentiment of a benevolent-looking revolutionary veteran, the well-known Mr.Allaire, of this city, as he sat upon the deck of the Charleston and New-York Steam-Packet 'Neptune,' on the occasion of her recent launch, and surveyed the faces of the gay and light-hearted group around him. As the noble craft glided gracefully and almost imperceptibly into the water, and shot far over toward the Brooklyn shore, the 'old man eloquent' remarked: 'Well, I remember Brooklyn, when there were but eight houses in it. Now look at it!' added he, with a gesture of pride, that he had lived to see its present prosperity. 'And New-York, too,' he continued, 'I remember New-York when there was not a house above the hospital. I recollect, when they were digging down Catharine-street, how they disinterred the feet of the Hessians, in the side-banks, where they had been hastily buried, many years before. I read the Declaration of Independence,' continued the venerable patriot, 'for the first time, at a sudden and enthusiastic gathering at Tarrytown, before three thousand people. I heard the shouts of applause from the true American spirits, and saw the tories open their mouths, andpretendto hurrah, yet no voice came from their false lips. But they were forced, in such an assemblage, to make a demonstration, to avoid suspicion.' And thus the old veteran went on, a true exemplification of 'garrulous eld.'

At the sumptuous entertainment which succeeded, at the residence of that true sailor and accomplished gentleman, Capt.Pennoyer, commander of the 'Neptune,' we could not take our eyes from the aged soldier of the revolution, who occupied a place of honor, nor cease to think of the changes which he had seen in his day and generation. He livedthrough'the times that tried men's souls,' and which gave birth to the freedom of our noble republic. We could look at the picture in the glowing light of the present, and the gorgeous hues that robe the future; but, to adopt the beautiful thought ofScott,hecould turn the tapestry, and see the blood-stained warp and woof which bore the ground colors, and composed the prominent objects.

While upon the subject of revolutionary times, it will not be inappropriate to introduce here two letters ofGeneral Washington, which have never before been published. They were recently copied by the junior publisher of this Magazine, from the originals in the possession of his grandfather, to whom they were addressed. This gentleman was President of a Massachusetts 'Council of Safety,' and was high in the esteem and confidence of the Pater Patria. Nothing can be more characteristic than the deliberation, the close scrutiny into consequences, which these letters evince; compelled, as the writer was, to guard against the cavils of the disaffected or the envious, who had neither candor to suppose good meanings, nor discernment to distinguish true ones, in the announcement of his projects:

Cambridge, August 22, 1775.

'Sir: In answer to your favor of yesterday, I must inform you that I have often been told of the advantages of Point Alderton, with respect to its command of the shipping going in and out of Boston harbor; and that it has, before now, been the object of my particular inquiry. I find the accounts differ exceedingly in regard to the distance of the ship-channel, and that there is a passage on the other side of the Light-House Island for all vessels except ships of the first rate. My knowledge of this matter would not have rested upon inquiry only, if I had found myself, at any one time since I came to this place, in a condition to have taken such a post. But it becomes my duty to consider not only what place is advantageous, but what number of men are necessary to defend it; how they can be supported, in case of an attack; how they may retreat, if they cannot be supported, and what stock of ammunition we are provided with, for the purposes of self-defence, or annoyance of the enemy. In respect to the first, I conceive ourdefence must be proportioned to the attack of GeneralGates' whole force, leaving him just enough to man his lines on Charlestown Neck and Roxbury; and with regard to the second and most important object, we have only one hundred and eighty-four barrels of powder in all, which is not sufficient to give thirty musket-cartridges a man, and scarce enough to serve the artillery, in any brisk action, a single day.'Would it be prudent, then, in me, under these circumstances, to take a post thirty miles distant from this place, when we already have a line of circumvallation at least ten miles in extent, and any part of which may be attacked (if the enemy would keep their own counsel,) without our having one hour's previous notice of it? Or is it prudent, to attempt a measure which would necessarily bring on a consumption of all the ammunition we have, thereby leaving the army at the mercy of the enemy, or to disperse, and the country to be ravaged, and laid waste at discretion? To you, Sir, who are a well-wisher to the cause, and can reason upon the effect of such a conduct, I may open myself with freedom, because no improper discoveries will be made of our situation; but I cannot expose my weakness to the enemy, (though I believe they are pretty well informed of every thing that passes,) by telling this and that man, who are daily pointing out this, that, and the other place, of all the motives which govern my actions. Notwithstanding, I know what will be the consequences of not doing it, namely: that I shall be accused of inattention to the public service, and perhaps with want of spirit to prosecute it. But this shall have no effect upon my conduct. I will steadily (as far as my judgment will assist me,) pursue such measures as I think most conducive to the interest of the cause, and rest satisfied under any obloquy that shall be thrown, conscious of having discharged my duty to the best of my abilities.'I am much obliged to you, as I shall be to every gentleman, for pointing out any measure which is thought conducive to the public good, and cheerfully follow any advice which is not inconsistent with, but correspondent to, the general plan in view, and practicable, under such particular circumstances as govern in all cases of the like kind. In respect to Point Alderton, I was no longer than Monday last talking to GeneralThomason this head, and proposing to send ColonelPutnamdown, to take distances, etc., but considered it could answer no end but to alarm, and make the enemy more vigilant. Unless we were in a condition to possess the post to effect, I thought it as well to postpone the matter awhile.'I am, Sir,'Your Very Humble Servant,'Geo: Washington.''Hon. J. Palmer, Watertown, Mass.'

'Would it be prudent, then, in me, under these circumstances, to take a post thirty miles distant from this place, when we already have a line of circumvallation at least ten miles in extent, and any part of which may be attacked (if the enemy would keep their own counsel,) without our having one hour's previous notice of it? Or is it prudent, to attempt a measure which would necessarily bring on a consumption of all the ammunition we have, thereby leaving the army at the mercy of the enemy, or to disperse, and the country to be ravaged, and laid waste at discretion? To you, Sir, who are a well-wisher to the cause, and can reason upon the effect of such a conduct, I may open myself with freedom, because no improper discoveries will be made of our situation; but I cannot expose my weakness to the enemy, (though I believe they are pretty well informed of every thing that passes,) by telling this and that man, who are daily pointing out this, that, and the other place, of all the motives which govern my actions. Notwithstanding, I know what will be the consequences of not doing it, namely: that I shall be accused of inattention to the public service, and perhaps with want of spirit to prosecute it. But this shall have no effect upon my conduct. I will steadily (as far as my judgment will assist me,) pursue such measures as I think most conducive to the interest of the cause, and rest satisfied under any obloquy that shall be thrown, conscious of having discharged my duty to the best of my abilities.

'I am much obliged to you, as I shall be to every gentleman, for pointing out any measure which is thought conducive to the public good, and cheerfully follow any advice which is not inconsistent with, but correspondent to, the general plan in view, and practicable, under such particular circumstances as govern in all cases of the like kind. In respect to Point Alderton, I was no longer than Monday last talking to GeneralThomason this head, and proposing to send ColonelPutnamdown, to take distances, etc., but considered it could answer no end but to alarm, and make the enemy more vigilant. Unless we were in a condition to possess the post to effect, I thought it as well to postpone the matter awhile.

'I am, Sir,

'Your Very Humble Servant,

'Geo: Washington.'

'Hon. J. Palmer, Watertown, Mass.'

Mark the just policy and far-reaching sagacity which the subjoined letter evinces, nor lose sight of the numerous difficulties and dangers which environed the writer, and threatened his plans:

Cambridge, August 7, 1775.

'Sir: Your favor of yesterday came duly to my hands. As I did not consider local appointments as having any operation upon the general one, I had partly engaged (at least in my own mind) the office of Quarter Master General, before your favor was presented to me. In truth, Sir, I think it sound policy to bestow offices, indiscriminately, among gentlemen of the different governments, so far as to bear a proportionable part toward the expense of this war. If no gentleman out of these four governments come in for any share of the appointments, it may be apt to create jealousies, which will in the end give disgust. For this reason, I would earnestly recommend it to your board to provide for some of the volunteers who are come from Philadelphia, with my warm recommendations, though they are strangers to me.'In respect to the boats from Salem, I doubt, in the first place, whether they could be brought over by land. In the second place, I am sure nothing could ever be executed hereby surprise, as I am well convinced, that nothing is transacted in our camp or lines, but what is known in Boston in less than twenty-four hours. Indeed, circumstanced as we are, it is scarcely possible to be otherwise, unless we were to stop the communication between the country and our camp and lines; in which case, we should render our supplies of milk, vegetables, etc., difficult and precarious. We are now building a kind of floating battery; when that is done, and the utility of it discovered, I may possibly apply for timber to build more, as circumstances shall require.'I remain, with great esteem, Sir,'Your most Obedient and Humble Servant,'Geo: Washington.''Hon'ble J. Palmer, Watertown, Mass.'

'In respect to the boats from Salem, I doubt, in the first place, whether they could be brought over by land. In the second place, I am sure nothing could ever be executed hereby surprise, as I am well convinced, that nothing is transacted in our camp or lines, but what is known in Boston in less than twenty-four hours. Indeed, circumstanced as we are, it is scarcely possible to be otherwise, unless we were to stop the communication between the country and our camp and lines; in which case, we should render our supplies of milk, vegetables, etc., difficult and precarious. We are now building a kind of floating battery; when that is done, and the utility of it discovered, I may possibly apply for timber to build more, as circumstances shall require.

'I remain, with great esteem, Sir,

'Your most Obedient and Humble Servant,

'Geo: Washington.'

'Hon'ble J. Palmer, Watertown, Mass.'

We shall hereafter present an original and characteristic letter from GeneralWarren, written the night before the battle of Bunker-Hill.

Injustice to the writer of the ensuing defence, which has been in our possession since its date, it is proper to say, that we have received, from various and most reputable sources, the strongest testimony in relation to his personal character. He is represented to us as a gentleman of untiring industry and perseverance, who, often under circumstances of adversity and affliction, has labored diligently and successfully, for a long series of years, in an arduous avocation, and whose reputation for probity, and honorable and generous acts, is alike unimpeachable and undeniable. Of the merits of his works, having never examined them, we are unable to form an opinion, farther than may be gathered from the almost unexampled extent of their sale.

Eds. Knickerbocker.

TO THE EDITORS OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.

Gentlemen: In the June number of theKnickerbocker, I have seen an 'extract' purporting to be taken from the 'Introduction' of a yet unpublished work upon English grammar, byGoold Brown, which extract seems to be a sort of criticism levelled at me and my works, but more especially at my Grammar. Judging from the fury of this assault, one would be inclined to think, that my antagonist believed his very existence as an author depended upon his annihilation of me, and that my future popularity and success are dependant uponhisopinion of me and my works! My Grammar, gentlemen, has been attacked by abler writers than Goold Brown, and has passed through the ordeal of their criticisms unscathed. It is not to be expected, therefore, that I should care a groat whether this self-constituted philological umpire likes the work or not. Indeed, I would rather he wouldnotlike it; for sure I am, that if he liked it, few others would; a clear proof of which we have, in a dull book on grammar, which he himself produced, some twelve or fifteen years ago, on a plan and in a style exactly suited to his own peculiar liking. Since then, it never entered into my scheme to write a grammar to suit the taste of my jealous rivals, but to please myself and the public. Having gained the latter point, I can very complacently bear all the futile abuse which may be heaped upon me.

I know it is mortifying for an author to fail, especially a conceited one. I admit that it is hard for him to write eleven years for nine hundred dollars,[7]even though his labors may not have been worth to the public one-half that sum. It is natural, too, for such writers, after having ascertained that nobody willpurchasetheir bantlings, to turn philosophers, and become very disinterested, and affect to despise the idea of connectingemolumentwith the labors of their mighty pens. Doubtless, also, it is sufficiently provoking, and especially mortifying to a discomfitted author's vanity, to learn that the works of a much younger writer, and one upon whom he once affected to look down as his inferior, should go off bythousands, while his own precious productions are with difficulty shoved off bytens. That such an author should find nothing to praise in a work so much more popular than his own, is not at all singular; yet, when a conceited charlatan, himself a professed author, (and a pretendedQuaker, withal!) so far departs from the dignity and decency of manly feeling, as to attempt, by gross misrepresentations and low trickery,to destroy the hard-earned and honest fame of a more successful fellow-laborer, for purposes of private malice, a decent respect for the dignity of true criticism and the rights of authorship, no less than a proper regard for the cause of learning, requires that he should be held up to public detestation.

Had Goold Brown merely dipped his pen in gall to assail mywork, so little do I regard his criticism, so great is my aversion to contention, and so thorough my contempt for mere mousing word-catching, that he might have gone on and vented his spleen unheeded; but since he has seen fit thus wantonly to assail my private character, and to impeach my motives, and since he has attempted to sustain himself in this unjustifiable attack, by misapplying my language and distorting my meaning, I conceive myself called upon to expose his duplicity and baseness. That he is utterly incapable of discovering any thing in the grammatical works of others, but faults and defects, I need not show, for the article in question saves me the trouble; but that his assault upon me savors strongly of malevolence and dishonesty, I shall presentlyprove. He has, nevertheless, stated some facts in relation to my Grammar, although, as it appears, quite unintentionally; and, as far as facts stated byhimcan have any influence with the public, they will do me good. On the other hand, he has made many statements concerning me and my works, which arenotfounded upon facts. Most of these, however, so clearly show the evil design of the critic, that they need no reply. As they carry with them their own antidote, I have nothing to apprehend from their poison. But some of these misstatements are more adroitly managed, and are calculated to mislead the unsuspecting reader. I allude to his charges brought against both my personal and my grammatical character, which he has attempted to support by garbling, torturing, misquoting, misconstruing, and misapplying my language, and therebypervertingmy meaning. In order, therefore, that the public may be disabused on these points, I shall proceed to take them up in order.

After denouncing me as a 'bad writer,'and as wanting in 'scholarship,' and insinuating that I would 'bribe the critics and reviewers,' my liberal andpiouscensor all at once discovers, through his rusty spectacles, not only that I am so unprincipled as totally to disregard 'accuracy' and usefulness in authorship, but that my 'principal business is to turn my publication to profit;' that I am, in short, a real worshipper of Midas; and, in order to prove himself correct in this marvellous discovery, thehonestman presents his readers with the following passage:

'Murray,' says he, 'simply intended to do good, and good which might descend to posterity. This intention goes far to excuse even his errors. But Kirkham says, 'My pretensions reach not so far.To the present generation onlyI present my claims.'Elocution, p. 364. His whole design is, therefore, a paltry scheme of present income.'

The injustice and roguery of this passage, it is impossible for the casual reader fully to conceive. After forming a postulate to fit his own purpose, the critic ransacks my works to garble a passage that, by contortion and misapplication, shall fit it in such a manner as to make me utter alibelagainst my own moral character! My pen falters while I expose the duplicity of this transaction. 'Murray simply intended to do good.' Kirkham says, 'My pretensions reach not so far.' So far as what? As todo good, of course. This is undoubtedly the meaningintendedto be conveyed by the wily critic. But let us look at the meaning of the passage, when taken in its original connexion, as it stands in my Elocution. It occurs at the close of that work, in some eulogistic remarks made upon Dr.James Rush, the distinguished author of the 'Philosophy of the Human Voice.' The whole passage reads thus:

'Dr. Rush, in his 'Philosophy of the Human Voice,' boldly addressesposterity. This is manly; and I hazard little in prophesying, that posterity will gladly give him a hearing. My pretensions reach not so far. To the present generation only I present my claims. Should it lend me a listening ear, and grant me its suffrages, the height of my ambition will be attained. Though unwilling to be a meretime-server, yet I know not that I have any thing on which to rest my claims upon generations to come.'

Now instead of saying in this passage that 'my pretensions reach not so far asto do good,' I simply say, that they reach not so faras those of Dr. Rush!—and the passage is so free from ambiguity as to render it impossible for my opponent to have mistaken my meaning. Mistaken it, indeed! He very wellknew, when he penned this slanderous paragraph, that my professed object in writing school-bookswasto 'do good;' and yet he has the hardihood to hoax his readers into the belief that I openly disavow any such intention! Comment is unnecessary. And yet this is the modest man who has the effrontery to call in question themotivesof him whom he traduces; to lecture him upon the principles of morality and justice; and cantingly to quote scriptureathim! He intimates that I have not the moral courage to 'dare to do right.' I have the courage to dare totell the truth.

But since my antagonist has maliciously attempted, by misquoting my language, to prove that I disavow any intention either to do good or to do right, perhaps I may be indulged in a few quotations, too, from my own works, merely with the view of presenting this matter in its proper light:

'In gratitude, therefore, to that public which has smiled so propitiously on his humble efforts to advance the cause of learning, he has endeavored, by unremitting attention to theimprovementof his work, to render it asusefuland asunexceptionableas his time and talents would permit.'Kirkham's Grammar, p. 7.'Apprehensive, however, that no explanatory effort on his part, would shield him from the imputation of arrogance, by such as are blinded by self-interest, or by those who are wedded to the doctrines and opinions of his predecessors, withthemhe will not attempt a compromise; being, in a great measure, indifferent either to their praise or their censure. But with the candid he is willing to negotiate an amicable treaty, knowing that they are always ready to enter into it on honorable terms. In this negotiation, he asks nothing more than merely to rest the merits of his work on itspractical utility.'Grammarp. 9.'Content to beuseful, instead of beingbrilliant, the writer of these pages has endeavored to shun the path of those whose aim appears to have been to dazzle, rather than to instruct.'Grammar, pp. 9 and 10.'He has taken the libertyto think for himself, to investigate the subject critically and dispassionately, and to adopt such principles only as he deemed the least objectionable, and best calculated to effect the object he had in view.'Grammar, p. 10.'Should these feeble efforts prove a saving of much time and expense to those young persons who may be disposed to pursue this science with avidity, by enabling them easily to acquire a critical knowledge of a branch of education so important and desirable,the author's fondest anticipations will be fully realized.'Grammar, p. 12.'This flattering success, then, in his first essay in authorship, (alluding to my Grammar,) has encouraged the writer to adventure upon another branch of science, which, for some years past, has particularly engaged his attention. That he is capable of doing ample justice to his present subject, he has not the vanity to imagine; but, if his knowledge, drawn from observation, and experience in teaching elocution, enable him so to treat the science as to call the attention of some to its cultivation, and induce others more capable than himself to write upon it, he will thereby contribute his mite toward rescuing from neglect a branch of learning, which, in its important bearings upon the prosperity of the free citizens of this great republic, stands second to none; and thus, in the consciousness ofhaving rendered a new service to his country, he will secure the reward of his highest ambition.'Kirkham's Elocution, p. 8.

'Apprehensive, however, that no explanatory effort on his part, would shield him from the imputation of arrogance, by such as are blinded by self-interest, or by those who are wedded to the doctrines and opinions of his predecessors, withthemhe will not attempt a compromise; being, in a great measure, indifferent either to their praise or their censure. But with the candid he is willing to negotiate an amicable treaty, knowing that they are always ready to enter into it on honorable terms. In this negotiation, he asks nothing more than merely to rest the merits of his work on itspractical utility.'Grammarp. 9.

'Content to beuseful, instead of beingbrilliant, the writer of these pages has endeavored to shun the path of those whose aim appears to have been to dazzle, rather than to instruct.'Grammar, pp. 9 and 10.

'He has taken the libertyto think for himself, to investigate the subject critically and dispassionately, and to adopt such principles only as he deemed the least objectionable, and best calculated to effect the object he had in view.'Grammar, p. 10.

'Should these feeble efforts prove a saving of much time and expense to those young persons who may be disposed to pursue this science with avidity, by enabling them easily to acquire a critical knowledge of a branch of education so important and desirable,the author's fondest anticipations will be fully realized.'Grammar, p. 12.

'This flattering success, then, in his first essay in authorship, (alluding to my Grammar,) has encouraged the writer to adventure upon another branch of science, which, for some years past, has particularly engaged his attention. That he is capable of doing ample justice to his present subject, he has not the vanity to imagine; but, if his knowledge, drawn from observation, and experience in teaching elocution, enable him so to treat the science as to call the attention of some to its cultivation, and induce others more capable than himself to write upon it, he will thereby contribute his mite toward rescuing from neglect a branch of learning, which, in its important bearings upon the prosperity of the free citizens of this great republic, stands second to none; and thus, in the consciousness ofhaving rendered a new service to his country, he will secure the reward of his highest ambition.'Kirkham's Elocution, p. 8.

These examples are sufficient to show, at least as far as my own observations are concerned, by what motives I have been actuated in the production of my works. That these motives are more pure or patriotic than those of other men who have written upon the same subjects, I have never pretended; for I am ready to acknowledge that I am subject to the weaknesses and infirmities common to human nature. But it is evident, that what has so greatly annoyed my antagonist is not the defects, but the success, of my Grammar.

In the following passage, our critic attempts to prove me grossly inconsistent with myself:

'Nothing can be more radically opposite,' says he, 'than are some of the elementary doctrines which this gentleman is now teaching; nothing more strangely inconsistent than are some of his declarations and professions. For instance: 'A consonant is a letter that cannot be perfectly sounded without the help of a vowel.'Kirkham's Grammar, p. 19. Again: 'A consonant is not only capable of being perfectly sounded without the help of a vowel, but, moreover, of forming, like a vowel, a separate syllable.'Kirkham's Elocution, p. 32. Once more: Uponhis own rules, he comments thus, and comments truly, because he had written them badly: 'But some of these rules are foolish, trifling, and unimportant.'Elocution, p. 97. Again: 'Rules 10 and 11, rest on a sandy foundation. They appear not to be based upon the principles of the language.'Grammar, p. 59. These are but specimens of his own frequent testimony against himself!'

Now, in these instances, I should be fair game, were it not for thetriflingdifference, that I happen to present the doctrines and notions ofother writers, andwasmy own, as stated by my learned censor. For example; in 1823, I introduced into my Grammar, as Mr. Murray's definition, the old notion, that 'A consonant is a letter that cannot be perfectly sounded without the help of a vowel.' But in 1834, I presented in my Elocution Dr. Rush's opposite opinion, andascribedit to him. If, therefore, I had become fully satisfied that Dr. Rush is correct, it would behoove me to alter the definition as it stands in my Grammar; but, inasmuch as I am yet undecided on this point, I have not thought proper to do so.

Again, our critic says: 'Uponhis own ruleshe comments thus:' 'Butsomeof these rules are foolish,' etc. Now this assertion is utterlyuntrue; and, if Goold Brown read the whole passage from which he quotes, as he ought to have done, heknewhe was asserting what was false. The rules in question, are introduced into the notes of my Elocution asJohn Walker's, andnotas my own; as any one may see, by referring to that work. Similar remarks are applicable to 'Rules 10 and 11,' in my Grammar, both of which are taken from Murray; and this, too, Goold Brown as well knew, when he brought this charge of inconsistency against me, as he knew that in making it, he waslibellingme. Really, when a critic is driven to such crooked shifts as these to make out his case, it needs no farther evidence to prove that it is a bad one.

But the foulest calumny in this tirade of abuses and misrepresentations, is contained in the following passage, in which, after having dealt out the most illiberal strictures, and the most unsparing condemnations and denunciations, upon my Grammar, he pretends tosupporthis calumnies, by showing me up as a perfect ignoramus in the science of grammar:

'In general,' says he, 'his amendments of 'that eminent philologist,' (Mr. Murray,) are not more skilful than the following touch upon an eminent dramatist; and here, it is plain, he has mistaken two nouns for adjectives, and converted into bad English a beautiful passage, the sentiment of which is worthy of anauthor's recollection:'The evil deed or deeds that men do,livesafter them:The good deed or deedsisoft interred with their bones.'Kirkham's Grammar, p. 75.'

'The evil deed or deeds that men do,livesafter them:The good deed or deedsisoft interred with their bones.'

Kirkham's Grammar, p. 75.'

In my Grammar, the phrase 'deed or deeds' is included in a bracket, and therefore, as every one acquainted with Cobb's Spelling-Book well knows, is not intended to be read as a part of the sentence, but as an explanatory clause. The couplet stands thus, in my book:

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