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ELEMENTS
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r,~RIIETORIC AND LITEUARY CRITICISM,
WITH COPIOUS PRACTICAL EXERCISES AND
EXAMPLES.

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~.: FOR TIIE USE OF COMMON SCHOOLS AND ACADEMIES.
f!j :
INCLUDING, A.LS01

A SUCCINCT HISTORY OF ·

TH E E N G L I S H. .LAN GU AGE,
A.ND OF

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BRITISH AN~ AMERIC,;.~N LITERATURE '" ' t'
FROM THE

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~EARLIES~ TO ,THE PRESEkT Tl~EL

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ON THE BASIS OF THE RECENT WORKS OF ALEXANDE;R,,
REID AND ROBERT CONNEL;
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NEW-YORK:
HAR p ER

& BR0

THE Rs,

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,·( Tum following testimonials. relating io the·merits ot
~q~,,) ~ 1 ELEMENTS
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R .HETORIC · AND LITERARY :

C~uT~- .

R: Bovn ·A.M., Principal of Blacki ~iver:

o~s.M," by J.

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L~ ~nd .R. Institpte, are from gentlemen long engage~
i_p.;"'the' ~:usiness _pf i~~truction,
bc~:upied in 'superin...;: .'
,_ tending· the inanage~ent of schools, a~d . :.may there~:: ·.
fore. b~ r.ehed upon as .'Yorthy of confidence.
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t The follo~itig notice idroni T. Ro~~YN BECK, tL.n.; Prin~ipal or the .
Albany>.A.ciiiliimy,·ai;td from Prof. P. BULLIONS, D :D., connected with the.same institu~ione ·~;t··.'~.t. >~. "! ; '"':....,1
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Entered, according to Act of Congres8, in the year 1844, by

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&,,,;:,)l· .h ; ·,\ , ' · Alba~y,iuly3l,l844.'

The . Rev. Jameli
Boyd, , Principal of the Literary and Sq,ientific In- '
stitute at Watertown, J!)ffel'l!on county, has now for several years conduct-.
ed that .i nstitution.'l,Vith .ability and success; He: has .necessarily .become . ·
acquajnte•l~ith the numerous text~books ~n· use, :U,nd .it has )>ccuit.ed to him.~ .'
that.~n imp~ovement m!g:h~ be .made on .those in common \Ise foi' - insttuct~ ,.
Ing tn ;English Composition and Rhetoric,•.. He .has ·prepared !1 work from.\·
those .of .R!lid.and Connel, ,:with numerous emendations a11d additions from .'
his own pen, and
,have nd do'uht, from a general examination of its con"-r'
tents," that it is deserving of publication, and that its introduction will ~ _
prove useful boi.h in academies and common schools.
f
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. \: •. ·.. i (Signed) '
' . '. . . .-' ' ' . . . T. ROMEYN BECK,°-...

In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.
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HARPER & BnoTmrns,

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BULLIONS.

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· C<immu~ieation from ' S. S. RAND.UL, Esq., Deputy Supei:inteb.dent of,
cOriim'on Sch~ols of the State o(New-York: ' . . . . '
. ·· . ' · · · ,.,, ·
" ::.~:.;;:, ,
: · Secretary's Office, Department ~f Common Schools, ··,, ·.·: (
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· . · Albany, August 2, 1844.
•HaVing e.x amined the manuscript sheets of the Rev. Mr; Boyd's proposed · ·
pul?lication on the "Elements of Rhetoric and Literary Criticism," I am ·
· free .to express the high gratificatiori it has Rfford ed me, not.only as a work: ·
admirably adapted to the purpose for which it seems specially to have been
designed, a text-buok in rhetoric for the use of our common schools, but ·., .
also as a valuable and tasteful compilation of specimens of the great m~stera c ·,
. both in prose :md poetry, at home and abroad. As Ii text-book in our ele- .
mentary as well as higher institutions of public instruction; it is, in my
judgment, unsurpassed by any of its predecessors ; indeed, I am not n.'war«t ··.
of the · existence of' any elementary work upon the same plan; and I lhall ; ·
regard its publication at this time as a valuable contribution to the cause '
of popular education, no less than to. th e interests o(a sound literary taste;:•
· S. S. RANDA.LL, Depl• Supt. Com. School.I. ."'
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RECOMMENDA 'rJONS.

T~e fol~o~ving, from

the I~on. s~~IJEL YO U N . ·.
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received simultaneously with th t f
o, Secretary- of Stttte, w:rt
a rom Prof. Beck and Bullions.
:.l haye exam_ined the plan of the work
. A~bany, August 1, 1844.
h~ve n_ot h ~d tim e to read the b d f ti on Rheto:w menti oned within but
ol1c, ~1mphfying its rule:o1J and ogfvrng ~I manu s~npt .. A Treatise on Rhet-"
P. es, is very mu ch needed for the ou ear exp anat10n s and lucid exam•
c10usly executed by the author ( y f ng. h'If the pl n>n·of the work is judi
r~hnce, and indu11try, is to be· infe:i.~0 t0 ~~ 1 ~eputation for science, expe:
s ools.
(Signed) ' I w1 1 e a grea't <\C<]ui eition to our

r

. The following note, addres~ed to the !\- .
.
S . You.rm. ,
from the pen of FRANCIS D
fes~rs. Harper of New-York jg
.
WIGHT Esq Ed't
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J~urnal.
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or 0 t e Common School
_ .GENf!-EMEN,
.
Albany, August 2, 1844.
J have given a cursory examination t M
·much plehasecl with its plan and execouti:~ Bo§d'~ work on _Rhetoric, anJ
m o_ur sc ools, and if it can b
lfi
.
ue i a work IS much ne ed·
large circulation. I commend it t~ ya orcled cf. hleap, w_ill probably obtain a
(Signed)
T
our care u exarn1hation
ru1y your~
F . ·
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A t'II
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RANCIS DWIGHT
' • B I more particular account of this work a
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of it, has been furnished by practic l
h ', fter a careful examination
. and J,ewis. 1
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a teac ers Jn the counties of Jelftlrsou

!:f

'rhe following is from LYSANDER H. IlRo w N
.
Common School 11 in Jefferson county.
' E sq., Superintendent of

I have examined in manuscri
, Watertown, July 31 . 1844
a?d Literary Criticism "by J ,
work entitled "Elements of Rhetoricr
signed as a practical t;xt-book o . tloyd. , It IS an admirable compilation deto achoo ls of every grade the ~ ie sc1cnce of cornposi ti on. It is ada~tet!
to- ~ea~h bJ'.' e::rnmple and illusf:~~~? as well as th e h igher; and it aims
pla1ry, JUd1 c1ous arrangement the vh '1 Th\ compil er h.i~ embraced in it
~eans of th~ p e n, cxhibitin 'rules: o e met od of uxp_ressing thoughts-bv
~1gher qualities of sublimit~ beaut~p~c~b~e ~o t~e entire suhject, from the
mg of words, the proper dist~ibution' ~ n as e, own to the correct spcH• ,
the construct.ion of sentences and
, f p~uses a nd of capital letters and
.7:he beauty of the book is that . pmagrap is.
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m~l1arly jllusttated, Beautiful !~~~e~:~~i:itiy practical. EvcTy rule is fa.
jith which the com pilation abounds pa
it e ~ e ry page . The extracts
anguage, usefnl, entertainino· cl ' r'.- rom 1 ie best specimens in th~'
form.s h the scholar with a key~: aW~tI~'tl. They would, of therrwel ves,
pos1t10n, From a long and intimal
e '~ icr qualiti es of English comschools, I am impressed with the b l' e acquaintance with th e wants of our
iuch a book as tliat with which Me
~at they need nothing niore than just
no reason why children should n;;· b oy designs lo present them. There is
paper with a~ much ease autl b e taught to ex press th eir thoughts upon
gans of speech.
'
eauty, and force, as th ey do with the or. I would most cheerfully recomm d h
mterest~d in the welfare of sehoolsen t e wo~k to teachers, and all others
en~ ~es1gned, that of formin habit as one_ emmently ad apted to secure thEt
fac1hty. Let this book be in'f.roct cs o_f w1 it.111 ~ with ease, corr~c tness, and
shall soon ~ee less of awkward lc~tcd_IJlt? our.' Common School~," nnc{ wo
our men ?f business, and even in oier w~Jt_111gfl'.mtl i!Jcg1l>le composition in
(Signed) LYSANDli: H
IT pu IC o IC.:crs.
~. . BROWN, Supt , Com. Schools Jeffer~on CIJ<.
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"'. :·. '' _T!ii,r ti~xt i'e~~w of'the proposed work is fr~rri the ~il bf D .-P .'MA YHEw,
~- Elqii' ~ ~~c~p~1 .of_ ~o~v_ille _Academy, in L·ewi~ county. · 1 'i;

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·ln lhe",Vot'lt_now given us by Mr; :Boyd, everyteache ~ will'tind an efficient

• • Cl f for any one who has tn,ught i:hetorici

mlii!t 4at e 'nbtfoed ln lhe "ri'cir""' ~bridgments,_ot too voluminou.f o'riginal tretttlses, It wartt of ad aptation
.ta-the capacity ~f tho~e who sliould pursue this study: Acquisition ofrheA~ric!ll P~! nciple~ naturally f~llows the study, of ~ng~ish lframina_r,, since the
-- student ts supposed to be then constantly engaged m "compos1twn Exer·
~
'' : Ci1es,," and in as g~eat _need, therefore, of those principles as those of gra1n· , -==~-:-§
. ah ~ut, ins'teiid of their being thus furnished him by the text-hook• ' in
~e, either he must wait until1 _
w he,ri disciplitie4 by oiher studil\s, he i~ arlapt·
''c-"'!!>
' ell td the study bf rhetoric, or ii. laborious and toibome task 'is imposed tip<>n
: \h~ i teacher __i~ _adaptin~ the '_ study of rhetori~ ~o him. M ~. Boyd not oril,r
~ -~~i
- frees us from sud\ a dilemma, but, by comb11i1ng " progressive ~' Mmpo81·
.'- -:-:j
-~ tirin exercit!es with the principles of rhetoric, enables the student t6 reduce
" theory
lrrimediat~ praetic~. Mr. B. has so arranged his ExerCiseli as to
, -,~
._,,
- · fix .the attention;' artd by 'degree1 insensibly to tilake the uliolar an analyU.
' Blit 1,besides thill effect, the illusti:ations a,re _so selected as to fortify the af·
-~
.'fect1ons and improve _the heart. · ~ -- ; '· · "' ·
·
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' Nor is this all: love of country is incidentally inculcated; that stronge1t
·, loTe, based upon respect for what tha~ country has produced, and can pro·
duce. We are taunted with having no lit.erature of our own; but the
.' American· student will find a full refutation of that slander in Mr. Boyd's
account of American writers, and hia judicious selections from both their
. l't?lltry. and prose: ·· .:Tea'chers a~ 1tildent1 will bid it welcome. ,
·'
" ' (SignedJ ·. ;- · · ' ' -,_. ·
,. ' " D. P. MAYHEW1 Principal.

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~ , Of the aa~e pU:tp?rt ie the communication of another practical teacher, .·-. '.:_--,=--·-~S_;-_·;.:ill
. ~...;
·~.ALANSON P. SIGOURNEY, Esq., Supt. o(Oommon Schools.for Watertown. - - -·Y .
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~ '_-• :- · . ··, "wa~~rtown, · July29;1844~ . ..:--: ·
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· '' - Having examined in manuscript a work entitled "Elements of Rhetorie :; -·-~:-..
and Literary Criticism for the use of Colnmon Schools and Academies , '~
'-..• -- ;:;
written and sel~cted from the pens of the most able writers of the age, by
:-__ '!':
'_ yourself, I can Bay I am w ell pleils~d with it. ' It is a work that should
· : ''·'~,;,:
be used by ever:'!' teacher of youth, and by every pupil studying the grant·
·_.:2'."j
:_
mar of the English language. ·
_.,,._
r . Your work I bel~eve to be well calculated to aid the pupil in communicating .. · ··:, :..::j
hu Oil!" thought8 either orally or on paper, and may and should be used, not -- :.:,:r.:;.
' only as a class-book for recitatiein, but for reading exercises ; and l am sat- -~ ~
iafied that the intuests of our public schools require its introduction. I
· · :., -4;
therefore recommend it to the favorable consideration of teachen, and
• .~:-::.:::1
particularly to those engaged in elevating the standard of common schools.
./.":' ~
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(Signed)
Yours respectfully, · ALANSON P. 8100:.rnNET,' - ' -;-~
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Supt. Com._ Schools for W11trrtoum; ",_,_;,,,,_..
To Rev. J; R. Boyd, PdU. Black River L. and R. Ins titu te.
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The trostees of Black River L. and R. Institute, at thei~ _meeti ~g Jul1
t6, 1844, passed the following resolution:
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"Resolved, that from our knowledge of the qualitication1 of the au thor,
and the 1tat11ment of hi11 plnn submit~ed to ~s, !'e judge .the publicati,on ?f
't he Rev . Mr. Boyd's work on Rhetoric, and its mtroductton Into this 11111tl• /
imion, highly desirable."
·
(Signed)
I. BnA YTOK, I

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Secretary Of the Board o/ Truat~el. ·

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RECOMMENDATIONS.

Extracts from a communication by P. MONTGOMERY, Esq., County Superintendent of Common Schools. for Southern Section of Jelforson .

.Adams, July 27, 1844.
For a lonir time I have noticed with regret the almost entire neglect of
of original composition in our common schools t and the want of a
proper te:rt-book upon this essential branch of education.
, Hundreds graduate from our common schools with no well-defined ideas
of the construction of our language. I have just. arisen from an examination of a work prepared by .Mr. Boyd, Principal. of the Black River L. and
R. Institute. We are happy to find that a gentleman of Mr. Boyd's character as a scholar and experience- in teaching has taken this unoccupied
field, and has succeeded in prepnri.ng a work to meet the wants of our
1rchools. This work must take the field without competition. It lends the
pupil gradually from the incipient steps in original composition up to a natural and easy expression of thought in all the varied style of which our
is capable. It may bi: used a.s a spelling, reading, .and parsing I
book; it u what our common schools need. We cheerfully commend the
work to the confidence a.nd patronage of the friends of education.
'
! (Signed)
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P. MONTGOMERY,
County Supt. Com. Schools, Southern Section, Jejfer&0&.
lht

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IX. Of Style nnd Idiom .
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X. Of uiffcrent Kin<ls of Styl<l :
XI. Perspicuity •
XII. Purity .
Xlll. Propriety
XIV . Precisro n
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XV . Perspicuity in the Structure of Sentences .
XVI. Of Clearness
XVII. Of Unity
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XVIII. Of Strength .
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XIX . Of Harmony
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XX. Of Sound united~ to the Sense .
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XX!. Choice of W erds with a View to Energy and Vivacity
· XXII. Critical Examination of Sentences

II.

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42'

'·c·B. ' VI •' of' iN ove. Isc,. . ··: fi .•-... :.. .> !· . ' .:."~Fi
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51
52
53
51

Of Figurative Language
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Of Simile.
Of Metaphof
Of Allegory .
.
Of Personification
"
Of Apostrophe
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Of Metonymy and Synecdocne
Of Cliinnx ·and Enumeratioo.
Of Antithesis
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Of Hyperbole and Irony . .
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Of Interrogation and Exclamation,
Of Vision and Alliteration .
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Of additional Secondary Tropes .
Of Miscellarieous Figures of Speech
Of Allusions. · • .. •
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- t~: XXXlX. CA-itical Examination of Passages containing Figurative
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Language·.
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,:·: ' XL. Of the morn General Rules foT Composition
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59
61
62
135
68
71
74

CHAP.

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97
100
101
102
104
10!>

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146
148
150
152
153
155
158
159
161
163

]65
168

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0RIGINA.L CoMPOSITION •.

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· HI. · Descriptive Essays ·
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· IV. Descriptive E~s ays (continu ed)
V. · Miscellaneous·Essays :
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.VI. Miscellaneous Ess;iys. (conti rucd) • , . •

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174
175
175
• 176
177 '

.

H1sT0Rv or ~ THE ENoi.lsu LANGUAGE .
·CHAP. I. . Of different Lang~ages ,
' ; ' \ ... :, . "'·>.<
\:.:l<c» • • t _,;~;;,_;_! >,' ,. ;~ 180
~ , · . II .. Of the Primitive Languages ·ofEurope"<'<t1> 1 ~ .,l,( , , .' .· . , 181
.,.
' III..OftheEnglishLanguage
. ' -.;:·• 'r.-· ·'"' ; '' : · " · • 182
IV. Of the early H!story of the English Language. JJ \..
. 184
V .. _The Effect on .1t of the Saxon (;onquest i_. •
_,'
• 185
VI.. The Effect on jt of the Danish Conquest · · ·• .'< l .
. • 187
1
;. , 188
i:
.VIl. . The .Effecton.itoftheNormanConquest .' 1, : ,
'p
VIII .. Of the Modern History of our Language . , · '-:. '. ·; . ;
. , , .- 190
f ·, . IX .. The.sameSuhjectcontinueLl ; '
• . · -, \ ' : f, ' , , ·
, 191 '
'[,: ~ . X .. Of Periodical Literature
..
i ' ;,· .',l ~ ~ . ;1 ~; r.
;. 193
•' '. · . XI . The component Patts of the English Language · •
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PART ·~·' VI .,;.,
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MooEHN BRITISH-. LrTERATURF! !~··
~ C}IAP. 1.: Engiish iiterature : und~r th.e Tud~r~ .~nd the first Stunrts' :
: ' . 11 •. English Litflratur~ from the. Restoration. to . the Reign of
f' :·.\. · '.
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Qeorge III,
.•
; , .\ : ' ' ' , "· N ·\ · . t/~ •
·
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,,~ · ' .' III.. English Literature of the present Age ,
: ... l: ;r.
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IV •. English ~ovels a!1d.Romances,.:1 :i •) _, ~>.. i • . : : • .>: , -::; ~ ·:·~ . -,
V. The Engh sh Perwd1cal Press ·,· ·" ; --i·r ·· " · ;' • .J ~; •
,
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VI, English }'hilo~opher~ and .Critics .of the present Century ,
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PART III.
OF THE DIFFERENT · l{1Nos oF ConlPOSITION.
• General Stlltements
CB.A.P. I. Of Letters
.
.
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Sx.cT. I. On Letter-writing •
•
It. Lr.tter-writing (continued)
.
III. Specimens of Letter-wTiting
~
II. Of Dialogue and E,nigmas.
III. OfHistory
.
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IV. Essays and Philosophy ,
V,. SE.CT. I. OratioI1$ •
•.
•.
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•.
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U. Cxiticisms on EveJlett, Webster> Calhoun, and Clay

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OF

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I.· Selection of proper Subjects •
II. Narrative Essays :
•· •

78
8()

90
92

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PART IV.

77

82
86
88

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OF FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE!.

XXIU.
XXIV.
XXV.
XXVI.
XXVII.
•-> XXVIll.
.• ;. XXIX.
:\ · -XXX.
~~ ,. XXXI.
,,.. XXXII.
; ; XXXIIT.
~ ·: XXXIV.
.~ XXXV.
•· XXXVI.
XXXVII.

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Ji-1' :.:rl'~:·
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OfBlank Versl! a~1d Rhyme _;' .' • . :}~/''.',';
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Of the Structure of Verse
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·Of Varieties of :Vers'e
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Of Poetic· Pauses :
.
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· XI. Of Pastoral a11d De~criptive Poetry ·
XII. Of Uit.!actlc nud Lyric Poetry
.
•.
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· SECT. II. ' Examples of English Lyrics •
X
XII!\~·. ·Of Epic P oetry ' :
·
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Of Dramati c Poetry'
. . •.
XV . Of Hyrnn~. Elegy, &c.
1 1. ·Of th e Sonne t ·
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X\ II. T he Literary Merit ancl Style of the English Dible ,'- ,
X Vlll. The Funn of llible Poetry
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VII.
VIII.
I.X .
X.

STYLE.

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CHAP. V. 'composition
VI. Genius.
VII. Taste .
VUI. SECT. I. Beauty and Sublimity in Nature
11. Beautiful and Sublime in Writing

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CONTEN'f,S.

CONTENT'S".
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114
114
117
12()
129!
13():
133:
13'1
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- :• . - :, \ . \., "· .·· :"1 : ' ' BRITISH l'ciErtJ ,\,,,_ '•;:·:')

VII.
- '.-

SEOT.

I.

Shn

k~;!~:~sms and Speci~en1.

, U. Milton

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199

202 . , , ~
203
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CONTENTS.

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SEC, III. Samuel Butler, Author of Hudibras
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IV. Young ,
V. Dr. Samuel Johnson, his Criticism on Milton
VL Alexander Pope
VII. Thomas Gray •
Vil[. James Beattie
IX. Thomson
X. Cowper •
.
XL Oliver Goldsmith
XII. George Crabbe
XIII. Samuel Rogers
XIV. Thomas Camphell
XV. Mark Akenside
•
XVI. Samuel' T. Coleridge
XVII. Robert Southey
XVlll. James Montgomery
XIX. J,ord Dyron • ' •
XX. Robert Pollok .
,
XXI. Mrs. F i D : Hemans.
XXII. Henry Kirke White
XXlll. William Wordsworth
XXIV. Thomas Muore
XXV. Robert Burns :
XXVI. ·sir Walter Scott

• 21g
• 220
' 222
• 223
. 227
. 229
• 230
• 232
• 236
• 237
• 237
• 239

• 241
• 2~2
• 245
• 246
• 25G
• 253
• 255
• 257
• 259

• 265
• 266
• 269

PART VII.

~)

AMERICAN POETS.

• 276
~IU.P. I .. SECT. I. Poets of our Revolutionary Period.
• 278
. II. Jameli K. Paulding.
• 278
· J ohn Pierpont.
•
• 260
HI. Richard H. Dana •
• 281
James A. Hillhouse
• 282
lV. Charles Sprague
• 283
.
. Charles Wilcox
• 283
. V • .William C. Bryant
• 285
Fitz.Greene Halleck
• 286
. VI. N. P. Willis •
•
• 288
Mrs. L. H. Sigourney 1 •
,
. 290
VII. Hannah F. Gould •
.
•
. 291
·
Lucretia and Margaret David1on
• 291
James G. Percival •
• 292
VIII. J. G. C. Brainard , .
• 293
' H. W. Longfellow ,
• 294
lX. John G. Whittier • '
• 295
X. A. B. Street .
•
•
• 296
XI. E.W. B. Canning .
•
•
•
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XII. Concluding Remarks on Ameri.can Poets
•
· 299
•· ··
ll. SICT. I. Sketch of American Literature i!in:ce 1815 · . · 300
U. The present State of American Literature, and its
Relation to that of England.
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• 302
Ill. Concluding Remarks upon our National Literature 30~

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~RELI~INARY .QBS~~Y~:~!~?~s .-j·/-.; .
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THE OCCASION FOR THIS WORK • . ' "'. ,1 ..

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experience in teaching has convin.ced the compil_e r that
none of the numerous works known to him on the subject · of
Rhetoric and Composition are sufficiently adapted to a larga .
class of scholars, in academies and common schoole, that need,
and are susceptible of, instruction in this important bran~h .of
knowledge. He has been compelled, therefore, by a.regard to
the interests of the young, and to the interests of the community',
~o undertake. the compilation of a work ·from the best sources,
which, being the result of long experience, marnot only · aid
teachers and scholars in this branch of education, but may render .
the pursuit of it more agreeable than any other treatise within
his knowledge. One great objection to almost every treatise hith- ·
erto furnished to schools, is their dry, uninteresting, and even reo
j>ulsive character in the view of the young; which, added to the
di~like to efforts in composition whic~ the Y.oung ge~erally ef!ter·
tj\m, render tliose works of comparatiT~ly Iittle service. , · • •.:.·.~
. LONG

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AMERICAN LITERATURE.

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THE IMPORTANCE OF THI9 BRJ.NCH Oi' ll:DUQJ.TION BEING MORR
EXTENSIVELY AND TtIOROUGHLT TAU<? HT · IN_ A~ADEMIES ' !.NJ>
COMMON SCHOOLS.
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· The compiler of the pr~sent' work begs ·1eave .to .express · his
. conviction that the labors of teachers in all "Cmr ·schools are' di.
rected too exclusively to the securing of correct habits in speaking and reading the language ; and that altogethtt .too limited
ainount of time and share of attentipn are e111:ployed in teachi':g the. art of
correctly WRITING-the language. · He believes. that durmg several
years of attendance at school, the time. of the pupil could not be
m.ore profi~ably emp~oyed, du~ing an h<:m~ ot a half.hour of.each
day, than m transcnbmg from books, or m t:ompbsmg, until the
_
art is acquired of correctly cornmittihg to paper . what may,, ® . ".'.~· :-_
heard or thought. To do· this, implies . ~ p'tat:tical and thorough · -.......:.::....
~
'knowledge llf orthography, punctuation, and proper use of capital. ·· -_ ·~
letters, in addition to a knowledge ·Of gratiimatical and rhetorical ·- -:. :;-J.
principles . . ·.·i· ·' . '• ,• '.. ':·· ·. . ;. ·'' .. ,,. ,,.·,·..... ·, ,:~7\ ·.: · · rr .:,"'f.-, • :-.:·-;-_:~
·. When we consider how .many, who have enjoyed the ' advan- :i" ·:~
tages of common and even of academic schools; are unable :to ~- -,~"'=~
write down their. own thoughts or t~!) spee'ches ofot~i~r persons' ·~ :~ - -how much occasion •every one has m hfe for the abihty to com- : ._;,:__--;:;;
municate or preserve his thoughts by writing; when we consider ~ "·--.~1
how many persons of strong 'powers of reflection make no record : i
1
of their valuable thoughts because they were not educated to the / · '1
vractice of it at school j 'when we consider, also, how difficult
.:;:1
and protracted· the proc~ss must be of learning to rednc~~our ·

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otJSERV~1'IONe~.l'RELIMIN'Atlf,,
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PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.

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mmatical and rhetorical acthougnts to a written form w1t~h~r~leasures, a~ well as the nucuracy; when we reflect u.pon and excellence m the art of ~om·
merous advanta&es, of readtess ure the attention, and the vigor·
osing, is it not imfortant o sec f arents to this long-neglect~us action, both o t.eacfersdar: i~ r\.~t desi;able that works s~all
ed branch of educa\10n . J~ shall be best fitted to secure the Ild
be used on ~he ~ub)~Ct It ~t not desirable that the young s~eu
porta~t end m view . est:nt instructers,-ro lbink and to write out
be trained, under co~p
eak their thoughts ?
their thoughts cts Ltadily as to~ tu al method of securing closeness,
Besides, is there a more e ec leteness in habits of"tboug.ht, ~ban
connection, accuracy, and c~i:'p n the subject ofinvest1gat10n 1
to habituate ourselves Jo fr~:a~a~g ourselves against vague~.~ss
Js 'there any better mo e o
e habitually employ? How o en
and obscurity in the langua1t w sed in a subject until we attempt
do we suppose. ourseh·es we vddiness of mind, or that of others,
to write upon it? Our o~n ~us eech as by writing.
.
is discovered not so. readil~h ~iJh accuracy would greatly aid us,
The habit o~ writing muc e with accuracy and elegance-a
also, in speaking the languag accom lishment. When about to
very great, but nothcobmlikely to i~quire of ourselves ho:V ";e
speak, we should t en e hl s we are about to commumca e.
would express on paper th~ l e\ly well when addressed to t~e
Many things that appear o e~a erha s ridicule, when subm1t'ear can not escape conde~nahon, p of t1fie English language, and
ted' to the eye . . The writing, th7,
art of the daily exercises .of
com osing in it, should for111; as re.gu ar a/ e . It has more to do "."1th
school as that of read~ng t~e .lan~i ~~ to all the powers of the
·intellectual disciplme, hw1t~ gibi~gbus1ness of copying accurately
hies grammars, or any
outhful mind. Even t e um
.from a book, fro~ readi~g books, ~i~f~~til can be done with
other text:book, is a s~1taf le exWhy i~ it that those who are ac.exactness m every pa~t1cu ar.- . office not only spell well. but
customed to set type ma prmtmgil but that they have thus emso generally learn ~o compos~~ela~guage ofthose who compose
.
..
plo ed themselves m copy~ng
·well 1 ·
h d were devoted to the wntmg
If one hour, the~efore! of eac. aya es of scientific and litera17
of our language, either. Jn ~opymg ;..,~tten form to the scholar s
works, or, afterv.tard, m. givmg
collections, there would be
own thoughts, observat10lsd. a~ 1i~e s\1ch a habit of mental a~­
•,gained so much of menta isc\a f cilitate his progress in all his
. lication and exactness, as w~u a
l ttcr there would, there·
, ~ther studies. . While, ~n rJ1~tl~~:ot~: ~bus' directly wit~1draf"'."'n
fore ·be no loss sustame
y . d the great positive gam o m·
frodi them, there ~ou.ld .be ~cqmre ower, besides a most valu·
d1scnmmation anfdlp ount the daily results of
C reased mental
.
· t
ing to a use u ace
nble readiness m .urn
·
l ex erience.
, the scholar's reading, obs~rvatth1~m, a~p<ect pa RADICAL CHANG& IN
. Do we not need, then, m is re
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ALL OUR SCHOOLS, and should not teachttt~ be expected and re~ I
guired to instr~ct. all their · scholars of a ~'Suitable h.ge from eig"'7
ht=.-;.~~~
years upw_ar'd, m. the ,manner referred to, at east-o e fiotit-:-of~acli '
day 1 a nd should : not, instructers qualify themselves.to Carry orit ,
the above system in a thorough and e,fficJent ina!}net 1 :1 Should·
not those be r£'f~sed emp~oyment who·are not competent 'to pto
tnote such an object succ~ssfully 1 , In respect to the precise agd
when such a cour11e ,may .be advanta eoue1y: c'ommdl'iced; it trt!ir-" _
be entered upon .as soo11 as-:pie sG-hpla · ~-&~le.t .- >rite= -l'eg'ibtf'1
hand, an sh.Orild::rbe continueg ttntil';..-tfie-att~on~omj>us'ing-.Mtefl :.. · ' ·
~as been matured., and.is, a~quiiM as ·perfectly:.88 th~ ~rt ~ spe,a~;; 4 •

rng.the

languag~
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Well. . ·. ~~r
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' ---~·OBJ CTS AHO PLAI'f , OF THIS WORK,. · .. ~ ~ ,·:··· · .~ ,{ ;\~,

· Its ~bject is to train the youn~ ~ind to think, and to be able to\ .
give a perspicuous, forcible, and elegant expression to thought ht
a written form. It is designed, also, to cultivate the taste, the
judgment, the imagipation ; to exhibit not only the rules; but c9~
pious examples , 0£ conformity to those rules, in the stupy of·
which · the scholii.r may leatn to criticise the literary efforts of
others as well as his own.' It combines. also, what is conceived; ' ,
important to the'· awakening of a literary spirit in our youth; ·a r .
succinct but satisfactory history of our excellent mother-tonguef · '.,
also of the classes of, writings which have _been composed in it/• - , ·
~n~ of t~eir wogress. towar? pe!~ection. '. Fo~ the saine purpb~; i · : .: ·· ··~
1t 1mbod1es bidgraph1caL and.cnt1cal notices of·t hecmost ,d1stm~ :;' , ... , _., ..
guished poets of Gteat Britai.ii an~ of t~e :Unit~d: Statest illust~~f. ::> ,.:,::·> ·
ted by a carefully-prepared selection from their wor\t.s, the dallf ~ "'l ,.. •·iA
study of whichfor a few we'e ks must produce important and ben•V .• ~':'."'f•.
7/
eficial results in a course of education. ·Notices are also givert '.
of other classes Of writers, of orators, of historians, a11d philos()I'! ··
·:,
pher~ . Critical remarks are made upon their merits and defects •:
_,.
-their prominent peculiaritie~. '. A brief histqry is given of Amer.1 · ··
ican literature from the eatly settl~ment of the linited' States to ~ ·
the present time-a portion 9f the ,work that should give it favor '.: '
with the patriot teacher and schola'i-.' The· characteristics of Eng: t
lish_and American literatu~e are set forth, .and estimates are pro• \ · .
duced of the comparative fuerits of each. It\ is belieV'ed , that.: -: '. .
such sketches and specimens will do more to awa~en that literary ~ : . :
spirit which gives birth to exi;ellence . and vigor in composition ·: · ·v·
than any other plan that has been adopted.' · The philosophy of;ri . ' : ;:~.':f,
rhetoric will thu~ · be acquired with little: ~~ffort, and;in such ~:'.; ,r t:"'.~
manner as to be a~ree~ble to' e-very qiindi :' ' -,... ' :,i->{;"t; .·~'"; '·.··~~ ---:-..•{ ' ""· . '
. rfhe work co~tams copious prac~ical ex.ercise8, fr~ : the~~st f:- . ~ . ''.~~
simple; progress1\"ely to tl,t.e µiost d1ffi~ult ;.:..and yet 1t' 18 behaved,!: -. ·1]!1
tliat no 'ex~r<tises ·are· introdu~e_d which. from their di.fficulty, 'can/{ · , ;.
not and ,will not be used, as 1s too much the case. with books on·:· " .. f~i-; ": :·
composition. ' The character of these exercises will; in part,·be 1"' :' · ~·,,.·~
seen by a reference merely to the table of t:ohtents. - .. · . · . ·'" ;~ - .· .~-- ·
In the compi~a~~ort, the _author has had reference to the wants .:··.·:'"···;-,_":""·'
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xii

PRELIMINARY

I

of CoMMON ScHooLS as well as of_ academies, and has rendered

;t of a character suitable to the middle and ol~e r classes of the

former as well as to students in the latte~. ~e is persuaded ~hat
no wo;k is more needed ~han one ~f this kmd. Large port10ns
of i.t mlly be used for reading or parsmg lessons.
· . In his selections he has been guided by a r~gard to the moral
ft.~ well as literary culture of the youth~ul mmd. He has also
drawn largely from distinguished· American. authors, man~ of
whom will bear an honorable comparison with the best wnters
of the parent c.ountry. ·
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souncl!:s WHENCE

THis

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PlU~tlMlNAA\' ; ODSEllVATt.ONSa

OBSERVATION~.

woRk HAS DEEN DRA.WN.

· ~he author lays no claiip, i~ this work, to .an original pro~uc­
tion. It is merely a compilatio j yet he claims to have denv~cl
.it ·from the best and most recent so11rces-to nave emorac ~d m
his plan ·a more comprehensive course ot mstru~ u ?n than wil! be
found in other works oh rhetoric-to have u sed, m its. preparat10n,
- the labors of such authors as are worthy of t?~ h1gh ?st confidence, and to have empl,oyed ~reat care and cj1hgence m the arrangement and mutual atlaptatlOn of the ,materials h~ ha~ thrown
together. He offers it, therefore, to the hte~ar~ pubhc with more
confidence than he \\rould dare to entertam m reference to &n
original production of his own.. H e ~op es, on th e same ground,
· for its adoption and use, extensively, m the common schools and
academies of our state
.
£
'!'lie-basis o the work con~ists of Co!l~el's C~tech1sm o Co.mposition, entir.e, and of ~portions o ReHl s ~uchments of: Enghsh
Composition, ootb recen ~ainhurgn puo11cations. With tliese
has been incorporated abridged and selected matter from Beat. tie's Rhetoric, Blair's Rlietoric, Montgomer:(s !'ectures on P oetry and other Literature, L acon, J?r .. Spnng s L.ectures,., Dr.
Cheever's Lectures, and some other s1m~lar pr~duc t10ns.
The De artment of English and American Literature ha~ been
supplied chiefly from.Chambers's History of Literature, ed~ted by
.' Robbins, a very cunous and .v.a luable work ; frm.n Hal~ s an~
· Frost's Selections from the Dnt1sh Poets i. from Gnswold s, Ket
tel's and Cheever's Collections of Amen~an P oetry; fr~m the
North American Review and the Democratic , from Scotts, Wilson's and Macauley's Miscellanies, a.nd Hazhtt's ;Lectures.
· Co~siderable attention has b~en paid t? .the subi ec t of LETT Eb•
WRITING, on account of its universal ullhty,. anc~ the deplora . e
need of instruction that ~xten s 1v ~l¥ pre vails m regard to it.
Beautiful examples of this km~ ?fv,:ntmg have been selected, that
may answer, with slight mod1ficat10ns, as mo.dels of the sty1e to
be aimed at by those who have y;et .to learn this elegant and most
useful art.
.
. ·
th
'!er
In the criticism$ drawn from vanous pubhc at10ns, e comy1 h
hns aimed lo present a candid and brief, yet full state~ent, o t e
peculia rities of style belonging .t<_> ~he authors quote<l, m thfe studr
of which the art of litera ry cnt1c1sm and the elements o a corrP.rt. hid.~ m"v hP ,.,.nnirPrl . with Pmrnl forlllt.v "nrl nlP-a111ure.

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. · Th~ n.uthor had prepared, .chiefly '£rom <?h11.~bers's Histoty, 'by

Robbins, a sketch o.f American authors m : the various · depart~
tnents of liternture, but ·has laid it aside, to avoldincreasing too
lll~cn the size . ~f the book; and must content hfrns.elf, therefore;'
Wlth otHy referring the student to the Work above rtatned ... The
geMtal Review, liowever, of American Literature at the clo11e
of this volume. is perhitp~ sufficient, Without the ·pther. \ · ·, , · . _i
In respect to the History and Character of the English L11ngwtge ,
and Literature, Mr. Conhel, ih his Preface, justly remarks, "If to
compose Well .be llh object of importance, no le~s so is a know}.
edge ,of the history and the character of the Ettglish language
and hterature. For this reason, a succhict account of both 0£1
the~e . subjects, from the earlieet ~o the preMl1t times; hes 'been'
subJome.d. to what relates more . immediately to the in!Htcr. of1
Compos1t10n. All the important facts, with. their cauM~ and
con~equ.ence~, co!lnected. wit~ this s~bject, Will be · found . im•
boshed m this bn!'lf detiul, atid the different chll.racters . of the
Eryglish language ahd literature, at different periods. carefully
pointed out" .
,
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·.· Tpe present work is desigtied as a sequel to the ordinarv te.xt• books on gr'amm~r; yet th~re ar~ parts of it which mav be .advantageously used ln cohtlex10n With such text-books. 'rhe author.
Wo?ld also suggest to teachers the advantage of itltroducing into
their school~,, !ts preparatory to the use either of this work or .o f
a grammar, sorne ' such exercises as the followitig, which haveproved highly Us~fu~ in the ittstitution with which ' the .author is
Connected._ In his J~dgment, .all o_ur coinmon schools as~ well
as acadennes, w~ere tney have not been Used; ' w:ould 1
be 'ffitith
improved ,by ,the mtroduction. bf ~hern.
: , , , ,. ;·;
!::uiwrstt.s suiTAnu 1'o. t>Rtw-tnti: AND 1'o
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ACCC?MPAN.Y~ '1'~.E itis~

OF THIS BOOR', " . - ·

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1. Scholars. as soon as tl}.ey ·are able to Write. a. legible hancl,
~hould daily be employed in · copying their readiti g-books and
othe.r text-hooks, to familiarize th ~n:i ~ith correct spellihg, punc•.
tuation, use of capitals, and. the. ch v1s10n of para~raphs into sen-.
tences, as well as the con:ih1tlat10n _of senten~es mto paragraphs.,
,2. They should be. required to w n te down, li1 atl accu rate man-,
.ller, What may be sa.1d or read to them by' their teacher · and this
process of verbal dictation and w riting should fo rm 'a regular'
'
... ' ' '
aaily exercise in every school '
3. As the easiest method bf beginr.ing to learn . tJ compose,
when scholars shall have occasion to speak to their teacher on·
nny subj ect, let them occiu1ionally, each i:tay, be required to write
down on paper, o~ on a slate, ,what they desire to ·eomtnunicate,,
Let them be required to do this until tnev shall be 11.ble .to tratis-.
fer their' thoughts, Otl ·familiar subjects,
paper, 1tl a ready, M
well as an exact manner. ·Let their wrjtten .c ommunication in .
each Case, be Critically examir;ied; a nd all its en:_OrS pqmted, O~tJ:
a.nd let neatness of penmanship be duly regarded •. : '.. ::· :·:i 1 : 1 • .· .:,

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PRELIMINARY OilSERVA'I'IONS,

4. 1t ~11 oe fo~hl:g~amrtt.a.g_em~!tl~~ng-1it11d.entJ. to
the nraelrc:e--o·f.vrrt1rrga ~ournal Q-f lien: o5scrva mrrsan - :al m•
tmm:.TE.e.xel'.:' -d
e-cucnl,,uFm-cttl-ent:s=:w'hie · · -- mre-o~·curred
t - - emse ¥es~o-l'=etlfol"s, ~.,e,._
5; In the judgment, of the author, the best purposes of English
grammar would be answered by requiring those who study it to
write out, carefully, all the Exercises in False Syntax, and to
require them to rewrite such exercises until the scholar shall
have attained perfect grammatical and literal accuracy. This
practice would be found a readier help to the art of writing and
of speaking the language correctly, than that of employing, or,
rather, of wasting months and years, as is too commonly done, irt
simply parsing the language. Parsing is good, and necessary, in
its place, but mischievous when used as a substitute for writing
off correctly the Exercises in False Syntax. _
By the phrn thus recommended above, of writing off printed
matter which is correct in Syntax, and of correcting Exercises in
False Syntax, and wri~ing off a correct copy of them, the surest
method will be adopted of making correct writers and speakers
of our language, which is one of the most important uses of English grammar. ·.
·
. 6. ln addition to the above suggestions, l'!ltudents who are engaged in the study of Latin and Greek, or of French authors,
8hould be required, once or twice a week, to furnish correct and
tasteful translations of portions that may be designated by the'
teacher. This will serve to make critical scholars, not only in
respect to those languages, but in respect to our own.
7. It is earnestly recommended that all the Practical Exercises
in this work be carefully written by each scholar using it. When
_convenient, the short exercises may be written iii the class, and
the longer passages at home, to be afterward examined a11d cot·
rected by the teacher.
·
8. The author would recommend that all the parts of this work,
except the first, be used in the ordinary reading Exercise until ren•
dered perfectly familiar. Thus the arts of Reading and of
Rhetonc may be learned simultaneously. Young scholars should
read over each lesson, in the class, the day before it is to be recited.
9. This work 1s constructed, especially Parts VI. and VII., as a
book for Parsing. When so employed, the teacher should elicit
rhetorical as well as grammatical principles. He should also
study to improve the literary taste arui£Iit.ical_powers of the student. - .;
-•
_
10. [ ;r_corr.ecting the E:z:ereues and ,Oomposit1ons of stu~ents, Hie
autlror- m s founff great advantage m the use of red1 ink. The
errors are th.us...rendered conspicuous, and, to sensitive scholars,
f~rmidable .. T~ey are not pleased ~ith the glaring c_haracter
given to then' mistakes, or with the disfigured aspect which such
corrections in1part to their paper, and are led to greater care to
avoid the evil in future essays.
'
'

" :'f
.

PRELTMIN ARY .. OBS.ERV A TIONS

.

.

·. '

•

X'V"

. 1:he corrections should be arr
.
.capitals, proper division into ~ t1cular, relating to ortnography
as to sentiments and alleged f:;tseuces and paragraphs, as weJi
!o\ ex~end to ~he alteration of the ~t et /he_cotrect1ons should
. au ty' lest originality be sacrificed e 0 the wn~er, ~nless very
'l'he
.
.
o accuracy or polish.

rr
. comptler will consid 1 ·
for lus labour in prepa .
y. umself well rewarded·

'\

h_is young countrymen r~~~t t II~ work .for the use of
into their hands' .
s.hall find Its way e:x:ten~ecure _to them suitabl~ i~~;~;.If ~roperly. used , it will
m lhe -mdispensable art 'l . luc~10n, while at school,
recommended
H"
\\ He 1 Is here set forth and
th i ·
.
.Is strongest d
.
.
.
. e iterary management of sci es1r~, i n relation to
cha_nge
may
. iools,
th · · IS, that
' a .radical
·
. soon be . i'nt ro d uce d in
tton, both m common schools
e c~urse of instrucembrpce, and secure tlie
tnd academies, until it shall
communication of tlwuahtar '}( ~he ·ready and elegant
the tong1fe· A chang:'Jik ~h. t ~ pen, a~ well. as with
to. the diffusion of valuabfe tl1s will contnbute greatly
with the breath ' or even
. 1hug~1ts that now vanish
w~H add much to social ;ani~ ~1.thotit utterance; it
will advance the im
. nd rnd1v1dual happiness. it
tive vigor of the humparonver:iednt, ,and increase the
·
B
mm
. · ·.
SI vely

~

lack River L and R .l · .·
·
n atetrtoum, Jefferson c~ N.' Vi ' n_,stilute,

ur

;

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na- '
-

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.r..,~ugust, l,1844,f -'-,"

;·.•·· ·'' '

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:~·

.PART I.

~ .• I '

..

~ ,"".. ;

•

.

'~

...

:PRACTICAL EXERCISES IN THE USE OF WORDS;_ IN 'trHE
STRUCTURE AND ARRANGEMENT UF SEN'J'.~NCES.

.•.

'

. •

0D u c T I b r.t'

~ >I N t R
-

·,

'

...

'

_... Co~Pos1T1~N is·
,art
mI ~~ ·

the

ten..!.lafl

.

. .

::; : 11 '!>! I ' ' )

. .

' ' ··; · r
.

.

' ·1·

.

r

of. expressii1g iq~ as )n )yrit,,

·

·

, .

.. .

to .ha,ve· a..
knowledge of Spelling, Punctuation, the Use ·
of .Words, and the Structure and Arra1igetrient · oj" Sen limc~s. -,· ·
___ ,.
· ·
·, ·. ;:'" · : · . ·, ,:· .- ·:~·:: ...
. ~ .To compose with perspicuity and elegance,)t -is
also neGessary to. ~~Ve a practical k,now,~e~g(f of' the', ,
various q~aliti~s; 9($tyle, ~n~ of, tqecuse ·qf 'Figurative ,
·~. .Tu-:-eompos-e correct.Iy, it is necessary~

pract~cal

..,

\•

I

Language. ,-, , . :.· ..

1-,i:.

. .,. :~·~.r:.i~,,'- .~: •'>~_ ,, ~. ·,

{~-

:i!.>L·\1.

.
1

.

:-,

To be able to write :with-facility, it.i~ farther necessary to have .consl.de.rable: practice : '.fo ,;Ori~inal Com:..

p~si~io~'.-.; ,:~."- •·;//i'.: >..;·:·~.., ·•:-_:- .:·- ::~J . , , :\J1~·-';:~t~- :;;; :;;;:·; il ;~:;.~i ·, .
"· · · '\

.:, ,,_ ~,

. .'. J.-'SPEDLINGr'.

1• 1··:;: ·~·11•;'?

., ._., .~

<j;. ;,~

. .·

JI

7

.

. . VSPELLING is" th~ ·~rt i'of : exp~'esslng' 1.\\i-ofdE( h)i',~ Hieii : ' _·
pm per_letters: ,. ·. · · . . '.- .. . ) '~ -;'· . . '} . !.~ · " · ''.' : ~

_ · Letters ate of t~_o forms, capit_ats ·_and ,sT11_al.l,letter..J~:
:-..:1
. . .,
. '.
.J i
~ '
'· · ~EG'IJON L - o; 1;,'.; r:. • dJ · ·
. ~ . . . ,,• .... 1 ; :· .

.

!

·C L ~ .. ~

C~PIT.AL

0

. •

·!! :- H•'~ · f' " ·',~l?~J

.

LETTERS • .. ,'.t. ,'"'> , i ,. ~. :. · .:

1 •

-~· ' . ' .' '. ••:. i-:· _

CAPITAL LETTERS are :used in · Lhe· foliowing situa:. ··
~i~n_s : '.
. ~-, ' ·.: ;,, ··.' , ~- .·.:. - :« ~ '· :1(~:' i•;~~1 .;~ ·f , .ti .,
, t , , ti'
, .. , , · .}; The .first word.- o.f every_s~ri~ence~ .. r.. rl::·,,\ ·=N~i;·~c- :-_ ".. "'
._ ,
IJ. The .f irst .word o_f every. lme .of poetry·, ,h ~ .{J.'1..~ .... - '··
:·; .-;,, III. 1~ 'l)fi~ : fir~t ·..~o~d.· .o~ ' a:·~:qrn?!.~~~.~~-;-in.\~ :;~~if;<~~ -.~·t~

.rr\

1

'

·,:

' .

orm. . ·
. ;_· ·· :.-·;,_
. ,_,~~ '· ; ···"('•Ji:t'iiJ-iJ;ctt·'"'~J~f.~f :-'tr'.. ,,~
. · ~r· ·~ IY . .Th~ names of the Supreme :Be mg ,. ;f :.~ <: · <:: ·: •.i ;'> 1; .
_V,'· Proper · names, · and · adjectives ' derived · ftPIJit '·"'· . -'"'~·~:.
. • .f'l, !°",.J~ U t,:1 /' i.Y'.J t"f\ '
} • ~.!,
~proper na~1 s. .
·
. . .
. .. ----:- · ...
" VI. The .names of the days -of· the ,w eek, and of · ' . -:1 ...... ,,;..,.-,
t~,~ ,~1~:~1~th~ O,\~h e ,year. : , .'. ..: .: ;~ · - . , ,,/· --' • • _ -.=~
'

'.' '

·

1

,_:

e·

,

2

,

.

• ..I

.,

l

ilr•,

,_. '. ' '

\

. ·, ' . .

'1

~ ;ii

SPELLING.

18

(PART I.
1
VU. ' The first monarch of great britii.in and irelatfa; after' .t he tevolutiott
<If 1688, 'was william th~ thirtl. ' the rl'J i~n of· his nccessot, 'q ueen anne,:
was rendered remarkable by the victories of the duke of Marlborough o.D!
,th~ COntitient of europe, and the Uri.ion .b~twee~ eligl.a~~..imq scp!l~<l ~ :; i'd
' '·' .'"
VIII. I am monarch 11f ~11 i' !ni.ney, ·· .,.. .. .-. .,-><., f ,:.·' . · ,
- ·.
·
my right th~re is n<•ue to dispute ; ',.
.._ '!. ' ·· . ' : ··' i ·
''
from the centre all rou.:id to the ~ea, ~"' ''. :· ~· · · ·, · . I ·
.i am lord of the fowl and the brute ..'. · : 1 ": , ' ·. ,: C,·1.,
· IX. ·o solitude i. whete a.·e the ·charms · ··.'\ ~.1>.\ t' .o ;,
, that aage1 ~ine see:i in thy facet ...... .,,1 ,., • • ·, .. • , ,
· • '
.·
.b etter dwell m the rr.1<lst of alarms, . · . _· . ·~ .. , ,· :· .
1
•·. 1 ·. ·
' thanreign~nthis\lotribleplace • ." -:i _!•.•.:.•n:':•:,1i· 1
•
,·
(
1
~ The hope or future happiness is a perpetual sotitce of tfon~olation to good
men. .u nder trouble, it soothes their minds ; amid .temptation, it sup.; ·
J>orts thliit: Tirtue ; and, in their dying rnomenti, it enables them to. aay,;
,, '·' o death! where is thy sting 1 o grave ,! where is thy victory 1'~ . ;:· ... ·

., VII. Any very important word ; as, the Reforma·
.

t1on.
. th e m
. t erJec
. t"on
0•
un I and
1
Th
VIII. . e prollnothe ~ame of an object personified.
· IX. Genera Y
EXERCISES.

followmg, passa~e~ :
h
Correct the errors in the
k
nder proper subordination to t e

I. The love of prn.~se. shoul~ ~e 'Jste~ul motive to action; but when al·
principle of dutJ:. .m itself, it is r:°" "t corrupts the whole c~aracter._ to
lowed to extend it• infl~en~e too trt i to be governed by it, is depravity.
be entirely destitute of 1t, is dbe ~~v~lent intention ap~ear every whe!e
How me.ny clea.r marks. o
e beaut and brnament IB poured f~rth m
around us! what a prhofus1on of ifirentyspectacle presented to the view of
the face of nature ! w at a.. magn .
ts 1
man i wha.t a supply contnved for his .ra:s ~n the slothful and lazy 1 to
o~ whom doe• time ~ang .so ~e~~/~re so often devoured with sp)een;
whom a.re the hours so lmgenn'fi: t hich can help them to get nd o
and obliged to Jly to every e.xpe ien ' w
t.hemselvea t
I Restless mortals toil for .naught; .
J . bliss in ta.in from earth is sought,
hliss a native of the sky,
neve~ wanders. morta.ls, tr,Y ;
.
there you cannot seek ~n vam,
·
,
for to seek her is to gam.
.
k d What things he thought most
III. An ancient heathen king, ~~nr; ~~o:e which they ought to practice,
proper for boys to learn, answ~re ·wiser than this heathen monarch has
when they come to h.e me~. "t~ain up a chiltl in the way he \s hould go,
t ught the same sentiment.
f
' t"
a~d when he is old, he will not depar~ r~ l~otto That time was his es•
celebrated philos':'phe.!_,~f P;::~~;nn~~~ing without cultivation: but
tat~: ~~lle=~~t:da~3~c~epay the labors of industry.
,
which
There lives and works
'
IV. ,
all things, and that soul is god.
1 in
d of all himself through all diffused,
t et ~r and is the life of all that lives.
SUll B.111111
d
;i' . •; •
' • tb01111 are thy glorio~s w?rks, prLfrent o{ goo .
··
,
· hty 1 thine this uruversal re.me ·
.
.
b f
holland and roots from ger•
a1m1g
V. Our f\eld• a~e cover~d wit\ h'!!e~isr~~urnips; ~ur hills with forests
many. with flem1sh farnung, an ~ d the oplar of the south of europe
of the 'fin of norwny. t~e cl~h:~ufl::rish sfuubs and ftowe~s, from ev~ry
adorn our lawns, and b_e ow
b' improves our hor&es, chma our pigs,
.
· great profusion. ara 111
cl 1me, m , .
ultr and spain our sheep.
north amenca. our po
y, .
· ed at liverpool on tuesday,
VI We left home on mond~f momm~e~~~dlly and reached this ulaca
'
,.-eni to manchester,
. by the rai way, on
on thursda.y evemng.
h
'
·
Blessed t at eve ·
th , II bbnth'• harbinger, when, all complete,
·,

r

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. '

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~ I'

~.

;

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· ··" ~

SECTION II. "··
/

"-;

RULES FOR SPELLING;

_"

'

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~\ ~

IJt;•\,;C ,_ . J
.. I ~
!~• ' ;
I

.; , : .

1.

I

...

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Correct~ess i~ Spelling_is to be acquired chl~fly by'·
attending ·to the . practice ' of the best modern ,w riters
and lex.icographers ; by -· fr~q\.tent copying' frori1 books ;'
and by writing (rom the .dictation of th~ teacher, 'Which'

s_h?~~d ~,~ , p~rs.~~·~ 1 f. W;~tf~,t~::a.,~,~~~~zr;!.~~;~ '.~~~~.~~f~. l ·; f ,f
·

.., '· ...' ..,-_··

~ 11.

.'

pT+NCTU '1 '"JO
. iT\
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1
'

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,·-...('\-..!
.
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~ ~.~ :>\"~~ . -•-tf,· f'i;

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•..;- n1··.: ....,,..r
· • ••

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'

. Tm:· PoINTS used in Composition; are the Comma(,) ;~
: the Semicolon(,;); the Colon(:), the Per-iod (.), the P6int1
of Interrogation Ok the ·. Point df Exclamation (!), ,the ' ·
Dash (---), and the Par~nthesis ( ). · ·' ' : : .. , ;, ~·, " '. ..... : .l
For Rules of Punctuation, consult Grammars ~ · ; i;)
Nd ii1~tnicter, or iritellig~ht pupil, can 'r end the following remarks ~n

\BOf

efrte~shebst10b0ema::i!\~r~: i:g::,~h;~3f;h1; faoe

'

' 1.

' A

in
crea ion
• .
smiled like a ileepm( babe.

\'

,i

,,

•<

Purir.tuation (extracted from the ''Young Ladies' Ow'rl Book''), and not be:
thoroughly convinced, and thllt in a manner ~he moat amusing, of. the ne•
. cessity of acquiring a prnc~ic!ll knowledge of this art-the att of so point- ,
1 ing o~r eentenc.es a.s to ~onvey. our meaning withotit, am~~.u i ty. !.. ··. '"· .[
.';

PUNCTUATION . IS. A MATTER OF '.l'Ha ,UTMOST 1CONSEQUENCE
IN ,E YERY SPECIES ' OF COMPOSITION : withput it then~ cart 'be ,

)
...i,"-·-.·
clearness, strehgth,, or accuracy. Its utility corisistf in ;
separating the different ~ortiohs of what is written; iµ such
•' ..
a mariner, that the &UbJects may be,properly, classed and sub-· · .
divided, so as to. ~onvey the preei~e meaning' of the writer , ·
to the reader; to show the relation which the vatious partsi
' . ·'· ~
bear to eacr other ; to unite such as ought ,to .be con,ne,cted, .
and to keep apart such as have no 'mutual dependance.. , .' .·
of different modes' of punctu~ ' /'
. The Saine words, by ineahs
·.
, '
''

no

<. L

<

20

PUNCTUATION•

[PART Ii

ation, may be made to express two meanings exactly opposite to each other~ an ambiguous passage may frequ~ntly
be rendered clear by a comma; and the sense of an unin·
telligible sentence be made manifest by the simple remedy
of a couple of colons, judiciously applied. Were many letters to be read aloud, precisely as they are written, they
would sound like the mere " farrago of nonsense."
To acquire the leading principles of punctuation, no better
plan can be adopted, than. to · copy page after page of good

editions of modern authors--eopying the points as well as
words. It is also · advisable.to copy occasionally a page or
two without capitals or points ; and after it has been laid
aside a ' few days, to endeavor to write it again .w ith the
proper points. By a subsequent comparison with the original, the writer may discover the errors made, and guard ·
against similar blunders in future exercises.
To shOtJ? the necessity' of not merely using points, but of punc. tuating properly, examine the following passage :
·

, " The persons iilside the coach were Mr Miller a clergy- .
man his son a lawyer Mr A,ngelo ,a foreigner his lady and a .
littl~ child" · .
~. ·
. · · ·
' This passage, thus 'w ritten without points, is unintelligible : 'by.different modes of punctuating it, several alterations
may be made in its , sens.e ; not only as to the number of
persons in the coach, but, :also, as to their country, professions,.and ·relationship to each other. By a change of points,
the lady·may be described as the wife of either one of two ·
person's { -Mr .. Miller's son may be made a clergyman, or a
lawyer, at will; or his son may be taken from him and given to 3: clergyman; whose name is not mentioned. ·
. The following variations, by use of points, will equally
amuse and instruct :
(1.) "The persons .inside the coach were Mr. Miller, a
clergyman, his son, a lawyer, Mr. Angelo, a foreigner, his
1
1
lady, and a little child."
· .
.
:' By this mode of pointing, it would appear that there were
eight individuals iri the coach, namely, a clergyman, a
lawyer, a fo_reigner and hi~ 1ady, a little child, Mr. Miller,
Mr; Angelo, and the clergyman's son.
(2.) ''The perscns insid~ the coach were .Mr. Miller, a
clergyman; 'his son, a lawyer; Mr. Angelo, a foreigner; his
lady; and a little·child."
· . ·.
.·
· This chang'e in the punctuation would reduce the parties
in the coach, ~xclusive of the lady and child, to three per·

.,USE,. OF ;'.WORDS.

:PART 1.]

er:

sons
Mr. M'll
, ·' and make
i er h·.1mself a. clergyman· · Mt Mil
.
so,? a 1awyer, and. M~. Angelo a foreigner. , _, , ·,. - .
. ( .) The .persons mside the coach were Mr M'll
.
1
c1ergyman, his· son ;· a lawyer Mr A 1 · , . . ; · , ~ •.. ~.r' .a
lady, imd a little child."
i · · . n_
ge o, a fore1gn~r;· his
Here Mr. Miller's son becomes a cler
... !
a la'Yyer, and the lady and child th
Mr. Angt:ilo
0 fgy~an-,.
1
nameless.
.
· , , , ,, ' ose , a ore1gner 'Who is
1 (4.) "The .persons inside the 'coach were Mr . M'1/: : .
c ergyman, his son . a la\vyer . M A 1 .. . . I er ' a
lady ; and a little cbild.,, ' ' . '' .r. . nge ~}. ,a r~~e1_gne~i ~
Mr. Angelo here ceases to be a 1~
. h · . · ..
0 "

1

~·

f;!r•0~·;~~g~~rir~~: 1~: 1~~;hi~"te~~'tej~d~:~l ~~!· r~'.

,;

eigner, and Mr. Angelo's wife. and the ~·1t~ bemg aJo~
stood as being ~kin to any per~bn in the c I his not un ~rr
Other alteratwns might b
d 1.
coac .
bty a.hltering the
6as7 .
. ont; . o s ow the necessity of . . . . .
. _e en
8CCOrd With ~he fact. }~; ~S inten~r:~~t~~r~~~p~S'a~e '$~.aS),~~

sd~g~

pun~t:a~!n ~ :ulh:~~r:n~f~!1ls

1(

.
.
··. ;_~
. III.· . us~ : OF ·WORDS '':'''." -i) i '!''!~:
'
1
W~nn~. are divided~accordi~g· to th;it···u$ .~L1~· }·" - ~ •.
pressmg ideas,
- '·~·tit<1".h·1l1
;:
- .~ ;--~,h
- -~;x1r
. into
. ~- nine
. . classes ,~·na.m·
,__ . e1Y•·
· I • Articli!s,
,,, .·_~ · • ' \ ".if "'~ '
f
ror hwords which·· . 11· ·m.i't '-ih'
·~ .,: s1gmuca.. .
ion o ot er words. \' . , ._ · ;_,; ,-.~: ,,·,;r :,,1•/ -·
II. Nou'!s, or . names . of persons ·., on}aces· ·~d·
. · .J ,

thmgs.
· .
· :,. ·
.' -t' :
'
..
III. Adjectives, or \Vords which qualiff~b~ti~~.; .i,<~·
IV. Pronouns, or words used in place of Ii u,', ;~'""
V . . Verhs, ·or words .w hich affirrn. ·, .~_., ·' . ~ ._ns. ,_ ,, ·

VI. Ad~erhs,

VII.

or words ·which qualif}f verbs ~d' "c~'.

tive~, .or other _adverbs .. '· ": . .:. ,~· 1 . . -~.;'.i ~-~.- :· '. '
Prepositiqns, or·. ~ords which :_ ~ho,W~ th~:. ~efa \

·
ti?n ?~on~ thmg to another. :. ·r. '. ;~ · ;···\', .. t~. i
. Viii. Con;unctzons, or ~ords :whiph .cOri~e~t 'Wbtd~:
and sentences ·

1x~ Interjec~iotif~
or:~ords
emotion.
· ., .
'

.·•

" . " . ·. · · ..~~ ;" · ""' (',. -. n
·whicll
, ''.· ··.,i'.... ·,;;·:
, .. · ..._.., . p .. ~'

~~~es~ :'~~Ja~~' \

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.~7''Jai~·:.

·;' ·1f -• 1,: .

' )' '' ·._'.·..: .-.· :.;:' .'. . -i~~~.h,<·
' : '\:_.\
.
.

.

'

·.

.

.

.

. · ,-..
__

USE OF WORDS;

(PART l.

SECTION I. ·.

,'

ELLIPTICA.L SENTENCES.

.. , ' Supply the words omitted in the following examples:
garclen.

house.
honour.
flower.
apple.
. abRhine.
variety.
clouds.
rainbow.
earthquake.
ornament.
sun.
Pope.
pens.
be~s.
laws.
continent.
riTulet.
Thames.
An obedient
A
A strong
. Awise
II. A good
A fragrant
. The verSh11dy
A happy .
diligent
The king's
• An affable
A peaceful
dant
is the
of
discover!!
a
li.ttle
duty.
The
and
III. A :
,sea. Tb.e
tempest. A
cavern.
iltrenms. A
winter.
doTes. The
· firmament.
war .
breeze&. : An
countenance. A
agreement.
. A
Jut. ' ·
subject. A resolution
, artd
mind is an
treasure.
hon
. IV. am sincere
art industrious.
is disinterested.

' I.
fields.

our them. .
encourage
·commend
assisted
C0mpleted
JOUrney,
I
fearS WilJ detect
• ],et
improve .
will!
choice 1 ·
· books are
1
best friends
,.
are
,
tell
of
faults, and teach
how to correct
V. Vice
misery.
your lossons. The book his : it
mine. Her work
.. · her credit. Your conduct
their npproba·
talents to
not of the favours you
It
tion. All'
a great blessing to
_p ious and virtuous parents. Whatever
ah6
the heart. They who
nothing to .
often
th~
relief to others by · ' ·
what they
we to
«)hamhers of sickness arid distress, we
frequently
them
·with the victim• of intemperance.
vr. The t11sk is
performed : , We
, resolve, but
per·
form. He bas been . diligent, and . .
deserves to succeed. We aro
and
'
formed .
will ther arrive 1
shall we stop 1
the lark sings !
· JS
no greater
' · on a life
.and .
em·
felicity, than to be :able to look :
ployed. · · . .
.
.
They traveled
France
Italy. .
virtue
Tice
the progress is gradual. We are often
our wishes,, and .
our
desert. .
· this imprudence he was plunged
.new d1ff~cultJe•· , The
best prepantion
all the unce.rt~intie~
f~tunty, C?llSIStS . a good
the will · Heav~n'.
...
conscience, and a cheerful subm1ss10Ii
yrn. My father · mother are in, to~vn,
my brother 1s m the countr~. \Ve must be temperate, we would be be.a~thy. ..
.h e is of~en
advised
hu does not reform.
pro,penty
11dvers1~y has 1.m·
· proved him. ·Her talents are more brilliant
· useful. · There 1s n ntlung
on earth
stable
to 11ssure us of undisturbed .rest,
powerful
to afford
constant protection.
.
· Virtue ,! •how amiable thou art !
.· me! what shall I .do l .
; JX
Thou who reignest above!
! 1 have been . too often occupied w~th
trifte11.
! the delusions of hope.
, Sim'p licity ! s.ou,rcc of gonnme
joy.
! how the tempest rages!
. ! how pleasant 1t 1s for brethren
to dwell t.ogether In unity!
}. An
youth la~cnted,
terms of sincere
, the death of
~na+
nn.rent. His companion
to console
by
0

vn.

us

PAJl'l'i

t.J

23 ' ' 1•

refle~tion·,
h e h a· d '
· b. eh·aved
·
·'. ·the· deceased • .; duty, tehder'
ness, ·
respect . . " . I thought;" replied the ·- ·.· · "while
paren\
was
; but
•
· ! with pain . · · soiroW, ''. · "1 instances , · :
disobedience and
for which,
! it 1s
late to
, atonement. it
. 2. 9n a
morning ' summer, two bees,. . forward in , . . of honey ;
the
wise
temperate, the ' cateles11 nnd •. · They soon
.
·T
herbs, the most , , . ,' . "'uowers,
theat a garden
t
f with
·
mos
ru1ts.
hey regaled
with the various
that
~pread before '
: the one . :.. · t. his thighs, at in·
tervals,
provisi~n~ for the ·,
against the
winter:
other
reveled in
, without
.
to o.ny thing
. his present · '
/
At
they
\!- w1d~·mouthed vial,
· hung beneath ,· . .
~hmgh _. a peach-tree, . . with honey ready tempered, and exposed t~
•eifr. \n
most allunng
thoughtless epicure in
of
·1fito
·
' to· ·
h ish · nen<
, lf1 s·
h · ' pl unge d
t h e vessel, resolving
th imhse m
.t e
.
of sensuality. His philosophic '
. ; oil
e ot er
, sipped . little
caution ;
· being
·
' of dan·
ger, .
off to .
. and flowers; where, by the ·
.· of . n.eals,
tmprh:ed his rehsh
. the. ·
eni?Ym~nt
them. . the evening .
th h" • b t b C: upon his fnend; to mqu1re
he would
- io
j ive i . u e. ound him
·
in sweets,
.
he was aa
to eave f
to en1oy. Clogged in hi1 ' · · ; enfeebled ill' hia ,
and hit
d'
rame
enervated, -'. was
just able to
his'
'
a 10u; and tor
.
with his _ .. · breath, that
a taste
pleasure
quicken
relish . life an
··
to . "
.destruction." · , .: ; " . ~ . ,:; ... •
,,· 'i ndulgence
.·•. / "1

.•

''

.../

.

! ·-

1. . ,_1 ; . _(· .·;- ~\.

.. ·;..

t

:sECTION
'

:

j

I

· - ::'.J''_·
. . :- ., .n~~-r
I.t·.. ~: /·/-···~.,:·
~..
/'."",.\'.\:~r ~ ·
; ....

• '

' l.

;

WOR~S TO F9RM.. : SEN;rENCES•

•

,,•· i.... ·: )~ ·,, t

Take the following·words, and conriect and' ~rra~ge
the,m so as '}.to make sense
: · · · " . .J.· <·· ·
.
'
:" J
1

re\l~ve,

'·: EXAMPLE.

'

_. - . '

..•.• ;

Prompts,. others,
compassion, to, wants, the, of, us". 1
i , "!/
Compassion prompts us to relieve .the wants of othets.
· '.· ':: ·' 'J " · ;

WW

,

.

.

•

,

.

;., · , ExERciSEs .. ,

.

1

.. - ,

.
.J

.. .

1. Hear.t, .has, 1~~ true, .its, pol~teness, the, seat • . · .' . , . " ~ .... . ' . , ,
2.Unw1llmg,pam,a,g1ve to good ·is m 1'nd ,,. · 1 -.· ·- . · '.
,· ~
S. ~
E v1'l.s, g~eat, is,
· by, a, human,
' '
' '
. . "
•
ourselves,
proportion,
of, 'created.~~· ·.:'

4. F amty, if, !fr~atness, our,..flat~ers, our, multiplies .it, dartgers. , .. ' 1

ne5 iec~r~r,r~~tng,

anot~er, 1 ir , .~orld, . this, mu~t: llfe;:w~,· .?.ll~i~.s.•.'the,_.
life . in~ than ! h~2·

N. -tmia~le, there, and, i~, more, nothing\ respe~table

"

""

man, um le~ benevolent, character, man; the, of, a, trqiy; a~d: .~ · ~"\"' :\ · .· ~
7. Jn, .multitudes, obscure, the, stations, most,' broils are pett in not
~s~h tjieu, .eag!r,
nor,. passi.ons, tormented 1 their, iess,' co~t!~d ihan'
,·
' ey, prmce y 1 or, ~h1ch, prize, were, the, holi.ouni. : ' .:· ;. ' < \ · ' 1_ ' .
~· P~ren.t, nnx1ous, with, doea, what, the, cnrel. him, together c~h .h~r- - • ' • ''i
an • 0 h~pi:mg, them, wings, hth1 with, covP.r ! · :sugg•est, moth;r,<lo~s to' ·t . '. ~"'~~
~o~~~}u)s'i y~u, of, not, th°J tght, and, tenderness, affection 1 Helpl~sa: . · 1 . ' ·
when ir/lkn a~cy~ prhotecte • er, care, you, in, period, ' the, of, . nourish{ '- 1., '
• ! 1 s e, wit , you, her, and, move, to, your, taught limbs · arid · accents, its, tongue, unformed, to, your, lisp. Childhood, in,' ~our, ~ief1: /

ZY•

'-.,

:

USE

24

or

. SECTION III.
,W ORDS TO FORM sENTENCE8

.

EXAM PU.

, Old; age, joylell!I, dreary{ season, arrive, unlmpr?ved, cor.rupted_, ml.nd.
· Old age will pro1!e a joy ess and dreary eeason; if we arrive at it with an
unimproved or a corrupted mind.
EXERCISE!!.

. 1. No, errors, trivial, dellerve, mended.

·
2. Work, dull; performance, capable, pleasing, neither, understanding,
imagination.
·
·
3. When, Socrates, fell, victjm, madness, truth, virtue, fell.
4. · Ga.y, plea.sing, sometimeil, insidious, dangerous, companions.
&. Taste, useful, knowledge, provide, gr!Jat, noble, entertaininent, other,
/
leave.
'
·
· 6. Anxious,
votary, rich!!s, negligimt, plea~ure.
7, Perseverance; laudable, pur~uit!l, reward, toils, effects, calculationll.
8. Changes, continually,.place, men, manners, opinions, customs, private,
public.
'
· vi5ionary, unacquainted, world, unfit,
9. Religious, unjustly, romantic,
live.

·

SECTION IV.
· ';

CCeld~.

~.ili.1:' i·/ , ,, 1g.MMe
.dtiatte; .· 1·
·
g a e.

21: At
· . aim
4
' •.
3. Err.

67: J · ' ·
om ·,
8.• Just.
·
,·

.

.13.
Note •
1
14. Part
·
11
·M'
.
. ,. 1~2° . M1ss1<?n._1 . 15. Pure••
; ove. '. " ' 16. Serve.

·.

:-

•

. ~ . : ~1

I •

SECTION Y;
\

.

~ .

,

:

•

'

V'ARU:TY OF EXPREl'!SION. '

~-

• ·1

. ''·

· Yary the expressiqri in the 'followin'

· . ' .. !

.,'i

~

, ,.

'

i •'

\ ; ()

,,.,,-

>:

ohangmg the parts of speech:·' :'' : ,., ,[f ,~~-1Jt,
~.....l}F~s ,l:>Y
'
.. ,, i , ·
~

'

·

.... :, .

:·~

EXAMPLES,

. .
· J. Wisdom is better than riches " r, 0
The wise. nre better than the rich. . . o e wise t9 ~~tter than to b~.
2. Be humble in your whole behavi
Al
1!_ehave
,ori all
humbl;.
.
. .
'" EXtRcisE~: . ; . J, •
"
•
•
•
1. Piety and virtue will make our wh 1 Ii~
· ' '
1"'
• . _MThodesty is oi1e of the chief
·
·, ·
'
·
e eager nnd preeumpt
· .
·
' · .•
4. Fri~ndl.Y sympathy· height~~: :~~~o~~mually 'disappoint~.
..
5. Praise 19 pleasing to the mind f Y J Y•. , · "·', .<. • •• -.
6 To dee i th ·
o man.
. .
. .
7' A t: .el, ve e mnocent i!I utterly disgraceful . :· ; .. .: :;
• '
.
amt y.where the great Father of th . . • " ,. ' .. ,, ,, "
where parents are honored and l
d e ' um verse is duly reverenced
together in affect10Ii and ;:,;eye ',;
where . brothers and sister;
mtereeting spectacle. · .
" • ~mon., i ~ii eurel¥_ ii 'mqst delightful and
.
I
'
• '" .
<', • ~
" . " • -·
1 . ' ~ r • ' ', •

nch.

y~urs~lf wit~ ~~mility

~~~a!!io!~ys b~h~ve. yo1;1r~eU:

~·

orname~t~ o/y~~f~Y·

~well

a~d

1

SECT!ON :VI. .. ,:

1

. ;.., :, : . ,

,,. ,, : ,

DER1V'AT1VE WORDS.

Make out a list of derivatives from the following
primitive words, and then · wtite a sentence, either
q~oted or original, containing each 'o f them :
EXAMPLE.

Act, actor, actres~, action, active, activity, actively, actual, actually, ac•
' tuary, actuate, countetact, enact, exact, exactly, exactor, exactness, exac•
ti on, inaction, inactive, inactivity, overact, react, reaction, tranaact, trans·
».

The action and redcrion ar
1 M ·
.
.
·
· ·
office to·day• ·1 Give men r::i!~~: ~~coltfafthe.lelr trq"sact_td b~sine~a hi .,.,
•
··
.
.
.
· n °
yo:ur
lr~ach01-I • . , . .
. ·
.. RCI".,Es.
'
.... -· ., ~ , ,·",. ,:.. ,:.
' ·' ·rr ,.
.'
· · :·ift,,i.
r
5 ..
" .
, ., . . , ,.·-, ;
Ex ,,,

(continued).

Suppiy such words as are necessary to make sense
of the following exercises :
.
.

~.6

(PART I.

WORDS·

1he, your, little, over, .fll:ourned, delights, i~, ·your, rejoice~, innocl'.nt, ~eal•
ing, to, sickness, adm1mstered, the, balm, in, you, and; mmd, of, mst1Ued;
the, ·wisdom, into, love, your, truth, and, .of, virtue.

...

) '.

action.
1 !lcl!.rcely· know how to act in the matter. Like a dull actor now, l have
forgot tny part. Who is the most celebrated actress of the present day 1 Both
the· body and the mind should be kept in action. The steward i~ an active
tnan of business. Do' not retnit your activity. Vve are dctively employed.
Every man is daily guilty '(lf actual ttansgre~sion. How often is old age
actually arrived before we !!uspect it. The actuary of the cou1't .died very
lately. Our passion!! too frequently actuate our conduct. Counteract the.
mischief by doing all the good you can. It is enacted in the laws of Venice.
I now eract the penalty. John was here exactly at the hour. Exaction!
and eractors overspread the land. Y 011 have performed the task with great
t:i:actness. 1 lie in a. refreshing kind of inaction. Inactive youth will , be
followed by profitless old age. Virtue concealed is inactivity at best. You
· · ---· -'--··'.t nnrlATrlo. The son react1 the father's crimes•

;HRIETY

o:F

.Exf~Essto!\f (conti#ued).

Vary the exp
· ··
using synonymor~:s:~rJf - ~~~~
I

·

'

'

· ~XAl\ll'LE

. :: ,'

·. · ·

· . · ,-.

pfohl~o~ing
raoes :i sentem;~sby
I

.. .

~

·,

\

. ·

"\

l

r

• \ • .•

·, ' :

'\".Vrath
kindles -\vrnlh
A nger ' 11wames
·-~ : ·' : ' ' : ·' l '" a· · · ·
··
t
•
· Ine angry'.pas~.ion e~C'.t\!~ another. • ·:
~~7~r'., ., ; ~lt'~c,e ._ be g~9 ~trife,
0
.
I
•
' '
'
' EXERCISE~.: ·
n' IT~e avaricious mm has no friend
. .
J , , .. : , ; : , i"
i,_·
l
"'· Fe
t ts not
'
., ·
·
"
\
Ji easy t 0 l ove~ h osewhomwedohoteste~xn
•\'
{f' -">•1:·1· ·I
4'. p ass10uswellsbygr
w ave courage to, t'fi
correct
d •.
. . .' :l,,•,1 ~• • .1, ". oi .<')' ~" "\
. X.
t' their fti ens
5. The re t
a 1 ca 10'?-• ·
_
·,
,
·
i~""
.. f · ., , " ·
'
, . 6 K g a squrce Qf pleasure is variety
.
.
. . "l',1 ~J ~ , : · : '
,.
l
, 7.. Sir
.now
ledgeNewton
is to be gained only
Isaac
d bY Stu Y• ' ' . - • • . ,;· • .~
I · ,.
This great matt on a partPt.o9fJel sse a .remarkably mild and evtin:'t' ~mper\ , .
cu ardoccas10n ' ..,,as, ..... a ll e d out of his study" to an•
. · · apattment.
'
A little
a dJ~mrng
curious attendant of his mast ?g, named D111riond, the con11tant bu~ i:n• .
, th~ papers, tmd threw down a j [eJearches, napPened to be Je(t among .
r;, 1 j candle, which consumed the almDllt
fimshecl labora of aome years
·
" ·
. · . • 8 If ;~ac soon returne!l,, and ~a~ t~I! ~OJ~ /.,

7

·a

d

)f

' .

.

.. ,

. '

.._J

[PART I.

STRUCTOR.E OF SENTENCES.

.
.
. .
·
But with his usual self-pos~ession
- titication to behold his trre P~rau1e d1~ssDiamond 1 thou little knowest the
he <inly exclaimed, " Oh, iamon .
. .
mischief thou hast done .,"*

0

SECTION VII.
WORDS SUGGESTED TO FORM SENTENCES .

Let one pupil name a subject, and each o~ the
others, at the suggestion of the teacher, successively
h
g ive a word or phrase. ·
Let the words and phras.e s be w~i,tten down as t ey
. . sted
so as to make
are sugge
. , and
. afterward
. re-written
·
sense:
.

. EX.lMPLE.

.
..
'
A
common to the horse aml all other
Name a subJeCt. T!1e 'horse. ad no~n An adjective descriptive of some
.animals o_f the same
~~ruzru~n· adverb to increase the signification
property_ m the horse . I tha\i_,0 rs~ the most beautiful of quadrupeds 1 He
of beautiful. Most. s e
.
•
appears to be eo.
.
t a ears ..
1
The horse, 9uadrvped, bea~t~u ' mos ' fr~~maliness of the horse 1 Siz~.
A noun which refers t.0 t ~ :rgenessth 'ss A noun applicable to his
A noun applicable to h1 9 ski{!'· bls~~~i 5n~hape 7 SymmelrlJ. Adjectives
· motions1 Ease. A noun app JCj-/ these no~ns .1 Fin~, glossy, graceful,
descriptive of the horse,. to qua i .y
title the horse to 1 Distinction.
e::act. What do all these propte.rties e:se shape symmetry, fine, gloss1j,
Size, skin, smo~thnes~, .mo .ions, e . '
'
graceful, e::act, entitle, distmction. . to be the most beautiful. His fine
. , Of all quadrupeds, the horsef ~ppeak~s the uraceful case of his motions,
o ws s m,
"
. . · · t
.
size,
t h e g1ossy smoothness
f hi hape entitle him to this d1stmct1on.
and the exact symmetry o
s s
'
.

ktilJ

.I

EXERCISES.
I

· 1. Dog.

!l. Ostrich.
s. ·whale. '
4.. Gold.

;15.

. per.
· · 6. Cop
Man.
· 7. Body.
8. Mind.

9. Solomon.
· 10. Alfred.
ll. Sun. \
12. Moon.

13.
14.
15.
16:

1

Air.
Rain.
Earth.
Wood.

(

IV.-STRUCTURE OF SENTK~CES.
, , A ,SENTENCE is any number pf word~ jomed to~e~her

. such a manner as to form a complete propos1~10n.
m Every complete proposition or sent~nce conthn: .:
subject, or thin~ spoken of, and 3:. predicate, or w a 1
.said of the subject. ,
.
.. .
.
b
. d according to the two preceding .sections, on
* Pupils
may. e exercise ,
.
.
their daily readmg-IP;ssous.
f
nd questi ons th e teacher will get a
t In auswer to. his 8U~ge s ions ;st a ro riate of which he may exervariety of words, m selectmg ~h~ . m
.1 P
may also make th em vary
cise the judgment and taste 0
is pup~ · n<l VI The exerciecs in this
the expression according to Sections . a
.
I
- ~M•Hnn iuav !Je extended to any length.

f lle

·.· ;Wh~I~ the "affirmatio1i is· not limited to the· subj ect,
a' 'complete proposition bf sentence ·~lso ' · contailis lln ·
object. '. . . . .
. ~ .'.
,· . . •,. . J. :r1 " ~.51 d,i ·: · · }. ~ ~;~.~ ~" 1.J >
· The sub;ecl of a sentence is always ·a: ·noun/ or 'two J
1
or , more nouns joined ' together; ,a pronoun, or pro- .
nouns ; the infinitive of a verb ; or a part of. a sen- ~
tence.
· , " · . ·.
.
-· ·
The predicate is always a · verb, or a clau·s e contain- .
ipg a verb.
.
.
; . .. " .• : · ;:i
The object is always a noun, a pronoun, the infi nitiv<3 :,
or prese11t participle of a verb, or a part of a sentence."
The principal rules' to be observed in joining words
together
in sentences,
must- b,e sought
in. the. gra~mar~
·,
~·
.
..
, ., .
..
·~
y , -.- ' ' "

.

(

~.

,_ !

.

.

.

.

. :

.

.

"

SECTION

",

'

.

I. -,,._ .'_.

:.~~RI,~TY . OF c'oNSTRUCTI~N:

:.

.

i -

·

" .:,r:

.

- -· ,. ' - , /'

~

Vary . the construction in .the following sentences.·
by changing · the subjer.,ts, . th~ pr~dicates, oi: the ob- .
jects:
·
· ·
' · · · '. · ·
· ·
1

1( 'ExAMPLE~< I ~-, ·
;, .
,' Temperance in eating and drinking is the. best Jii'esenative of -health,
To, be temperate in eating and drinking is the !Jest preservative .of health'.
To eat and drink temperately is th e best , preservative of healthi "i The best
preservative of health is temperance in eating' and drinking . . The be$t.way
to preserve healt.h .is to eat an<l.drin!c temperately. · Temperance in 'eatirtg x
and drinking best preserves health : Health is best prturved by temperance in eating and drinking. · ·To eat and dtink ~llmperately i.r. the·bedi
way to preserve health. Temperance in eating a,n<l drinking proTUotes
health. Health depends upon temperance in eating and drinking~ ' Health '
is promoted by temperance in eating and drinking. , Health is promoted b1jeating and drinking temperately. ', We must.eat and ~ink temp~rately to
preserv~ health.
. 1 , .. '
•
• :
• • _· ~ : l ..," . : ; · ; .'.:,' ~: . ; , :
·

1'.
2.
3.
.4.

. '

·

!

EXERCISES.

, ..

.'

'·

· • ' · , : I : ...

'.J )

To liTe Soberly, -righte'ou'S1y: ilhd piouSly;·iS ~equ~ired of all fu.~Jif '- -'.·-. "

To grieve immoderately shows weakness. . · . ·
.' \ ' ' . '· ·; ,
Timid men fear to die. . '
,\
'" . - . .. . 1 J ·· " I ( 1 , , ••) ..
That it is our duty to be just and kind to o~r fellow~creattl.reil~ admit•· .
not of nny doulit in a rational and well-Informed ·mind. · ". I · " :·' ,- ., ' ":
5. To cultivate pie~y ioward Ggd, .to exerc is11 benevolence tq'\Viud oth~rs,
and to be of a pure aud humble · mmd, are the sure. .means of becommg.
peaceful and happy. . ,
. .. .
..
.
:
_ . · · · ..\ .- 1
6 . .By'-ol.Jservmg tru~h you w-ill command esteem.,.,_~ ; .. .. ,.-. •i._. 1: I.I'·~ ~ •, \ ·
1
1
\
•
•
· •. ,'
1
• . (1
·,
; · ' , ; ·. ~ fi /';-:'1 ··.'i 1 .'!, -~ j~f $1

,

. SECTION . IL

.i ; - ... "· .:: ,~:,.,')

4': ..

1'•1

SIMPLE BENTENCli:S. . .

Sentences are either sjmple or complci:

.. :

" "

.'

'.. '.' · <1 ;. i ~n ,

.• ' '··

t.

J -..

. ..

. ,-......

Bl'RUCTURE OF SENTENCES. .

28_

(:PART I.

,

PAWi'

,

.

· , ,',~·~

·

•:

:

EXAMPLE. )' ,

. :, ,..· •

; ~.' ' ·~·

•;i.-,q•\i::'\ I. :-

·

~f hisu!xt::~amlaanly at~en~ive
~~

i ' •

mi~d

~· ii~i·

~

ABRIDGMENT OF COMPLEX SENTENCES.

'rhe clauses of a c_o mplex senten~e are either prin1
~ipal or secondaty.
.
•
Tli.e .principal clause is that which contains 'the
leading proposition; and it rriust express a complete
ipect · even when separated from the rest of the sen1
tence. ;
·
·
· -A secondary clause is a simple sentence, or part of
a sentence, modifying the principal clause.
Secondary clause_s may .be . divided into Adjective,
Relative, Participial, · Adverbial, Connectiue or Corijunc·

An adjective clause is introduced by an adjective.
'. A r~la,tfv.e clause is introduced by a relative prortthin~ ·
·
·
·
· A participial clause is· introduced by a participle,
. which describes some other word iri the sentence.
· ·· Art ··adverbial clause is introduced by an adverb.
A connective or ctmjunctive clause is introduced by a
conjunction ~ ;
'
·

: \ ,•

:~·;:, . -.'
1'~'

·~RID?ME~ · c~~~L~~62N~NCJ;c2.i~~.~:',.-,') ,, <.:¥%
.OF

Ab~1dge ·the following p
b.
. . . . • ·: ,
clauses only-as the s
, aus~,_ an .· such secondary
., , . ,
_. ,' _; • _e.n;se m,ay:, rpq~1.r~.
~,f ' ;' ·'; · ":"'l~ l'ic:.:~· . ~.
1

· ·"'ft

sent~nce the ;.principal "cl?ssages d~ '\yntl~g m.eacb,:

. > .\'.t
'. -·"..'2~.rt_·_

.
'. .
.
, ;
~ .E~A.lllPLE~,",; , . 1 ' ., ,;° ' ·•t•·~1·~"'~'.(lP,1.l ·
. Sir Philip Sidneyj at the battl .
'h :', -· / • . "'. •4 : ,. r, ,, -' I.·~ ,
ket·ball, which broke the bdne· of hi:a;hi ht~( ert; ".!"~ :wo~nded ,~ 'a mu..lJ .
and a half to the camp . and bein fi . t~ ·: hHe wu-camed 'about "mile"ably parched with thfr;t' throu hg am Wit the loss Of blood; and pro}).\
drink. It :"'as immediately oro~g~~thh~t
~fbthe weather, he f-illled' for
0
1
Yessel to his mouth, a poor wou d d
ut as he .was put\irig the
• ~ •
to, be carried past him, looked u~' t~ j:~~:hr,
'Yhf rsppe,~e.d at th~t lnaiaht
'"'·
1
. wist u eye8. "I'hii ~allant and
generous, Sidney took the bottle f:
sold_ier, saying, "Thy necessi~' i 8romt his mouth, lin~ _delivered' it ' tcf; the
' Sir Ph1")1'p St"dney
ye , greater than muie n ·• · '' ' " • 1· ., . , , , t. •
was woun ed b · ' " k
1
· · '·
I
of his thigh. He was carried td thy a mus et-ba l,:which b'r oke' th6 b6he' '· .
of blood, he called for drink. ·As he camp i a~d. bemg faint with tlilflosl' , ·
a poor wounded soldier looked
a~ ~t w~s put.tmg the vessel to his mouth
·
generous Sidney delivered .him
lb 0't:{h
eyes. ,The gallant and
't
greater thah mine."
. . . ' '~'' .
.e, saying :.' _',Thy necl'.asity is yet
1
1
'
• ;·''
•.. i..j !,· .' :.•
t'.:t'•:f·~.: '( ~· j rr· · · ~·\~'\!· r · · ~ ; - :;· ~·):• _;~ •

u

~he

'1'

'

,.

I

'

'

,

·

.

, '"

Wls~ful

•

'

''

~ -..:

. - ' " , ' -'· '

r ' I ~' ' ·"l{J
' ( i l '1 {)·'~.l ·
)
' ' • •,

l

. - ·:;·_ S~CTION ' V; ".:·,'\: · ;:·; ..;i,,t .\1:11- ~1~.,<)~-~
· ,,.

._

J'..:-.·:·.::. ·;}t:'

z

SECTION III.

~ ., -..Ji.

, - . . ·,.

, ;n':' ~f.!t~'.l~~Y, ,~~l.J,·~

Socrates tho 'h ... ·
·
· "
·l - ·- • ·· ';, ··b -.l.1 .1 .. · •
• ·: ~,.:
negligent
to the culture of his
·...,,..
- .
id eas of order and decencyppearance
- · resu1•.ed from
'· tholl ··
•
'h h
· _ His cl ean 1'mess
• - •· ~~
Socrates was not ne li ;
_governed all his actibns.
·' ".' , ' ,...1.1 ! .' , .
'
ii
resulted from his idea~ of 0 d' htsd edxternal apoearance. ·-·Bia cleuiliii.•!is · ~ ·- -. '·' . ,,
. ,or er an . ecency.*
• , , ; •). ~·
-.·
· " ' .-.'1-~f' -

EXERCISES.

t,ive, ,Absolute, Apposition, Parenthetical, &c.

·a~: ..•·. . ~\,:::.

,

' .. appo~tlton . ~lause con tams· a noun p1 ,: r.. cf' ; .i l
' ._, __ ;\;,
postt10n with .the word or clause·goii1g bef~~: ..~;~~. ~~J
. :_~ :t¥1
A parenthetical
c.laus<:l.
' i~ . enclosed
by :a.p
.at'e";.th
·,' ..,~· . , ~ .t' .~:., ,...
'd
· ·
. · ..
·
~· .esis. .
n
ge
the
followin
,
·
,
.
.
·_
.
1 :. .
{., " .,
Ab
printipal clauses . maki~gp:~~hge~ by :w-~1~mg -OD.ly ~~e.:
" :<),;;i:
·'
' ... '_. ,;,
,. ..~ ..~~~t~t,e._ seJ1tence ·r · , . .• .i,h

·Friendship improves happiness, and abates misery, by doubling our joy
'8.nd dividing our grief.
·
. Friendship improyes happiness. Friendshif. a.bates misery. Friendship
double• our joy. Friendship divides our grie • · '
·

·

.

An absolute clause is not depende \

/

· 1. Modesty i1 not properly a. virtue, but it is a very good sign of a tractable disposition, and a grell.t preservative against vice . .
2. 'l'housands, whom indolence has sunk into contemptible obscurity,
might have attained the highest distinctions, if idleness had not frustrated
.the effect of all their powers.
3. At our first setting out in life, when yet unacquainted with the world
and its snares; when every pleasure enchants with its smile, and every object shines with the gloss of novelty, let us beware of the seducing appearances which surround us, and recollect what others have suffered from the
power of headstrong desire. _

BENO')'_N~Sj

BTlUCTURE; OF ,

~'1~ or word• in th~' lien \enbe; •

'. A.simple sentence c.o ntains only one proposition.
. A complex sentence , consists of two or more simple
. sentences so combined as to make but one complete
..
.
propos1t1on.
.
·.
'·
'
.
Divide the following complex into simple sentences:
. EXAMPLE.

Ii)

·,

·

.

•

'

'

.

,

·. I

_

. _
'hRIETY ' 6:F STR~CTUlt;·-,, ·. :_. h , -t~~»' ;; iJf1.:,;.\f
.,. ,.
Vary tlie. structur'e' ~i 'ih~ "1i ' II ... ; '. "-: ~'. ,_. ' I-..~ !'! I L ;. 1·,'. . , I .. ':Y:'.,~. :
. .changing
o ?wmg. ·.: •.~·-:, . -~•
. , .. .the form
.. . of .ihe...s:1auses
. ._.. .. .sentenfeS
,, , . . .by
1 •

,

" ..

, . . ' . . . -.· .. .... . . , ,._ i: .._...y.·~ ~;1-·~·1 -v ril

.

""·,,:.:,,.

·* The teacher may 1 t ·
·' . · ... · · · ·" 1 · 81 '' "- '"''""\·r·• '1 ~ .. ·.; '
'
1:1181
· : the following: sectio , 11 e 490
..
'tor thl1
'
t In exercises like111this the t · .
'
. , . . · · <'- ' · . ;·. ;-,~'i · "' ' " "'' ' >... ,.• ",;t; :, •-'
clauses sMuld be adjectiv'e · r -~~her m~y.•~ggestwhetbertlie 1econda;.,. ·" . • 1p.1>'.:'' . ••
1olute, apposition,
'o r parenth:t!CB,
a1'(I - ', . ~ , , !
·'
; ,.
•'· .~ ·, \ . l-. . ,).Y\ ..,,~t'f. };,~ ·'(>;I( . r

.

·~~re,

1

C,ro~.'-~~y re'FIJ.lr,~~k;

· ~Del:"· ·

"ie; partic1p1al,_ '4•e,rbial~ oo~ectil'& ·

. . c2

. .

'J

f

-;

~df;..'"
l;'."~

• ' • . ..· - • :..:. ;

/

...

/

~·.

:;;~·

'

30

STRUCTURE OF SENTENCES.

[PART f.

EXAMPLF

·,

The boy, attentive to his studies, is; sure to excel. The boy, who is at.•
teritive tu his studies, is sure . to excel. The boy, being attentive to his
11tudies, is sure to excel. The boy is sure to excel, as he is attentive to
bis studies. . The boy, is sure · to excel, if. he be attentive to his studies.
By being (ltteutive to his studies, the ~oy is sure to excel.
.

-

'

.

:

'

EXRRCISES. .

'

: 1.

Sh'lrfie being Jost, all virtue is lost.
.
2. The king, who had never b.efore committed an unjust action, dismiss•
·
ed his minister without inquirr.
· 3. He descended from his throne, and ascended the scaffold, and said,
~· Li:ve,,incdmparable pair." .
.
'
' 4. s.~e was deprived of all but her innocence, and lived in a retired cot,i;age with her widowed mother, and was concealed more by her modesty
~han by. solitude.
·

SECTION VI.
VARIETY OF STRUCTURE AND EXPRESSION.

Vary both the structure and the expression of the
(ollowing sente.n ces : .
\

'•

,\

EXAMPLE·

:·

. ·A wolf let into the sheepfold, will devour the sheep. A wolf being let
into the sheepfold, the sheep will be devoured. If we let a wolf into the
. fold, the sheep will be devoured . The wolf will devour the sheep. if the
11heepfold be left open. If the fold be not shut, the wolf will devour the
sheep• Slaughter will be made among the sheep, if the wolf get into the
fold.
' EXERCISES.

L Gentlene'.a;·cotrects wha,,tever is offensive in our manners.
, 2 . . All mankind must taste the bitter cup which destiny has mixed.
- . 3 • .The places of those who refused to come were soon filled with a mul~
titude of delighted guests.
, .4. He who lives always in the bustle of the world, lives in a perpetual
~arfi.rd ·. ' .
,
..1 '.'

':·

SECTION VII.

1 1·,·

.-

.

COMPLEX SENTENCES.

Combine the following simple into complex sentences, making the secondary clauses adjective, relative,
participial, adverbial, conuecti ve, absolute, apposition,
or parenthetical, as the sense may require:
~

I

.,

~

'

EX,lMPLE.

The wall of China is evidence of a rich nation. The wall of China is
evidence of a populous natinn. The wall of China is evidence of an effem•
inate nation. Men of courage defend lhemselve11 by the sword. Men of
coura~e do ifot defend themselvP.s by bulwarks.
·
·
, The wall of ~hina. is evidP.nce of a rich and populous nation ; hut it is
also evidP.ncJ ·'Of an effeminate nation: men of courage defend themselves
by the sword, not by bulwarks.
·

~~~T. ~·}
.

1

f

S'r.RU_CTURI!} -

o:r, .s:e~T~ljq~a
• .,, '
'.
.

. , ,,_, ·.;

3t

(PART ·1}

r ..,

32
,,

ARRANGEMENT OF ' SENTENCES.

"NT OF SENTENCES.
.Y.~ARRANG~ME
d ·n sentences is eitoer·
· ·
· f wor s 1
·
·

ginhing of' th~ . ~entenc~ ; "·as,. ·'"Jttit ,and ' true .are° ~
' thy
·ways" : .... , ·,'
< " · ., ·1·! k>' "iI,.'.. ~ . .'.... .... :,.i\!'.. 1 ·! ;• ·
·~

.

_o
.
or
rhetorical.
ti's
the
order
irt
which words
rammatical
g
. l arrangemen
..
Grammatica
.
k·ng and wntrng.
.
are usually placed m spe~ \hat urder of the wnrds, Ill
. . Rhetorical arrangelent Jts of the sentence are placed
which the emphatica pars .
.
'
d ·mnase1onecl
first.
'.
. used ehiefiy in poetry an i r
'
The rhetorical auaugemeut JS .
.
.
,
.
rds in sentenp1'0se.
, . ,.
1. 1 s' fot arranging wo
, The prmc1pa r.u. e
. . . '
.
ces ar~ as follows ' 1
, • all
arranged, the subject
1. In senten~es grammat1clac~d before the ve~-b; a~r
is g~n~al\yb p i·s better than sacnfice.
Or n ominative
.
· "" ".Loaey
. b·ect
"The birds
smg'
... lly arranged, the SU
J , . or
' .Jn senten.ces rhety.n~~ after the verb; as, " S~n:es
nominative is oft.en p a;, ,, Great is Diana of the Ep i~~ . th the cbeerful sun '
.
?I
h
. 1 following instanres .
," s1ans. · t. e is a1so n1ac e<l after the
verb m t ~ . hes m:i.ke n1en hap.
" Do ,,c
THE ARRANGEMENT

1

The nomma JV
f
interrogatrve i 31l!,
1 When the sentence is
h "
i»
· · erat1v c ; as, "~ o ': ~u. "\Vere i t lruo."
PY When the senten.ce '~ imi;iresse<l \Jy an elhps1s ' . ~s,, "There was a
·, .3"." When a supposition ~~;ins with thert, her~, &c~ •,,as,
. . 4 When the sentence l ·" ••Here are fiu oave .
. .
.
mong the peop e ,
r d they &c.
CO~mih~~:h phrases 3'1, said he, rtp It 1 ' d before the }1QUll,

2

Ilu.. The. article
is a~w~ys p ac,~ A table;" ,, An ink"fl.cation it limits; as,

whose s1gm
,, .
'
nd·" ,, The book.
d. tive
Sta
• .
t
~
uruified by en a jeC
'

the article is placed be.
',' 1. When. th~ no~n,:s A largo house."
noun and the adj'~ct1ves
fore the ad1ect1ve . • a 't' le is plnced between th; n adjectives which are
, ~.'The \nuefin1tedarl~~ between the noun an a has attained' indcpen<lmany dandd ;Yu~; ,,:n10 :, and how; a~\, •;,~~~h ~~j~fort~ne ~~s seldom happrece e
' ' d pp,rsevero.nce ,
· ht a pnnoe .
ll
ence by iJldustry an
. ltitude ;" " How nug y
nd the adjective a ;
d " "So great a mu
l
u between the noun .a
,
pe~e ihe definite article .is P a~f d "
.
as,·." All the people are assem e . matica11y arranged, th~ a~~

:!

:.:,111 . .Jn, sentences gram d before the noun wh1c~ t~

·.

.·

is generally place
,, u A swift horse.
3e~tl1~fie . as ,, A beautiful tree;
ed the adjective,
qua i es • '
h t rically arrang •
,
ti be.
In sentences. r ·~- o :.,. , "'nmetimes 'Placed at i1e
-

•

t

The

•

;

•

•

'

I

., ...

• .

•

.

•

j

I

I

~dJective ia frequently placed after the 11.o~n iu t~e}o~~v!i~g,instan•

.
.· . · . ..
I. When it is used as a title ; as, '.' Alexal!.der the Great.",, '· , · ·
,
2. When other words depend upon it; as, "A man· g'enei-ou8 ~o his erl.e•
mies."
.
·
··
_. · . ·
. . · ·. · ( "
•· 3. Wlisn several adjectives belong tQ one noun; as, "A man toise, jiat,
-.•'nd cJuirita.bk!'
'
,
,, ·
· ' · '·'
4. When the adjective expresses dimensfon ; as, "A wall ten feet high.h
5. When it expresses the effect of an active verb; as, -" ViCe. renders ·
·tnen miserable."
·
· ·
·
"
., · '. : . ·1 ' · ·
6. When a neute~ verb comes bet;,een it and the noun cir prohoun .i '. ~;
'~It see!ll~ .strange.'~
·
'
' ··
·
~s:

1

I .

,

.

"

. ,,; '

•

'·"'

~ ...

.',

I'

.,

;'.•~

.-.#

,

.

-;~

.

·IV. The pronoun of the third person is placed after.
that of the second ;' and the pronoun of the first person .
after those of the second and third; as, " You ahd I
go;" ." Shall .it be given to you, to him, or to me?" .
V. In sentences grammatically arranged, the active
verb is generally .' placed :..before .the word wh~ch , it
governs ; as, " If you respect me, do not despise my
friend " · · · · ·· ·
'
· · ··
-.. '
' ·· : ·

will

In

~entence~ rhetoric~lly ·~rran~ed, th~ actlv~ v~rb

is freq~erttly . placed after Urn .~.ord .w.h ich i~ : gQ~.e.thS;
as, "Silver and gold have .I none." . ' , '. · · , . " .,.
The active verb is also placed after relati ve pron ouns; as, " Ile is a man
·whom l greatly esteem."
. ' · ··
,
'
, . .· ·

, ,VI. In se1itences grammatically arranged; theinfiri:.
1tive mood is placed after the verb which ·governs it;
as, " He loves to learn."
.
In sentences rhetorical1y arranged, the infinitive
mood, when emphatic, is placed before the word which
governs .it; as, " Go I must, whatever may ensue."
· ' VII. Adverbs are genetally pfaced immediately before or immediately after the words which they qualiJ fy; as," Very good;" .' f He ,acted .wisely."·
. :' '
· 'Adverbs, when emphatic; ~re somet1m.es place.d at
the begihning of a sentence .; as, "How completely hi~
.
h as bl.m d ed h"un.,,,, . . . . . ;,,. , . .. , .. ., ..'. ,., ~ ·. .. .1
p~s~10n
_ Vl~L Prepositions are ge1,1erally placed ·before. the ·:
worqs }Vhich they govern; as, " . With me;'' ''To t_hefu.'~
In famiFar language, prepositions are sometimes placed· after the words (:.. . /
which they govern, and even at a distance .. froin them ; nBr 1,' Such con• · J'
ductlamatalosstoaccountfor."-' ' • · ·
J ·
·,· ' 'i' '!•{,
·

-..1·•'
·1?_.~·r"

,.: .::
.'

··
•

-

-

{J'
~·

.,

.

.

~ 3~

. ARRANGEMENT

OF SENTENCES.

'

place<! first in the clauses or sentences which the)'. connect; _ns,
'1rtue
is praised by many, and dii\lhtless v~o11ld he desired. als~, if her worth
· were really known: see, then, that you don~ she req\ures .. .'
· 2 Conjunctions of more than one syllable (with the excep.t10n "f whei·eas,
which must always be the first word in the sentence or clause ) may ~e
· transferred to the place wh~re they ate the most agre~able to th_e ear ~~
.reading; as," Piety an~ holmbss will make our whole hfe h~ppy, whe!~_
as sinful pursuits will yield only a few scattered pleasures ~,et us d1h
, gently cultivate .the former, .therefore, while we carefully abstam from_the
latter."
·
·
SECTIO~ I.
VARIETY OF ARRANGEMENT.

·Vary the arrangement of the followit~g senten<'.es by
transposing the members or clauses :

EXERCISE~.

I

EXE~ICISES. \ . · . . ........; .· :·,,·.·">t· ~ .\ . . ....;·, i"J
' 1. All the Jews, w~o knew me from the be!i"irming, if thf'y would testify,
~now m:y manner. of hfe from 1ny ,youth, which was at the first among mine
own n~t1?n at Jerusalem, t_hat I live\} a Pharisee after t.h~ ·straitest sect· of
our religion.
. .·
· , ·I, ···. , . . ., -'.',.
.
. --·
·
,1
2. I ~ee,p for Cresar, : a~ he i9ved me; I .rejoice, as h e was fortunate,; .I
~~nor, him, as he was ".all ant; ·but I slew him, as he was ambitious.,i. f ·
. 3. The rtoon of day 1s talm. ,.The inconstant sun fli e s· over_ the green
hill. The , stream of the "ri10untain corne.s dow~ red, through the ·stony _
val~. 0 Morar!. thou wert tall on the hill; fa1t among the sons orthe
plum. Thy wratl~ w~s as ~he stori:n ; thy ~word , i!1 hattle, as Jig~tning in
.the field. Thy v01c,e was b~e thunde.r on distant h11IR . . But how peaceful
was thy br.o'Y , whim thou didst return from war! · Thy face was like 'the
sun after ram ; calm a~ the br.e as.t of the Jake w hen t he' loud wind is
husheq into repose : · Thy dwellli1g is .narrow ·now': th e place of thine
a~ode IS .d ark. ,; 0 , thou who Wast so .great before! r compass thy grave
1
with three steps.
.
·
·
:
·< • •
·
•·
• " . " .• ·
•

.

'1. The Roman state evidently declined in proportion to the inerease of

lu~rt~r all that y~u think, and spe~k,

and do, you . must at the last day
accoii.nt.
.
.
.
f. .>
.
dl b
'f .,
3. 'The greatness of mind which shows 1tsel m uangers. &n ii. ors, I I
wants justice, is blamable.
.
h
·11
'· 4. It is a fact about which. men now r:i:rely differ, that t e paper-mi -Ir
and th~ printing-press are inventiondorwhH:h we can no~ be too thankful.

,.

· ·'

I

.' ,

•

•

•

.

- ....

\

t

,I' • ' '

. ,• •

0

~·

(continuecl).

EXAMPLE.

You ma set, my fields on fire, and give my children to the s'vonl; you
may driv/myse.Jf forth a house-less, childless beggar, or load me with the
fetters of slavery; but you never can conquer. the hatred I fo~l to .your o~
pre~sion. . .
.
·
: • Exe~ises similar fo those under Sections I., II., III., IV., V·•may be
pre~cribeil from the reading-lessons of 11. clasa. '
·

•'•,: ';, '.r·: :~ q·.~~{

·;; . , ;~

SECTION III. "
I

r

'·1

,':.:'
.

. ·

·

'

,

I

. ,, , . VARIE.T Y OF A~RANGEMENT
.

.

. . . .. . .

)

•/

,·

.

(, ,' )

~··

; ' '

;,

!

(continued).<
.
, , ' .. : .' .: .: .
,;,

such

Cha':1ge passag~s of poetry into -prose·~ rliaking
alterat10ns, both m ·~r~angement - and. in stru¢ture; as.
meaning · a~d harmony Of t}ie · serlteticl;)S ~requ~r~:;' ·

!Jie

~

l.

'. •

. ·• .

: ·

··

• •

.....

...,.---......
(

· r E~A.MP,~E ~t "<·.':_ ·-~·~<~~~-(~ ~~·\~· - ~. -_\:. . ~ ;' ~, \. 1~:.~ .

·., ...·, :. ; , '; • · ; ,, ~ '· ·
Our joys with those we.love are intertwined • ; : ~ \-- ·' . 'd · : r
And he whose wakeful tenderness removes '' '•::1r-:' :i1.:,' ..:-;.~ff
Th' obstructing thorn which .wound!;! t~~ frien~ }ie)oves,;,_·:~
Smooths not.another's rugged path alone, . . · · · t · · · _' ' ·
But sca.t ters "J'OSes to adorn his own.
\ - . .<
.
. Few can find
solitary biessio"g; , o~r jdys ar~ intertwine.cl with those
whom we love; and he, whose wakeful tenderness ·: removes the thorn
which wounds his friend, not only smooths the rugged path of another but
11cattersrosestoa4ornhis 'ow1i;* , :
, ,: _. · · ·1 ;". ~ · .. ;,'~.' {,~ ) . · .. /

A solitary blessing few can find;

a.

' .SEC'rlON IV. ' . '

·, ·Change the gra~matical into the rhetorical arrange.;.
tnent .in .the Jollowmg passages : .
. , · .
;.

1_1'·'.·.'·

'-

SECTION II.
'VARIETY OF • ARRANOEMENT

·.,

0

•

' 1

not free my mind from the love of travel.
.. · Of my roving course of life I had !ong before now repented, but from the
love of travel I could not free my mmd.
. ..
I I could not free my mii1d from the lo~e of travel, though I had long before
, now repented of my roving course of11fe.
.
.
· From the Jove of travel I could not free my mind, though of my rovmg
course oflife I had long before now repanted.
.

•

,. .

EXAMPLE.

. ·. I had Jong before now rbpented of my roving course of lifo, bilt I could

.

.,

1

· ' 1. Conjunctions of one syllable, with th~ exception of then, ar~, a~:'ays

• ., · '.

.

~

: My nelds tou .trtay set on'fir~, ~~c.t :my <:hildren gt~~ t~ . ih.e .sword ( ~y~·
self you may ,dr~ve . forth a h_ouse!ess, cl11lt.lless ·beggar, or1 load with the
~~~:~~:.£slavery; but the hard I feel to your ~ppr.e ~sio~ . "nev.e r ~!l':l yo~

IX. Conjunctions are placed between the words or
·clauses which they connect; as, " Come and see;"
" Be cautious ; but speak the truth."

•' ·i .: t

.

ARRANGEMENT cfF...·sEN',l':ENc~s.

·'

. [PART I.

)

.

"' ... : ;. . /S~ ~'

EXPRF;SSION _OF IQEA..S, : "· . , ' ·

• . " :

Let the pupi~ express the ideas contained iri the .following passages, in sentences of his own ,cgnstruction
•
.
.1
.~1 1 , f
and arrangement:
!

n~

i.

"

••

•

•

•

:-··

:

•

EXAMPLE.

. ; ..; . '.-r

f

' -yVh~n ainan says, iii c~nversati~n, that it is fine

. ,· 1 ,'. 'r.f

~, i : •.

't

weather,.' does ·h~
to mform you of the fact 1 Surely not; for every otie ,knowflt a8''we11 a s .
he does. He means to communicate his agreeable feelings. - · ·,
'\. : ,

i •

I

··

'

ineiln

.· >'·

1

•1 ·

· * Let EXERClSi:s .,be drawn fro~ the poetry in the ·Iattei part !lfthii
volume.
·
··
· ·
· · ··
(

'

.·:

.

~-

-' ·

-'

. 8,$

ARRANGEMEN'l' OF SENTENCES.

(PA~'f. ~·

,
'•

·~

SECTIO,N Y.
EXPRESSION OF IDEAS.

Let the pupil write from the following hints, ex~ressing the ideas in sentences of his own construction and arrangement :
.
•
EXERCISES .

1. The camel: where found; the varieties of this animal found fn
tome countries ; description of countries in which found: what got from
it ; what it!! special use ; how adapted for traveling; its docility ; anec•
dotes of the camel.
'
2• .The cotton-plant: where cultivated; how raised; what · it yields;
how produce gathered; how prepared; cotton-manufactures; where car·
ried to greatest perfection ; by what means; improvers of cotton-manu·
factures; influence upon comfort, habits, and civilization of mankind.
3. Who are our neighbors : m a literal sense ; in the Scriptural sense ;
wh9 taught us this: in what parable; what gave rise to it; the circum' Mances of the parable ; ·the practical lessons which it teaches.
·

SECTION VL
EXPRESSION OF IDEAS

(continued).

Let the pupil write from memory the substance of
the lessons read in the class, expressing the ideas in
s,e ntences of his own construction and arrangement.•
SECTION VII.
'' '

. EXPRESSION OF IDEAS

(continued).

Let the pupil write from memory the substance of
what has been told or read by the teacher, or of lee·
tures or sermons which he may have heard, expressing the ideas ·in · sentences of his own construction
- a~d arrangement. t

:*

The 'exercises under this aud the following !!ection are necessarily let\
to the teacher.
·
·
·
t The teacher will find it of great use, in t•mching his pupils fluency
of expression, to mak11 them do orally what they are required to do in
w,riting in the two preceding aection1.

I·

.i· .. •

'
," 1

I
'

...Almost every one whom you meet by the way begins the conversation by
l'einarking, "It is a fine day." But when he does so, it is not because heiupposes the fact ,known to him and not to you; he ill merely giving expression to those agreeable feelings which the fineness of the weather ex·
cites.
[EXERCISES may be selected by the teacher from ihis work.]

-

~

I

• •· ;. , ••

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I ~' '·~...

'

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.

~·

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:

~N

STYLE AND

; -~

flGURATH:TE ~~NGUAG~
·.'·r· .

. ',CHAPTER''. I: l
/

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'

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. ~'- .AND ITS oarn1:N; .. ·-, ,,, >.}Jr,f,1
chiefly d'15 t'1 · '
·
, 1·
~

OF LANGUAG

Q. By what i's m
an
.
t ion
1,
_• .
,. ,
.
PgUished from .the ~r~t~ c;j~~~
·"
A . ByJuspowersofr fl " ·
· . ~'. ' , · \: (' ~ ' ..
great susceptibility of . e echon and 'reason, 'ahd his·: .
•. ; v
).
Q. On what d lh .
~mprovement . , , " · ·." ' .. .. i i
'.
.•,
"A' 0 h' bo. ese~amlyd epend? . · ..1:-. " .=; .>·'11 : .r:.spe~ch ~r t:n;~~ie~arthe,r_ dis~inguis~ed. by. ~lie u§,e·:
Q. What do you u d
' by speech or-.1. , .· ·· . ,, ,' ' . ; -·!
i A
Th .
n erstand
. .
ose sounds .of, the vo. b . a:iguage 1. - , , .
our thoughts or ideas ' ">.. :,._. ,W,~. _Y. wh~,cti .w~ ,.,express
Q., W~~tissuppo~ed to·h~~~t bee ;'-' -.- , . <·~'~
:,;,i-.' _·:;,.,..-..
. A. ~tis supposed b , so"
tnb~ ~~1g1~. 9fl~n~age? ..,, ..
mvent1011; but the my me o e .the fruit of hu-rnaiiw as a n·ivme
. gift bei:;:towed
ore common
, ' :t- h''at' it .
-opin·
,, wn is,
1
(See note.)
· ! "
' up9i. ~.ag-,;;it ,h!s·creation. ' .
·.· . .
~~
Q. Under what different as ects ma . : i,i ) ,<-; .'i ·) r ." , ; _, .,
. ' ';'!
. A. ·. As a medium · of fhou h/ ~anguagf1 be considered r ,
eitherWh
_as spoken or w r1'tt en.- g. .'· it, _maJ: _be regarded
. :· .
. . ,
Q·
at is the diffi
b· '- · · '· ·
., ·
guage?
. eren9e. ' e.t,we~n. spol{~n ~nci. writte~ l~n-'. .
A. Spoken 1angu
.
·_ · "
,__,,
signs. of our . ideas . a~:hil~n~t1~utes , the •"immediate'
.....'>:!
merely the signs of ~P k '1 wntten ~anguage : ~ forms:
- "'
. Q. l~ wha~ does a khow?eden_ tng:uage. ,
. '. ·-_i :• . . -. ..'
A . In berng able t
ge o -~ntten· language consist 7 i.-J
. "~
so a t k
o
convert it into sp k 1
. ,,
'
s 9 ,. now, the ideas 1 . i' •' . . 0 en anguage,' .
resent . .: .· _..w.llc i ._1.t . ~s. mte~_d_e4 ,tp· r~p··~ ,Q. Iswrztten languarre ofa h' h ". . . ·. "
... >. ;'. ,__
-- A,. :rhat _can ha;dly bse Jg an~iquity a~ spoken ian~ag~ r '
doubt long·· enjoy·: the . supp9se,d, .as men wm~ld:.~Q ·,
would Jattempt ivin p 0 wer of spee.c.h .~efore ~ the.To .,
,
' .:l
~y mean~. of wl'ilfiug. g .p:r~1 ~ 1.1. ~n~y ~~ .;their: t~ought~ :·.
.~

or

..

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Im".!!!!'--

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[PART II.

ALPHABETIC WRITING.

38

PART

rt.)

OF ANCIBN'I' ,- WiliTING. '' . ·
' (

'

' ts to show that Adam at his creation was en1]0\'red
· · tl
·J t
<l
with a knowledge of lnnguagAe, and pr~pnr;}'b~o ;ps;i;gt ~~ th1:~~~bl~~speech, consult Dr. Magee ~m ,~onemen , an
·
tions of the World to the Bible. ]

t F or a b,,e argumen

OF ALPHABETIC WRITING.

Q. What is the simples~ and. most effectual means of preserving our thoughts ?
.
.
t t1
A. The adoption of certam s~gns to represen ie

various sounds of the human voice.
.
. Q. .what name is .given to thi~ method of preservmg and trans·
.

•

. .

J· -! :

. .._'

.. ·

Q. In what did symbolic writing, or hieroglyphics, consist?

A. In making one thing serve to teprese1it another ;
as, an eye to denote knowledge; and a circle' to denote
eternity.
. ,
. .
,
· · · · · · .; , n, i1 :: ,

. Q. .By whom have these ,t}V? methods .of writ~ng ~een' c}\iefly
practised 1
.
.
· ···
• ·
n :.1 · .

CHAPTER II.

mitting thought 1

ed ; as two meff with drawn· 'daggers, 'tO de110te 'a
battl~. · ·
·· · · : ,
: 1 • . .~-_)· .'·;:· : .....

a

A. It is· called alphabetic wntmg, an , ne~t to reasqn and speech, is 01rn of the greatest blessings that
mankind possess.
:- 1 · · f

· . 4. Picture writing has been practised by tnany'ttide
n~tions, but part,iculat~y by the Mexicans, prfor: to the
discovery ~f A meric~; and hieroglypP,ics, p~in~ipally
by the ancient Egyptians.
. · · · : ·. ·· :: ' :,

[Note.-'-For an interesting course of argument, to show that ~lphabetic '
were most prohably invented by God himself, as an instrument
of his written revelation .to man, and . that he first prese·n ted them 'Oil
Mount Sinai to Moses, on the tables 'of stone;" writte n hy the fin"'er of
God,"· see the able work of Dr. Spring, referred to in a former note.f ·
char~cters.

!.·

t

thing known with certainty respectmg tie ongm o
.
I
.
Q• I S ~ny . .
alphabetic wntmg 1 ·
·
. ·
d ·t t b

A. •The remoteness of its ongm has cause 1 o e
buried ~n great obscnrit~, and ~nany have ev.en d~_ub~­
ed its being a .human. mvent10n.-:-(See D1. Spnng s
Lectures.)
.
1
h
t
· t7
Q. What alphabet is supposed to. bet e m?s ~~cien . .
- A. The Hebrew, or Samaritan, which is sometimes
.called the Phren.ician..
.
..
· Q. ·wna,t chiefly gives n~e to t~us su~pos1t10n?
.
.
·· ( A• ' The circumstance of its bem~ the earliest alphabet of \which we have any certam account, as well
as· the'· source "whence almost all kno~vn alphabets
have been. derived. · ·
·
,
: 1

· . Q..How did this alphabet find its way to other c<!untr.ies .
. ·A. It was, .about 1000 year.s before, Ch~1~t, import-

ed into Greece by one Cadmus, a Phcemcian ;. from
qre.e ce it pas~~d into Italy;. ~~d from Italy 1t has
s read over the mos.t of the civilized w~~ld.
pQ. was there ever any <?t"!1er mode of transm1ttmg thought be·
.
.
d
..sides that of alphabetic wntl!lg? .
·A~ . Yes;' there prevailed, at one ~une, p1ct.ure an
symbolic writing, the la.t~er call~d hieroglyplucs.
· Q: 1 Jn what did p1C<ture wntmg consist? .
.
"'A':' In ' drawing a fig~ue rese~nbhng the obJ.ect . r~­
specting which some mformat10n was to be nnp.ut-

' ,

,

.

. ,·,

,

I

.

'

I "

·CHAPTER JII . . i :·t· ~ :~,

!

I, '

' ' '·

·, : r;

, :- , ,

.

1 r f ;., .. r;

I

..

)

.

.

A~_PlEi'i'l'~Y ,,~S~!J I~; ~~·:i?~~r~.:rc.,
Q. What was for s.ome tune. the peculiar ~hiu'acter of ,w'ritin.~d

OF THE MATERIALS

,: .

. A. It was for a lon~> time a . sp~c1~s: '. pf ~p.gtaving, _ .
and was executed chiefly on piUa~s 'anc;t:l tabl~ts i~of
· stone
,
·
· ·:· · , . ·., ··' '·· h~·Jr i-10 H1:1~~1··Ll U.w
, ' •',
• •

'

J

••

'

.1 • • •

: .\ . , , .

••

Q. What substances came neit into use 1 . ' . · .. ; . ~ . ,: .-. :. . .

·. ; ·,

A. Thin plates uf the softer nietals, such as lead: · ·. ~·'::;
and then, as writing·f ~ecame ·more "coinQJon,, ljghte; · ,.
subs~auces, as ,the, leaves and bark of certah1 trees 1
thin boards COVered With Wax: . ,; n·· .'1,fY)'.;'• ~f l:!' ' t,i_',i')', ,
' Q. ~hat proof is there of the 'baik .of trees havin'g. ~eft thus
used 1
,
' ,, . ..
'r
. . - ' ·'
" .
t

or

~

·

" 1

f

·

• '

• '
' . ' '
t .' , . . : "·

'

•

!1_·~ .

,

'·i

.i

·: 1 · · q; ~ ii t r< ( ;·, f ~ -

(•· .

· A. The 'same w~wci whichl 'in many' languages.~ 'tde~ ,
. 1.
notes a ·book, denot:es •also a tree, or ·ihe ,J:?ark1:of a '.:: .
·tree; , as, the word lib~r in Latin, W,hiph· means,i ~ither · · · :·i~<t:
the .. ~ark of a tree .or a bo~k. · · ;~. · : ·: . ; ·t_:;µ',
<;, ;;~<

t.

:hntih

, Q~ '\¥,hat was the next step m. the progress;~f writ~ng ?1•·,: r)

•

·:,

,f~rt .

, ~· · The manufacture 9f. a su~s~ance called papy11us• ·; 7.''f
.which was prepared · from a reed of;the ·sa1nel'n,ame · 11 ~C
.t hat grew in great abuiidance ort the banks 0Mhs'Nile{1: . ·. r.;;.;

. . Q Wete ~ot the .sk!ns of.11nimals often used for:writihg •upc'm? ·-·

.A •. Yes; and it is said. to ' have ,been µuriIHi'J~-'.!n:,eat.
'

,

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... - .... -

· --

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- , f ' ,:

PART
FORMER SCARCITY OF BOOKS. [ p ART II.

40

ar~.

Where and .about wh3:t timer dAu~~~ M\ci1J;~ ·but at what
. A. In Pergamus, a ?1ty o . ,
•
tune is rather ~tdncertham. t and papyrus co~tinue principally
. Q. How long d1 pare men . .
in use?
b. t the beginning of the fourteenth
A Down to a ou
f
when the superior substance o paper was
.
cen t ury,
.
invented. ·
d.'d
the ancie~ts write their charQ. In what manner 11 some o
.
,
acters in forming wo.rds · th Phronicians and the HeA 1,he Assynans, e
u.
.
'
k
~s
wrote from right to left, as did also the Gree s
b re '·
.
some 'time. ·
·
.
t ~e?
. Q. Did the Greeks aban~on this p1an a11 a hon fi t adopted
A . N . . f in mak111g a change, t ey rs
from
. ·the plan°
right; alternately; and, at Ieng . ·i~ of writing solely
mode, which. at present preva1 '
from left to right. ·. . t tl1is mode of writing from right to
Q What name was gn en °
·
left,.and from left to right, altem;t~Y? because it resembled
. A. It ~as called bous{rhop ie dn,f the ridges in the opthe .turning of ox~n , at t e en o
.
eration of ploughing. ,

1

0

i

I

I

for

~f ~;iting

.

'

'

right;~ ~~~'i~~~/~~~~v~~~~~~

,·

I

·- '

. · · : CHAPT,E R l~.
. . , OF- THE S.CAR~ITY OF BOOKS lN FO.RMER '.fll\lES.
'
· , d t th y are at present 1
Q Were books always as abun an as e
. d they
. A. Far from it; fot~ a~:?nv~~~ r~;:;.~~e g;r~~ily the
were so scarce as le. and a very few volumes would
wealthy ~ndb}he nl otba p'rice equal to the purchase of a
then have ioug 1
,
.
·
good estate. · ·
't of books in ancient times to be
. Q. To what _was the .scarc1 y
.
. .
ascribeTd? ·..
t labor .and expense of copying o:r
'"A· .o ..t e grea
d
py almost
tr~ilscribing them, which ren~ere . every co
,
as costly as the first. ; .
.
. 't 1
Q.' What was the consequence of this sca1c1 y
., . · \

h,

.

· t4l

COMPOSJTION. ·,
''

•

' ·:

;- , ;

,.'~

·,.)

' .

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sc~rc;tr~a~·;;:~~!fr~~~~p~~g~~ues~~h,~;:1a}s~~~;·!~:t

n.]

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.

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,-, ...

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A. A great deficiency of learili~g , apio'pg all. exc~pt ;___·., :""<;:
the w_e althier · classes .ot ·SO?i~ty, .,_as •.,ry.o;£~tpe,xs , p~"s:-: .. :·....>::
~essed the' ~E)an,s of purchasrng books. L· :·i~ ,:.- .· ,,.; ;n:. ,': :·_. '!° ;{
Q. To what 1s the great abµndance of bqoks nqw owmg? . ,1
.\ · :j
A. To the ' invent.ioti of prindpg, "7hich happehed , , ": ~.::
early in the fifteenth cetltllry. ,. n/ '1",; :::~i#uH, 1,<.'t--1." :
· ''

. ~:

~- ';?~~e ~i~;{~~oS1t~!~b~i;i,akiJ~~arl~~: , ~~f~~~{~;

!·

have all_ preferred ; their claim to rt his .: distinguished- .
honor; and 'Coster, Faustus, ~chQe.ffer, , ahd,;rGuHeni;. ,
berg, have all been named as the inventors;1 ;~ · : (fr~{b~Q. What is the cause of such uncertainty? ' ' . :£! · · . ' ~1 <) · ··
-.'~. · '
A. It probably is, that the inve!1t.Ot in this.tiase·;·'a$
: ,';
in ·many others; has been frequently ~bn'f9tiiid~c1 wit~.
"
the improver. , . , .· · · , · _ " ·· ; ·r1: ;/ ·:J; · ·, ,; ·•u, i
(' l
What benefits has the invention of printing produted r ~ . ' ' .-:: ,'1
A. It has multiplied books, cheapene~ knowledge,
. ·;
'and given an entirely new aspect to society: .. . _ ', ' 1 • . ; ·1
•

-~

i . ··

'" '~·
.;

1

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,

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1_~ ;?:,l .\,(:1i1 ·,r~> ;'.,~r:-" =:~_;.·~·i ·

.,! :

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'':• "'cHAPTER.' v t\'1 <::F'F!i;(li[(i J.,_ : .. i
·.

~!.;.

ll

o~ , co>.tPo~tTWN~:, : · .. ·· .L·:)··~·:. .~ ;.; .- ... .-·· .,:._. --1

1

Q. What do: you u~derst~nd bypie-~ t~rm· ~Om.po*ion' as 'ap-'
plied to language?
·' • l , 1 ·
. •
•• , . . • , • .
, ,
. : .~
A. The clear, accurate, and forcible expression 'o f. · · · ·1 ~
our thoughts and opinions ~n writing.
•. ; -.: "·'·_ . - · .· ·. ". ~
Q. Is the term ever employed 'm any other sense, ;: . :.e ; . , . .
:
. A . It,is frequently used in reference to niu~ic, paint-· · · ._ . , :
i1~g, and archi.t~cture; or t~ ;:iny:p1aterial mixttf~e, as .
·;;
well as to writrng.· · " ,,,_.' · · : ~·"" : ·, · ·1 :".. ·i .:
·
•
Q. .What is the ongin and sttict meahing of the -Word ,. < .,
_.
_A. It is formed fr.om the two Latin words con, tOgether, a~id positio, a P}.a~ing, and_Jiter~lly , means a
, .4."
placing together. · . ~ ··, . . , · · ' ;,, .• '· '. .1 • ; . .
. Q., Hovy comes it from this definition to po~sese 'its present
.. , . .
·. , . . ~
_s1gn1ficat1onf , :, . 1 · - . ... . . , · : . • .,.:, ·,· · ,_ , ' ·! .. :
A. Because in composition we place 'YOrds togethei:: _. ' "'j
for the purpose of exp_res:sing our thought~ and ideas:_
' ·'-'=
.Q. Is composition an important acquirement'{ · . ~ 1 . . i ; .
·~
A : , Perhaps the ·most ·so ~f ·a11y, as upon it mainly ,
"1 :
oepend the 1 13pread of knowledg~ _,and the enlighten-' . ' ")/.~

' 'J

1

1

ing of the· world.· .- . <·
.
.
. ""
" D. 2

, . . -.. ,;. ~ . ;, ·(,il
,

'

jlJ..J·

/ ...

. . ··'·"

·· . "
,.
'.

.. I
•,,

I

"

·.·i

~

I. .

1 _Q.

Has it any other advantages? _

- A. It is a source of very refined pleasure, -~nd. of
much mental improvement, to th_o?e who pra~t1se it.

Q. -What are other requisites for atta111111g accuracy 111 compo-

thorough knowledge of the signification of
words, and a constant perusal of the best authors
Q. How are these best attamed ! .

.

.

. r

: A. By close stu?y and npplrcat10~1, but p~rt1~ula11):
by constant attenuot~ t.o t.he 1~ian11e1 o~ ~xp1 cssrng our
own ideas, whether 111 speakrng or wntrng.
.
, Q. What effect h~s close a_ttention to one's manner of spcalung
and writing upon his own mmcl ?

.

.

- A. It tends to produce close and a~curate thmkmg,

for thought and speech muwa1ly_ ~ss1st each other ..
Q. What are the requisites for attammg great ernmence m
composition ?
· _ _ 1,
t
A. Next to study, already mentioned, tic greates
requisites are, genius and tast~._
.. .
.. 1
Q. V\'hat are the requisites ~or at.tamm_g ~ac1ht~ m comr:i~1t 10n .

1
J.

I·

Q. What do you mean by genius?
A. , Some considerable degre~ of mental power or
:superiority, -or a person poss~ss~ng ~hese. _.
Q. Can you recollect any other s1gmficat1on that 1.t ha~-.1 _.
A. It is frequently used to denote a part1cula1 b1~s

or bent of the mind toward any pursmt, art, <;>r science ; as when we say, such a o_ne has a gem us for

music, for painting, ~or _mathematics, &c.
. Q. But what is the stnct imp.ort o~ the term?
.
A. When properly apphed, .1t denotes ~hat particular faculty of the mind, by which a man is en.abled to
invent, or discover, or at least produce, somep11~1g new.

- y ou mention any whom you
would comn<ler men of
.
Q• C ?,.11
genius, in this sense of the term '!
•
·· A. Architnedes, Newton, Franklin, and. ~att, _were

men of this class, _b ecause tl~ey we~·e <l1stlllgutshcd
both for their inventions and d1scovenes.

l ;~;·" 1. · : ··~=·\. :·i~ ·~,-r i·~·i 1/ t ,1( :.;; ~ ·.' .. ': ~,·t

Q . . Are these qualities very common?
. j
• ·-. . · • •
A~ Far from it; as ·it is only once or so · in : an' ag~
1
that they make their :;ippearance. ' · ~
••
•
,
' '.
Q. Can you ·mention any authors whose w~itings entitle them
tobecalledmeii:ofgenius? _ ' '_ ·- _
_· ·
:-: _,, ~

· A. Homer and Virgil · in ancient, and ·shakspeare;,
Milton, Bacon, Bunyat1, and Johnson. in modern .times:
~

[

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:

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>; ..

, .: "

1 .

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_,_ CH_•\l~'-fER VU. ~ - .. :.:: . -"

, -~

... ·
•;:.< .: ·. ~ -.. ~ . , .

/

~.: QF ,· TASTE; 'Hi \-•~·i: :; i
What do you me~n· bfta~te? 'f ..'r• : ,.. ;: ~: ~· ; '"-' -, - ;,. _. ,, '. ·' :.
;

Q.

OF GENIUS.

i

A. When be gives pirth to new -trains ,or .combinations of thought, or produces . some .:origiµ~l piece_of,
composition.
. · . ., . ·
_- ·": " ; )'1 y;:r ,.·; -.~ .
· Q. What do you mean by original compositioµ ~ : :. :. :·, _·, ' _· ,
A. _Compo~ition which ·combines :the .disti,n guished ~
qu~lity of great e~c_ellence, wi.th ~ts nqt be,in~ an·_·1mi7 ·
tatIOn Of any we~I.OUS production. , ,;,\ __ ., · :r; -, , t _. 1; , I

A. Considerable practice rn ongmal compos1t1on.

CHAPTER VI.

ttiat' an ·aut:t,i<;>_r 'may, b~ -: ~onsidered a mart· Of.'·

· .Q. When is it
genius?
· i., :

___

sit~-~t' A

. _49.

TA_STE').'

[PART II.

GENIUS.

42

·::.":.t: ' f i'f.. '

,~,~

:;

.

, •

'JI

._.,...
A. That faculty by \\:'hich :we mre .'·enabled to · perceive and relish the beauties _of-composition. · In ·a
more general sense, it is :a name · for that faculty, br
for those faculties, 1 which fit us ·for receiving 'pleasure
from what 'is beau iiful, elegant, or excellent, in ' the
works of Nature and art. " He who derives 110 pleas,.
ure from such elegance, excellence, or be~i1tyi is ·said _
to be a r'nan of•no taste; he who is gratified with that
which is faulty in works of art, is a man of ~ad taste;
and he-who is pleased or displeased; accordii1g to lhe
. J:~~~
degree of excellence or faultiness, is a man: of o-ood
-. '
. - ' . . , ., ", - ; )_.,' ' ' .. 11OJ·.1..;
t as t e.

Q. What faculties or talents does good tast~ · imply? ; r ~- ' ~: f ' A. (J.) A lively imaginalion-by _.which a · man . is
qualifieq for 'readily apprehending'.t he ' ineaniI1g of an
author or ' artist, tracing out: the ·connection. of -his
thoughts, and fqrming the same views of things which
.h~ has formed. Yet t.11e · man , who .,is- unacquainted
with Nature ._ can never be, a inan of, taste; because he
can not know Whether. the production of art .resembl~ y
' '
.._. /
-

...... '{

,

,

~- ....

\

TASTE.

44

[PART Iii

Nature or not; and if he know not ~his, h_e can receive
.
from the imitative arts no real satlsfact10n.
~ (2.) Another quality . ne_cessary_to good taste, is a
clear and distinct app1·ehertsion of tlun!!s.
· .
(3.) To this mu~t be a~ded a quick perception of,
or a capacity of bemg easily_ and pleasurably affected
with, those objects that gratify the seconda~y ~en~es,
particularly sublimity, beauty, harmony, and m~1tat10n.
The term secondary senses, bJ: some called mternal
senses, · and by .others emot10ns, have thus heen
described by Dr. Beattie, tp whom ?hiefly we are
indebted for this article. We P.erce1ve colors and
figures by the eye ; we also perceive that ~a,1~e colors
and figures are beautiful, an~ others not. . I his power
of perceiving beauty, which the brutes have not,
though they see as well as we, I call a secondary
sense. We percei".e sound~ b.y the ear; we also
perceive that certam combrn~trnns of ~ou~1d have
harmony, and that others are d}ssonant. fh1s power
of perceiving harmony, called m common langyage a
musical , ear, is another sec.~mdary sense, which the
brutes have not, and of wh1~h many men who hear
well enough are utterly destitute. Of these ~ec~nd­
ary senses there are many in the huma~1 ~onstitut10n,
among others those. of no~e~ty, subhr;rtity, beauty,
imitation, harmony, . and ~1d1cule, wluch, together
with sympathy, form what is called good taste; The
leasures received from the secondary sen~es ~re,
Addison and Akenside, called pleasures of unagma-

by

tion.

·

·
·
·
.
.
,, The only way of improving the secondary s~nses IS by
studying Nature and the best performanc~s m art ; ~y
cultivating habits of virtue; and by ke~pmg ~t a dis-

tance from every thing gross and i_ndehcate, m books
and conversation, in mani1ers and m lang.uage ..
·, · (4.) The next thing n~cessary to go_od taste is ~y_m­
pathy, by which, supposmg ourselv~s m th_e cond1t10n
of other men, we readily ad?pt their sentiments and
feelings, and make them, as it were, ou~ o~n ; and so
receive from them some degree of th_at pam o~ pleasure which they would bring along with them if they

PART 11.] ,

i,

I

were really our own; Without- thi~,Irior~l sensibility
our minds would not be open to · rece,iye those .emotions of·pity, joy, admiration,· sorrow; and imaginary
terror, which the best performances in the fine arts,
particularly in poetry; are intended to raise within us;
nor, by consequen~e, could we forrri a righLes\imate ·.
of the abilities of the author, or of the. tendency aiid
importance of his work.
'
· ·
'fhe last thing requisite to form good tast.e is Judg- ·
ment, or good sense,1 'which is irideed. the principal'
thing, and may, without much irnpropriety, be said to .
comprehend all the rest. Without this we could qot
compare the imitations of Na tu re with Nature itself,
so as to perceive how far they agree or differ j nor
could we judge of the probability of events in a fable,
or of the .truth ,of sentin1ents; nor whet.her the plan
of a work be accorping. to rule or otherwjse. '.' · . .
. It might also .have been. .stated, that' as virtue is the
perfection of beauty, · the love . of virtue' is ' essential to

·!

;·....

/'

.·

~

.....

<. .·' .:· ··,' ·, '· '., ·'.' ··.·:

true taste. · · ' .... , . - ·........ .
Q. What is the chief peculiarity of this faculty? "·· : ·;: · ·' · :_, ·'

A. ' Its great susceptibility . of improvement': when
regularly and jt1diciously exercised. : ··.: '. < · i ~: ·
Q. What are the chief means of improving it? <

·
"j
...;

, , - ·• ·

.·~.

. A. The study of the best authors, and attention to .
all the finest models and specimens of composition. ~
Q. What are the chief characteristics of taste? · . , ·
:
A. Delicacy and correctness; the one, however, to

a certain degree implying ~he other, though not pre'.'
,
. .. '· .. ; , "· . : ,
cisely the same. ' .· .

.·

Q. In what does delicacy of taste chiefly consist?. ,
.
A. · In a quick and accurate perception of ;ill the

finer and less obvious

beaut,ie~

of any performance .."

Q. In what does correctness, consist? . ·

'

. . ,1

,

. ..,

.

A. In a ready detection of false orri.~,ment. , and. ~
due . appr~ciation ~,fall ~he; ,more su.b,~~~n~i.~~- q~~l~t!~l" ..
of a ht.erary1work.
. . . ; . . . ",, , 1 , .._1., .. .. , . . .. .. .
r

Q. Are b?th attrib1;1table to. the s~me SOU~<;e 1".: \<

' ' ~. "' '. "-

~·\ ·~

A. Del~cacy of taste. is chiefly founded on feelmg,
an_d i.s mo.re.. a gift o~ - na.tur~: , co~r.~c,tne~s c)~pends \r
prmcipally · ~pon ·cult1vat1pn, ~nd ,1s .:mg,re1.• .a~l.1~~;'.t? '. "
reason and Judgment.
' .. ·
· ' '. . ~;: i"-t ">

t.i

'

'

",

46

~All_T

LrAR'i' n.

DEAU'rY AND SUBLIMITY.

ua

''

'. DEA UT¥.; ANp. ,$UBLlMITY..
•

\,

;ects whether the product of nature or of art.

J Q. with what sort of obie.cts is taste.ch~efly ~onversan~? .
A. Those chiefly which are d1stmgmshed for their

beauty or sublimity.

CHAPTER Vlll. .

'

l

OF BEA.u:rv AND SUBLIMITY.

.

A.. That quality possessed by such obJe?ts as. may
be contemplated with a high deg~·ee o~ satisfact10ft.
Q: And on what does beauty in an obJeC~ chiefly depend? d
· A. On shape, color, or the quality of fitness . a~1 :
· tTty That which in the smallest compass exhibits
!~~ i r~atest · variety of. beauty, is a fine .human fac~.
It et;braces variety, unifonmty, prop.ort10n, convemd
ence, colors, delicacy, and the expresston of ~n~ral an
intellectual virtues. Human beauty, therefoie.' ,~t least
that of the face is not merely a corporeal quality, but
derives its origin and essential cha~·acters from the
soul. - and almost any person may, ~n some deg~ee,
ac uire it who is at pains to improve his un~erstandrng,
to qrepress criminal thoughts, and to cherish good affectitms. as every one must lose it, whatever features
or comp,lexion there may be to boas~ of, w~o leaves
the mind uncultivated, or a prey to evil passions, or a
slave to trifling pursuits.
Q. What is sublimity?
.
.
,
l
.
. A. That quality in objects ~h1ch, ~hen t iey. am
contemplated, excites in the m~nd sentiment~ .of ~~e
and grandeur; makes us conscious of so~net m~ I e
an ex ansion or elevation of our faculties, as if we
-were ~xerting our whole capacity to comprehend the
. .
.
?
. vastness of the object.
· · Q. On \Vhat does the feelin~ of sublimity ch1etly c1epem1 · f
' A., On a perception of immense exten.t, whether 0 d
space, ' duration, or numbers, and of great power an
energy.

t

\\

Q: qan you give an e11Jample of. objeci1( remarkable for "their

Q. ls taste ·ever employed upon any thin g besides la.11guage?

- A . Yes; it may be employed upon all soi ts of ob-

Q. What do you understand by b~auty?

'il'47 ~·

(,

sublun~ty7 .
,,.
. ·
, .. i,.; .:. ·; rr ·1•.•. r · ·
· A. I'~e Deity; . t~e. s~urce of r h}ppines~ ..and.-. the '
standard of , perfection ; ,who creates, P.~e~~rvesj pei:~
yades, and gov~rns all. things ; whose :P9.\\'ei; is unlitnIted, whose . wisdom is perfect, .whose .• goodness is
without bou11ds, whose greatness is incomprehensi?Ie ;· who was from all eternity, and of whose dorriin1on the1'e can be no end: 'he is undoubtedly, al'id beyond all comparison, the most sublime object which ·
It is possible to conceive or to contemplate ; : an<l
of all created sublimity, his works exhibit, the most
perfect and most astonishing examples. Such· are
the cloudles& or starry sky-the troubled . ocean.-::...a
n;iajest.id Hver-a deafening cataract--a lofty mountarn-volcanoes-earthquakes-the solar system-the
universe.
.
' ' ' , '
' .
~
Q. What, prob'.lbly, was th~ design of our ,Creator in bestowin.g

up.on us a capacity.for denvmg pleasure from great and sublime
objects? ·
·
· ..
r • • • • . _, :
..
· • • •
_ :. •

.A. · It w~s, 'to raise our ·. n:iinds above tlrn present
W?1:ld, ~nd to prepcire us for th.e coi1templation of the ·
D1vme nature; and of the works of creatiori' ~rid Prdvr.
idence, which will, no doubt; constitute the "supreiiie
aqd final felicity of the good. ·. · ; ·' . ' _ - · . : . · ·
Our taste for lite sublime, cherished into i1 habit and .
directed to proper objec'ts, may, ·therefore, 'promote · our
moral improvement, by leading us to contemplate the
Creator in his woi1derful works; by keeping us at a
distance from vice, which is the vilest 'of all ·things,
and by r~comme1id!ng virtue for its intrjnsic dignity
and lo veliness.
·
- ·
· .- · - .
Q. ,What gives occasion to the emotion of moral beµuty . and. ~ub-

limity ?

· ·

' - ·

'

·

·

' ·

A. 'fhe emotion of moral beauty arises where we

•.

observe a coincidence between the sense of duty 'and ,
certain inferior principles of action. The :emotion of
!flOral sublimity is awakened. when the sense of duty
1s opp,osed by inclination or affection, or by ariy or
all the inferior principles of action, and triumphs over
them. Its principle consists in a' power of self-control'
and of self-sacrifice, in those cases in which they are
difficult.
·
·

,

BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY.

LPART

II.

Q. Can you ilhtstrnte these remarks by an example?
,A. The conduct ·of that young man, who labors
hard and denies himself that he may support. an
nged mother, or add to her comfort, is ~1ighly beau tiful; but natural affection co-operates with a sense of
duty, and, therefore, it is not sublime" 'I'he, act of our
Savior upon the cross, of remembermg h_1s mother
ahd providing for ·her wants, was beautiful - _how
beautiful! His prayer for his murderers was subhme.
It is, in general, acts of tendernes.s, gentleness, condescension, pity, gratitude, humamty, that are beautiful; while it is, on the other harid, acts of magnanimity; of fortitude, of inflexible justice, of high pa, triotism, and, on proper occasions, of couternpt of danger and of death, that are sublime. Hence :ve see
why it is that periods of difficulty, ai~d_o_ppression, and
persecution, are favorable to the exh~b1t1011 of the moral sublime. Such was the Refortnat.10n und e r Luther.
For an admirable view of this and kinc.lrecl topics,
you may consult two lectures by President Hopkin~;
on the " Connection between Taste and Morals,
whence we hav e copied fre ely in this article.
Q. Is th<' seMe of lhe he;rntifnl a f'llrt of onr nature?

A. It is as really so as the sense of the true or of
the right; and "the forms,' and shades, and gro~1ps of
thought,,'' .that are fitted to produce t!1e emo t.1011 of
beauty in us, are as diversified as the sights or sounds
which supply the ever-changin g pleasures of the eye
and the e ar.
Q. How is this sense of tlw he n11liful to br. i!ll pro,·ctl?

A. " It would seem," says Professor Hadduek,
"that the sense of beauty of which we arc niade ca~
pable by nature, is dPvelopPcl in tqe mind by exe rci se ;
and though, like other powers. it may be co11ferrcc.l on
men in different degrees, is always nourish ed alld matured by its appropriate aliment -Tm:. DuuTIFUL.
It is strengthened by being indulgec.l. It 1s caller! out
by being appealed to: and the aid which theory a_nd
criticism afford in its cultivation, is m~rely to pomt
out and supply appropriate objects-the natural occa·
sions for its exercise."

'

~~RT

•·tr.):

~EA,UT.Y ·

AND ·SU.BLIMITY .. ·

Q. What db you mean by bea.t\ty of languag~ 1.. ..·
· ·
A. That quality which it possesses, .1when· it may
be read or lis~e'ned .to. w!tli a high degree of pleasure.

Q. And what is sublimity m languago?
· .,,., .. · · 1
· A. 'fhat quality whiGh it possesses,\vhen if excites
in the tnind of the reader ·or hearer, grand'and exalted
notions of the objects de~cribed. .
· "· · (:: ... :· . ·
· ,Q. What sort of language may l>e said to be m~st' in acccird~iice'.
with correct taste ?
- . '
'
'
. " ' '. :
· A. ·That in which b'e auty and sublimity are both
conspicuous, the one quality serving to shed . 'l ustre
upon the other;
· '
·
. .- . · . 1 . ..

. , Q. Can yon give example~ of the beat11.iJ of lang~tagl! ?

•

A. The following a're . from the " Poetry of :Life,'t
by Mrs. Ellis: .· ,
· . . ·· : '. · ' ·:' . · ·
·

I

·

1

~

I

· . ,

"There is poetry in the low-roofod cottage standing on the
skirts of the wood, beneath the overshadowing oak, around which
the chiklrcn of many generations have gambo led, while the
Wreathing smoke coils up among the rlark greell fol iage, a nd the
gray ~hatch is contraste\l with golden moss . and glittering ivy.
We s~~d and gaze.,delight.e_d with : this pictur_e of ru~al peace
and pnv1leged. secluston. · We Jong to shake otl .the shack les of
artifici~l society, th~ Wearying cares of l\fe, the irop~rative control
of faslnon, or the tot! and traffic of the busy wor\d; and to. dwell,;
for the remafnder of our days, in a quiet spot like _this, where affec:
tion, th::it is t oo ortr'll l ost i11 'tl1e gr\JJI(' ofltfe, mi ght 1i11foltl h er slnrc
of fireside .c omforts, and where we a nd ours might constitute one
unbroken chain of social fellowship, under the shelter of serenity·
and peace."
'
· ' ·; . ~ · '
!' ·
·
•
··.
. .. _ ., , .
":Nature.is full of poetry, from the high mountain to th~ shel·
t.eretl vallf1 \ ' , from the bl r ak promontory to tlrn myrtle grove, from
the slar-lit hea\' l'!lti to the slumbering earth."

Speaking of a mo~eru poet, l\I1:s .. Ellis , lJe~utifuUy
observes,
- ·
., .. ·'

.

'

'

"His ch1rmecl numbers flow Oh like the free Current or:a melodious streamhwhose associations are with the' sunbeams and .
the shadows , t e leafy boughs, the sm1g of the forest birds, the i
de\:r upon the flo~ ery bank., a~d all thin~s sweet, in:id genial, and
delightful, whose rn_fluence l~ around t~s m ·our happiest rpoments,
and whose essence is the, w ealth that hes hoatd!'ld m , the treasury
of nature.''
.. ' · '
.. " · .. ' ": . i '.-· ~- " 1_1 .~._\ .~· ..

. To. exhibit the justness qf the above (;riticism,· ~'~e ·
quoted t.h~ following ~~o';f· other fin~.· spec_in~~-q~ ?· ~f.'~ .- '. ) -..:! :~ ·
. .
-·

\

. '

/,

._.,, '

!
, I,

· '.

.' ,

;!

I ,
I

.

'

~

-50

BEAUTY AND SUBLIMITY.

"

. .I~.]

•

LrAR'1' n.

"I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining,
:
A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on;
.
· I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining,
The bark was still there, but the Waters were gone."
" Seldom, indeed, had Athens witnessed such a scene. The
ground that formed the original site of the garden had from time
·. to time received continual additions; and the whole extent was
laid out with that perfect taste, which knows how to wed Nature
with Art, without sacrificing her simplicity to the alliance. Walks
leading through wildernesses of shade and fragrance - glades
opening; as if to afford a pleasure-ground for the sunshine-temples, rising on the very spots where Imagination herself would
have called them up-and fountains and lakes, in alternate motion and repose, either wantonly courting the verdure, or calmly
sleeping in its embrace : such was the variety of feature that diversified these fair gardens ; and animated, as they were on this
occasion, by the living wit and loveliness of Athens, it afforded a
scene such as my own .youthful fancy, rich as it was then in images of luxury and beauty, could har9,ly have anticipated."

. . P_A RT
'

,.

~

,

,'

A. · (1.) When it elevates the mind, and makes it,
asit wE'.re, superior to the cares and troubles of this

l,

..

.
)
·' ' .
. . :.. . ,- r STYL.E .'Al'{D ;·1DIOM.~1·'w •.~I-!;,•_
.

"" . .

..

.

'

.

world : (~.) when it infuses · all.y sublime 'a tfec.t ion ~~s , .
fevoted piety,: :uriiver~<:tl) bellevolenci~,~. hle ;io·ve of· ~lru_e hand of our country: (3.) wheti it affects·the mind
wit. an awful a~d imag_inary; but.not; .u npleasi'ng .hbr-· ..
rr. (4.) when It descnbes the sentiments-.:b~ actions
0
those persO!lS whose , cha~acter is verf. {ele"vated, .
:n0 ~5.) when It couv,ers .a hvely i9ea of any•grand
. ppe~anc:e, natural, artificial, or imaginary~ .1 :·· ·i . ,._ · •·
~ ~a~ ls properly termed a sublime &tyle ! , .. ; · "tr• , 1, n"··r.li ·"'·
. · hat wh1_ch makes us readily conceive any great ,
Object or sentiment in a lively manner;. and this is
done when the words ~re very plain and simple.
en bold figu_res . and '. high-sounding ,. expressions
ehmployed without ~ _corr~sponding elevation of ·'
oug t, .they bec_ome rrd1culous, and are called' bom:.
bast, or false sublime· ·. · . ·, · . " •. " · r • , ·
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·','' OF ~TVLE ·,ANb mioM,I i 'iJ ·· 1 d •;'ir'-1/1~ ,·~J~:,,,
do Y~~ understand by· Style· as appiied' t~ ~rilfug ·?,"':·

Tttie pattwula~' II!<inner. in ·' which ra ·/writerr: or

Q Wh '

1

1

\

· ••

•

,· • • ' •

"Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne,
In rayJess majesty now stretches forth
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world.
Silence how dread ! and darkness how profound !
Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds ;
Creation sleeps ! 'Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and Na tu re made a pause .
An awful pause! prophetic of her end." ,
Q. When is poetry sublime ?
·

•';• ' · .

' r::

THE SUBLIME IN WRITING.

For the best and most P.e rfect examples of this,
the Bible must be consulted. In its very first chapter,
how sublime is the declaration, " God said, Let there
be light, and there was light!" ·
Read, also, portions of the· Psalms of David-the
book of Job, and the prophecies of Isaiah, and others.
These may be referred to again in the chapter on
the Poetry. of the Bible, which will deserve particular
study.
·'
.·
Milton, Young, Pollok, and other poets, abound in
fine examples of the sublime. Dr. dhalmers excels
among prose .writers.
·
· .
' Dr. Young. th~s addresses Night:

f,

··..,··,·', '

: ·~, ,:•-(.:
:· '.'rf
:, \'.~,::,

SDQea~er. ex'wphre~ses h1s thoughts by means of lang· uage.>
· rom
at Is the word styfe derived 1 ·' , ' _, , ..
·
~
A F
th 1 .
.
,.,.•• ·~1
t · ror_n . ~ ,a~m w,ord . stylus, a pointed steel in-

. '··

· ,.,_.

>·.ti·;:;·-~'

~hr~ment, with which the ancients 'used to 'write upon
e1r waxen boards and tablets . .,
" ;.
, .: r .. .... ' · .
Q. Is there much diversity of style among m~n ?,; ·, ";:.::·.::·. ·. 1 ,\.... '· ),
A. Very great_; as almost every writer has a ·Style
- , -;~'
or man~er peculiar t? ~imself; though in some. this is .
;;;s:
more marked and ~tr~krng than in others. I' ill r i: . r;.- . ,
. J.'if

·i;

~

op what does this d1ver~_1ty ~f ~tyl~. depend? ' .' ..,u:-:r,
on

I " >,

< I

. artly on ' mental constitution. partlY,
the
·naturhe and qu~lity of' the . edqcation .~hich a '.·person
may ave received.
·
·· '!
o. .. ,· , 1 · , :,:.. 1 .-, .

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0

~f~ty:f~ are th~ me_n , tha~-a~e ~ostdi~tingu~slied ,bype~u.Iia~ity

A

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. . ~ tyle is ch,aracte,rist1c of ditferent wrilers : .idiom , /
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Sn you. state th~ d1fi~re~cf:l between style and idiom ( / '
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A · Thos
· 11
. r • 1 • .\ • · •
vi o'r
' _e, gene_ra
of greatest genius, : gr~atest
~ 0 ~f mi~d, or of ~1gl}est meptal cultivat.ion.· . ·1 c ·

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52

'\

DIFFERENT KINDS OF STYLE.

[PART II.

of different languages : hence we spea~ of the style
of Addison, but of the idiom of the ~~nghsh l_angu;ige.
Q. What do you consider, then, the true import of 1tl~om .

A. That peculiarity in the mo?e.of e;x:p~ess1on, and
arrangement of words, which d1stmgmshes one lan.
.
. .
guage from another.
Q. Do languages differ much ln pomt of 1d10m 1.

.

A. Very considerably ; modes of e.xpress10n ~nd
arrangement appearing quite proper m one, which
would. be harsh and uncouth in another.

!

"_ P,t\R~ ,II.)

. PER,SPICUITY~
•
I·· .
.

minds, and _t.he occasions on whfch, ,they.,require ·, to
speak or write 1
.
· · ', .
·: ~: , ,: ,, ,•.;~; ....:
, ~ Q. What do~ you inean by 11' natural style 1 1·,•i( ··.~ :-J>, '. : '. t .
A. A style iu strict.· accordm1Ce with ; the · rules·· and
princi_ples of the language, in which a pers.orr speaks
or wntes; and such as one, deeply impres~ed s with his
subject., u~es wilhou.t appare_n t effo. rt or labor . ._ ·
·
. Q. What

' A.

1s

OF DiFFERENT KINDS OF STYLE.

qualities of

st~le?

A. The strong, the weak, the simple, the flond, the
concise, the diffuse.
.
Q. What do you mean by a strong or vigorous style?_

A. A style that makes a deep and powerful unpres-

sion upon the mind of the hearer or reader.

Q. And what by a weak or feeble style?
.
A. A style that has little pc_>wer of arrestmg the

attention, or exciting the feelings of the reader or
hearer.
·
.
1
Q. Can you express your opinion o~ a snnple s~y 1e:
. A.. Simple style is that in which there is little appa•
rent labor, and no attempt at any thing but merely to
be understood.
·

. Q. And what do you mean by a florid s~yle ?
.
A. Style in wh~ch ther~ is great profus10n of orna-.

mei1t, and an obvious desire to

p~od11ce

effect.

Q. What have you to say of the concise style?

A. It is the style 'which a writer or speaker uses,
who expresses his thoughts in very few words. ·
Q. And what of the diffuse 1

: . · · · "·

,

··

1 •

·

•

•• '

~·

•

•

, ~· That' .depends entirely upon · the 'nature 6r the
subJect, as well as the . occasion . on: which .a .person
may be called t6 s,peak or write . . -·· ' ; . . . .' . '. . ' '
' 'tNote.-For examples of different. kinds' of slyle, let' th~ s~hol~~ bP. r'e.

CHAPTER X.
differ~nt

,.

ployed to express common thoughts · · '· · . · .
Q. When should ·one .kind of style be u~~d in · pr~fe~~~c~ 1 to

another ?

Q. Can you mention any of the

i ' •f

a bombastic style? ·

A style in \vhich great swelling words are ,em-

.

A. Diffuse style is that which persons employ, who
express themselves very fully, and dwell long on the
sarrie thoughts.

Q. Are there any more qualities of style?
A. Yes; but it is impossible to enumerate tl~em al!,
for they are as diversified as the characters of mens

· r' .)'
'

. .

qu.,sted to make select1011s from books or pPriodicals: Mrs. Tuthill's" y ciung
Ladies' Reader" is a valuable book of refer~ncc.]
·, , •
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. · CHAPTER 'XI ·!' 1 ·ri · i ,

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,- ·

·~~ P~R-SPICUIT~.; ·,.; ' ,J' .... '1:',' \::i_<(,<?~ '

' . Q.. What do you conceive to pe the greatest eli:cellenc~'. of ~tyi~
tpwhateverc~ass _it.belongs, 7 : · ·" : .. ;. ,., . , ·.,.. 1·., :: • •• .h; .
A. Persp1cmty, or that quality which. enables us to
see ' ~t bnce an author's meaning, and renders , it irri~
· possible for ils to misunderstand it . . ;, . ' , ' .. ;· , ·
,. Q. What quality stands next to 'perspicu!ty_in importa~ce.? ,, , .
~· _Ornament, or. e_legance; which, joined with per-sp1cmty, forms the highest . e,xcellence .that ~tyle can
possess.
· · ,
·
· . .·.. :.·1i .,: :r1.: . :,:,.1

1·

.'
. '
. "

,.

. •"::

/"

Q. ';hat re~ders perspicuity so ~ssenti~l in styl~? :· :: · · · ·, ·

:.

, A.- r~~ c1rc11msta11ce o_f Its bemg neces~ary that
qo11Jpos1t10n should be easily understood· for without ·
this no other 9uality is of any v<1ltje . . · , '.·.,., '
Q. On what does perspicuity depend?

. .. · ,

>:.:,: ;,;

:.~:.

'. • 1: ~. · · . '

~; Partly_ 01~ , the choice of wq,rds, anci P?rt.ly . '~n'

their. structure

111

sentences. ,

'

'

. ' .. , . · • ·· · .' 1

' Q. What are the chie( things to oe attended. tQ in the 'choic'e of.
;words ?
.'
:·•
: ·· ·
· · · -:- ' ' . 1 . • ,. ' ."

A.. P1,1rity, Propriety, and Precision ':\ · ;:··.·; :\ :
-· ·. , .,, / ·:; ;' .; ·( .·.~;\:. ;. . B.2. ·:', , ,::;: .,_ .·;. · , ;.: ; -'_ ; ,'. ;r'.:1-,~/
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·54

PURITY.

Q. What arrangement of

[PART IJ.

W ords • or

structure
, of sentences, do
youAthink
best?
That
w h atever I"t may be ' which is bestd fitted to
e~p~ess th~ meaning intended to ?e conveye .

CHAPTER XII.
OF PURITY.

Q. What do you fean ~Y P u;j~ ~~ ~~~;des of expression
use loy Esuc
as A.
areThe
perfect
ngrI ~ ' and warranted by good au-

0

1

r

thority.
· ·
"d
· I fon of purity?
Q. What do you fons1
~~~d~ ias are either foreign to
. A. The use o sue lb come antiquated by disuse.
the
of purity in respect
Q. language?
Can you g 1 ~eoranhave
examp fe of the violation
.
of foreign Vl'.ords · fi
ln ess . fozurue, for turbul e nce ;
A : Fraicheur! or coo
e~amp'i'es of French .\vords
polite~se, for poht;ne~s, are
.
used
rnstead
?f
English.
1
f
the
latter
species
of
v10lat10n
Q. Can you give an exarnp e o
of purity?
nd. erst for formerly; and
A.
Beh~st,
for
commaf
sith, .for since, are now o tl1'is cla~s ' though they were
once in common use.
. 1
1
Q. What is the s.tamlnrddo~~~ ~ ~~ity of the best speakers
A. The practice an
·

1

and writers.
·
.
h
1
Q.
Are
words
much
su~J~~
;~
ca1~yng;hing
connected with
· A. ·Almost as muc
human affairs.
·
ffer th~e changes?
. Q. In what m~nner d_o ~hey stliey change their significaA . . On some occ3:sw.1~:,d to hinder. on others they
tion; as, let once ~gm m,e obsolete.' as, slrook, which
drop out of use, or eco
t k
'
d instead of s rue ·
once ·.was use . .
f
struction consist?
·
·
. Q. In what does pun_ty o ?~ords in a sentence accord.A . . In the arr_ang!n_g 0
mode of expression.
ing to the Et~ghsh td tom ie~~f the violation of this principle?
. Q. Can you give any examp.
if of such conduct.," lS a
A " He will repent mmse
.
·
Fre~ch, not an English mode of express1011.

l'ART

.-.·

.": ~

i

It.)

Q. How WOUid you correct this? '
I. ·,i:.: ,!.·q "~~':·>;.-./,~'+
· A. By leav!ng 01~t the ~or? !iimself. , :· ·:~"; ·: }) ):
Q. Are all wi"Iters ahke, restncted m the use of words 7 :· ,,,.
A. All writers - are rest.ricted to -a :_certajff ·cdegree; .
but poets take, and are allowed much greater, libetties
in this_respect than prose writers. ·· ·,1 ,i'. .t•i.•<.i''.·'r.. ,.;.,
Q. Can you give an example 1.
, '
. ~ , , . ,,;... ,
A. "The · sunset of life . gives me mystical 1lore:'!
here the Word lore is an antiquated ' Word; · den<Jtiiig
learning, and would hardly be tolerat,e d _.rn·· an.Y, t~~pg
but poetry.
.
.: ,·
·. · • ...h : ..,,.,.,....,
Q. Will you endeavor to correct the following violations of ,
purity? He stroamed idly about the fields. He was ;certainly
an ext_ra genius. They showed too much hauteur. ·,, · . ; .· ,· . .: "·'
A. He roamed idly, &c. He was certainly an un.common ge1iius. They showed ·too tnuch haughtiness~
J '

.

EXERCISES. .

'

'

'

. '~ ·

'

· '; '/)."',"'.:

'

I. Correct the grammatical
errors in the following
sentences :
'
, I. · A variety of pleasing ohje<;ts th anti thll eye.•. · .
·
• . 1~,
1
2. rn the privileges to which he has an undoubted right, arid has so long
enjoyed, should now be wrested from him ,. would be ll.1grant i.n justice.
3. The religion of these people, as well a8 their customs and .. manners,
were strangely misrepresented. ' : · · ' · : ' ,. . .·· · .1 · ; ' ! '-'· 1 u! ·'. ." :.,~, 4: Wh ether one person or more wa:s ccinoemed hi the "bu~inessj'does. not
yet appear. , .
·
-' . ·. · . . · ; ., : ' ·.
. , · · : • ..,,, ~ ·. • ;'; ' , , •
1
5. The mind of· man can _not be long' without somb food fd nrJiuish
tli6
·
· · "
' '""' '.
activity ofliis thoughts .
1
6. They ought to have contributed the . same proportion . as us; yet we
gave a third more than thet)l.
·
· · ·
.- .: , _:, · . ·; ·
7. Who should I .meet the other evening but my old friend . . ,: . : · , .
8. Those sort of favors do rPal injury under the appearance of kihdnes~;
9. I saw one or more persons enter the garden.
'·
•, : '
IQ. Every person, whatever be their station, is bound by the duties of
morality and religion.
'
' 1•
• •
'·
• ' • •
1
11. The conspiracy was the easier discovered from .its being' .known 'to
many.
·
. . ·1
•.
12. The pleasures of the uhderstanding are more preferable .than those
Of the senses.
·
, ·
'
·
·
:.. . ,
13. Eve was the' fairest of all her daughters ,
··
· . · ' · . · ·, '
14. I cau not tell who has ,befriended me, unless .it is him from 'Yhom I
have recP.i\-ed so many favors.
·
. ·
• .
.,
15. The confession is ingenuous, and I hope more from thee riow ,than
I could if you had promised.
'· ·
, ,
· •
.· · .
· 16. Each of these words imply some pursuit or object relinquished. · ·
17. No nation gives greater encouragement to_learning than ,:.,e do; yet,
at the same time, r!orle are so injudicious in th e application.' · · ' :
,18. I Y!10uld be obliged to him if he will gratify me ii) that particular.•
. 19. We have done no more than it .was our duty to have done .' ." '- .'·
' 20. His vices have
his mind. aud broke his health.
· ··'. ·•,:> !
21. They could not persuade .Jiim, though they wero Ji~ver so ,e loquenti )

weak~ned

- -

•

[PART II~

PROPRIETY.

'

t

"'.'.

· 1i.

0

be at peace acted the part of medmtor.
. .
3 All
things required nburidance of finesse and dcltcntcssc to
mn;iitge with advantage, ns well ns a strict ouservnncc of luucs uml sen·

tl;cse

'.t

The hauteur of Florio was very disgracious, and 'disgusted both his
friends nod strangers.
.
.
5. When ( m:ule som~ R prnpos remarks upon !us conduct, he began to
quiz me : but he had us hef let 1l alone.
.
. 6. They thought it an important subject, and the questwn was strenuously debated pro and con.

CHAPTER XIII.
Q. What do you mean by Propriety as applied to style?
· ·A. The selection of such words as are best adapted
to express the meaning intended to be _conveyed.

Q. What is the first rule to be observed with regard to propriety? · ·
.

:A. Avoid such words and express10ns as _are low
and vulgar, or tend to excite mean con~ept10ns : as,
to see a thing with half an ey_e; to get into a scrape;
which should be, to see a th~ng at a glance ; to get
into a difficulty.
.

A. In writing prose, we s?ould re.Ject such words
. as belong entirely to the pr?vmce of poetry; as, morn,
for morning; evej for evemng; lone, for lonely.
Q. What is the rule next to be observed?

ten~1s, or terms peculiar to some particular art or profess10n, unless when
writing to persons who understand them; as, we tacked

" A. We should avoid technical

* If his, upils have not been thoroughly . in~tructod . in fm<.\
grnmmnr, the
tenchcr maf revert to tlrn rules of syntnx on which ho
!\hundance
1

. of exerci~es .ju all th~ or<l11111ry teirt-hooks,

.

d1ff~_rent . sen~es ~ 3:s, "The :kiI~g comm'\1.q icated:".his 1i1f.,...

te11t10n to the mu11ster, who ,disclosed 1t :tor,the ,. secre- ·
tary, who_ inad.e it known to. the . public. i~ ; · ) 'l;li.~ .LQW.n
reason might liave suggested better reasons."' '' '' ·. ' ' '

"

Q. How would you rectify these sentences? · ·

' ..

,~

···

· A .- Th11s: cc The ·king communicated )1is iritention
to the minister, the minister disclosed it to the secr~­
~,arr, and the. secretary my'lde it kn?wn to the_public.~'
His own Judgment nught have suggested ·better
reasons." ·
· . · ' . .
. . ; ·,: ·: ''. (" ;. :
, Q. What is the next rule to be attended to 1 · · , . :..: ,, .. :.; ,
.· A . .All words ,that are ne~essary tc(c9tnplet~ the
s_ens~. ought to be ~npphed; rthus, ~nst~ad .of," This ac'- 1.o n .m~re~sed '. ~is former setvices ;" we· should ' say,
' This act10n mcreased the merit ofhis"' former ''ser- . · · ·
vices." ' :. '',·.: ., »~ i: \ n , ·~·:flr ·i':Yi1L <,. ·~r"'• C: \ ; '."1 ' ·: 1!f'; ;1e< Jr·· ·
.Q. What rulli ,ha\i'e·yb\l'ttext lo give:T( ,;, f,;~rpn 1)t:) ~n'~ i:~ ~1iL
A. A void all equivocal <?r ambiguouEr expressi~hE3,
, Q. What do you mean by eqmvocal or ambigtious expres£iioiis 1
· A. Such expressions as: are eitqer susceptJbl(;};'Qt ~
double or a doubtful mean mg:
; · ,· ·, · · .', ":; ~1
1

OF J'ROPRlETY •

Q. ·what is the second rule? ·

PROPRIETY.

-.J

Correct the errors in the use of ~oreign, ohsol~te,
or new-coined words and phrases, rn the followmg
sentences :
.
.
.
ular lords dicl not fail to enlarge themselves on the subject.
2:l Th
Th: ~ ifeen, whom it highly imported that the two monarchs should

: PART· n:J

to the larboq,rd; :'We may:construc.i the f;;helv,es.with~.ut
ha11'ets.
w.
). . .
..,
' .. .- .' .· '.,•r,' . .r' ·."'•'"1'1·1·1 ,,.'~1 «•, '•.; "'·>'~\1, ,• .
. Q. What is the next rule?
' · ,. , , . · ·, c;:..;':{~:..\ ·.. , ,'"t ;, ,,., ·f,.. .
. A; ~t is, not to . use.the sarrie word·;·ioo·::otteni' or'fa

22. We need not, nor do not, limit t~e divine purposes. ·
23. He is resolved of going abroad.
.
.
.
·24. He was accused with having acted ~nfatrly: .
25. The wi;;est princ"s. trncd n_ot thmk 1t any d1mmut1011 ~o their greatness or derogation to 1.he1r sufficiency, to rely upon counsel.

60

'

;

··56

·

',

I

Will

·

/

~"

Q. Can you give an example of this 1. · · · •· .
• t ; · ·.
A. cc ~ can not find on~ of my· books;" whictj . may ·

mean e1thf}r that there is one of my books which I
can not find, or that I can find hone of them·at alt::·,..

Q. Have yoil any farther rule to give 1 ·
· · 1 • . · ,. ·c~ .•:
. A. One, and but one; avoid unintelligible and ihcqit,;.
~1stent words ~nd phrases ; as, "l have but "an. 'Opaque
idea of the subject."
· ·
·· ' \ \ ., , .. ;,,. , · " ·.
Q. What word ought to be use_d instead of 'dpaqui in- this ~iise ?_
A. The won~ confused o~ indistinct;. which: signifies
not clear, while . opaque '.means · not .fit ,to be "'.seen
through.
:,
.
. ,;,,.1 ..,;;.-·,,.;, , , , I H: ,
. ·Q: qan, you point o?t the errcir~, ~nd thake th~ h~ce!l~ati' c'brract10n~ 1~1 the following sentences? t 'h'.1d as li$f- say a ~hing
af~e~ hun as. after, ~mother. ~ ·n~ed . say ho more concemirtg the

drift of these letters. What IS lt but a sort of rack that
men to ·say:what they, have ,110 mind to? ; These persons

~f~i%h1~i~~l. ip~~~ ,R~1~~.ef? ,~ fve,s .. /?~r. fn~~q
5

.

r

.

forces '

~~~~.!1:~~ 1~i?,f~il~u~ :·.1 ,·
'.

,.1"''it

know . .-:
..' .

" /.
/;

'

~· /

.··

., .~ •.

/·

),

.

::::

,'{

O:~
/

~ . • ( .I;

• y

58

PROPRIETY.

[PART TI.

A. I should like as well to say a thing after him as
after another. I need say no more concerning the
purport of these letters. What is it but a sort of rack
that forces men to say what they wish to conceal, or
· do not wish to communicate 1 These persons know
·not how to employ their tim<::. Our friend does not
continue long in one opinion.
EXERCISES.

· I: Correct the vulgar .or technical expressions in the

. following sentences :
]. He is not a whit better than those whom he so liberally condemns.
2. The meaning of the phrase, as I take it, is very different from tho
,
.
common aCCflflllltion.
3.' l exposed myself so much among the people, that l had like to have
gott~n one or two broken h~ads.
.
.
,
4. He is very de xterous m smelling out t~e views and designs of others.
5. You may perceive, ,w ith half nn e:re, the d1fficult1es to which such
conduct will expose you.
6. It fell out, unfortunately, that two of the principal persons fell out,
and had a fatal quarrel.

II. Supply the words which are necessary to make
the sense complete in the following sentences:
]. He is engaged in a treatise on .the .i nterests of the .soul and hody.
2. Some produ ctions of nature rise m value, accordmg as they mo~e or
less resemble those of art.
.
3. He is impressed with a true sense of that function, when chosen from
a regard to the interests of piety and virtue.

III. Correct the improper use of the same word in
different senses, in the followjng sentences:

PART It.)

•

•1

•

•

,·

PRECISION~

·

ble; or le~s significant than oth~i;s, of·.tlil'ideas :Which ·
they are rntended to express:
·." : · . ' :. ,,, .. : "'· · ,:;':.·! :,

J. I seldom .see a nob!~ bu.i.ldmg, o; any .g~eat pi~6e'of iti~gni~~en~e and .
pomp, but~ thmk, how little 1s all this to satisfy the ambitioni or to fill the
idea, of an immortal soul. ·
.
' ·
. '. ' , i· "" - ., i : .. '1" . ., .
· 2. Th~ attempt, however laudable, was found to be impr~ctic~ble .'. 11 ' ' ·:• /
3. He ts.our mutual benefactor, and deserves our respect and oliedidnce; ·
. 4. V1vac1ty ~soft~~ promot~d. by presenting a .sensible object ~o . the mind~
mstead of an 1ntelhg1ble one, .. "
· · ·. · ·· .,;, '"•;- ~ ", ·~ ,.: • .
5. It is di ffi~ult for him to speak three sentences together.-., .. · · . · - ..: ;
6. The negligence o! timely precaution was the cause of this gre~i ldss. 1
7. By p~oper retlect10n, we may be taught to mend what 'is .erroneous 1
and defective.
·'
', "'' ; j d'f: )q

....

1

:,

Il

.' I

' I / '
t

'

l...

\t-·:~ /

' ~: ~ .. ~.'

-

OF PRECISION. "

{ ' .., ' ''.: ,;_.

· Q. What do you mean by the term Precision 1 · ' ·. · r

,1:,;:..;'

. l ' \

1, .

. A. The using of no more words to convey our mean- ,
mg than the sense a?~olutely requires.· ~ . .. / .. .:.~ ,' ·; ··:r,(,·.
Q. T~ what does prec1s1on ~t~nd oppo~ed? . · ,. / . ., .

':, ' · ·

;4.· To that looseness ana vag,l!eness of sty,le. whfoh·

Q. What tends most to produce precision? ·
:
. ' ': "'. ;· , ' :
A. Clear and ·accurat.e , thinking; · ··we mµst perfect-·,

ly know our own r:peanmg, and thoroughly'unde,tsta,hd
the words we make use of.
· .
· ,,, · !~· '.; y;•i ·
·

.

·

·

:~

,. : t

!ls many, 11ot conte.n~ with one word to express an .
idea, are apt to su~JOlll anot~er, which, conceiving it .
to be of the sam~ import, ~111, they think; make , the :
thought much plaliler.
,
:
: ' , ,. ,

Correct or omit such words and phrases, in the
following sentences, as are unintelligible, inapplica-

·'
.

. Q. What is the evil of employ1?g .too inany words to express an

idea 0,

· IV. Correct the equivocal or ambiguous expressions
.
in the following sentences : ,

v .'

,,

arise from too great' a multiplicity of woi:ds. ·::· '.':, ~~: :~·· :,;

A ., It distracts the attentioti. of the reader 'or hearer ·
and prevents him from forming · a correct conceptio1~ .
of the subject under discussion. ·. · .
·_. '\ " ··•I'.;

grieve for his loss 1
2. The eagle killed the hen, and eat her in her own nost.
3. Solomon, the son of David, who built the temple of Jerusalem, was
·the richest monarch that reigned over the Je,~ish people.
,
.
4. The Divine Being heapeth favors on his servants, vver liberal and
faithful.
'

'

CHAP'J.'ER·.x1_v: ;·, .. ; ··:.: : ·~, ·.::~~~'.

' ]. An e.loquent speaker may give more, but can not give more convincing
arguments, than this plain man offered.
2. They were persons of very moderate intellects, even before they were
impaired by their passions.
, ·
· 3. The sharks, who prey on the inadvntency of young heirs, am more
pardomihle thnn those, who trespass upon the good opinion of those, who
treat them with great confidence and respect.

• J. When our friendship is considered, how is it possible that I should not

'

Q. Is want of precision a common error? · ·
' :. . ... . ' ' 1 •
A. Perhaps the most so of any that can be· n~med; :

Q. What is the best rule for avoiding this error? · · • · · · :. .. i.
. A. Select the word that exactly expresses the idea,

mtended to be communicated, ·and use ihat.·and no"·
other for ~he p~rpo~e. .
· ..
. ., . ; .''.: ·'; .f:r~

/

Q. When is prec1s10n most apt to be violated 7 · , · : , · · , .. .•'.
A. In the use of what are <?alled synonymous tenns;•

/,

I

-/ '

"•

' .,
'

PRECISION.

60

. · ' .~ 61
-

(PART ti.

Q. Can you correct the following sentences in which precision
has been disregarded? James desisted from, and renounced his
designs. He abhori·ed dnJ detested beillg in debt. This llUly was
a pattern of piety, virtue, and religion.

A. James desisted from his designs. He detestecl
being in debt. This lady was a pattern of piety and

·)

· · Iil.: d6ri·13ct:the r· dt~ow1ng.er~or~
,-,f'r~.~.of
-.:i.'--(
Words.
·
-in~the
· ;.~,use
.
e.mp1oy~ as sy1~onymous: ..< 1 ' ' '! ·:~!:•<: ·Comlnonly

9

1. The secretary Ir.it the place of trust h · h i ' ·' ) .' »~;" \~ ')~) •.l'l; " ·
up his party, quitted his parents in :afilictl'on e d dundder gmd•ernhmjlnt,· gavd
'··
" . : . - ·:i-- . ; • .an. e,~Elf}e t ~j -kl_ng~olil
fioreve~"
2. A patriot acknowledges fo 8 opposition· to . ·
- . ,
. . 1
npplnudll~; ~gentleman confesses his mistake aa dc~rtipt .mlni9_lry, ~lid ltt
avows the Cr\rrle of which be stands accused a~d n. is o.rg1ven j , ~prisoner
3. A hermit is severe in hts life . . a ens - ' - is P\l!!l~hed, . ; .. ,.
religion or Jaw; a judge austerq i~ his se~:!n~!~:ous .11n hi_s itpplifa~io~
1 9(
•
4. The earl, bemg a man or extens·1
l T 1·
v_ariet~ o,r i<l eM; which circumsta~ce :~n~;;i:~ t:J :torhd
~ pis milid with: a
0
hon of his v1gbrous capacity,. .
'
. . , ,e . , ,. t ..e 9tl~C\!SSf!11 exer·
5. By the hnbit
• t 110 . streets, one
.
· ·· nt
idleness.
·
, of
. walking
. · . . 0 it en 111
acquires. 8 'cfoiitorn

6: Philip found an obstacle to m:m~ in
h ·.
·· I · ' '
th err natural dispositions . but the el g g ~eDAt em ans, on acconnt o(
di!!icultY: in hill rlesigns. • ' ,.
, , oqu~ nce
e.n:wst~e1,1e~wasJ?e g~ea&
'· lie 1s master of a complete housll wh. h h
'
.··
.
• B. An honest man will ,refrain from,'em \~ _ as not. one entire npartm.ent.
a confused man m!l.y often utter ·equ1'v~oc pl tying.on_ nhmb!guou~
e:tpreHJon
l
9 Th. · ·
.
.
.
a erms wit out d 8 ·
· ·
· I·
all occasions; ti'e';ited ' his'
withe Je':;t hiii.iglitl•
1
1
IO. Gn.lileo discovered the telescop' ~;.'llv :: · ·'. ' .,., -:·;r ·~! f• .' . '. '' ' ' \ '".-i0:
the blood. .,
· .
• ar,vey mvented the cucu.l ation ( ·

h·'

nes~ anJ'5di~d~~~l\

i_nf~rior~

g·· f emanis amay
chil d alone, ~avlng neither brother nor 81~er
'
1 too vn1n to be proud 1e

EXlHtclsES.

I. Omit the superfluous expressions in the followlimb~,

and

vitals.
2. m~ end soon appronched, nnd he died with great cottrnge nnd fort itud r,,
3. There can he no regularity or order in the life and concluct of that
man, w ho doell not give and allot a due share of his time to retirement ancl
·
·
reflecti on.
4. His cheerful, hnppy temper, r emote from di scontent, k ee ps up a kind
of daylight in his mind, excludes every gloomy prospect, and fills it with a
11teady nnd perpetual serenity.

' 11. Correct the tautology in the following sentences :

· -1. The birdd were clad in their brightcet plutnage, and the trees were
clad in their richest verdure.
2. 'fhe occnrreri.<:e whi ch the sentinel told the sergeant, he told the cnp•
_
taiil, who told it to the gen eml.
3. Notwithstanding the rapidity with which time passes, men pass their
lives in trifle~ and folli es; although reason and religion declnre , thnt not a
moment should pass without bringing something to pass.
.
4. He usell to use many expressions not usually used, :md which are not
generally
in use . which mankind fint
· wrote, wa1 first written on t11hlcs of
5. The writing

.:

6. Our exp1:ctat1ons are frequently d'
· . ·
1.
R:teaiNer hlippi1.1es8 froni the futtlre than' exi;:~~rl ~i:1ot~e~ay_se · wil ,,~J.:peet1
onies us to expeet
11
7 • o learnmg that we have letltncd Is·
valuable .when it is bought as that wh 1'ch genita Y1sci, de&l'lf; bought, ol)· !kj
. we .• , a:ve ~~tjd)il; t~f' lk)ht/Ol oi'
experience.
.
'. ·
·

virtue.

1. The httmnn body tnay be divided into the head, trunk,

. .;

'-...

or words which are considered of. the same significa·
ti on.
·
Q. Ar6 there any words perfectly synonymous 1
A. On this point there is great difference of opinion,
out many are reputed synonymous which are not so
in reality..
·
· ·
- ·- ·
Q . .Can you give an example of this?
A.. Courage and fortitude are generally deemed of
the same import; but the difference between them is
considerable. ' Courage braves danger, fortitude supports pain., . -- .
.
., .
Q. Is prec1s1on alike necessary in all ~orts of c01npos1tion 1
-ti· ln all it is important; it is the very essence of
poetry ; but in novels and romances it is much less
necessary, than in ·works which inculcate truth, or
teach some art or science.

ing sentences : ·

\

-ic·

,.
'

~ · - .,

0 b'
13. The trav eler obeerved the rn t t
remarked all the mot.ions uf the ei.~in;. n mg 1ects he saw; the general
14. I am amazed at what is new or unex
d.
.
.
.
, .
~ast. or great; surprised at what is i · . phcte . • confoun?ed at what 1s
IS Fhocking. or terrible. ·
-. ncompre , ensible i as,tomshed by .\yhat
, 15. - He ihed with violence 1' for he was killed by alsword.

"1 •-: ..(:_'.,

1

'

·\ - , ·

~ , ·'

: t

•

~·

1

i

' ~.

' .. ~) ... t ,

';

.

'!'

\

_CHAPTER xv. :·~· ' i;

o~ rER_~PtctJITY
~

IN

TttE-

s;RUCTUR~ oF SENTE;c·~~·.';:

w,pa\;s 'the firr requisite in the structure of

sentence~ 1

t ' . 1 0 e care ul to make them neither too long nor
oo s rntt; and. not to . have too many that are eithe
ve[/ ~~~1g .or very short following- in succession 1· ,r
,' .,4.' 1t a~~~~en~rally thf effect of ma1dng setttenccs to~ long 1
b .,
s o. con use aud fatigue the reader or
earer, an? cortsequently prevents him from distinct- ,
F,
-..

atone.

/

[PART II.

CLEARNESS.

62

ly understanding, and feeling an interest in, what he
hears or reads.
.
·
Q. What is the consequence of making them too short?
. A . . It gives an appearance ~f. abruptness and want
of connection to the compos1t10n, and represents a
subject too much in loose and detached portions.
Q. How are both extremes best avoided?
A. By a due interm~xture of ~~ng and short senten-

ces, whether in speakmg or ~ntmg.
Q. What will be the effect of tlns 1

•

•

·A. It will be productive of that vane~y wluch sel-

dom fails to please ; . and to be pleased is one of the
first steps toward being instructed.

Q. Under what heads do the more particular rules of this sub-

ject come?

A. Under Clearness, Unity, Strength, Harmony,

and a judicious use ofthe Figures of Speech.

.Q. Do not some of these m()re properly rank ynd~r beauty or
ornament?
'

A. They all do so to a certain degree, but ornament
depends more particularly upon harmony and a proper
use of the figures of speech.

PART

1i] '

CLE~ltNESS•
l.
:
~

· A ,· In the, po.siti?rl of n.ot:only,1 which,:,as :they stand,'
are made t.o q_uallfy .m eans; ' whereas , the, \yord they.·
should q1:1alify 1s Paris; as,'' He .means to' visit not '.
only Paris, .b ut Rome also." ·.. ·.; , , · :.i;, ;. · ,-.;~ · ·: ' · ;: .. 1

· Q.· When several restrictive or qualifying ciauses'. occutir{ the , ·'
same sentence, how sho.uld _theY. be disposed ·1 , , : " • ' t "" ,, .. ' ·'' : '
\ A. ,'rhe best way IS, not to place .the.m tod near each '
other, ~mt.so to disperse and arrange them, as leave
t~e .prmc1pal words of the sentence p1;ominet1t '. arid .
dis trnc t.
·
.
· • ·.
' Q. What is faulty ~n the following sentenc~: "A gr~at stone

to

that I h'.:1prened to lmd, after a long, search by the sea-shore
served me tor an anchor ?"
· "
· ·'
·
· ' · ·' '

. . A. The qualifying clause, "after a long search," is
improperly placed. ' ·
· ·
··
· : ··
Q. What may the meaning of the sentence be according to the '
present arrangement? ·
·
·
·
·

A .. Why, that the search ~as·· confined to the s'~a­
shore, '"here as .it is intei1ded to be stated ·t hat . the ·
stone was. found .on the sea-shore. . .
' . \.. J ' , '
Q. Can you give the sentence in' a corrected forrrl.'? '~ . . .• : 1.1
A. "A great ' st~ne: that ' !' happened, after : a. long ·
search, to find by .the . S{'.a-~hore ; SE:irved ·me for : an
anchor"
· · · . · - "c .., · "· : · : "· · ,,; .. · .. i · · · :... ·

~e~eral
role ~~onJh~ ~Ub}'e~t of ~r~a~-g-· e-~;
.
- ._.
•.
'
· ·
. •
words so .as b~st to pre~~rve and. ~· xhibit ·

Q. What is the most
ment 1
,

CHAPTER XVI.
OF CLEARNESS • .

Q. What do you understand by Clearness 1
· A. Such an arrangement of the several words and
.members of a sentence as distinctly indicates an author's meaning..
·
- Q. When is this m?st apt to be ove~looked?
· · A. In the placing · or. ar.rangmg of. su.ch words or
clauses as are of a quahfyrng or restrictive nature.
. Q. What class of words come chiefly under ~his head?

A. Those denominated adverbs, which may, by an
improper po~ition, be made .to qualify a ~vrong word,
and . t.hus brmg out a meamng totally different from
.
. ·
·that intended.
Q. Can yoi.1 exemplify what you have mentioned ? .
. A. "William has set out upon lns travels, and he
not only means to visit. Paris, uut also llame "
Q. Where does the error he here ?

·A .. Place
the proper co~nection of tl~e thoughts for which they
stand, and which they are mtended to convey. · · ;:
';}.. Is there any more specific rule'!

· . ·

·

A. Let all relative and connective words be ,so ·
placed as hest to indicate at once what they connectt
~nd to what they refer. ·
·
.' . · · .. ·
Q. What will be the consequence of an improper po~ition 6r "

words in a sentence 1 ,•

·.

·

· ·.

,

·

-

·

• ·

·

. A. It ~vill obscure the sense; and produce co~fusi~n
m the rnmd of the reader or hearer · ' ' _·, · '1.. . . ' " ; · ' ,

. Q. Will you endea~or to correct the foliowing s~nt~lices? '. . It
is folly l.o pretend to arm ourselves against the accidents of life ·
by heapmg up .treasures, from which ' nothing can protect us but
the good. prov1den9_e . pf, God. W, e shall · now ·endeavor, with
, , clearness. and prec1swn, ~o. descnbe the provinces once united
~nder th.e1r ~way. The mm!ster who grows less by his elevation, ·
~tke a httle statue on .a . mighty pedestal, will always have bis'
. Jealousy strong about h1m; , -, '· ·
..
t - . "''<' . .; ,;"I;<'.

' -

! .·

.

/

------- -~-·

··--- -··· _;

''-

'\

11'

64

CLEARNESS.

[PART II.

EXERCISES.

I. Correct the errors in the position of adverbs, in
the following sentences:
.
1. Dy doing the same thinf it often becomes habitual.
2. Not to exaspernte him, only spoke a few words.
3. Sixtus the Fourth was, if I mistake not, a great collector of books at
least. ·
4. We do those things frequently, which we repent of afterward.
5. I was engaged formerly in that business, but I never shall be again
concerned in it.
·
·
'
6. If Louis XIV. was not the greatest king, he .was th e best actor of
· majesty, at least, that ever filled a throne.

II. Correct the errors in the position of clauses and
circumstances, in the following sentences :
1. I have settled the meaning of those pleasures of th e imagination,
which are the subject of my present undertaking, by way of introduction,
in this paper; and endeavor.e d to recommend the pursuit of those pleasures to my readers, by several considerations ; I shall examine the several
sources whence these pleasures are derived, in the n ext paper.
.
2. Fields of corn form a pleasant prospect ; and if the walks were a little taken care of that lie between them, they would display neatness, regularity, and elegance.
3 . .l have confined myself to those methods for the ndvanc11ment of pi ety,
which are in the power of a prince, limited .like ours, by a strict execution
of the Jaws.
·
4. This morning, when one of the gay females was looking over some
noods and rihan<ls, brought by her tirewoman, with great care and diligence, I employed no' less in exnminiug the box which contained them.
5. Since it is necessary that there should be a pvrpetual intercoursP. of
buying and selling, and <lea.ling upon credit, where fraud is permitted or
connived at, or has no law to punish it, the honest dealer is often undone,
and the knave gets the advantagP.
6. As the guilt of an officer will be greater than that of a common servant, if he prove negligent, so the reward1 of his fidelity will be propornonably greater. ; ·
'
.
·
7. Let the Tirtue of a definition he what it will, in the order of things,
it seems rnther to follow than to precede our inquiry, of which it ought to
be considered ll.ll the result.
8. This work, in its' full extent. being- now afflicted with an asthma, and
finding the power of life gradually declining, he had no longer courage to
un<lertnke.
·
·
9. ThA wttnOA8 liad been nr1l ero<l to wtthdmw from the bar, in conse•
quence of being intoxicated, by tho motion of nn honurablo momlmr.

.
.PART

II.]

'·

.: .UNITY. ·· ' -'

'
'
i~f6~
III. Correct the errors .· .th
· · · . .• .
•.
. frequent iep~tition of pronb~ns ~in~~he1t:11io~1·1·' ~r. : •fle::' ~oo
. .tences : ·' ·..'. · . ., ., ·,, ~ . ,11 ... . · ~ . . .1 .o . owmg sen-

A. lt is · folly to pretend,. by heaping up treasures,
to arm ourselves against the aceidents of life, from
which nothing can protect us but the good providence
of God. We shall e11deavor to describe, with clearness and precision, the provinces once united under
their sway. The minister who, like a little statue on
a mighty pedestal, grows less by his elevation, will
always have his jealousy strong about him.

\

·
·
·
' ··' · 1 ' ~. J r ·J ' ll 'fl"lf 1 rL~· a ' • · {' ·
1··.1'hese
are the master's. ul ·
. : ' •..
' ' ' °'!!4ifq~ ~)'i~J1~ 1.f11.:n.
to
attacked the
. ,a. It is tru Ii h
,
. -· . .
. .• ·lh,,, , ··.-•·: e.r-,pnt
. 4. He was ~akin~ a ~i:~S'r~ut, it is. not applicab!e tg th~ ~ni'n.t.;.···:-+ : ' · .
m 5wll •tc~ ~ party of the roy~li st:1h~J"f~;{~fu;do[hthe cal the~ra~. of._LiJch~~ld, .
. . . is wlly lo pretend to ar
. emse ves,.
--· · .'1 • ·_. ;· .· .henping up treasures, which n1::i.J:!1rselves against the accidents ofllfe ' bY
providence of our Heavenly Fathe~~.g c~~ pro.t ect us against, but} lie good
• ; ·· ·
.
• -. , · i
~· Th11s I hnve fairly iven 0
:'
tnnionty of both houses [ere t~n~· m~ 0 P~'J 10 n1 .~ 9 \\'.ell as that ·of a great
am confidertt you may secur~lv r ~1g o t is WP.tghty. affair, upon ~hich i .
7. Frnmahabit ofsavin t"im:caon . . ' . ·· .·
. '.·· ·'
... -; .. :, )
umvr.rs1ty, many write in s1f diminu~d paper, which they acquired at the
hn<l. int.erlineat.ions, that they are h~;del a ~~nn1>,r, with su~h. frequent' blots
es1tat1on or extemporary expletive~. ~ .Y .~ .e. ,to. go on .w1tliout perpetual
8· Lysias prom1snd to his fath
'·
; :·· ,·; ·:
9. Men look with' an evil
er never to abandon his friends. . . ' '
~hat their. reputation obscur!;~hu;,;:u t~ \ood, ~h~t iR .in othe,rs, and think
lo stand . m their light . and the~ef. an
at t etr commendable qualities
~houd overt.hem, that the bright shi~l~ 1y1d'? w.hat ~hey can to cast a
em. .
, ·_
··. .. , . · . .
8"; \> t 1eir; v1rtue~ . may .not ob8cure

~·ea~~_e>'.

:~

Du~:i orf:.C:~~u:~~~.l~~d·~ehc~~'~!-?~l~~yt~,i{·r, T

ti

'

'

·, ·~ r: •·1 .•' . ! 1i

. /

1

Ir· .

,, , ~

'

'

'' .

· • . :. '

·~ ,;. ;., .,,,'. .>,·x~~ '.·;i', :'.·~ -~, · '~ i;~.;:·,. )fri/r)/j ):';~'.,;'.iJ:'i\:1.t\.r.cHAPt:E1f xvitr r:•:J•·i1~ 1<· ~·i1;" ; ..
''~ ·f< '• .•.?:j ·:. I.·-~( r::,/: :\~'" (.t'..~
T

.

"). :

. ·. '

I

·:

· ..

,..97 ·

·.
-·. OF UNITY • . ,., ··'' . ·' . .ii . ,, ., , ,
,, ·
· Q W hat do you m · b ' 1 · ·
· · ·. · 1 • • 1°·
Cl
ean y t le Unity of a sentence? . ,: , . , ~- r

A.

oseness and compactnes f. .
. ..
, . .
tne restriction of the sentence t; o a1{a~~em~nt, ~nq
. Q. When is unity most apt to be violat~~7 . e;~. ~n~ l~ea.· . ':l
. A. When th.e sehtence is I ·
d
.
. · ·
number of qualifying clause~ng, an cro~ded with a
no ~ ery .close connection. . ' amon~:_ w,~~c~ there is
Q. J"hat, for the sake of unity should th
b .
, •:I :
t ence.
.
:.
.. . .
'
. ere. em every sen.:
1

ne:~r ~~ ~ts~~~~r~1·~;jceoc~~~~t!~oight, . ~hi~~- sh~~ld .
Q. What is the first rule th
ti
o~n vie.w~ ' ' "
A N
. .f
. ' en, or preserving unity 1 ,

.,
i
ever, 1 possible, during the cou'r se ,f ' '
'
tenqe, tO Change the Scene or ·th I
" 0 a SenQ Can yoµ
actor.
..
A ' " A f e exempl'fl y'the violation ofe this
rule? - ; ' '
.
. t r we came to anchor th
.
.
shore, where I was , eJcomed
.'
ey ~ut me on
received me With ,th: greate~t ~h1d~e~/rten~}~, ~ho ..
F2 ·.
.
; .. • .; , .
•

l

"1 .

, ·,'

,.
:·

'66

PlRT:rr.j ·

.; . . 6ii
yout~ ;· a~d tho:ugn 'y:ou sh~µld llv~ ~o erlJoy 1frt(fft;~ui:itfibt 1 ~v~~!·

[PART II.

UNITY.·

, · Q. What is foulty in this sentence_'!
A . A frequent change of sub.1ect, as we, they; I, who,

loa.d it w1,th a burde!1 .not its own) wha.t reason~arid cotisCi~tlce'
tell you ought to be performed to-day.
, ". : ··· .·n .. ' 1· ' '
. A; .A
time after this ~~ju.fr, h~}:i~'~{i t;fhiii..,
self;'. and be1llg t?e next,d.ay put 'tin ~d.~~4~~: :s]lip/b,ii;.

which are all nominatives to different verbs, and therefore tend to distract the attention.

•

. , Q. Can you give it in a corrected forri1?

A. " After we came to anchor, I was put on sho~e,
where I was welcomed by all niy friends, and received by them with the greatest ~~ndne~s."
Q What is the next rufe for. o,btammg umty? . ·

.

. A . It is never to crowd mto on~ sentence thmgs so
unc~nnected that they would bear to be tlivitled into
different sentences.
.. Q. Can you give an example? ·

·

.

· · A. ''Virtuous men are always the most happy; but~
vice strows the path of her votaries with thorns.''
" Q. How would you correct this sentence?

: · A~ By making each member a separate senten~e ;
as "Virtuous men are always the most happy. Vice
. st;ows the path of her followe~s with thorns."
Q. What is the next rule under. this head?
A. It is to avoid all unnecessary parentheses, and
all such 'words arid members as interrupt the natural
unity of thought which a sentence should exhibit.
Q. Are parentheses always improper? .
.
A. By no mean~__ ;, for they somel.lmes give elegance
and vivacity to a sentence. · They should, _howev.e r,
be used very sparingly, as they tend, when improperly introduced, to clog and embarrass a sente~1ce.
Q. Are parentheses as much in use as they once w ere ?

.

· ..4. No; · for by modern w~iters they are mostly la~d
aside; but old· writers were m general very profuse m
the use of them ~
·:
. .

.

' Q. How may long a~d awk~ard _Parentheses be .av01ded?

A. Either by enttrelyreJectmg them, or, if "Yhat they
contain '. be necessary to the sense, by puttmg them
into a separate· sentence.,
. ·:
·
. 1 , 1
. Q. Can you give an example of th~ right use of parentheses.

· A · " "The bliss of man (could pnde that blessing find)
.. ·

.Is not to aci .or think beyond manki'!-d."

Q. Will you endeavor to correct the foll.owmg

.

sent~n?e~ , m

which .unity .has been neglected? A short time aft.er this lllJury,
he came to himself; and the next day they put hnn on b?ard a
· ship which conveyed him fir~t to Corinth, and ihence to the ~slanc1
of ,JEgina., Never delay hl~ to-morrow (for to-morrow 16 not

'

"

sllor.t

· .was --conve_Yed first to Oorrnth, and .' thet1ce t6 the:·1s1:
and of JEgm3:· - Never delay ~ill to-morrow..
rea.~
son ~UJ.d conscie1ic~ · ~ell yoti,ought lo be per.forrned:to~
~ay. ·, To-.mo~row: IISJ~ot you.rs ;11an.d. thoi1gh ydu, ~h66ld
live to e.nJ.oy it, you must rlot overload it ·with. a ', burden not its. own.
· -'. ·" ·' · · "; i •
, "r . .
, ··. l
,.
.
.
',,
,
, - .. f .

w'hat

"·. ' ;, ~ ;·
· J, ·
. · ," i 1 '""·''·1 .,, ; I' " /,
I. Correct th~ errots ar.isi~g from the cha.nge of th~ .
scepe or actor, m ·the followrng ·sentehces i : .'r r .r" h
'L The Britons;· daily hara-se'd 1/Y cruel inroicls ' front £h~ ' Pidts,. ·~ere
forced to call m ,the S~xons for: their defence ; :who, consequen't ly redur. 11 ~
,

·

.

· "

·,

EXERCISES • .. .'."°";;

.

.• ,

1

the gTeater part of the 1s!a_nd to their own powe'r , dro~ . the Briton~ i\lto the
most re~o~e an4 mou!l~amous ~_rts ;, and the· rlist of tlie country/ lb' cUI•
tom~, rehgwn, a'7d l~n.giill#es, · ~u~e wholly, Saxon. -.•. 1 11, ; , ll~ ' •h' .\,, '
· 2. All the prei:aut1on1 of pruifenc.ef mqderation, and condqscen•lbh which
F;ume,nes employ.ed1 ~·er~)ncap~\•le. p~lJlol)ifyi,ng the_hearl!l.«'it these' bnrbanans,. and of extrnll'u1sh1iig >'l he1r jettlqtlsf; ,ldd' He mu4t ha'Vel'r~n(J'dl{c!eii
' ~he virtue and merit which. occasion11d, it, ~-have)been 6ip~bl11 ;of1 i.~i>eu•
tngtheme
, 1 ,
~- ·1 -rl\lPtJ' i·~ 1'v ~~·f ·r n,.~..,..; nir '· i' o ,... . ,\:t ·...)· : \"'·.'
3. lie, who~rfarms every employmont in its due
~nd se~son·!(uf­
fers ~o. part
~im!l, to e~'ciipii . w~tlib1JI;. profit ;'1i\.\ia 1t)11ill hi! 'day~ ~~ome ) .
multlphe?, and much of life J~ enJoyed m littlelstJa'ce.:' " ')J'•\1 1) -" ') "' f{·•r
• 4 .. Des~re of pleasure. ~s,l1e~ ;n temptation, .and the ·rnwth oi'!li,.orderiy
'
1

p1aee

or

pass1ora 1s forwarded. ,
;

I

tr.. Correct

~

11.

sucii .err'?

••

t'

'.

;

~ ••• ·

•.-.\~

<:

·rJ

'f4 !° \ , "T i

rs, •'i~i. .tlie f<? llc,r~vi~.l·~l~~sa~~s,
1

l

. as ans~ f :or:r ~rowdmg ,rnt.o or!-e ~ente_nce tliings ·w~,ic~
,h"!-ve no m~i,mate . connec.tron .. . . . ; ,,. -.. ;,J; -,.;:ir.:i ,1_.. 0

1. '.J.'he notions ~f Lord S!1nderlarui were always good; .but he w&s ·~· ~ad '
· of great expense.
" , I' · I
· ;·,
"" r·
. l ,. 'f
1
. 2. Cato die.cl in the full vi~or n( ,lif~. uh~er fifty: he ~a;; 0 ~tb~all "wann
.and affec~1onate m llts temper ; compttl4Jerls1ve, 1lnpartll!, il.ii\i fitronk(; pbs~
se~sed w1t!1 _theloveofm:inkind.. ' . " •,i ·; ':: , ; . ' :-."!1-I 'J .'~ri ... r"
3. In th1B u11easy state, both of his pubhc and •private life Cicero
oppr~ssed ~ya new, a~d 'lleep 11ffiiction, the death of his beloy~d da.11 · hter
'Tulha; which happened 1oon after her divorce from Dolabel!a' 'w hose ~an, ~Cr! and )\ll more W,e re 6titir~ (y disagr~eable to hAr>: . ' Tf " : ..: { \ ij, 'I f '>l(';r
· 4. I .smgl«: him out ~tp.~mg the m1?4err,ui, because. he had the foolish• re,;
"
BU!11Pb?n to c~nsur~ , Tnc!tus, and ~o '!flt~ hilltory 'hiinilelf ;. and youi l~d: .: rs~1p w1llforg1ve t~11.shor~-~xcnrs1_!1~1il ,li~nbr. ?f, a ' ~avoriteii:uth~r."3/ l~l\J i. , .
_.,

*J

. ',I II.-,.Corl".ect the errors 111 the.'use 'oi ·parentheLe'§

, · ~nth~ foll9wing sentencM : ' 11 '
...

,

1 •"Hflp~lntme,nts w1il
the•

, '

1

"

oiten . happen to the

oog~ tnyompnd'~ ot "'"" ''"~

1

·i

1

"'"'" .,,; l.a!i'-

Ot!filt\ If~{

,. ,.:·;·:'I .;,_,·~~
.

' < -

:

r: ' >,f'• (·.''l' .~;.11 ' ···-· . ".;~~:
'
' ' I ,. <.J,ii~
', "
best a11a wisest ·nieli -(not
·... ·iiJ (;!

.''"

.·...'

,'

'
I

•

.

.

.

":·~

W

,

6"b' tew -

,r · ' .
\

. ,.

.....:·

68

STRENGTH.

concerted plans. ·
. .
h t when the Capi tol w as founded . by
2 It was an ancient trad1t10nT t a .
(who presided· over hound .m es,
one.ofthe Roman kings, the. god
of that age, hy a la rge stone )
and was represented, ncco~dmg .!o. t e fused to· yreld. his· plaee· tu J up1ter
nlone, among all the mfe:rwr de1t1es~ re
. .
.
'iimself• .

1:"m;~~iou

;

l ,'

I

CHAPTER XVIII.
t.

OF STRENGTH. ·

•

h

.
·
b th · St enoth of a sentence?
Q. What d'0you meahn.
of making
a deep
A Thepowerw 1c itepo~se"sses
'
.
· · · ioi1 uporr trie mind.
,
h
1
is the
requisite for
a sen
. A. 1t is, to avoid all tautology, .
h
the sense
tence IlO words ~nd members ~llt S,UC as ,
.
absolut~Jy requires.
.·
. t I . ?
Q. What am ft? u~ersta[1 hy taul 0;fi-ds to express the
· A. The appllcatr~m 0 s~vera
· n times an ensarne idea....:..a practice which has, at a
.'
'.
feebling effect.
·
1 ·1
·
C
ou ive an example of tau to ogy ·
• f.
.Q
an Y greturne
. . db ac,.
k again to the same
city
A'. .. ·~They
·
. , iom .
whence. they came forth.
. ~
.
. .
. Q. What words ~re here re~t~ndan~;ld forth the meaning
A B k auain same, f 1 om,
J'
'
h
·
• wahcilC,h I;>is I·n·'1plied iu the. other
words
oft . e senof all
.
.

1m4r~~at

fir~t

obtiri~1;~J ~Y:i1\n.to

ience.
. . ·:JS t""'
... _ OOX:· t ru le 11"or promotin()"o the strength vf a sell>- ·
Q. \Yhat
tence r

.

· t the principal words and members
fl
will roduce the greatest
.
in Sl~ch a nianner th~~~ r~1i1cl of Sm reader 01' he~rer.
possthle effoct upon d
accorn lish this ·r '
.(
,Q. ·Yfwhat must. trr~~~~n~l;o gi.ve the words an arrange- .
, A .. .· e mus
h t which they usually have; as,
ment. d1f!"ere1~t fro7
ha
E hesians·,;, which gives much
0
A. Tu dispose

0

" ,Great
i~ _Diana
e , P · t than.. ••Diana of the
e spmt
to . the t sentlmen
mor .•
..
t " See chapter xv.
Ephesians is grea" h
· . rr of words
. Q. What do you call t e p1acm.,
·. out of their natural
. . ..
order?·
.
A. I nverston
or transpositionl which, whon.

J.Udl~

...

'

. . '.,.

,.

.'

[rART II.

.
uence of some of those cross incidents
sign of others.; but merely m consc)q d stimetimr.s to the wisest aud best
of life which could not be foreseen 'an

.

,.

.. \.:

ciousl:v made; contributes both ··to the,. sttength" ~a:n:d .
·tnegaiice 'of ii· senten~e ~ · .· . "''1 ,,_ .. i '·:·: . 1 i·tfi'{.•:·i1 !'.•· ~I· ( " 'Q.' '.What' is'yout hext re~ark on'. th~ subj,ebt,ot Mr~nilli ?.r.>.:rl
· 'A. It is; that a weaker· assertion shouldh 1ev-er:fof_ . ·
stronger; nor a shorter. member Qne of
1
.~ength; ',i~. . . · .· · : · •
; : / : .··: ./
: 1.:·t:f1~·hfl°'i· i 1 ··:.
,· Q. Can yott give an IllustratJ.mf of this prinei.Plfol ri ·. ·.:../·r' '. :r. ,·
:. · A. " When our passions have forsake'ri. 'us~ · .We .flatter ourselves ;with the . belief that .we . have fors'a ken
·them," is a better arrangement than; "We flatter our;..
selves with the belief that we have forsaken our,'pas.:
sions, whe11 they have forsaken us.'' : ·;;· ,<;.: . ;~;.,;>. ·~;,, ·.
: Q.' What is your next' observation on the strength of.sen.ten~..
·ces f
.
·
· · < ' · t r.;11. 1·u~1.,.
· . ·A. · It is,.to avoid, kpossible~ co~cltidin~ ·th~.rii:~~th"
any short, trifling; or unemphatic word.·' ': ;,., ;) :'.' 'I }' .- ' ,
-.
, Q, What are the words which .you would include 'in this Clii.s!f? ·
A. : Soipe of the. Pfi?!1ou1~~:.~e.r~r.al:9(th~a~.v~r,b ~,. ~~d··.
lnost of the prepos1t1.o nsi '·"' ~,-. ;, \~,, ":'1°' " '···,,..,:r.1 ;•>f' ~uiy{4'..1 r..- ,
. l·',Q-. ~~ill y.ou.iexe,'!Jplifj.~h~.t;)~<?~ .~a~e ~t~tedt':· ,,;:1~·._'/V'i ( · ':
: 1 -:t~ . ~-Av~r1c
1e i ~s ia. c~1m.e,1·wh1pf!;,w1se me~-aJ.~· ()~e~."
1
gmlty of, ~ .1s)'essJo.rq1ble1 a'1~A1gnifi~~ ~t,~~nJ'~ 4!aJ~2.~ >
. is a crime, of ~hich wise Jn~h_ ar_e o~teri gm~~lh}~J!:) :;·r.l ..
.: Q. .What have you farther to observe o~ th1s'top1c 1·;'/i'· .'~; · ,~ .,, · ,
~v A. When two ·things I 'a re ' contrasted', with '·_oh~. an--> '
other for the purpose of expres'sirig eiih.efresembla1~ce' . '
or ;oppositioh; .a . sir;ni}at, ..resero~Iahc,e :
;.oppbsiti.oft ,
should be observed in the structtire of the sentenced/
. Q.. Upon what pririciple iS thiS rule founded? , .·' · '.' ·:'' ' :i' ,,r
' ' 'A. Upori the ·principle that1 wheil ~~: 1.i,1)d :a i cdrr~- ..
spotjdence among objects; w.e natQrally.~xpect, a 15i~m- ·. ·,
..
•.
.a euenoe.
. .. ,, , .,
11.ry ··
11
. .Q. Willyougiveane~anipleofthi~? ·. : ;'! 1J'• 1 ,.'.:·:
<1
.. ,. A. u 1'he idle never ·make ~b inuch jjnproV'enleht 'as .
dilig:ent persons," . sho'uld . be, :,i,( The;.idle, 'ii.f;lV,er,~
· -.,. · so mµch imprqvement as ~he diligent~~·~ ·, 1' : _ ;\~ -~"'"'.'' fi~:·:.r\
1~. J . '" Q. ._'Carl you. cort~c.t the :followi.~g's~~tenc¢$·7 ':.Ji 1is ''.si~ ~~~rs ·
, . , ago smce I piud a v1s1t to my relat10ns, : 'l'he reason.why: he act.ed ··
,. ,' . in the.manner he did, was nbt fully anct ·completely'explaine<P If:
~ I mist.ake not, I think he is improved :l?oth in knowledge ·and be... · . .: . ,
~·· hevi~r·'', ' 'fhese two boys·appear to.be both equal.in capaJ:ity.~;>·i.i,' ,/ ,: ·~/o t::
.

.

•

·•

.

.

I

. .

.

I

:

'

grE:l~ter

low a

1 1

or

yr~ ;orr_etspdoµqen.~11 ~tno,rii; t,h~. i'Y9i'cJ~.; . b~, ~./i.iJ.Jf..~ j,~,?!;

i:

make
1

\ . · ·' :A;,1t:il /lii.Y~ars Bitted ~ I
'

.

.~

paid a. Vl~it' ta;niti~.: '

'

.

.

. .·· .·

...

/ '. ;,ii

.· :~

/

. ,.

/
.

.'

. , , • . ,. Ji ;·r

I

.

·-

\

,

· 70

STRENGTH.

[PART U.

.

i. "•

L. Chari.ty breathes ~ong-suff~ring to .enemies, courtesy to strailg~rs; ~nd
ho,b1tualkmdness to friends .
· . ··· ·
.
t .:
- 2; Gentleness ought to diffuse itself over our ~hole . behavipr, to form
our addres~, and to regulate our speech.
·
.
• . • • ·•
1
, 3. ,The propensity to look forward into. life, is too often grossly ' abu~ed;
and. immoderately indulged.
··
,
·
.·
' ~· ·
4, The regular tenor of a virtuous 1md pious life"will prove the best preparation for immortality, old age, and death.
· ·.
: , ' · ·
5. In this state of mind, every employment of life becomes a.n 'oppressive
.b~1nlen, an.de.very object 8:Ppears gloomy.
· . · · : · , · · · ·> · t;> .

I. Suspend your censure so long, tiU your judgmen t on the subject can
be wisely formed .
2. How many are there by whom these tidings of good news were never
heard! .;
· .
"
· t th
3. He says nothing of it himself, and I am not dtsposeu to trnve1 111 o e
regions of co11jecture, but. to relate a n~rrat1.v~ of fa cts ..
. 4. Never did Atticue succeed bettor 111 gnm111g the untversal love and esteem of all men. ·
, O. These points have been illustrated in so plain and evident.a manner,
that the perusal of the book has given me pleasure and sal1sfnct1on.
6. I was much moved on this occasion, and went home foll of a great
many •erious refl ections.
.
; 7. This measure may afford some. profit, anti furnish some ~mus e m ent.
8. Less capacity is re(1uired for this busin ess, but more t11ne 1s necessary.
II. Thought and language uct and react npon each other mutually.

,. v. ' Cpirect

S!J.Ch ' errors,' fr1 ihe follo'w jng pa~sages,
as arise from c,oncfoding the 'sentences :with inconsid~
erable words:· ·
· ;·"
.. .1':'•' ,!' · · ·· ,.,!•:. · .;'i·1<t1 • •.; · '·
.

' .

' ' .! ~ . . '.

,,'

'l

' •

• ·.' t

1 '

•

'

• /. • '

•

I: May the happy mes1age ·be ilppliedJo us, in all the virtue, strength,
and comfort of it! " : ~
··~
,. ~ ·, '.·• · .~· . •·1·\' ~· P { r'~ ' <'• r''; ''\. \. .4.
2. This agreement of mankind is rtot confined to .taste solely,,·1 .. : ,.;, :!.;.,,'
3. Such a system may befestablished, but it will noi,ba supported Icing.
.4. The doctrine of ~he Trinity is a myst~ry . w~ic;h we..firWlY belie\1e. the ,
truth of, and humbly adore the, d!Jpth of. ' ' ~ '. _. ; . :'~" · ·•.,·.11.-:, .~.-·. _

II. Correci such errors, in the following passages,

4

as arise from the improper use of copulatives, relatives, and particles employed in transition and connection:
·

· ) . ' I have considered the subject with a good deal of !1.ltention, upon which
I was des:red to comm\rnicnte my thoug·hts. .
.
.
. 2- Whether ·a cl).pir.e, nltogethet unexcept1onablc, has m any country
been made; se':lms d'? ubtful.
. . .:
.
.
.
.
3. The ptat~e of iudgment y1rg1l has Justly. contcstecl with Homer., but
his invention remains yet unnvnled.
4. Ambition creates seditions, wars, cliscortl, and hatred.
5. Sloth pours upon us a deluge of crimes and evils, nncl saps tho foundation of P.very .virtue.
.
. :
· 6. The ancient laws of Romo were so far from suffe ~mg a Roman c1t1ze!l
to be put tu death, that they .would nQt allow him tu be bound, Ol" even t.o.
be :whipped.

•

jv. Correct su,c h errors; in the foliowing !seritei{ces,
3:s arise froni ' placing weaker assertions" or :Proposi 7
tlOJ)S after stronger one.s : . , ··,.., ,.
· ·:..~·: ' - •:1 ,i fau; ,. c.

: EXER CISE S .

III. Correct such errors. in the following senten~es,
as arise from the . improper position of the most im~
portant words :

'·

. 7. Ev~·ry one wh~ puts on the itppeatan~e bf go~dness; iS- not golid. i I
, 8. Let ·us employ oilr criticism on ourselves, µiste:;id pf_ bei~g · pritic8 on
others.
. ,
.
·
, ,
.
· ·
9. How wili'that nobleman be able to conduct himself, when re.d uced' to
poverty, who was educated only to Irtngl)cificence an'd pleasure 1'! .,., ·i: 1'

I. .Divest the following sentences of all redundant
words and members :

I. The enemy said., I will pursue, and I will overtake, and I will Jivide
the spoil.
.
.
. 2. ThP.re is nothing which promotes knowle<lgi> more than steady application and a habit of observation.
·
3. The faith he professe d, and which he became an apostle· of, was. not
his invention.
·
· · al d d
4. Their idleness and their luxury and pleasures, their- cnmm, ee s,
and their immoderate passions, and their timidity an<l baseness., of mmd,
have dejectecl them to such a degree, as to make the m weary of life.

_)

·~.

HARMONY•

tions. The reason he acted in . the manner h e did,
was never fully explained. If I mista.ke no,t~ he is improved both in knowledge and behav10r. l hese two
boys appear equal in .capacity.

.

) •

,l

.. . VI. Correct such errors, In 'the .foilowirlg:senten6es,
as arise from not preserving s9inc!l resemblanci:{ fri 'the
language and construction of the members;' in ·:which
two objects are either .c6mpai:etl _or co11trasted :' ;':·
0

I. I have pbserved of late the style .of s'ome .great miclster~ ~ery much
to exceed that of n11y other productions.
,
.
. :.
'
': '. ; ·' · '
2. The old rtiay inform ' the young; · and ·the , young may: animate ;thc>Se
. who are' advanced in life. ·
. .
. . ·
'
··
. 1 · ,.
' ''
"· · 3. Force was resisted by force, valor opposed by valor; and art encountered or eluded by similar address
.
· · · · '. ' ' ,. ·
4 . .A friend exaggerates a man's virtues; an enemy inflames his Crimes.
.

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CHAJ:>'l'ER~ x1:X.: ! :fo'.!<111; .:'i' ';._ir.t:~' -"
. ~F ·HARMONY •. .' •.} , · :~";,"·~·.:'·~;) u/ ••,,.

'\

.

-•' Q. Cari you mention any thing besides perspicuity; t.hat~gl.ves
· peculiai; grace to composition,? · ~ · ··
, ·. " "• ·,. \ •" ·

, ,' ·, A }, A;.smooth· and easy flow of the\vords and 'mein.:. .
. hers of, sentences, and a fre'e dom front' all harsl}hess 'bf
sound.

.

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1

HARMONY.

'72
.

· PART

(PART II•

'i.Vfi1h~t;~t{c~ t~y~es~~ll;l~~~~~i~~~;d Harmony or

Melody.
.
· , 1 exactly the same idea 1
1
Q. Do these tw? te}1.s ;;-;~l~dy denotes a successiort of
. A . .Not precd1s~
ony· the agreement that one
pleasmg soun s ' arm
'
sound has with a~1other. ualit of style?
..
. Q . .Ijh8:rmonit~i~;i;11~t1:s~ co1;seqnence than persp1~
t I~ c_e . a sin ular excellence, and affords conc?d1t~ ;bf~1lp\~ta1:ure tog the reader or hearer.
SI era
of style depend 7
. Q. On what does hharmonl~ction partly ~n the arrange~
A. Partly on t e se
'
- ment of words.
t 1 rrnonious 1
Q. What words ~rehgenera~ly mosd;: proportion of liquid
.. A Those wh1c contam a . .
.
·xture
sou1;ds. and have at the same t1~e a prnper rn1
of vow:els and consonants. f h' 7
Can you crive any examples o t is . .
f this
. QA. . F or titi:de , contentment, subordinate, are o
class.
d . e generally most deficient in ha:mony?
. . Q. What hvo~ss ~re derivatives from previous comA. Sue
O\~ded with consonants, , the sounds of
pounds, or er
d'ly coalesce. as shamefaced11ess1
which tlo not rea_ I
.
'
.'
·
z
conventiclers.
chromc .ers,
tl
that are remar1rnb1y hars1l 1.
Q. Are th~r~~~l1 oa:r~ontain either many short syllaA. Yes·.
the seat of the accent, or ~ nu~nber of
. sound. as. primarily, curbles following
. .
syllables n~arly s1_m1 1ar n1
• ·
sorily, lovelily, Jarnery: t l harmonious, will the whole senQ. lf the words be separa e y
tence b~ so?
does not necessarily follow from the
A. fhe one
d
be se1)arately both well
oth er,. fo r the worbl s may
·n sound and yet, i·f t h ey ar e
chosen and agdreeha e ~ence m~y be destitute of harbadly arrange ' .~ e sen
•
mony.
'
t tl. bv examplc 7
. ,Can you illustra e kus " ' be tl~~ recompense of inA. "Office or ran m.t)
" .
sentence comt'lity or flattery, is a ·
·
tngue, versa
r
.
·au·tlly melodious, and yet, m
111
posed of wor fsb· d r ·~~. n~em~nt it is not harmonious.
conseque nce 0 ,\ all c\ 0 ,
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llAltMONY.

' .•:.

1

Q. How may the arrangement be improved 1 ·;' .~ -' . ·· - -·' '
A. " Rank or office may be the recompe.n se of flattery1 tersatility' or intrigue,"
'' . , - I ' '. '' ,1 '
. Q. Can yon give any general directions Ori this subject? . ; .
· A. Too many words either uniform as to· length;' or '
the position of the accent, should never, if possible, be
placed toget~er.
.
· . -,·
":" - '\.: ' :J"i _
Q. Can you 11.lustrate this by example? · · . " , 1·1 ;. · ; ._,_ ,
A .. "No species ofJoy can long please us ;' 1 "James
was needy, feeble, and fearful;" are less harmohious
than "no species of joy can long delight us;" ~'Jam es
was weak, timid, and destitute." '
·
' . ·, , _ .
Q. What have you farther to observe on this head t
A. ·words resembling each other in the sound of
any of .their letters or syllables, as well as such as
are difficult to pronounce in s11ccessio11; should never
stand in immediate connection.
Q. Can you give any illustratibn of this? ·
.
A. A tri1e union, an indulgent parent, a cruel destroyer 1
an improper impr~hion, ·are far · less harmonious than
a true friendship; ii kind 'parent,· a -cruel foe ;_a /qlse _im.-,
pression~ · ,, ··<'
!·, '-· : .·! ~·~ ~ 1 ~<·· ·~--~ -'·. ;; ~ !' ~r, .t (,:·· \~:.1·': -· 1. r_ -S>.
·,Q. Have you arty_thih~ ,farther t? remark J ' ',~ 1_ .'·'. ' ; i '•J. ~~!)· ;:r;»1, .
. A .. That a. sentence m~Y~ ~~o~· qehars_h; :;inq;· 9.on~e;
quehtly, of difficult pronunciat10n, the _severaLtn.~m- 1
bers of wh.ich it is __composed should ne.i.~he,r lbe , too
long, rt.o r d1sproport10nate to ~ach other . . .· · ·- ·:
"
,Q. In what 'sort of compo,sition ought harmony to be most caz:e·
fully studied ? ·
· - · ·' - ' : ·
· : <· • " · ·
- A. In the composition of verse, one of the ·chief
excellences of which consists in its being ·musical. · ·
Q. What part of a sentence should Y,.e be the most careful t.C>
make harmonious ?
·
·- ·
A; · The close; for it is to this part that the attell'tio.n
of the reader or hearer. is generally most attracted. ·.
Q. Wha,t name iri commonly given to a grace(\11 cortc~usion _of
a sentence 1 ·
·
· · '. ' _; · - · , .: ,. ;· ·
: iL It. is_coinmonly styled .a cadence;,' and was .by -J
the ancients considered an essential requisite
every ·
well-constructed sentence.
.
-/ ·
.
- Q._What is faulty in point of harmony in the following $~n­
.tence: ' And an enormous serpent lay dead on the (loor ?'~ ;, ' :1
' r4-'· )ti.~. the p~rcu.msqrnce of the thr~e sy!~abJes 1 ~nd;
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SOUND AS SUITED TO SENSE.

[rART n.

PART

·

·

·

.

EXERCISES.

Correct such errors, in the following sentences as
:arise from want of harmony iri their structure :
1. Sober-mindedness suits the present state of man.
2. It belongs not to our humble and confined station to censure but to
'
.adore, submit, and trust.
3. Tr.artquillity, regularity, and magnanimity, reside with the rcligio11s
and resigned man.
· 4. Sloth, bse, success, naturally tend to beget vices and follies.
5. lly a cheerful, even, and open temper, he conciliated general favor.
6. '\Ve reached the mansion bofore noon; it was a strong, grand, Gothic
'house ' .
·

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"Now the rich stream of mu.sic winds along, '
.... . .;Y
Deep, majestic1 smooth, and strong." .
_
_, . , ;
"From peak _to peak the rattling crags among
.. · ':'.·'.)1f'rz. . '".
Leaps the hve thunder!" '
· '
', ". f.r;.,
'
•. ' ! ; ; ~. I\ /.
Q. Who have been mo.s t distinguisP,ed for attention· to hannonious composition'! · · < · •· . ' •
"
• ·
'•·::. :: • . .. . ,·;«; l' ..

CHAPTER XX.

A. The Greeks and Romans · atiiong the ·;ancietits; !, :.
and the Italians and French ,among 'the in(?~efns. :i\ ;,:.

. Q. What tended ~o promc;>te the studr, o.r .luirr,nom?u~ _co111posJ~ hon among the ancients ? .. ·
. "·
: '·
· :·"t ..:.' . .~ : ' 1".'; '""

Q. What is <;ons!dered. t!rn highest species of ornament arising
·from harmony m compos1t10n?

A. _Partly thei~ own fine · m~sical ta;t~7 , ti~'d ; ~~~!(y\ ·
1

A. That which consists in a co,rrespondence of the

the highly melodwus and flexible characler>,b( Hieit , ' "
·1a11g11age
'"""•iJ.t:\ ':;1-'1)f'\l(ti
, Q. Has this study never been carried to exc'ess? \·,·"i 'j , ' °CJ::k'.\r:t
A. Frequently; and it is always so, when sense is~ '.
in the least degree, ~acrificed to sound >. "'·'' ·. 1·U!H1 -

··

.. Q. By whom is this quality of style chiefly exhibited?

•

A. By all our best poets ; though good prose writers a~so abound in beauties of a similar kind ; as
there is ,g enerally some agreement between the flow
' -3.nd modulation of the language, and the nature and
character of the thoughts and sentiments expressed.

1

'

• ,'

"

'

'·

'.

..

.· •'.! "I ... \ . ~ ' '

Q. Do not strength and harmony generally go together? f'~'-?'((
A. For the most part they do ; and it frequently

.:.~

1

happens, that a sentence is weak or obscure in exact
proportion to its want of hamfony..
;':: )'f!<ff!(

Q. When can the sound inost readily be made an echo to the
·sense?

''

·

I

1
'

· ·Q. Can you give an example of this?
A. H This is a mystery which we firmly .believe the
1

· A. In cases in which sound or motion come to be
described: though calm and gentle emotions may be
. always expressed to most advantage by smooth and
•gentle language ; while harsh feelings and rugged
· 'S~n~iments naturally gi~e rise to harsh and rugged
dict10n.
'
·

'"

o7Jf

"They hand i.n hand, wit~ wai:idering steps .and slo!Y. - :,~;\·"'P;1:.· ·
Through Eden took theu sohtary way." '
· : _,' '·• _,, ~-} ·~

OF SOL"ND AS SUITED TO THE SENSE.

· sound to the sense.

I

'

· A. Thus, " And a serpent of enormous size lay dead
.o n the floor."

n.]

"The waves behind i;npel the ~ave's before, ·'. : :; ·~ ·\· ~:;•'it/. '
Wide-rolling, foaming high. apd tu!Tib~ing cin the shore/'. ~}.{':-~ ) '
1
,~ r'i
~ With many a weary step, and many a groan,
·. ,. _ :·•I"' -, . _<t 1 ·
1
Up the high hill he heaves a huge rouhd stone j fo ··:~1 • : fl-i•f '· • .·
The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, .· ";": ·: ~ . '.·r :r
Thunders impetuous down, and smoke8 along the ground.:~ · . / ·
:
•J.,, _P .• l _J:. i ·.1 ) 'f
\. '
. .
'. '.' qn a. sudderi ope.n fly, :'\ ~· \\_ ~J 7~:>:
With: Impetuous recoil and 1ar~m~ soup.cl,
.· r.r 1':;;.J1w ~r1 - ·
The mfernal doors, and on their hinges ~rate ·'. , , ./• ::·
. ',,.,, · I·
Harsh thunder/'
.
1
· ·
,
·
: ·, ""-''·', /.·1·''·:1_::~;-'. ;

an, en, which are so much alike in sound, following
. each other, without any other word intervening
Q. How may it be cortected ?

·,

'

.!

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)
!

· .. '; '..

'""· -

truth of, and we humbly adore the depth of,~~is . neither so strong nor so harmonious as," This is :a
tery, the tr~th of. which we firmly bel~ev,e, ~nd- -the ,
depth of ~h1ch we humbly adore" .
· . .. ;.,, :·;;.:! ;:~]

mys- •

I

Q. Can you give an .example of the sound being an echo to the
.sense?
.·
·
.A. "A needless Alexandrine ends the song,
Tha.t, like a wounded snake, draws its slow length along."

l '

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76

CHOICE OF WORDS.

'

. [PART II.

CHAPTER XXL
CHOICE OF WORDS I WITH A VIEW TO ENERGY OR
. VIVACITY.
WHATELEY has treated well the whole subject of
style. He says, in substance,
FrnsT. We must ever prefer those words which are
the least abstract and general. Iiidividuals alone having a real existence, the terms denoting them will, of
course, make the most vivid impression on the mind,
and exercise most the power of conception ; and the
more specific any terin is, the more energy it will possess ; in comparison of such as are more general, it
will present a more bright and definite picture of the
object.
·
It depends on our choice whether we will employ
terms more general than the subject re quires~ whi ch
may alrriost always be done consistently with truth
and propriety, though not with energy. If it be true
that a ·man has conimitted murder, it may be correctly
asserted that he has committed a crime. The former
term would impress the fact more vividly upon our
minds, because more specific and individualizing.
Some prefer general terms because they consid,e r
theµi . more refined, but., except for the purpose of
making our statements more comprehensive, they enfeeble style.
The only proper occasion for the use of general
terms is, when .we wish to avoid giving a vivid impression-when our object is to softe n w ha t is offensive, disgusting, or shocking; as when we speak of
an "execution" instead of a "hanging." Ou the othhand , in Antony's speech over Ca:!sar!s body, his
Qbject being to excit e ho rror, Shakspcaro puts in to
his mouth the most particular ex pressions; "those
honorable m en (not who killed Cres ar, but) whose daggers have stabbed him."
SEc oNnr.v, not only does a regard for energy re.quire that we should not use terms inore gene ral than
are exactly adequate to the objects spoken of, but we

er

<

I

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r~.~~:1 i,~J·. EX#f~N.AT,~~.'., ~~_'. ~~'~T~N~ES. ,

·

J

1t'l., . I , ."- ·':
•

•

· 111 , •••

are also · allowed, in many cases, to. ~mploy less gen- ,
eral terms than are . ~xactly." appropl'.~ate,'' · by a figure :'
called , §ynecdoc~e ; , , To illustrate this . point, Dt.
Campbe~l has c~te.d t~e passage -'· from : one :.0 f ·our - ·
Lord ,s discourse~ (wh1c~ are. gep.er.a l)y of this . chara.c~er), recorded m Luke; xii., 27, 28. : ." ', Co'nside:t' the·. .
lilies how they grow: they toil not!,ihey-apin· no~ { arid .
ye~, I say un~o you, that $olom.on, 111 ~11 his glory ,was"
no arrayed l~ke one of .th~Se. If,,then, God so fciotb.e'
the g_rass, which to-day ts m ·thejield, and to-morrouf .is
cast 111~0 the oven, how ~.uch ~ore ~ill he clothe·you.1"
. Let us here adopt a · little. of _the tasteless manner
of modern paraphrasts, by the ' substitution.'. of more ·
ge.neral terms~, and l~t us obse~ve the bad ~ effect ·of .
this ~hange. _ <?.o.nsider ~h,ejfowers, how they gradually increase in S!ze ; they .d<,J ' no, manner of work, and
yet,~ ~leclar~ · t? you, that.. no ·king whatever, in his m<>St'
~pien_did hakit, i~ dresse~ tijl like them~ :.- It;·theri, . God
11~ his p~ovidenc~ doth SQ ~ ad~r~ ~~e vegetable produc,_·
tion~ .which .contmpe bu.~)fttl~ : t~r,te up.011'tl!i landi' ~nd·
. are afte.rward dev?ted· to t.he meaj iest uses, hC>w1~ tnlich
more. will ·he provide c!othing (ot you 1 ~' .;.How i spfrit~
les~ i~ the .same . senhmen.t ren~e.red bfthese~·. s~all
vanat10n.s ! . Th~ very particulanzmg of t6-day and ti:J:: ·
morrow as . rnfimtely. ~ore expressive ·or transitori~
ness, than any descnp.t10i:i · w~e~ein the terms are general, that can be substituted
m its room. , , . . . " " ·
~
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CHAP'f:ER XXII . .
.

'

CRITlCAL EXAMINATION OF SENTENCES.

. , '

·T nE auth~r.had p(ep&reJ., from B.Iair's Lectures, a .chapter of
con?ensed cnt1cal .remarks, on passages from the writjngs of Dean
Swift and. o~ A?rhson, but found that the limits -proposed to this
work, for\ml its rntroduction. He would, however, suggest, that
Blair s Lectures ( ~h e full work) should be in the hands of ever
t~ac.her, and th~ critical lec tures should be read to students wh 0 y
a1mmg to acquire correct literary taste.
· · ·,
are
. He WOllld .a:lso suggest .that the conipositions written by mem.'
bers of ~Ii:e. elass, the writer's name being concealed, should., be
fre~ly cntic1~~d by the class, when !ls sem~led, in respect to the
v.ano~s qualities of.style treated on m prev1owi chapters. . .': · 1 '; • :-

. .

G2

.

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. ···

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I

[PART JI.

FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE.

ofi

\

quahties a~d opEf.rations

ot the "mirid.

; ., ', : ~.
·
of fdn@~g·~ tis . d

Q. What;, therefrite, is the g~netid charactet

OF FIGURA.TIVE LANGUAGE.

td denote lnental ob3etts? .

,Q.

·w hat do you consider the next. great rei.1uisite of a perspicuous and elegant style!
.· .
.

A. A judicious use of what is called Figurative
Language.
·
. '.
.
Q. In h ow many different ways may language be employed?
. A. Chiefly two~ the one literal, the other figurative.
Q. What do yoti understand by_literal language ·1

A. Language taken m its common and ordinary
signification; as, I am ·fond of. sunshine; this is a
sweet evening. · · ,
: ·
.

The -_~pplic~tion -of w~tds'. th~t denote, sensible

obJe~~s, for the·~ purp~se, ·0(,1.~xpresslrig 1.the various

CHAPTER XXIII.

_ Q. And. what by figurative language?

·,.; 1 ·'
_,~,.g._
.: .
.· .

FIGUR4TitE',-tflj
NG.UAGE~
'
•,
.
.

PAR'lf: ltil .

:1·

"•

~.

.

.

. . .

:.A. Language used in such a way ~st~ excite Ideas
Of feelings different from . those which It WOUld prodttce, if employed in its common and ordinary ac..;
ceptaiion; as, .'' Reason is the sunshine of the soul;"
't Our friend is now in the evening of life."

:.q. Whai is the meaning of sunshine and evming in these example$? .
.

· A. The one implies that reason has the same effect
UP.On the soul that sunshine has upon the earth ; the
other that period when life is drawing to.a close.

· Q. Why is language of.this kind called figurative language ?

' A. Because it exhibits thoughts in a form or man:ner different from tha' in which they are usually represented.
.
· Q. On what is figurative language founded?
A. Generally on , some resemblance or opposition
which one thing is supposed 10 bear to anoth<:r.

Q. What constitutes the chief difference between literal and
figurative language I
· .
. '
.
.

. A. Literal language is the language chiefly of science and reason; figurative language, the language
principally of p:1ssion and imaginati_oni
.
.Q. By whom is figurative language used m greatest profusion 1
· A. By rude and savage nat•ons, whose stock of
words is remarkably scanty ; and by all persons,
whether savage or civilized, who possess a quick and
lively fancy.
·
Q. What is the most fertile source of fignrati.vc language!

. .-.

. .. 1:;i. •\ •· ;, t . ; r _e.

- . 'A. It is in' ge!leral highiy figurative·r: th6ugtt ~ ta : tl1f~
circu~st~rice "Ye ate so accustomed - tliat wt!;·bfted

pass It .~It.hOut tj}Jserving it. to be SO;
Q . . €an,- you give exathples of this t

. 11 •

! .; . _' '
' • . '.; "

-i;;"' · . ': ·.·
,

;;'

;<

.·!r.

.

. A : A cle.ar head, a lldrd l1eilrt;' .a_ piefcihg'jud~me1li- f
inJ!am:d bY. . passion, puffed ·up. _w ith pricJ'ei fnelt#d irito
grief, ate all ,exat:nples of ' this, :ind yet so . eomrrlon
that we hardly regard th~tn as figu~es of speech.
·
Q-. W_hat advantage does language denve frorri its figurative

app 11cat10n 7

~4- it

·

.

. ·.

· · ' .' ·

·

.

!• ·

·

is rendered r_n6re v:iried and! copioui, more
sprightly and energet1~. · 1 • •
·· ·
, .
•• ' • .:: ;

__ Q. Hq~ . a!e t~ese eifec::ts- ptodqc ~~ ?' · ~ · : .' : ' ·.· '· ., ··
, A ... By ~ a . ~1.ngle : , w_o~d: : ·a~q~iri~g t~e ··p·awP.r. j.,r .' ex~
pressing tno.r~ than bnl:! thought bt idea; ::. ,. · ~ ! '·> ·
, Q. Caflyou give an example ~ b(llils 1" i ·· v .,'•, r1, ·... ,· · '. r 1<1 :: ,: .~

. ,~4 ..".When .we dip t~o.d_eep ih 'pl~~suti<we' ~ti~ u
and noxious,"js_~
Be!1t11nenf 'fhich. .could '. "lJOt be .· eXIfr~ssed· .either ' sd
bne~y or so forcibly by any literal lahguage that we
could use.
.
.
·
·, ·
· ~- .. Wh~n Is .~g~rati~e ta~~·age impto·p~;? .. ,.' ' • ·. . · · ·
. _, A . . ~. h~n it IS e~the.r . Unhatural or far-fetehed, used
~n to? g~eat yrofus1on, or tiot calculated to deepen the
1mpress1011 rntell(fod .to be made.-See Beattie's· Mo ·al
Science, p. 4 71-4 78.
·
·
. l

~ se~1trte11t _th,!~ re1~ders . ~t 'i~pure

Q. ls fi gurative lahguao-e llll of one character 1 · · ·' ·"/

; ·

~A;. Fcl.r from it; ·but} though exceed.ingly diver~ 1 ~

fled, It may_all be clas,~~d u.tlder certain heads ·called
thefi.uureS Of Speech .

.. .

' . . , '.

,I

.

'

I ,

.

": Q. ~Ii.at: tnen, ii.re tlie pt~iicl,pai figuies elf sp~ech? ' . ~- •, .
· A •. Slt111le, rn~tapho~, allegory, pcrsonificatiou, apos~
!.rop~e, ~~~0~1y~y,syhet~o~he, Clitnax, an~ithesis, l(y~ .
pe~bole,_iroliy, mtertogation, exclamatioh. vision 1 and
· · 1·
alhterat101}.- . · . .. ,
.
, ··
·.
~~ .... .~_·,:.·· ··1 ·".: .. ; r ·-. /:~·i: ~, i1 ·1: ; . .. _; · ~.;,
..
1'• :~· \
i·

'"'

i ·• 1' :' ;{

J,.

•

/

-

•

so

SIMILE.

[PART II•

CHAPTER XXIV.
II

OF SIMILE.

·Q. What do you understand by comparison or simile?

A. That figure of speech by which we liken one
thing to another, either for ithe purpose of informing
the judgment, or of pleasing the fancy.
Q. Can you give an example of this figure?

A. " A virtuous man, slandered by evil tongues, is
like a diamond obscured by smoke."
"And, as a bird each fond endearment tries,
, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art; reproved each dull delay,
,Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way."
Q. What is the foundation of this figure 1

.· A . Analogy, or resemblance, either in character or
effect.
· Q. From what source, then, must similes be drawn?

' . ,A. From objects of a different class from those to
be explained or illustrated, but yet possessing some
quality in common with them.
. Q. Why do we not compare things of the same kind?

A. Because the resemblance is then too close and
obvious to admit of comparison; and exhibits not
likeness, but identity.
~-

Q. Do we never compare things of the same class ?

'. A. We compare things .of the same class, for the
purpose of marking their difference; but those of a
different class, with a view to point out. their resemblance.
,
Q. What rule have you to give for the use of this figure?

A. When used for the purpose of illustration, it
should always be taken from something that is better
known than the · thing to be explained.
. Can you give any example of this 1

PART u~J

I

SIMILE. ::.'

Q. Can you give any examples of this 1, ~ .

'

,• · .

. A. The following is taken . from ·G. "B. Chee~er;s
Lectures on the Pilgrim's Progress. · Jt appr<;>aches to
an allegory.
·
·
· ,.
.. / , <
"You fo,llow with intense interest the moveme~t~ ~fBun~~n·~·

soul.. You seem to see a lovely b~rk dr.iving across. the ocean in ~ ,
hurricane . By the flashes of the hghtnmg you can just discern her .
t~rough th<". darkness, plunging and laboring fearfully in the mi~·
mght temp<".st, and Y.ou think that all is lost; but there again you ·
behold her m the qmet sm.ishine'; or the moon ~nd the stars look
down upon her, as . the wmd breat~es softly: or in a fresh and ·
favorable gale sh.e flies acros.s the flymg waters. Now it is clouds, ·
and ram, and hail, and ~atth~g thunder, storms coming down as
su.dden 1 almost, ~s ~he hg~1tmng; and now again her white sails
~!itte r m h~aven s hght, hke 1tn albatross in the spotless horizon.·
~he last glimpse you catch of her, she is gloriously entering the
arb?r, the have!! of etern~l rest l ,vea, you see her like a stat,
that m ,the rnornmg of ete.rmty dies mto the light of heavfln. Can
there be any thmg .more mteresting' than thus to follow the perilo~s co~1s~ of an immortal soul, from danger to safety, from conflict to victory, from t~mptatio!'l to triumph, .from suffering to
blP;ssetlness, from the ~It~ of D.estruc~ion to the city of God!" .. ,
Q. By ":hat terms are, c~rriparisons generally i~hoduce~ (l' "''.~

&:.·

B~ .,, the word~ lik.:1 thu~ 1 as, ·s?; ,in Jikej(ianh~r~
Q. What, then, do yori deem-a pe~fe~t si~ii~ i-.,; ;·, "yr::, ,'," :0

a

A. 0.ne that both illustrates and ennobles subject·
though It can not be said to be misapplied, should it (I~
only the one.
·
.
·
"
Q. What sort of comparisons should we avoid?
.
A . .su~h as have no . tend~ncyeither io explain '
beaut1f~, and, therefore, neither convey knowledge
nor ex:c1te new and pleasing trairis of thought.
. ;

ot

EXERCISES ON SlMiLE OR COMPA.RIS~N. .

.

,

~ill up tl.rn blanks in, th~ · following passages with
smtable objects of comparison.
· ·. ' · . "
·

A. "As a river rolls its waters to the sea, whence
its spring was supplied, so the heart of a grateful man
delights to return a benefit received."
.

"Great men , like
, h ave many crooked cuts and dark alle 8 in
their hearts, where by he that knows them may save himself ·m
· ucl Yt.
and ttouble."
.
.·
.
1 . 1me

A. They ought always to be deduced from objects
that are dignified and important, or such as may be
.contemplated with pleasure.

,_ ·~·'hhej1 erro~ si ts in the seat of po:w er and riuth ority, and is gen~~ted
Ill 1g jJ nr;es, it mny he compared to
; which originates indeed i11
th?, ·moun~am, but_,commits its devastation in .the vale."
'
'
.
The true mnt1ves of 011r actions, like
·.
, nro usuolly conrenled •
;;:~,~~.~ g1l<le<l and the hollo.w pretext ,ill . pompously placed in.the fr~u~ a( .

Q. What is the rule respecting similes when used for embellishment as well as illustration?

-- -· -

fo;~~l~~~li:·i~i~:foa!ling h~:a:ii.~er unwiel?y in attacking others; but most

- - '~ 1.1!. ,

82

MET AP HOR.

LPART

,PART II.]

n.

.
like those
' they are. in" Mental pleasures n ev or cloy b un fle ctio1I and strengthened by enJuycreased by repetition, approved y re
'
.
ment."
. .
' must be viewed in all situations, or its col ors
"Society, hke
'
·
'
will deceive us ."
1. er seldom agitated without some cau se
"The moh, like. ,
.
'. s v t ~ 0 contir!Ue the simile) both are cap'.'superi or and ex tenor to itself ,hhuf ~ft,.er the cause which first set th em l.ll
ble of doing the greatest .~~sc te
.
motion h as ce ased to ar.t. . . . of nature are like
'which the
"The beauties and suhltm1ttes
' serene they come out, one after
storm shuts out, but when.tho ~eh~~~s f~;\hem, till the firmame nt glows
another, to the eye that is wa c
with their l ight ." .
·
sailing under false colors in ev,~ry sea,
" Bn.d books are ltke .
n.d '
t of every thing precious.
and delighting in the wreck a .c onques

CHAPTER XXV.
OF MF:TAPHOR.

Q. What do you _under.standh~~l~

~h!a~;~~1s denotmg the
A. A comparison m
"I will be to her a wall
similitude are ~uppresse 'nasf fire "
of fire;" that is, ." .as a wa o?
.
,
Q What is the ongm of metaphors .
.
. I
. be jiounded on a comparison,
A. t may
. h if a ,beast.' as when we call a
1 Of the qualities of a man wi th t ose o

d.

crafty and cruel man af?r: 'th . nother . as when we say, clouds of dust,
'
2 Of one rnanimate thing wi a
.
.
. t thing • as when Homer calls Ajax a bulfloods of fire :
3. Of a ma.n wtlh an inantma e
'
'
. .
wark of the C'.reoks: .
'th hat has life and feeling; ns when V1rg1l
4. <ilf inantmnte tliings Wt w
as se etes :
•
·
calls a plentiful c~op a joyf~l ot~t~ :ftse
of~utter; ns when we sn.y , a soli~
0
5 Of the qualities of min tot
&
To this h ead may be referre
judgment, fl/en; temper, fl hard h.eariiolycVw.rit, which convey, in such a
a number o metaphors common in h end some faint idea of th e upemway as our finite natur~~ c~n c~T,~~e God i's said to hea.r, to see, to r epr. nt,
tions of the Supreme IJeing • f\S
his face, &c., phrases wlu ch nohody
to be angry' to open !iis hand, to . t e
und erstands in the literal sense. h
. h differ from the simile ?

h'd

Q. In what resp'ectl5 ~oes t e ;1~~fi1~~on of all the figures,

A.. The former,~ ie mos another and applies to the
substitutes one thing for h·ch i~ strictly speaking,
primary object language w ~ ry 'Thus in Wolsey's
descriptive only of the secofn a · "To-'day he puts
· t'
f the state o man,
"
descnp 1011 o .
. f ho e to-morrow blossoms!
for• tl~e t.cnde1 leaves .o d tlfe 'changes, which can m
a tree is put for man, an

'
I

. ME.TA PH OR,

strictness be predicated only of."the seco,n dary, tree,
are attributed to the primaryj man. : 11··_: :.. · ;; . ~
Comparison, .or Simile 1 is founded oil resemblarlce,
as well as metaphor, but it has nothing· else in ·common. with i~; and though' it has been son1etili:Jes called a lengthen ed metaphor, it is altogether' a . distinct
. figure. Metaphor always asserts what 'is manifestly
false; colnp.arison asserts nothing but what:-is trne.
Jn metaphor; the resembling qualities in the ~WO ob-1
jects must be distinguishing qualities of those objects.
In comparisot1, any striking resemblance may be
made the subject of the figure. The form e r asserts
that one object has the· properties of another; the latter, that one object resembles another1 The - two
figures are, i'ndeed, near akin, but they have a distinct ·
personality; they are sisters, the daughters of Likeness, by differe1it fathers; · The. one is the ·child of
·Fancy, the other of Truth. .. · · ,
. ,
:· Q. Oan you 'illustrate this diffetence by example ?
.
A. ·When I say of a · ini11ister, ",He upholds the
state, like · a piUar that support& an e_dif:ic e," I use·
comparison; but \yhen I say,· " '.He 'is' the, pillar of the
state, '. ' I then use a rrietaphor: - · .,. '".;
· ·
Q. What is the first rule in the use of metaphors?
. .
A. Do not employ th em too profusely, and let them
be such as accord with the natural train of the
thoughts.
·
·
'

a

Q. ·what is the next 1

'

1
'

A. Let the resemblance upon wnich · the figures
are founded be .clear and perspicuous, a11d the met~
aphors drawn from such objects as are _easily under:stood. ·
· · ·
· .
·
·· ·
·
1
·
' Q. On wh!!-t is this rule founded?
· A. On the circumstance that, if a word is unintelligible in a literal, it must.be much more so in a met~
·
·
aphorical sense.
. 1 .
·'
·
··
.
Q. What is the next rule?
·
•' '
' ··
· A. Meta'p horical and literal language should never
be mixed together.
. · · .
· " - .·
'· .
· Q. Can you illustrate tlus by example ? ' ·
·
1
,A,

11

To thee the world its pres ent homnge pny~; ·
'I'he har•,cst early, but mature the p,-aisc,",

.,

.

i

1,:., .I

~.

~~

..

\'_

...: ..

',

84

METAPHOR.

. .PART.

[PART II,

to

Q. What would it require to be to make it accurate 7

A. "The harvest early, but mature the fruit,!' which
would probably have been the word used, had it suited
the poet's rhyme.

' Q. What farther have you to rem!!.rk respecting the use of met·
aphors?
·

11

· M~reover.figures · ~hn~ld not be toofrcquenl. ·' " . .·
.: Blackmore, · speaking ·of/ the ,Jlel'lttuction of Sodom
·Bays, .
. , ,,
.
,
·
. ,
" .. '
•;.The gap~nwclouds pour,lakes ~fsulphur do~n, · '·, ,
Whose hv1d flashes sickening sunbeams drown ,; . ·

1

•

•

· . When Penelope, in Pope's Odyssey, calls her son a 71illar of the
· state, the figure is good, because it signifi es that he assisted in
;s1tp1111rti11g the government;. but when , in the next lirw, she ,complains that this pillar had ,gone awa.IJ. without 1.rs.'ung i r 11 1"· or bid•
d i''·!.!· f a.rewcll; there is a ·confusion of the uature ol a pi: :.tr with
that of a man:

tty :. crlti~:

1r.t

. exarnple8.

.· . . . ,

-.

.. -

,. _, .. . , ',

•-

Q. ' C~n you· giv_e another ·example , of a ' faulty :meiap.hor arid ·.
correct 1t?
·
· ·~ . '
· , . · .' · , ' ~ ·.
\ A. ·~ .Well indeed might he love. this little mout~tain
Jfo~e_r., ·for she ·was the last link ·of that brokeh Chain .·
which. .. •had
bound him • lo the world."
' ,>. "; ·' '·-.~::;
. :·
·;.
'
'
.•
. •J ' .

,.

That longs to launch into a bolder strain."
Q. What is the error here?

belongs properly to a ship; and then it is to launch,
not into water, but into a strain or singing, which, being literal. r:roduces a strange jumble of figures, ;dtogether incompatible with correct writing. Tlte nature
of the thing expressed by lite figure should not be confounded with that of the tliing wliicli the figure is intended to illustrate. '
·.

~; ·What · a ,nogle ; d?ilfusi~n - !'~ . says ; a ;. -\vi

cl~_uds, . l_akes, .brims_tone~ Hames! s~nqe8:ms, ·. ~aping,
. pouung'. s1<;:k~111pg, .~rQ'":1:1u~g, tll HI . ~ .w<;> _hn~s'! 1: .. , See
, the
of &inking :l!1 1 pd~~ry, HI :which .·t h_e .a buse :of.
figutative ,langua_g,~ : 1s w:e ll il~u~~rute_d \by a ~~(iety Qf

Q. Can you give any example of the latter part of the rule 1
. A.
"I bridlr. in my struggling muse ')Vith pain,

A. The muse is first compared to a horse, held in
by a bridle, that it. may not launch, an action which

ilt.n ·

·~Now_ from my fond embrace by_ tempest torn,
Our other.c;:olumn of the state 1s borne . · .
'
. '· '
. ~or took .a kirid"adi~u, ' nor soug:ht con~ant.';
Flame is used metaph~ric'.al~y f?r .the passi011. of love ; but
My df a love_r that h~ whrspe!ed h.1s flame .into the ea~ of his. be· ·
.}oved , (rn~amng that ,m .a whrsp~r _he g~ve her 'intitnatioh of his
hove) \\'.OUl~ ~e. f:iu(.ty: becau:se It 1~_ .not the proper~j. o(_jlanie to
e blown m,o · tpe ear, nor : of a whu•per. to; convey flame:tt0m,0 ne
place to ·another. ·
, '
·
·. · ·
'
·
. Dr..l3eattie inform~ us th~t :he had h~ard ·of ~lergy~~n',' in'.~h~ir
mt~mperate use of figutatr.ve expressions in . public prayer (in .
wb h1ch it shout? be _used as httle as possible), conirnittlng strange
lunders of this lnnd : cas of Otte Who prayed that God would ibe
a rock t_o them that '.ire afar off upon the sea · arid that the British
navy, hke Mount Zwn, ·might rie1!er be moved.' ' . . ·. , 1 ~. ·; <: >+ ;: .

ls · a mixed metaphor; for harvest is figurative, but
praise is literal, in its meaning.

A. vVe should neither pursue them too far, nor use,
in reference to the same object, two metaphors that
are inconsistent with each other.
By the first part of this rule is meant, that we
should not seek to trace out a great number of resemblances between the thing illustrated by the figure,
and the figure itself; for this would show that the
writer's mind is v•andering, and less intent up~n sense
than upon wit; which, wheh the matter requires seriousness and ioiimplicity, is always offensive. Ueuius,
regulated by correct taste, instead of fatiguing the
attention with unnecessary circumstances, chooses
rather to leave many things to be supplied hy the
reader's fancy; and is always too much engrossed by
its subject to have, leisure to look out for minute similitudes.
·

'

EXEnctsEs ON ME"r.\Pnons .' · · ,. ··'

:. · ··•:

,,.

. · Fi11.· tip .the blan~s •. with . the . met11phoricat Jw~rds
1

ueedec;l to complete the se11se. · · - :

< " ;.· .:- '

• · ,

hre

~·As there ~r~ some :who ha\.e naturally a meager in.ieilect '; 8 l{th~r~'
o.t ers those mrnds seem to be ·barren of those finer ~ympathJ~s and affec•
t10ns o our nature which are
· .. ·. - . of'the •Soul and 'u
11rh' h h
. ~y~ always, re sts with pleasure.". '. ,' : •:·· :: .: . , : : · ' ,, ,· ·:' IW~·, i ; !C_. t e .
. · 'ofhtte· gro~·th and of shott '(],ilnition :''
.: . . "~n Ro~e. el~quence 'was a
.
ame 1~ . , ·
. . . that pays bnt •ltttle 1attent11Jino·the living, tlut be•
..d1zens,, tJle dead, .(urmshee .o ut . ~heir. fonera~s,, and ;fi;>llows ·.·thenL to. the
',

~· g.r~.YNPbllity is:~ ;..' ·:'! that sti't~ ~it~ '. ~.; co~!taiit ·curt~nt· df~~ct;;; J~ t~; the

· !l'tre~t _a1' 1fic · . · ·,. 1bf;t1me ;, li_t1t.; :unhke1a1J·o.t her . . . , ; it .is ·more g•and .at
, .1 s..sou1 ce than at 1ts ..termmat10u.'' · .
•.. , ·
· · .1. .. ., · • . ·
..
M~ny causes iini' how cons1;iring' to.i~r.reasc the '
' of iilfid(jJity"f
mate11ahsrn 1s Lhe marrl rout ol ·lh ti 11 !' 11IJ." ,
'. · • :
,
• · ·.! · i

but

0

'

p

,,

,.

,' ~ ·

·'/.
~

w

,

I

,.
I

-.

,
'·

86

1

ALLEGORY.

(PART U.

tte p;uable~ of .Christ ~r~ of tpe same::cJescription;
a~1d t~ie Scnbes a~~d Pharisees·. wet~ · o,ft~~i:l \ t>bliged fo ,
give judgment. ag<l:mst. thf:'.t;nselve_s: ' -,_ :. '-- '<:": •,. :J · . -~ r

CHAPTER XXVI.
OF ALLEGORY.

Q. W11at is an Aliegory 7

A. It is generally considered, but. inco~rectly, as a
continuation of metaphor. No contmuat10n of metaphor ever becomes a~ allegory.; ~nde~d, there are seV'eral essential properties that d1stmgmsh these figures.
Allegory pre;;;ents to immediate view the seco.n dary
ohject only; metaphor always presents the pnmary
also. Metaphor always imagines one thing to be another; allegory, never. Every thing ass~rted in the
allegory is applied to the secondary object; every
thing asserted in the metapho~ is applied to t~e pri~­
cipal. In the metaphor there is but one meanmg; m
the allegory there are two, a literal and a figurative.
Allegory is a veil; metapho~ a l?erspective-glas~.
011e of the finest allegories is to. be found m the
lxxxth Psalm :
"Thou hast brought a vine out of Egypt; thou hast ca.st out
the heathen and planted it. Thou pr.eparedst room before 1t, ~nd
didst cause it to take deep root, and 1t filled the land . · The hills
were covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs thereof were
like the goodly cedars-she sent out her boughs unto the sea, and
her branch es unto the river. Why hast thou then broken down
her hedges so that all they which pass by do pluck her? The
. boar out of the wood doth waste it, and the wild beast of the
·field doth devour it. R eturn, we beseech thee, 0 God of hosts:
look down from heaven, and behold and visit this vine."

- Allegory is more seldom employed than either metaphor or simile. The latter require no study, and but
a slight exertion of the imagination; but to form an
allegory, the min~ must l?ok· out ~or a likeness that
. will correspond m a variety . of circumstances, and
form an independent. w~ole.

· Q. What is the best occas10n for the proper allegory ?
A. It is, when it is of importance to gain a man's

own judgment against himself, without exciting his
suspidons of our intention. We all know the effect
of the parable spoken by Nathan to David; and we
can not . fail to observe that no other form of speech
could have supplied t.he place of allegory. Many of

87i ·" . /

PART II.)

:/

. Q. Among whom did t~1s .s tyle uf'wntmg most prevail? · ·., .
.{!. Among the ancients, though many,inodern wri-

ters have t;ised it

~ith

good effect. ,_. . ' ' . -:- · . . '

Q. WP,at Is the chief thmg to be observed in · the use of .this

figure?
•I

. A.

·

, · · · : .· , ·

'

·

-;-- "

. ,1 ·.

."

T~e g~eat requisite is, to .make \t as· li~ely and .

1~1terestmg

as possible, to preserve a proper distinc1..
t1011 between the figurative expression and the literal .
a~1d to introd~ce nuthing'-unsuitable to . the - nature:·,
either of t~e . thmg spoken of, or Of the thing allucled·iO.
Q. _W hat IS to be

ob~e rved

concerning the length 'Of allegories?

.

A . , S?me. are qmte. sh~>rt; others _very long.· . Of the .
latter k1~d is the" Pilgrim's Progre.ss,"·' by John Buri~ .
yan, , of immortal fame ; This ~.ork is_ an allegorx,
contmued tprough '~he volume,· rn ·which the com~encement, progress, and ·conclusion of the Chi"istian
are ingen~ously ' il~ilstrated ,by the 18irriilitude 'bf a ;
Journey. · · : ·. · ~. - . · , · - :_. · . . ' " · --.. ~ ·'. Wl-~"' ·r u
. A · ~re at deat'o.( Homer· and ·Virgil's machin_ery; that:
is, of the. ~se .the;; ma~~· t>f god_s' atid . go.dd~~~~~,'.~ i\nd . i , .
other fict~t10us bemgs,1s ~llegoric.al.-· Thus it -is 'Apol-1 '. .
lo that raises the pl ague. 111 tbe first book of ,the··Iliad •
agreea?ly to the old opinion that t~e sun;-by" drawing .
U,P nox19us, vap<?r~ from the ea;th, ,is the cau~e of pe~~...
t1Jence. 1 bus it ts J ~no who. rnst1gates £olus, in the
~rst book of the .iEneid, t? r_a~se . a storm for._destroymg ·the Rom.a n fleet; which rnt1mates that a certairi
disposi~ion .of the air, over "".hich Juno was , suppo'~ed
~o preside, is the cause o(wmd. · Thus, when Pallas ·
.,..
I~ tl~e be_ginning of t~e Iliad, :appe.ars io 4chi~les lind .
. ·..
for~1ds h1.m to draw his .sword aga1.nst Agamemnon; it
'::t
IS an allegoty; and the meaning -is; that Achilles was
res.traihe~ 011 -this occasion by his ' ow n good .
r'
Pallas bemg the goddess of wisdom. · At1d ·when Vir~
gi~ te~ls us t~at Juno _and Venus .co~sp~r~·d to · dec.;?Y
Dido _rn~o an. amou~ .with Mneas,.1t s1gmfies that Dido
was dra"".n mto ·this' <;1mour partly by her , amhitiori ; .
Venus bemg the tep,rese11tative of the 0119 pa~ sion ·a.1id '
.Juno of the other.
· ·
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"
PERSONIFICATION.

Samson's Riddle is an allegory: "Out of the eater
came fort'1 food, and ou~ of the strong came forth
sweetness."

CHAPTER XXVII.
0 F

P ER S 0 NI FICA TI 0 N.

Q. What do you m ean by Personification?

A. That figure by which we attribute life, sex. and
action to inanimate beings.

Q. By what is this figure prompted?
A. Either by the exercise of an active .maginat.ion,

or by inte'n se feeling ; and it arises froin a certain
proneness in the human mind to invest all surrounding objects with life and activity.
Q. What effect .has 1t upon style! ·

A. It tends both to enliven and to embellish it, being, when ' judiciously used, one of its greatest ornaments.
EXAMPLE.

"Duty is to the affections in the conduct of life, wh~t logic is to rh etoric
in a discou.r se . Logic forms an excellent body for a discourse ;. we assent
to it, we approve it, it is g?od, all g~od, but tt aw ake ns no admna t10n. It
is not till rhetoric sends 1ts warm life-blood to mantll! on the cold ch eek of
logic, and clothes its angular for1!1 in the garme~!s of taste. that we begm .
to admire the discourse. And BO It IS with duty, &c.
Q. Is our language favorable to the use of this fig~1re?
.

A. There is none more so, and hence, m part, its .
peculiar fitn~ss for poetry:
Q. To what is tlus to be ascnbed?
.
A. To the circumstance of the distinction of gender
in· English nouns being in strict accordance with nature, which is not the case in many other languages.
Q. And what advantage does this give

u~ 1

. .
.
PERSONIFICATION.

[PART II.

.

·A. While we, on ordinary occasions, speak of manimate objects as de~titute of sex, we are enabled,
when the occasion requires it, to dignify them by appellations peculiar to males or females.

.Q. Cari the same not be done iii. every language?
A. No : for in most languages the ge nder of nou~1s .

is invariably fixed, and can not be changed at the will
of the writer.
·

Can you 1llustrate what you h~ve st~ted by ~xample? J ".
:A. In speaki11g of the sun, oh common' oc,casions,·:
· we say, it rises, 01' it sets; but in cases of greater filo- ment, we ascribe to it the attributes ofla male 1'-iu1d use'
lie, as Tholtlson; ii1 his Seasons: · . · " .'*':"}rqi .~'. '--!!\.. ':;; "
·"But yonder comes ihe powe~ful king of day; •:.·, i, .·<·1f ,. I
1

"Q.

. ' Rejoicing in the east. The lessening Cl9ud, .' ' ·.: • _:: ,,,.. .. ,
: ', 'fhe kindling azure, and the mountain's 'brow, ! , '!,' 1 r (, >
' Illumed with fluid gcild; his near approach ,
. i. ·, '. ', 1 ..
Betoken glad. Lo! no\v, 'apparent all, ,_ .
· ' ' ·'
1
• ' : : •:_:) F
· Aslant the dew-bright ea rth and colored air,
He looks in boundless. majesty abroad; · · .
.
.
And sheds the shining day, that'btlrnish'd plays ·
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams;
High gleaming from afar."
·
' ·
·
Q. In what species of writing does this figure chiefly abound 1

A. It ,is used very frequently; and al}Vays with great
propriety, in the Scriptures, ,a s well as _in the works
of all our best poets ·and orators. , . 1 ,' , '· • , .
· Q. Will you give an example from the' Scriptures? · . ' , _ ; .

A. ")Vhenlsrael w~nt out of Egypt,. the ho~se ,. of, \
Jacob from .~ people of 13trange language; the. sea sawi
·it,· and fled; ' Jordan. was driven back! 'the.- rnoui1tains:"
skippe~ like rams, and. the; jitile ~; hills !: like /lahlb'~: '' " ;,
"What ailed ~hee ; O thou sea, that ·~hou fledd~'st ~ (<;.: ·
, Q. When may this figure be said to be al:lused? _ · ·. · . -,., i ,,. ·
A. When the actions ascribed to foar.iim .at~ objects

are unnatural, vulgar, or indelicate; or when the figure·
is so overstrained, as to be either rid~culous or. unin~
telligible:
.
.
, , ,'
. ,!
· Point out, the personifications in the foilowing' ex.-'
an1J?les :'
·'' : :. .. .~ ' \ . :· " : ' . . .. -1 ·' , \ " ." ' ·
.. " .Avarice begets more v.i ces than Priam did children, and, like _
Priam, survives them all. It starves its keeper to surfeit those
who wish him dead ; and makes him submit to more mortifications to lose he~ven, than the martyr undergoes t6 gain it/' · · ..

.The above example mar, perhaps claim t,h ~- djg~ity ,
of an allegory.
., ,
·. .. . - .,_·}· ..-1 ;"-« i.: !'"
"Philosophy is a goddess, whose h ead indi;ed-is i~ hea;eii 1 but .

whose .feet are upon earth; she attempts more than she abcom."
plishes, ahd promises more than She performs: she Catl teach U9 , I
~o .h~ar ?r. read of the calamities of othe'rs w.i th magnanimity; bu~
1t 1~ rehg10n only that can teach us to bear our , own with· tesig'!
<·
.nat10n."
·
·
·
· · ·
. - ~ . ·',. ~ -, ' r
,

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---....',

~

APOSTROPHE,

[PART II.

apprent1c:es of Dispatch and
· "Hurry an~ Cunmng are ~e~ l~:~ns his ma~ter's trade."
Skill; but ri e1therf ?f tdhef~ruth is Time; her greatest enemy is
"The
° compamon
·· Is· H.urnilitv, ."·
. . greatest
d l nennstant
PreJmhce, an ier co 1 -ures np,w interests awaited me ; and
"E very where new p ea:s 1 st;od always neat, her shadow fell
though Melancholy, as usua 't th and left the rest more welbut half way ove~ my vagran pa ,,'
.
comely brilliant from the contrast.
. h

·· APOSTRQPHE,

. "And Pelion shook his ti e r~ !ocks, an~,talk d
Mournfully to the fields of fhessaly.

OF. APOSTROPHE.
Q What do you mean by an Apostrophe? .

.

. A A dden address to a dead or absent person,. as
'f h~ we~~ alive or present, and could hear, and be af-

}ectecl by wh,a t is spoken. .

'

Q What is the character of tins figure 1.

'k.

f

11 the

A It . the boldest and most strr rng o a
figu~es, a~~d. always betokens the greatest warmth and
fervor of mmd.

·

Q Can you give an example 1.

f D .d 1
One of the most striking is that o
avd ;..
1 d th of his son Absalom: "An t e
~entmg t~~c;amoved+ and went up to the chamb.er

..A

~~~~
t~=~ate, and wept ; an,d as he w1~~;l~~
~~~~~
0 ny son Absalom ! my son, my son
.
.
to tGod I had died for thee, 0 Absalom, my son,

I~Y

son!"
. figure ever. use d i·n reference to inanimate
Q Is this
. · objects?
I
Fre uently. and "'hen so employed, it is .a ways
blended ~ith per~onification; we first personify' and
then apostrophize. ·
f th ·
Q C
ive an examp 1e o
IS 1•
d
. A. ~V~un~ountains of Gilboa, let taere be nfo ffiew,
·
·
you nor fi elds o o erm'ighty is v'i lely

A

rne~~l~e~olre~1:!~e:~l~e s~;1~1aug7~~e

I

: {t
..

CHAPTER XXVIII.

.

·,

.'

.
away, the shield cif Saul, ~s .though h_e had ~ot been

h t

How beautiful is the following languageh,wh!c
represen t s tl)·e wind. . as murmuring through t e pme
trees on Mourit Pel10n:
·
.
,

~

..

.

anoilited 'with oil." · · , ·,: · . d ::1·. :
·
.· .
•··.
Q. When ma'y this figure be said to be i~properly applied ?'
A. When the object addressed is decked out.in the
garb of flowery language, or loaded with..ai~:v·:s<;>rt. of
studied ornament. ·
.
, ·
··. ~ ._ . ~ ~: 1 • ,';
• .

Q, Whp.t' is faulty in this 1 '

·

·

.·. , ... . ·

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··..;" '·
1

A. · It . is contrary to nature; for this figure,~beiilg
the product of highly-excited feeling, mu~t lleve~--· ~p.'
pear as the result Of art or. labor. · · · .·, · "· ·· · · ·· · ·
A. Yes : there is that of extending it to.o far, which ·.
must, on alloccasions, destroy its effect; as giving; it . .
. the appeara1ice of being too studied and artificial,. ;· · ~- ·
.
EXAMPLES OF APOSTROPHE.
'
.. ,
: · , '~i
•· [Let the pupil point out the apostrophe in each~ ].: ':'. ·
Dani~l Webs.ter, i~- addres-~h1g~ the survi~i,n'g p~trfots.
of the. Revolution '.that · were before -~im · o~ ~ ; ,~~.~ t~J~.
occas10n, ,remarked .: ;. · · :. ,,\ ;-, " .. , .,-. ... ., . .·~ ;_ ...... i·;, ~•.; .··~if. ,:..-.. •
· "B'ut, alas! . you ar~ not all hereJ ,;'Time anc\ the-:sand have ·
. •

• ,

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thinned ·your . rank,s, - P~escott, _P utnarv;:. S~il~k~ B~,09_/ts, , ~-a~;;
' Pomeroy, Bndge ! . oqr ""eye11 _seek for· you m 1 vain: amid ,this,
broken band; .. You are gathered to your fathers; and live only to
your country irl her grateful remembrance and your ,bwn bhght:
cxampie."
-· ·
· · ·· · '
'\· ·.,,. · "- .\,:.

1

1

E. Everett, in a Eulogy _ 0~1 Lafayette; · spok~.,-~a.s..
follows !
. · . · , . · : ··'

otor .

· "You ·have how assembled within these celebrated walls;
perform the last .d uties .of.respect and love; cin the birthday
your benefactor, ben eath that roof which has resounded of old
with the master .voices of American ·renown. Listen, Americans, to the lessons which seem born e to us on the very aii we.
breathe, while we perform these dutiful rites 1 Ye winds that
wafted the Pilgrims to the land of promise, fan, in their childrensi'
hearts, the love of freedom! Blood, which our fa thers shed, .cry
from the ground! ~choing arches of this .renowned hall, whis- ·
per back the voices of other days,!· Glorious Washington, break,
the long silence of t~at votive canvas ; speak, spe~k~, m~f~le Ii~~'
teach us the Jove of liberty protected br !aw." . · , . · · :,, · ,.: . .' y.: •
0

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Q. Is there . any other error connected with ihe use· of_ this
figute 1
. · ·
. ·
. ' ', . . :··· .· ..

.

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92

METONYMY AND SYNECDOCHE.

[PART II.

PART .

CHAPTER XXIX.
Q. What do you understand by Metonymy! .
A. That figure · of speech by wluch we put the

cause for the effect, or the effect for. the cause ; the
container for the thing contained, or the sign for the.
thing signified. · ·
Q. Can you give an example of each of these?

A. "I am reading Milton;" "Gray hairs should be
respected;" "The kettle is boiling;" "He has at last
assumed ·the scel?tre."

Q. Can you explam the figur~s here used? . · .
A. Milton is taken for }us works, which is the cause
for the effect; gray hairs for old af{e, which is the effect for t.he cause; the kettle for the water in it, which
is the container for the thing contained; and the sceptre for kingl71 power, which is the sign for tl~e thing

·

Q. And what do you mean by Synecdoche?

A. That figure by which we put the whole

CLIMAX AND · ENUMERATION .

that is, to get the necessaries of life, .qf: 'Xhic~ br ead i~
only one species. , • · '
".
·.. · · ", ·.
·
(3.) When the name of the whole essencds put
one of its · constituent parts, as in epitaphs, -,'' h~re lies
~uch a, man," ' that is, the body of such _a man.-·~ '
(4.) 'rhe. ·reyerse of this; as, "I can not . change
your shilling, for I have rio copper," that is, copper coin~.'
Thus soul is put for person: "this town con"tains two
thousand souls," We say, too, a .good soul, a dea'r
soul1 We also speak of t~n head of cattle. Thif:i last
mode of speaking, in which the noun . does . not tak(}
the plural termination even when plurality is signified,
we use of beasts only, or of men in coli tempt; . as
when ·Pope says, " a htindred head of Aristotle's
friends," where a double contempt i_s intended, :first,
that' the commentators on Aristotle were as dull as
oxen ot cattle; and, secondly; that, as individuals, thef
were so insignificant and Q,ad so. littl~ charact~r, , that '
th~y deserved to_~~ , r ~cl,tpp~d ~Y)h~ "??.~~~ o.1Hy, ~r
by the hundred;;., · ~:... ,.,. " " .. ' , . : , , ': ,. ·.,~ "" •;, , :..
, (5.) . 'fh'e fifth form of we · srn~cdoche--_is § wheu thei ' .
11ame of any part,,C?f any ma.teq~l, !:lYS,tem ,1~. put...fo~ the1 ,
whol~; as when we spe~k of a. $ail; ,mea1.1!ng. a s~ip a~,:
sea, or say, all hands wei:e at work, meamng the men. ,
- (6.) When the name · of a whole system is ·put for •
that of a part 'of i,t ; as when, in ancien( auth\)t,s , the
Roman Empire is caHed the world.
· ··
·

for

OF METONYMY AND SYNECDOCHE.

signified.

n.J

fo:

a

part, or a part for the whole ; a gem~s for a species,
or a species for a genu.s; or. any tlung less, or any
thing more, for the precise object meant.
Q. Can you give a more full account of the synecdoche ?

A. There are several sorts of wholes, and, consequently, of parts; and hence a v~riety of synecd.oches.
A whole genus is made up of its several species - a
whole essence of its matter and its form-a whole system of its several parts or members-whence three synecdoches when we use the name of the whole for a
. part, and other three when we use the nam~ of .a P3:rt
for the whole : se this trope may be used m six different forms. ·
··· ·
. (1.) When the name of the genus is put_ for that of
one of the species comprehended under it; as when
we call a dull man a stupid animal.
(2.) When the name of a species is ~mt for that of
the crenus • as when we speak of a garrison put to the
E•
I
sword,
that' is, killed by warlike weapons 1.n
~enera ;
or when a man is said to get his bread by lus rndustry,

1

'

..

'

••

1

Q. 'To what figure is synecdoche most allied?.
. '" '
A. 'fo, metonymy; both bci11g figures of a simi~ar ,
differe~t relation~ j .

kii1rl; .but founqed upon
: '

.

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, CHAPTER -XXX.
.,1

)

. ',·

-

. ..

•

OF CLIMAX' AND ENUMER.\TION; '. .,", ·.· · ·. ·I

· Q. What do you lnea.u by ·a Climax 1" · ' ' :. ·
' · ·:--; : ~
. A. A series of members i~ a sente~ce, each rising

::{,/

import\).nce: aJ:>o.v.e th~ cme . which. ~x:e9~4~~ . ~.t,:Cf.om .'
the:firsMo}he la~t . . : 1 • : ; . • . . ; : ' : •. ,, ~ ,~ , , 1•,:.''·\

)n

, ,Q. When tnay a chmax be considered as best constructed, t ·..

'. A . . W.he.n, '. the, ~ast idea.,of. th.a · (qrm~r . 111.ernb~~ : I?e~; 1
•

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.'
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CLIMAX AND ENUMERATION.

comes the first of the latter, and so on to the end of
the series.

u.J ·

,PAR'!'

[PAIIT II.

•1'

..

.

.. ,

,. .· .

.~ , ANTITH~srs • .

weary; like a bnd with wet plumage, driven in a storm from its
nest, aµd timidly seeking shelter. It is the Mayflower, thrown
oil the bosom of Winter. The very sea is freezing : . the earth is
as still as the grave, covered with snow, and as hard as· iron;
there is no sign of a hutnan habitation; the deep forests have lost
their foliage, and rise over the land like a rBhadowy congregation
of skeletons. " Yet there is a band of human beings on board that
weather-beaten vessel, and they have voluntarily .come to this
sa_vage coast to ~!?end the rest . of their lives, and to . die there.
Eight thousand m!les they have struggled across the ocean, from
a land of plenty and comfort, from their own beloved country,
from their homes, firesides, friends, to gather around _an altar to
God, in the wirl.ter, in the wilderness ! What does it all mean 1
It marks to a noble mind, the invaluab~e blessedness of freedom
to worship God." ,
· .
' ~·
.1
, ·
.
;
·

,·\

Q. Can you give an example of_this figure?

.
.
A. "What hope is there remammg of liberty, If .whatever IS
their pleasure it is lawful for them to do; 1f what Is lawful for
them to do, th~y are able to do; if what they are abl~ to t~o, they
dare do· if what thev dare do, they really execute; and if what
they ex~cute is no way offensive ~o you?"
Q. What is the character of ~h1~ figure?

A. It is extremely beautiful; and, when properly
managed, is calculated to make a powerful impression
upon the mind of the reader or hearer.
.. Q. By whom is it chiefly used ·1
A. Chiefly by orators, though other writers also

I

•

)'

•

·

\

·Q. What is Enumeration?·

Q. Can you give an example?
A. "The Bible is, beyond all controversy, the best book _of education in the world. It is the best book for the forrnat10n of
children's minds the best book for their acquisition and preservation of a pure' idiomatic style in their national lan~uage , the
best book to promote and secure the purposes of farmly government the best book to make our children enlightened and good
citiz~ns of the republic, the best book, in fine, to preserve them
from all evil and train them up in all good.'"-Cheever.
Q. Arendt climax and enumeration sometimes conjoined? .

A. They are in the above example, but more so m

.. The landing of the Pilgrims, in 1620, has been. thus
painted by G. B. Cheever in his Lectures on Bunyan:
"It is a lowering winter's day; on a cbnst, rock-bound and per.
ilous, sheeted with ice and snow, hovers a small vessel, worn and

I

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•' '

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· CHAPTER XXXI.

I'

.-'.

''-

. .,::., ;•~.:' dF ~NTITHES~s.'...

Q. What do you understand hy A~tithesi~ 1.

,' ·
ltjs a figure by which words and ideas.very dif·
ferent.1 'contrary,· are ~' pl~cied· together·in cbnirast or
opjJos_ition, that tpey. hl~y'Jn_rt.tually se( oft~nd il,lustfate
· each Othe_
r. \' . ~. '.-. ~> ~:. '.:. ,._. --~~- :,·:·~~~ ·:/· · '>"' ?' -~~l-;·.~t~~ \.~~;~~:~~'.--.{::~~)~r.:.
··'- A. , ,~

or

, Q. 'r? wh~t figu,re ~~ an~Ithes1.s mo~t 9pposed 1'.-; -~~-·,·· ..- . ;: ., .
A. ro c?p1par~son, _w_h1ch IS folinqed bQ' rrsem-(

. blar:~e; 'f hlle antithesis i_s foun~ed d~1. ?ontrast ?r op- ·
,·f ·.'· ' ,' .
·pos1t1on.
.·
1

·

' ' ••

•

·· ' .

' Q.· Fol: what purpose ate objects generally contrasted 1

·

. .:A: F.o r the

purpose of more strongly marking their
difference ; as white never appears so bright }1s wh~11
contrasted with'black. ' · ·
1, -·
, · ·
"

the following :
"How small a portion of our life it is that we really enjoy. In
youth, we are looking forward to things that are to come ! in old
age we are looking backward to things that are gone P_ast i m ri:ianhood although \ve appear, indeed, to be more occup~ed m thmgs
that ~re present; yet even that is too often absorbed m vague determinations to be vastly happy on some future day, when we
have time."-Colton.
Daniel Webster once uttered the following memorable climax
"Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothing
but our qountry."
.
.

I,,

---

frequently avail themselves of its use.
A. A series of particulars merely, witho~t that
gradual increase in point of. import~nce, wluch the
climax exhibits, and necessarily implies.

95

' ••

1

Q. ·is it a common figure?' '

1

· ' •

,·

:•·

·A~

.. j

A. Perhaps the most so of any, as all :writers occa~
s10nally use it, and many very frequently.
·' ,·

. Q. Can you give any examples of its use? . '.· , · ,. :• · . '·· · '·' ·
. . 4.\. . ·" Yet, at thy call, the hardy t.ar pufslle~,~
· , ..
" ;E'ale, b~t intrepid; · sad, b.u~ unsubdued.'' , · ·' . . , . · '·
1
, Q. What is the chief rule for the use of this figure 1 :' '

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A.

To introduce it but sparingly, and,let the ground

.. '.~~~-:

.ot the

contrast be always cir. a: solid nature, not de' pending Upon mere captice 1 for ·" antith~sis may be '·
,. the · blossom Of wit, but it will never arrive at maturity unless.sound
serise- be the
trunk . and ,truth the
'root.'.'
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AN'l'I'1'H ESf9.

L1'ART

u.

. Q. \Vhat effect have unn atural antith eses npon styl~ 1
A. They rendet it stiff and affected, and i:r1ve it too

much of a contentious air.
Q. ls antithesis always confined to niiigle words 1
A. No; for one sentence or one paragraph, as well
as one word, may be, and often is, set in opposition
to another.
·
A fine ·example of this is the following paragraph
from the " Poetry of Life,'' by Mrs. Ellis, designed to
show the Wonderful adaptation of the Bible to every
variety of human nature, feeling, and condition, as one
of the clearest evidences of its Divine origin.
" Coeval with the infancy of tirne-it still remains, and widens
in th! circle of its intelligence. Simple as · the language of a
child-it channs the most fastidious taste. Mournful as th e voice
of grief-it reaches to the highest pitch of exultation. Intelligible to the unlearned peasant-it supplies the critic and the sage
with food for earnest thought. Silent and secret as the reproofs
bf conscience~it echoes benea th the vaulted dome of the cathedral, and shakes the trembling multitude. The last compani on
of the dyitig and destitute-it seals the bridal vow, am\ crowns
the majesty of kings. Closed in the heedless grasp of the luxutious and the slothful~it urtfolds its a~vful record over the yawn·
ing grave. Bright alld joyous as the morning star to the benighted travel er-it rolls lik e the waters of the deluge over the path
of him who willfully mistakes his way."
,
EXERCISES.

Fill up the blanks in the following antitheses :
1. The 9Cience of the mathematics performs mote than it p romises, but
the scienco of metaphysics ,
· ' :
.
2. It shows much more stupidity to be grave at a good thing than
.
3, lt has been well observed . that the tongue discovers the statfl of th"
tnil\il no less tha n
.
; hut in either case, before th e phil,os~­
pher or th e physician can judge, the patient must open his mouth. 1 ac1turnity is wise if me n are fool s, but
4 If you wouid be known a nd not
1 vegetate in a vill age ; i{
you would
and nnt
, live in a
dead auth ors has this ad vantage ov e r
, that
5. The ~rJciety
they nc \·c r fl 1t1. tcr us to our fa ce s, nor slnnder us hehind our backs .
6. E!rnrni rtations are forntid:iul e to the best pteparc<l, for the g1·c rttest
fool ma v 1.1sk mare th11n th e
, 7. It 'is bet ter to ha ve recourse to a quack, if he can cure ou~ di so1<ler, al·
' though h o can not expla in it, th a n
. '
.
8. Th er e is t.his diffe rence be twe en hnppin e s~ and wisd om: he that
thinks h1111self the happi est man really is so, hut he that
9. Au lr.ishman figh ts be fore h e \'c nsons ; a Scotchman
.
10 As modesty is th e richest orname nt of a woman, th e want of it
;
for tho iJP. tte r th e th ing. the .worse will ever he it.s pencrsi <m ; a ud if an
nn gd f l:s, the t ransi tion must be to

oC

n.]

PART

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HYPER,B OLE ~, ANtf' iRONY.

11. Where we can not invent, we tn!\y at ·leasHniptOV:i •· \.i. 1 hi 1 •
,,omewhat of novelty to r · , . , condensation to ·- · · '•perspi' 1 t af_gtYe
and currency to
. _
,,
·. · ,
, ;.:qv ,1; , ... • ~~ Yl ~,.i: ,, ;
· 12 •. It is suffiCien~ly hrtmiliating to dui' riature' t~· 1-e{'c\ £.ti ~ .~ :
1'
edge1sbutasth.e r1vulet,our
: ,( I, .;,• ' ;;, , , ~~ ;,:;. , i ~. ou~ , ow,. 13: He that will, not permit his wealth. to ?!1 ,a11y goad 'tri 'oth~r~ tvhlk ,h
. ls alive, prevents
_
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CHAPTER XXXU. · . : ·.;~' r:t11.; , ,.:r:ii ; •

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" :':.' 11 , ;~1::';_•, ,: ,:;~f~f:'· :!,:.:}::~~;~(·

•! . . , ·

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·, ·I

. ' , OF H\' PERBOLE AND IRONY · , .

-·f.•, •.' \ .·

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hy

·;.' Q. Whal do you understand. Hyperbole1 • .';; , ':': , . ~ : ~, , ' ~,,<, ;·.
. A. _The representation ola thjng as either far gre~t­
er, or ~a~ less, better or worse, than,ii is in , reality,:
gre~~e1; as when We call,a tall person a giant, Orr st,e~•
ple, less, as when we say of a lean man , he, is a mere
. skeleton, or ,a shadow. ,. :· ; , . ; ,,..' . . . ,. ,.. : .
' Q. On what is_thiS Jigut e founqed ?
'· ·. . , ", i'.'. < r : DI ·
· A. ()n ~hat prpp~nsity . in human ·'n ature, ', which
prompts e1t.h~r . to1; ex~ol ,.or yilify, ; beyonq .. 'measure
· wha,tever e.xc1tes . ~9Il1•.ra~1on ori create~_ ~islike~ . \\',· ,~
Q. Of :vha., ~p._en, ts: it &"~n~wl!y, the result 1, : ..' \ :,: : :" , \ ;,'. : ,
E1~her ()f_,str.ong pa~s1on; or ,o f ,w ant,bf dul i-ais•
cr11nn1at1on. ,: : .. .,
'', ,.:, :'..!'i ...., ;. 1: . ' "' <,;·, ,. :. .>::. ! .Jt
. Q: it a corii~~n figure ' 0[ ,s peecli ?' ,_r, , ) I -:~, ~ :1\.fi ~r.' ,<J.3 r ~
, A.; Very common in the coriv'ers~tiori 'of j)assiO'n ate
~nd ignorant ~e?ple ; and it is frequently_to be found
Ill the ~Otnpos1t10ns •Of all bombastic· writers/ ·:·, '7 '-~
, .Q. ;Is it, t.h en, a figure a~ways to be avoided 7 t:
1(1 ,;
.. . A '. By no me~ns; it gives. yivaCity' ·to the' expres~
.s10n,, a.nd sorn;~t1m~s . entertau~s 1 by presentingia ludi~ ·
crous image; and . it may be, and often is tised with · ·
excellent effect, esp~~ially w.hen it the spontaneous
result of stro~g feeling. · · ;· ,' " '· . ' , ,., ;· :: . rh . >i li
. Q. ~~~,You give example.s of this latter kind? . , r. , • '•!"' ·~·,,,
. . A.
I hey w.ere swifter than .· eagles ; they were
· st~onger than hons." · "Rivers of waters tun down
mme eyes because they keep not.'t hy law." ' . . . · -~ ''

A·:
Is

7 :

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is

What do you mean by Irony?-

- · .

,

· A. The ~xpression of strong reproof o~
under the a;Ppearance of praise.·
;. _
Q. How, then, i;iust the true meaning be known f .
. A. By. the circumstances of the speaker
to the object that he means to censure.

I

-. censur~;

_ , ~,~ ,,
,_ . ,/ , ..

in ·telahim
· · ,:

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HYPERBOLE AND IRONY.

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l>Jt:k ¥1Ti1:1r .:'r~. · rgy~tkbb!Jf!fl
AtfO;; ,lRONYlf,tQ If•1fr{:_1''1T 99~l'';
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. . . • t' ' . ·.

[PART U.

r ·'

Q. What end does irony serve t
A. , It often gives greater poignancy to reproof, as it

. A . .The tal~nt~q;·:a.11thof ~ 'o(: U: tJa~dn;?!~having remarked that some good -1 iaturM felloWs:fai.ve'thhs lost -..
1
their _lives; :HJ_l~e : hands 'or a foe ·.~h/i::· ro~n~SI,~;,1 ~~.asier '
to po mt a swotd ; than · a.:.teparteei :proceed~i'to 1 1llus- ·
t-rate .his position as follows ! ' ; -·p·,·,:· ·1·~'1!1 il/~1r.r;.t~ilit~i;,
·: '', 1:
~
· '. ii 'hJv~:: he~td, ·ii ' ~: inan iti tlfo' ~~o.Jirlqlj of :}J~fi1r~1;-~hb h~d .
1

is generally calculated to bring ridicule upon the object to which it is applied.
Q. How is it best applied?

·

.

A. In reproving folly or vice ; for, as applied to
persons, it more frequently produces irritation than
amendment.
Q. Can you give an example of this figure 1

A. In saying of a very impudent fellow, "A person of his distinguished modesty could surely not be
guilty of such a deed," would be an instance of strong
. irony, in which is said the very opposite of what is
·
intended. ·

' · Q. What is the rule for the .use of hyperbole and irony?
A. To use them both as sparingly as possible . .
· Jn regard to .hyperbole, care is to be taken, in the

use of it, not to lead others into any mistake concerning the real nature of things. The frequent use of
this figl.1re is offensive to persons of taste, and also to
those who have a strict regard for truth.
.
It is not needful to present exercises for the practice of the student, as every person is liable, without
instruction, to a too frequent use of this figure.
• . In tegard to irony, it is sometimes entertaining, by
giving variety and vivacity to discourse, but becomes
offensive when too frequent. It has been employed
..by teachers of respectable and even of sacred charac.. ters, in exposing folly and absurdity. For instances,
! see 1 Kings, xviii., 27; Eccles., xi., 9 ; Mark, vii., 9.
: Socrates used it happily for the instruction of his
friends and the confutation of the sophists, and thence
got the name of 'O tipwv, or the ironical philosopher.
Car.e should be taken in the use of this trope, that
·there be such a choice of words and such an accent
in pronunciation, as that our meaning may not be misunders.tood ; and with respect to .all other tropes and
figures, care should be taken that our meaning be
cleared and enforced, but never obscured or weakeiled, by the use of them.
·
Q. Can you gi,·e an illnstrnti on of the rbngcr sometimes attend·
ant upon the use of irob y ancl raillery r

· . ·~ · ....

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be~t;t .a lqhg time very SUCCessfilJ fo ·h\.mt]ng' the tigetlj His skill '
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gamed liin1 greateclat;.'.lnd i!Js~red him niuchd.iver~ion; at: l,~ngth .~
h~ ,n~rr~wly escf!;p~.q .w1t]l h!s· l~fc ; ; h~! th~n relmqp1she~ tlie ,sport,i
w;ith this o.b sen:at10n ., . ~ 1'1ger huntmg 1s :vilry fine :tmh~~n'lerit;' ,
so long as we hunt the tiger, but it is rathef awk\vard \\then th'e'.l
tiger takes it into his head to ·hunt us.' ·
.
. ,- q oi·; c rr_.r; !\ i '
•1'Again, this skill in small.wit; like skill in small . arm~, i.~ .very
apt to .beget a confidence. w.h1c.h may prove fatal in the end . We .
may 'either mista\rn the proper. ,momeht, foi: e'ven -'co<,~a.'tds 1hlite:1
th~ir fighting days; ~!- ~e. t?ay trii~talte the proper 1 mati':\" A 'c'Mi.d
tam Savoya,rd got . his bvebhood by exhibiting ·a monkey and a ·
bear. ,He gained so much applause. froin his tricks with the
• ·
monkey, that he was encouraged to practice some of them on the
bear. ' ~~ was dreadful/y l;~c~rated, . ~nd on being rescued with
great d1fhc-µlty from the •!{i-1pe"ofiihutrl J Ile'• h'cla\med, •What a
fool was I not . ~9·, cµstinguish ,bet.ween .a monkey and a bear! , A
bear, rhy friends ,'is' ·a' verfghi'v~ 'kihd'- b-t" il~rson~it\. ana as you .
pl_a,i~ly. s~e, ,does not untl~fstaba: b:j6Jte:.!~ '''hf.,i<r:!'i~'.iy_-t•i:i rJ,-,ril .9<
. ' " ·'." i 1,1 J lj ,1 c11 - ""-'·'ll''''"i :o,r~ : d '.'f>~)''r~ ..f <~ M1ii :'Jr tf::rii~ .:.
. \ ' t H · "'' " ,i.~\1 ~ , ' !')· . . •
( .:t
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· '· '- '. · " , ; :• . '. ~~t.ill.~L~;';s , ui" , 'l~ONY',\ J'ti _-r-i J•_'}t,l~'i N'i 1(\-..·J
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We o~e the: ancients so~_ething. ,yqur hav~· re~d . ; , .., ,;:,; 1::_ 1
,
Theu Works, ho doubt-at least, m a translati.o h; , 1 <·,,·_, ;
.i: -: .:Yet there wa~ arguwent.jn:wh.at ~e, ~aiq,.~ , 1:_.:: . .~- lt · ; .) ' " ( ' · ·
. (t'ni r · ~ st;om \ ~qmvocat.10J1 .0r eVf!.S~qn, ,; .. :~ · ''. ,, ~' Y~. ·'\.'·.
. -: . . And own, it tn~st, m clihdor; be,cbhfess'dt;}?. ,~1 "'IH>fll>.:;iUp' ,
<.;''f'"'f.pey were an ignorant ·s et of men at best/Y'J t•'·lt 11'1) ..~~'- -:,'

.

., ;

. !.. ...

.

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~ .,, , ·~·"''"'' 1 Jr.·{p~' 'i ·•J°

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, , · 'Twas thefr .hiisfort'1.~~ 1 to ;be
foo· ~oQ~i Ji~t;: ~,~ -~· jll:f~.f : · ~;..:~
:.
By centunes, and m .the wrong place 1.• tq91;r r« ·i i·1 U\' /)
-~~ ..; .<,~i
:c' ·:; ·The.y ·nt;iver. ~aW: a s,t~am~boat .o.r.p,~llopp. 1 .:,1 ;~,, • {- .'. t , , / .,
T/;
. , : ,.V,e)oc1pede, ?r, Qu~rterly , Review ;, ~', ·_:1 ~",\~ (-',.I,·_' · -"::
_ · Ot wore a pair of Back's bla~k satin bteet!h~~i ·~~~,01!{ ·~IHJ; ) ,
. "~
,,, ,JJr .r.ead au, almanac, or C-,- n's speeche~!l:J .i: {l•d 1 .~1 '.\,
- .i~

bo:.n,

·~ ... ). ... ~';. ~
.,, , ,1 ; · • ~ - ,
,
t' ~ ''); . I'· ·~ ; ~ .1,J1r.' .·:r·&J\ ..l~ h
·Z :'1.~
-'!.~ ; , Jn Sh~tt,',in every thing We far .outshine.the~-:-l ·.) (i .;!-.~,iH
,~)~7~
-·
. Art1 ~ scu;m~e1 ~a~te 1 ljl~d , t~le11t; an~ a stroll ,r' ;, 1,.:;\: ;:, • ' 1",
_
'·A~
· Through this enhghtend city would refine jem 1(·:··: ·h, h•.
·~".11}
.. i H·\!, More, than ten 'rears'.hnrd sttidy of the whole ~ "if if~· ~.!'..
·: ,;:.::;<
' , 'Their' genius hl\.s pfodbced, "of rich ·and' tare~ , t~f·)\ r,:j~. ·.
;·- • ·~7 1
' God bless the corporatio~ and the mayor! .( -~~!~ ~\~t~((~Jl ./ ,/ :
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100

INTERROGATION AND EXCLAMATION. (PART II.

..PART 11.]

j

· · A. By the aeep or lively sei'tse iwhi.~~ '.;:~;~ ~~~~X.~
.t~e gr.~at~es~ . ~~y~port.anc~ of.~r1Yio,bJ 1~;h1 rt,:'"i·1,· ·r \ _
· Q. In what does it thffer from mterrogat10~? : .; ! rr:,'·,c; ·., ;- .

A. Chiefly in its being the, language~btpas,s1oii ~nd

9. ls .th.is figure ever co~nbln~d ".l'ith a~y other .? ~
'.A. · It 1§ Often cornhtt1ed with chmax, .as 111 the follo\ving exam pl~: :. " What ·:{ 'piece ··or: 'work is · ~ari { ·.
1

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.. ··. ·

. . -.OHA:fJ:E}{. XXXI~\ · 1~fl·'.~:1· ~,~h-~r.'·'·'):j

Q. What do you mean by Interrogation?
A. Such a form of speech as serves to put in form
of question what is meant to be strongly affirmative.

'

·

-OP' ·VISION AND ALLITERATION1 H1'!J':V,ftJ"(.I,":. '

*'

Q. What do you mean by ·yision ·? ',. :1 •;e · n ." >r :tF H.~ · hi~.
A. That figure by .wluch past, future,, or ·a1s~apt ·obJ ·

a

Q. Is interrogation always used figuratively '!
A. It is never so used when employed to make in-

jects are described a,s if they were actuallY:~ prkseht
1
to the vi,e w of t~e speak.e! <?~ w~iter . . ' ! .~ - :1·-·1 ( ".' (.'.' ; .

quiry about any thing of which one is ignorant.

· Q. To what sort ofcompos1hort is this figure adaptell 1' ·.· .. ·:1

Q. When may it be said to be used figurativefy?

A. Only when · so used that, under the form of a
question, it serves the purpose of strong declaration.

.

-

·A. Only to such as is.highly glowin!t ahd P?Ssionate.l
Q. Whatetfocthasitwhenpropetlyintrocttlced? ·> 11! .!'· '

7

.:i~

· A. ·It excites deep interest in the objects contem..·
plated, and ma.k es tis fancy we. see the,in .: prese-!1,~ \ ~~:;
fore our eyes.
'
' '.
'
.. , ' '.
·' .

Q. Can you exemplily this?
A. "Canst thou by searching find out God 1 Canst

thou find out the Almighty unto perfection 1"

Q. Can you give ah example of this? ,

Q. What is implied in these questions?

A. A strong declaration that the Supreme Being is
quite incomprehensible, and can not be found out.

'

. ' ~ :; ·- ·

A. Cheever, in the use of this figure, thus describes
Bunyan, when rin .prisoh, nearlyt t,wo . hundred. years

ago: , .

· Q. Is this a common figure ?

t10n of mind.

: :.

how noble in reason! how infinite in iaculties .t. in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a
· "
· ' ' - · ' ·r
·
g od .'"
~

OF INTERROGATION AND EXCLAMATION.

Q. ·What do you understand by Exclamation?
A. A mode of expression which exhibits great emo-

.

.e~op~~. ; , ~~ile . i1~tertoga~~?,9 :is,1 pr~~1,t~P.~,H Y, 1 l\li~~·. or
reas.o h and JU_d gment . . ,, , . '.· .. <.'(· ·;. ·.itr 1 /ii~H1r~: 1 ~4

Q. Can you give an example o~ thi~ figure 1. , :·:, ·r•i r ,,) . ., : ..
, A. '' 0 . the depth of. ,the riches, both of th,e Wisdom
a!1d the"knowledge · ~f God! .· ~ow u~~e.~rcha~~~ i ~~€5 :
his judgments, and l11s ways past findlllg ou,l, ! ~'. : , (:

• h

-4.. Very much so ; and it is often the strongest
mode of reasoning, as implying the absence of all
doubt respecting the object of the interrogation.

,'

'lOl .

p,f.

A finer example of irony can scarcely be found
than the prose article by Washington Irving on the
" Right of the Colonists to America," quoted in the
"Young Ladies' Reader," by Mrs. Tuthill, an excellent work for classes, as a storehouse of rhetorical
illustrations.
Shakspeare abounds in examples of hyperbole. It
is heard, also, if not practiced, every day in conversation. Junius abounds in irony and satire.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

I
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,, Q ;' By what is it generally prorltlcP.ri ?'. l '~11 .,"11. r~:··H)i •\'<' ":' ""'

And on our City Hall a justice stands;
,. A neater form was never made of board ;
· Holding majestically in her hands
. A pair of steelyards and a wooden sword,
· And looking down with complaisant civilityEmblem of dignity and durability.

1·

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.vrsrot-t · ANll ''AtLlTER.ATION.

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~· i ,. . _. _. ·:

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"And no•~ it iinrveriiti~. ·A .f ode lamp glimmers darkly on the
tahle, the tagged lac~s are laid aside,' end Bunyan; alone·, is b~sy
with his Bibler .the cqncordance, and hi.s pen, ink,. and paper. . He ,
writes as though joy did rilake him W,rite. His pale, worn ~oun 7.
tenance is lighted with a fire; as if reflected from the tadiarit j~s.' .
per walls of the.CelF1stial City. He wtitel'l, and smiles, and .clasps
his hands, nn<l looks upward,· and blesse.s God for his goodness, .
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OTHER SECONDARY TROPES.

(PART II.

e.nd then again turns to his writing. The last you see of him
for the night, he is alone, kneeling on the floor of his prison ; he
is alone, with God."

For another example, see the quotation from the
same writer in chap. xxiv. .
.
Q. What do you mean by Alliteration?
A. The use of such words, at certain intervals, as
begin with or contain the same letter.
Q. Is this figure much in use ?

·

A. It is very much in use by our best poets, and
even sometimes by prose writers.
Q. On what is'this figure founded ?
. A. On that pleasure which the ear feels 111 the recurrence of similar sounds at regular and stated distances.
.
Q.· Can yo,u give any examples?
A. "Ruin seize thee, ruthless king."
" Up the high hill he heaves a huge round stone."
" Spftly sweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.
'.'To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Q. Is this figure always the effect of study?

A. In some instances it may be purely accidental,
and on these occasions it is always most natural, and
its effects are then by far the most pleasing;
. Q. What is the best and most general rule for all the figures
of speech? .

A. It is, nevef to make a deliberate search after
them; use · them only when they rise spontaneously
out of the subject; never pursue them too far; and
let them always be such as enforce and illustrate, as
well as embellish a subject.

. CHAPTER XXXV.

; '

'

'

OTHER SECONDARY TROPES.

Q. Wlrn.t nrn Becondary tropes 1
A. Those which may he reaolvcd into the primary which
are metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and irony.
Q. What is A.ntonomasia?
'
A, It is a sort of synecdoche which we use when '"e put

;.r·~l

.

' P+\,R'I'.. 11.J . OTHER SECONOARt -TROPES. f ,-,... d: 103.
a general term for a proper name,' or ·a. pi~p¢t 'ni_i.in'e for a
general term: as "when 'Aristotle .·calls ' HO~er, tht-ipqd; .as
when
call a great warrior, an Alexander; ·a. great otator, .
41 lJemosth.e nes; a great patron of learnint; ·a.'.M:i£cenas . . This ·
trope may ,also. be u~ed when we intend to;,~onv.¢Y:.r '!l; liyely
image ~o. the mind, as iii tha~ line of Milton,: ·: :~ : ~~ ..1-., / . :,'; . ··

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A .. When too frequent, it makes language obscure, affected, or ostentatious of learning. It should nevel," be .used.
when the character alluded to may b,e ~uppos.ed, to ;be ~nknown to the· reader or hearer.
.
· · .. •
,; ·
Q. .What is meant by, the trope that is called communii;a-:
lion?
_ '
..
.
·
.
· .: ... ;,.,
A. It is when; from modesty, or respect to our hearers,
we say we instead of ~ or '!lou. : H .is a trope 'w hich puts
many for 'one: ,;., •''·.' ·,· . ·'•' ...... . ., . ·, "., . ,, .: : ·
·; ~·
·'" ... ::·' . , ~ ·
, Q: '. W~at is Lit*s ot Extenu~ion? '." .
·. ,, ' ··
·
,• A • .lt1is-. used when we . ~o not express so muclt as· we .
, mean, and whieli;therefore;·rnay:-i'tlso ' be resolyed into sy...
necdoche, as wheri we :s'lly, 1'1 ,can· no~ , commend · you for
that,'' meaning; ~· I gre~tly blame you.?' : '·' 'fhe news I have
to communicate
.not be . very agreeable". tneans ·1 "will
be \Tery disagreeable.I ~ · · ·
: · ' -~ . .. , ..; . ; -i . . , .:,_
· Q. What trope is nearly related to. litotes 1 ', -,: : ' · : ·
.. A. Euph~
" in,
wheq it if said of the martyr Stephen·
that" he ti
eep," instead of" he died,'.' the euphemism
partak~s of
e na.t ure of metaphor, intimating a resem- ·
blance between sleep and the death of such a person. , '. :'t' :
· · , Q.. What is Catadr.resi.8 or A.huno 1
· . .· · · · · ·
.A . It means improper U5e, and is any trope; especially a
metaphor, so strong as to border on impropriety by seeming
to confound the nature of things, as when we call the young
of beasts "their sons and daughters;" or the instinctive
economy of bees "their government;" or .whe.n the goat is
called in Virgil "the husband of the flock ;l' ' when Moses
ealis :Wine " the '11ood of the grape ;" for nothing but an
animal can have blood ; and sons, daughters, husbands, government, belong t,o rational b_e ings only. We sometimes u.s e
this figure from ·• necessity, because we have no other ,'"'.ay
so convenient to exprees our meaning, as 'Yhen we say1 -~
1i1Der' candle atick, gJ.as.fhlk horn! ~ / .
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MISCELLANE'OU& FIGURES OF SPEECH. [rAnT 11.-

·105·

inte~tio~ and effect. · I saw 'it with my· eyes. · ' "Could you
see . It w1tl_i you~ ·mouth 1" r_eplies,the .cynhfr :· Both natute
a~d - t~e most correct: taste mterp:r;et such phraseology, and
give 1mp?rtant meamng to th~ apparent,Tedundaney, : . :' · · · Sometimes, after a generatstatem_ent; various particulars ,
ar~ enumerated to etcpress the deep 1mpressi0h made on .the
~md _of the speaker. . Milton ·speaks thfis with -respect to
his blindness: - 1
, . . . • ;, , , 1 , ·.-~ •• '.-.: ''. · ,,- .," - >;:.' ·

CHAPTER XXXVI
MISCELLANEOUS· Jl'IG1JRES OF SPEECH.

Q. What is the difference between Tropes and Figures !
A. A trorpe is the name of one thing applied emphatically
to express another thing; a figure is a phras~, expressio.n ,
sentence, or contirmatiori of senteF1ces, used rn a sense different from the orig:foal and proper sense; and yet so nsecl
as not to occasion obscurity. ·Tropes affect siug[e words
chiefly; figures affect phrases and sentences.
Q. What is Asy'ltdi:ton?
· ·
.
A. It is the omission of connective words m a sentence
to give the idea of rapidity atid energy. "I came·, saw, conouered." .
·
Q. What is Pol-~st.fndeton '!
A. It is the full irreertion of connectives for tI1 e purpose
' of retarding the progress of the nar_rative, that every par~iC-'
ular may be coz:isidered by the mmd. '"Yon }~ave ships,
and men, and money," and stores, and alf other thmgs .which
constitute the strength of the citv." · Dr. Chalmers is fond
of the use of this figure.
Q. What is Repetition!
A. It occurs. when the same word in sound and semse is
repeated, or one of a like sound or significct_tion~ or both.
The following is a fine specimen of rcpetitum m reference
to the Ilitie. " The book of the worllr s . Creator and the
world's Governor the reeord af the world's hi story and the
world's duty, the 'world's sin and the world'~ salvation,~it \~ill
endure white 1that worlcl lasts, awl contmue to claim its
present authority as long as that government over the present 1corlcl may C€lntinue."
.
.
The above is an instance also ~f Pleonasm, which, though
often enfeebling to styfe, as has been &hown hercto!'ore,
is yet often a figure of great beauty. ~o. also-, ~ome~1mes
is ellipsis, its opposite. The latter hnrr~es over tts objects.
the former detains them as long as pos sible;: and.though at
first sight it may appear. strange that such opposite mo~es
of speech should hoth be ornamental .tt> style, they are alike
founded in nature and alike available to the purposes o.f the
poet and the orat~r. They can not, intlee~, both be beautiful in the . same situation ; but each has its proper place,.
which could not be supplied by the other . . Pleonas~ em.,
ploys a . redundancy of expression, net, however. w1lhou\.

ALLUSIONS • .

,-

'.'Nor to these idle orbs does day a~imar .
} . . : . , , :·..
· Or sun, or moon, or stars, throughout the year, ··· ;.
Or mah, or woman.''

I

·L

·

.

'" ·· :·: ··

. · After stating th~t he. did not perceive the light-~f day,~~ '.
needed ~ot to . be mformed that he could .not disc:ern these •
other Objects. But the person who should call this tautolo~ :
gy woul~ ~e as .devoi~ of ~soul ,as an orang-outang. , We
c~n part~c1pate. m the ~eelmgs of the poet, and .brood witli '
him over the ?bJects of his regr~t..It ~ooth~~ his melancholy;
to dwell on his ~er~av,r;i~~r~b ai;id ~t gwes,:_u s a sad,pleasu!e
to accomJlany him. 1 . ',. . 1 ~. ,,, _,. v:: , ·c . , '. : •. " . .. , : • . . ,
. . It is f~om a lik~ P.rin~ip1e _tha~{ ;arn~stn~~ r·e~p;e~;e;:its ~hi :
1ect again and _again in :11ea;ly the same ~o/ds; a~ , in th~ . .
Ps~lms .of J?a_v1d; also· ~!n h1s)ament ,over Ab.s aloni ' than~ ··
which.' not~1i:ig ~ould. b~ -~or~,a~e.cting; ·'-;· 1;1 ~-_11·;,-t·:· ~(~;+: · ....·. ~ .

.'· .

' : .. ·, '.< ~\·

.. ·,

'' . 'f):;·:~:~·;'.'';;::(1 3·

xxxvn
. . . . . . : ..If·_''
' ·.
~ ·!.:.~'f:.\ : :.;i ~ ~ J . i. ·t !

CHAPTER

. . ,t;

·.

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.

.....1 . .. .

OF ALLUSIONS. ·

. . .-· , ,. '

1,,.

.., .• ; ."

. ·STYLE is m!-lch ~mp~oved_and embellished by:refere.nce to what. ~s f~und m ~nters of established reputa-·
t10n-to facts m l11story7m art-commerce, and other'· ·
departmen,ts of human effort. · The reference is · not so form~l. ~s in comparison, but is founded ' on !the .·
same prmcrples! .a.nd 1s foliowf'.d by equally ·pleasing. ,
results in. th.e mmd of the reader, by awakening grate- ,
fol _associations; What we mean ·may be. ~xhibited
m.osll -clearlv by examples. · :: -- · · ' ·: ·. · · : · .; ,., · ·· ·

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Scriptural , Allusion8. . ; - · · '.· · · r. 1 · .
'rh,e se 'should .,be sparingly' and chastely introduced:-\ The ,;· ,'
prac!tc.~ .,of somei,writers, both in periodical and other lit- : _- ,
ep1~µ,r~ 1. of intro~_ucing · them . ~ri .t,rifling _and low ·subjects ;· '
.

, "·

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1

•

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.

"''"';

106

ALLUSIONS.

[PAR'r It.

for the saYce of giving point to their wit, ridicule, or satire,
can not be too severely condemned for its demoralizing influence in bringing the solemn truths of Scripture into ari
unhallowed familiarity; but nci allusions, when judiciously
introduced, are more happy in their influence on the mind.
John Q. Adams, in the close bf his discourse on the Constitution of the United States, after descrit)ing the facts of
sacred history relative to the curse put upon Mount Eba1 1
and the blessing upon Mount Gerizirn, happily adds :
" Fellow-citizens, the ark of your covenant is the Declaration of Independence. Your llfouni Eba/ is the confederacy
of separate state sovereignties, and your Jlfouni Gcrizim is the
Constitution of the United States. In that scene of tremendous apd awful solemnity, narrated in the Holy Scriptures, there is not a curse pronounced aga.inst the people upon
Mount Ebal, not a blessing promised them upon Mount Gerizim, which your posterity may not suffer or enjoy, from your
and their adherence to, or departure from, the principles of
the Declaration of Independence, practically interwoven in
the Constitution, of the United States. Lay up these principles, then, in your hearts, and in y(JUr souls-bind them for
signs," . &c., &c.
"Now it is a melancholy pity, when a man's philosophy,
instead of being the angel thai steps down into the. Bethesda of
his speculations, to trouble its waters to effect a cure, only
perplexes the depth of his being, and turns up mire and
dirt."
" If those alone \vho 'sowed to the wind, did reap the
whirlwind,' it would be well." · '
~.Hypocrisy is a cruel stepmother, an 'injnsta nrn•erca' to
the honest, whom she cheats Of her birthright, in order to
confer it on knaves; to Whom she is indeed a mother.
' Verily, they have their reward.'"
,
~

The first part of the ·above quot.a ti on is a classical
allusion and belongs to the next head.
' 2. Classical Allusions-( ancient),
"The mob is a·monster ~ith the hands of Briareus, hut the
head ·of Polyphe.m us-strong to execute, but blind to per··
ceive.''
1
'
' Tl1e learning of Burke was sometl1ing which he alw'ays
carried with ease and wielded with dexterity. At one timo
it was the 1attling quiver of Apollo, from which he drew many '

..PART

n.]

···ln'
' ..v~

ALLUSION,S. · ·.

a feathered

\

shaft ; · at · another it was.. a,. battte~,iµ:e- , in ,bis

han~s, which would cleave the tough~~t ,sk~ll.. ~:,.~;' 1 ;:· •l°'n~.-:)
· . 'A nother example: . .· '' ' .: 1 • • • · :·~ .:ti/i :i-r,• 1n · ·.,,; ,{ ~:"~')

, . " To give the s~ulhlance of purity"to the ~tlbst~~ce' Of cor"'.
ruption is to proffer the poison of Circe iri a crystal goblet. 0
. Agaill: -. " :''; ·. \. ~ · .~ ·~ ·. :· (. '. '.. _:. ....
·· ~.~~·.·::·· .1 1
· '. "Eloquence, to prQduce her : full effect, l;;hould start from
the head of the orator, as Pallas from the brain of J()l)e com-

I:

1 · . , ,.· ..•

pletely armed and equipped.

·. ·.

1 tc,

<··:1 ' '

Again: ·

.

.(

. . ,; There are many moral A cttXons who are as mis~rably
devoured by objects of their own choosh;1g, as was the fabqlmis one by; his own hounds." , ' ' '
: ' ' . ._ ' . / :'1
!

'

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· 3 . .Classical Allusions-( modern). ·, '

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1.

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.

'

·· · ·
·"We can 'r1.0t aspire to so high a · character on cheaper
terms, otherwise Falstaff's soldiers might be allowed their
· claiiJJ., .since they are afraid of nothing b.u t danger." ·
.,
·· The ~llusi~q is here, to a eharaeter)n Shakspeare's plil.ys,
and awakens ' pleasing, associations ill' those wbo 1admire
Shakspeare. ~ So fo it with classic.al allusions. in those.who
have read and appreciated·
· ·'"'. · · . "·
. ..
. .the ancient classics,
. .
.
4. Mathematical Allu,sions; • . .. .
"The art of destruction seems to have proceeded geo-·
metrically, whil~ the ·art of preservation can not · be said to
have advanced even "in a plain arithmetical progression.'' ,
" Subtract from many modern poets all that may be found
m Shaksneare and trash will remain."
·
·
5. Historical Allusions. ·
·
" Avarice begets more vices than Priam did children, and,
·
·
like Priam, surviyes them all." · ·
i

't

.

·"

.: ~

.

6.'· Astronomical Allusions.

"There may be intellectual food which the present state
of society is not fit to partake of; to lay such before it,
would be as absurd as to give a quadrant to an Indian.''
·
7. Allusions to other Branches of Physical Science.
.
One . thing I inay affirm, that I have first considered
' whether: it be worth while to 'say any thing at·all; before I
· ' have take~r any trouble to say it well ; knowing that words
are but'air1 and .that both are capable of much condensat,ion~i:., ,
•

'

,

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'

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•

.

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Ios

WIT.

[PART I.I!.

· "Knowledge is indeed as necessary as light, and in this
coining age most fairly promises to be as common as water
and as free as air. But as it has been wisely ordained that
light should have no color, water no taste, and air no odor, so
knowledge also should be equally piire and without admixture·. "
" Too close a contiguity is as inimical to distinct vision, as
too great a distance ; and hence it happens that a man often
knows the least of that which is most near him-even his
own heart."
8. Legal Allusions.
"When we apply to the conduct of the ancient Romans
the pure · and unbending principles of Christianity, we try
those noble delinquents unjustly, inasmuch as we condemn
them by the severe sentence of an 'ex post facto' law "
9. Allusions to Natural History.
" In another publication I have quoted an old writer, who
observes, ' That we fatten a sheep with grass, not in order
to obtain a crop of hay from his back, but in the hope that
he will feed us with mutton and clothe us with wool.' We
may apply this to the sciences," &c.
10. Commercial Allusions.
"The excesses of our youth are drafts upon our old age,
payable with interest about thirty years after date."
From the above quotations it will be seen that allusions
. may be drawn from a great variety o.f sources-from the
sciences and the arts-from books ancient and modern, and
from Nature-and that they serve, like various figures of
speech, to enliven discourse and adorn style. To be able
to excel in the use of them, our knowledge can not be too
extensive and exact, nor our taste too well cultivated and
judgment too well improved, to determine when, and how,
and what to introduce, by way of allusion.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
OF WIT.

THE term wit is appropriated to such thoughts and
expressions as are ludicrous, and also occasion some
surprise by their singularity.

~ART . u.)

·~

·... J . ·"'

:.

'Wit.in the thotigh,i consist~ '.of:. ~:'.iii.n~t}on ~p( ip_iHgs

by distant and, fanciful rela~_10ns; which s~~p1~,s~" 1 ~~­
cause t~hey a¢ ,u'h~xpe~t~d. " _Eor ex?-m~~~1 ;.: • r.'i }'.'.,, .·:,

,

.

i'

"We grant,' althotigh. h~ ha~ much· wit; ('.;i ~ i·· ;.1 . '\ · '.': ·
He· was very shy of usmg it,
, , ,',, :, ·! •• ;"u"<;, ·
·As being 10th to wear it out; .
' ' 1 • ,·, { '
And therHore bore it not about,
~. ·' '' " r " ' :· _
. . · , i ;? (.I) "
· Unless on holydnys or so, ' · 1 ·
As men their best apparel do."
· ": "·:. !' ,. -. i1, ' r! •

·The 'unexpecte~ discov-e_ry of r~se"!bl.ance between ·
things supposed to be unhk.e , when it 1~ chmrly ex- ·
pressed in few words, cons~1tutes w.hat IS comrn~nly ·
called wit, and is a very copious source of pleasantry.
Such is that comparison in Hudibras, _of. the· dawn of
the morning to a boiled lo~ster ·:
·
·
·',. ' ,,,
' '

" Like a lobster boil'd, the morri ·.
" · · ' From bl11ck to red began to turn;"

. ! 1·" ' •:· ;'f'. ./

' d t1 1

1

~ :)

At fi~st there. ~ee1ns to be _ho r~se.~blance ~t all;' ~~tt-.
when we recollect,, th.at the .l~b~te~ ~ colo.r !s, by ~01~-.
ing, changed from d~i:~ to ,~~d, ,w~.. recog~1ze . ~' JI,k~~' ·
ness to that cha~ge_ of C'.O,~q~ !~. ~hr ~~~Y,1 ~YRJ2Pa~~pp~ns : ·

I

~-

.

single brilli~1~t t~9ught ; , but humor .run~ ;I~: ~ vc;n~ i i, 1~
is 11ot a stnkmg; but. an equable and pJeas1!1g)l)ow ?f
wit. Addison is a fine example of ,the la~ter. '' S,qti;e
and irony are personal ,ahd :tei:isoi'Ious 'k.mds ofr -~it;
the first of which openly pomts at ;the· ?bJ~?t, and ,tlrec
second in a covert manner takes its ~1111. l!urles~ue
is rather a species 'of humo~ thah direct ~1t; wh1~;h
. <::onsists in an assembh1ge of ideas extrav~gantly ~1s­
cordant . ., The quality of humpr ~elongs .to a, ~r1ter
who; affecting to be grave, and s":no~s, p~mts , his objects in ·s uch -colors as !? provoke. rmrth a~1d l,aµg~t,~r, ~
" I. lVil in the expressio~, comm~nly called a·play
words · is a low sort Of wit, of wh1cl\ Lord Kahrns has
exhibited many examples, some of .~hem; ·~owever,
not remarkable for their delicacy; • " : .. . ., . ' '.I:_· .''fhts so"ri of wit depends, for · the most ·part! Upon
choos!ng a word·~th~r ·has di!,ferent signi~cations, and ·
using It so as to produce amusement; a kmd of amuse- /

~

·~):
,
. . . ,·

.

a~. ~ft~~~a~istznguish~d ft.~ii : h~~oktila~~~b#~l~.[tj~:r.~~

I.

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110

. WIT.

[PART II.

ment.relished mo~t, however, by th_ose whose literary
taste 1s not much 1mproved. · It was in high repute during the reigns of Elizabeth and.Jam es I., as would appear from the frequency of this play upon words i11
the writi~g~ not only of Shakspeare, but of grave and
learned d1vuies.
Lord Karnes has distinguished it into several classes:
(1.) Where there is a seeming resemblance from
;the double meaning of a word.
" Beneath this stone my wife doth lie.
She's· now at rest, and so am I."

(2.) A seemi~g' contrast. from the same cause, terrrt.
··ed a verbal an(itlzesis.

_ Andateintoitself,fotl~ck ,; : • :;; n'!iY6.it:f .•!!,_, . '
Of somebody to hew and h11ck,1!,-; ,"\''' .•i" ..·, .· . "-' ·.

.-,

. To accouRt for effects by tracing them to a fanciful,
-cause, is highly imp~opei' in any serio~s ,cofn:positi?n.
" -· (2 ;) Ludicrous junction.of1small . thmg§! i~.lth
great,
1
as of equal importance, \ ' '
' f. ;u dj\•; ti; ;' J {J/! '
I

"To whom the knight with comely grace
. Put off his hat, to put his case."
"Here thou, ~reat Anna ! whom three realms obey,
Dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea."
"This general (Prince Eugene) is a great taker of snuff as well
-:as of towns."

(4.) A seeming opposition from the same cause.
"Cold is that breast whic.h warm'd the world before."

Playing with words is not ludicrous when the subject is really grave, and should not be employed in
-.s uch a case at all. '
. . ·A parody. en.livens a g~y snb.ject by im!tating some
important mc1dent that 1s Serious. It is ludicrous
.but ridicule is not a necessary ingredient though
sometimes employed in it.
'
II. In regard to the other branch of wit-wit in the
thought-it ?onsists, fir~t, o~ ludicrous images : sec-ondly, of ludicrous combmat10ns and oppositions. ·Of
th~ latter,
(1.) Fanciful causes are assigned that have no nat.ural relation to the effects produced.
' "The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,
For want of fighting was grown rusty,

,

"Then flash'd the living lightning from her ey~s, .·~i:;·;:i. ~ <'
And screams of horror rend the affrighted skies.;:···:· -' ':' ·;::- ,
· Not louder shrieks .to pitying heaven are cast; .·; · "",, .i,) ·
When husbands; or when lap-dog~ breathe the~r last. .~-

·

. (3.) Premises that prplliise mu~~ and pe~fo~~Ro~~" .
1ng
·
,
· · · , ·" .... , - •" ,

"~it~ mone; enou_gh in his purse; such ~ ~a!1 v.;_ould.~~n_'~~y
woman m the world, if he could get her goocj.-will~-~ ..c ; .. 1 -•• ~" ·:

1

I ... ; ; '.I :. .l. ?

.

"When Nelson fought his battle in the Sound, it was the result alone that decided whether he was to kiss a ha11d at court, or
a rod at a court-martial.''

(3.) Other seeming connections from the same
,·cause.

lJ.:i
. ,,

GENERAL ·RULES 1FOR . COM~OSITI 0 N,

p.A,.RT ' II. ]

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I' ' t

. CH-APTER: XXXI)t·.1 ' ' " _', ; :··' _:: :."-.,>:,

~RITICAL , E.XAM.IN •\TION, O~, .· P_ASSAGE~_:_/?,~~~-~J·~!~G~'.- 1'.'~~V-.
.

.. -. . \ · . · ;

·,. . RATIVE . LANGUA.GE. ,., ., _,.; '; 1i'.:d \<.r; r'cr .; ·.•"'

BiA~R's Criticai Le·c.tur~~ .~·~-· Addis~n '. ~-h~~id., here. be' ~~~~· ~9 ..

the class; and when compos1t~on~ . are ,cnt1c~sed \jefo~e1_ Bf, bY_t,~he '

.~h~s~iJ\~ ~~~:er!i~!l ,beauti~es~m ~h~ ~J~~:-(t~r~~~r:~~:~~!~·~

The teacher · should also d1!ect the attention of ·his ptJ,p1l~ ~o the
figure$ which occur in their ordinlity readi».g leuons, and .e1icit•f6'o
marksuponthem. ·
. · _- · . ·; · :'.': ;·, ' ;),·~".~"~J}_:

'>

'

.'

.

.• '. ' : >

i ' . ::

:,

<~;h'. :~:~:~~'..~;;;

CHAP.TER ) Ct.... ('. ·~o1', • ;

P •( L1 l: l .'i

OF THl!l MORE Gll:NERAL ' RULES toR OOMPOSlTION.; ~ '; - -

Q. On wh:i~· from al,l that 4~s been ~~i4,, do., ro,u c~n,~~d!l~ iiccit• ·
rate compos1hon to depend 1 . ·
. , •· · • ;: , . ' ,, _· . ·, . t..

A. ·On the selectfon ·and · arrangemerit·-of;· wor_ds
proper for expressing the thought~ whicl1 1 w~.· ~i).tend
to comlnUriicate . . " _· ·, . ' . _~ . ''['\' 1 ·-.·_·'"·:~·:...,/ ·~:,i_ ·
· Q. On what again., do these depend?

; ,-~ ....

·'· 11.t' ·"'

. i

A . . on·a knowledge of grammar in all its hr~nches,
and an ~niim~te a~<i,t;ta.intance. with'.
the . ~eanp1g , of,,
1
·words. · · 1 1.~· ~- ,.i ..... ~, . , ·"~ " 1
·.fl~, ·- " ·"" · (1 · ~·: .1:~ . . .
. Q, WlJ.at rendei'Hh~se ~c{esseri.tial J .::'\ .;,.·.r/c ' ~_I ,' ~"_.t) . ;{~~;1
•
. . ".riJi1!· ; 1t ~ < · "•· tc·~ ,... ... , ' :f >."· ·'·'-l .'J, f1','f~ ~~.~~f)g
· ..

: ; ·

l ,

-.

1

112

GENERAL RULES FOR COMPOSITION. [PART H ..

,

A. The circumstance that, without the one, we can
no.t select, nor,' without the other, arrange with propriety.
· ·
. Q. And how are these to be obtained?

•

I

.Q. How is this knowledge to be obtained?

. Q. Is any thing farther necessary?
·A. Yes; fot, in addition to the requisite knowledge,

we must have -great practice before we can compose
well.
·

Q. On what subjects should a person write in order to gain this
practice?
..

· A. Such subjects as .he perfectly understands ; be-

ginning with the more simple, and proceeding gradually to those of greater difficulty, according to the extent of his information. · ·
· Q. ·what win be the eonsequence of a person writing upon
-what he does not properly understand?

A. He will write in a stiff, affected, and unnatural
style, such a& no person will either hear or read with

.

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Q. What are the principal divisions beloqging literary Com- ·
positionY
· ,.'
· ; · ·,. ,.·! 1 · >'·.
·
' "'- · '_. '.:• ·
A. They are those of pro~ and ~~try.
·· · 1
Q.' What do you understand by prose composition · .
·-

. A. The common and ordinary manher .Of express-

ing .o ur thoughts, whether in speak,ing

or writing.~ '

Q. What do you tmderstan'd by poetry 1 .,. · .• 1

·

· · ·. ' ' ' ' . -

·

.'.

~

_· -A. Lively and striking combinations of thougbt, expressed ill language arranged, for the' 's ake or harti10uy, according to (:ertain rules/ ·. · · : 1 · " ~· ,,,. , :.' '" 1 1 •
\ :i. In how many thingS; _then, .does poetty differ from prpse 1
. A. In two : partly . in the natut.e <>f the · thoughts
~iid ' a[rang.e, themselves,:. anµ partly in ' f.!ie. seJEl~'t~on.·
ment of the words ' ·· .
· _: '' ·11 "' ' tf"_ 11 1·,, - "~'- ... "·
. . Q. Whllt sm;t

bf poJry' ht~y the~ -b~"ci:iilslde~ed the ·i;e~i? '\.'

mQ~t~~i~~1ii!J~Tc~~;!!:~~· fs~:~~s~-~~ rn6~{ ~~~i~~~ ~(

~ .A. Poe.try; for tho_ugh, ih. .~efin~fs~cie,~.y;, (ew ,~,x­
press their ,thoughts m Yerse, .compare~ to .'too numbers that do so in 'prose; y{lt pis tori informs·tiif_t,hat
:t he most .ancient spec:!ies . o( comp~~ltion, (!.~pg ' ~ll
rude nations; is poetry.
I; . ,_ . ·, ;•'. ,f'. :\' _, '· :\,,,,,
·
1
Q. To what is this to be ascribed 1

.. ·. · '. -, ·:·

:i

·.

A. To the circumstance, that the ·. imagillation,''on

.w hich poetry chiefly depends, comes e~rlier to' matu- ·
rity than re~son and jud,g~rnnt, .the rn~in . so1:1rces .of
.prose..
. ·
·. ·· ,_· ,., .. :-. , : , : · · ? · ' . ~ ' ,,
1

·,

·. .

• F9r whi¢ purpOBe was the earliest poetry:qsed~ t .. .: .
A. Either for the promulgati-og. of. laws, ~he cele,-

Q. What are requisite for attaining eminence in composition!
A. Genius and taste; the former lo prompt, t.he lat~

bration of great martial achievements; or for ..the purpose of being set to ml1sic and sung• · ·, ·' ;' . \ · · ·

any

pleasure~

'

.

ter to correct and polish. '
·1 • .Q.

. .
.·

.

How is. ease in composition best attained?

A ., By writing fearlessly and boldly; but, at thf.l
same time, guarding against every thing liko extra.'lagance either of sentiment or manner.
·

,'·..

' A. That 'which,' 'without violathig 1 nature; 'differs

·Q. What proof have you of this?

A. Men, possessing extensive information, can often
speak well upon a variety oJ subjects, but yet from
want of practice, can write well upon none.
'

'

r, h Ji ,,:;1:.( ·f
. ~F DIFFERE~T KINDS OF COMPOSITION. :, ~ <, ·

Q. What is farther requisite?

. A. To all know~edge there is but one path, and that
is, constant study. and attentive observation.

•

,

stant attention to the mode in which we express our
thoughts, as compared with that of good writers and
speakers.

A. ", Because ~o man, whatever ~e his knowledge of
language, can either speak or wnte well on a subject
of which he is totally ignorant.

<!

.; ·.

.. , . . I .·.; ' •

,

Q. How comes this to be so necessary ?

•

•

.> . ~ · '. '.<:1

. A. · Only by reading and study, combined with con-

A. An intimate knowledge of the subject on which
we desire either to speak or write.

.•

.

.·

. . Q. Under

~hat heads may prose composition be mclu.d ed 1·

;. A. ·Under those of Letters, Dialogue., History, .Essays, Philosophy~ Orations, and Novels. ·
., · .,.
.Q. What

are the uivisiims of poetry as rega1ds its structure t,.

A.. They are those ·of Rhyme and .Blank Verse.;Jii:
I ;

K.2

I

II

J'

114

LETTERS AND DIALOGUE.

.PART

[PART III.

Q. What are the' divisions as founded upon the subjects of
which it treats!
,

I l
i

A. They are Pastoral, Descriptive, Didactic, Lyric,
Epic, and Dramatic Poetry.

f
'

'

OF LETTERS AND DIALOGUE

Q. What is Letter-writing commonly called '!

A. Epistolary correspondence.

Q. Is this an important branch of composition?

A. Perhaps the most so of any; as all persons who
can write at all, require occasionally to write letters
of business, of friendship, or of amusement.

, Q. Is this species of composition confined to any particular subjects?
'
,

. A. No: for a perso1i may, in form of letters, discuss
'
·
subjects of all sorts.
Q. But upon what occasions are letters chiefly composed?
A. Chiefly upon the common affairs or business of

·

, Q. What

·

shoulc~

'

be the character of epistolary writing?.

t .

' l'

· CHAPTER I.

life.

(

,

.

·

·· A . .It should , possess the greatest ease an<l s1mphCity, and approach . more than, any other species o.f
,eomposition to the . n~ture of conver~ation.
·
. : : In the " Young "ad1es' Own Book" is found an excellent article oh Letter-writing, from , some female pen, to
which we are indebted for. the principal portion of what follows. It deserves not only careful study, but d'i ligent effort
. 'to reduce it to practice. ,'
'
A correspondence between two persons is simply a convcrsatzon reduced to writing i. in which one party says all
which she has to communicate, replies to preceding inquiries and in her turn proposes questions, without interrup. tion' by the:other; who takes precisely the same course in
her answer. 1. We should write to an absent person as we
.
would speak to. the .same party if present. ·
2, Ambiguity, · m epistolary corre~pondencc, is a fai~lt
·which ought most scrupulously to be avoided; a word placed m
an improper part of a sentence-a pl~rase _that has a doub!e
.signification.:_a phrase so blotted or _111-wntten _as to he i:nintelligible-a careless mode of sealmg, by wluch a pm:t100

m;)' · ·. LET'l'ERS

ANO DI"AtOGVE.

of the manuscript is broke'n, or concealed, 1wili often render
it 'necessary for .the party receiving ·the ·letter to Wl'itE;/'and
for the'- dne · who is guilty of· the fault to ;Teply, :to ianbther
letter requiring the necessary explanatitni ''.1l:'i"•!"'(',~J !· .<[;' · ·
·. 3, · Coiiciseness is one of the cli~rms of leiter-tijr,i~in~. " ·A, let>: ' '
ter should · be · expressed as bnefly as persp1crt1ty and .etez.
gartce will permit. All parade of words should be ·otn~tted; .
Yet we must not fall into an abrnpt and obscure style m or::.
.. dertosecurebn:ivity. : ·· · ' .'. "'. : "' · · .
' '"J"l '•:
4. Displf!.Y is a great fault; ease is the grace of letter-writ~
ing.-·-· Far-fetched words and 'studied phrases are ·no~ allow.. ·
able, or ornamental. A passage, af once brilliant and brief,
enriches a letter ; ,but ,it must be ariless, and, appear~ to flow.
without effort from the writer's· pen~to. arise naturally from
the subject,· t>r. the preceding passages. '' 1 ' . ,, : , 1 .,:·. r''
5. If you are at a lass for 'matter' in writing to a friend, ima•.
gine that that friend was at the moment entering your pres\ ence, What would you 'tell him 1· What would you :inquire _
about 1 •1.What , former. 1 inqttfry : Of~ his would .you _answer .~ ,
W/iateve1'.ive should say to' a perso'w prtient;1we .may. write· tO 'f' ~
perso.n absi;nt,- ~ith . this · res~t~cti~nr.thaf~e· shoul~ , b~; ~s s.e ~ . ·
lect m our, wntten . commumcat10~, as \ye would •bean .con~ ·'
versation, ifthat frierid could fe!Il~in 'vfit}t us· ~un, few ~in-~_,, ,~
utes. In that ,case iwa should speak ,ortly ~ oftthose : _th1hgs ·
:which were , of the greatest importance; and express th,em ,
at once as clearly and concisely as possible ; •anµ pleasantly-; 1
didactically, modestly; feelingly, or otherwise; .according ,to
their nature and the pa1ty"whom we address ~: t ,,,.,. \ ·. ·; .. .: , :~-·
' ' 6.i Letters . (JI compliment, .inquiry, congratti.latiqn, or ' condc>:lence, to those ,with whoni . we have ·little intitnacy; should
gerierally he restricted to the circumsta~i;i,ce that _gives 'oc.ca~ ..
sion to the letter. Th~y · should be written with brev1ty,simpliCity, and ease-'-:-sincerity.and due moderation. · ,, .,~, :1
· 7, lfwe confer a favor, ·and anndunce the fact to the party 'whom we have obliged, it ·is necessary to ' avbid any ex- :
press ions that , may tend io ' wound the feelings . It is pos:.sible io grant a favor in such a manner as to ·offend, r!lthe_~ > ·
than, delight j 'to create disgust, rather .than gnititud,ei r '. p ,1 .
· :,.8 .. ·A :l~tter of recommendation' is ,a·· letter i 'o f .business, and ,
should be composed witQ care : it is a guarantee to the ex;. .·
tent' of language 1) for the .party re·c ommended p·truth, th~re- '.
fore;.~hoµ~d nevei::~e sacrificed to ,conde~censiob,:faJ.se ku~~- ;
1

I

1,

neSS, Or pplifoneSS ,,~J fi .::• , ': 1i. l , ( ; '. Ii J'; '. .cJ ',"j , i i.1 ;'" · J' ,,/' '.'/,i ~ ),\) '_,
In a :lmer. of: bu!iiie!si.to s~y all \hat is ne~es§ci.ry:- an• ·,

. 9.

.l

116

LETTERS AND DIALOGUE.

[PART III.

nothing more, in a clear and distinct manner, is a great
merit ; so that the party addressed may understand fully
out desires and opinions on the subject of correspondence.
10. In your letters be sparing of advice. In many instance.s, to volunteer it, ~s to be ?ffen~ive to those \vhom you
wish to benefit. It is a maxim with the discreet never to
give advice until they have been thrice asked for it. A
fri end should, perhaps, give advice to a friend if he should
see occasion so to do ; but, in general, we c~n not be too
sparing of our counsel.
11. Letters of' excuse. In writing these, you must not forget that almost as much depends on the time as the manner
of making an ·excuse : it may be too late to be effective · or
so mistimed as to aggravate the previous offense. The
e~cuse whi~h would be freely accepted to-day, might be indignantly rejected a month hence. ·
. ~2. Familiar letters, or letters of intelligence, should not be
wntten carelessly ; but even in th em we should recollect
, what we owe to our language, to our correspondent, and to
ourselves. We ought not to ,write any thing of which we
may hereafter feel ashamed. Pertness and flippancy should
be avoided.
11:1 a letter of intelligence, ~tate nothing but what is true ;
avoid mere scandal; _and reject whatever is merely dubious
-or, at least, state it to be so. If you have, by mistake
communicated any false intelligence, be the first to correct
·it ; it is graceful to retrace one's steps when led astray.
Select such facts as you know will be most interesting to
your correspondent, and relate them, if of a pleasant nature
gayly, but without malice; if serious, adopt a style smtabl~
to the circumstances.
·., · 13. ' No~es : Avoid using the fir.st perso"!' at the concl11:sion of
a note which has been commenced in the third. Hence 1t is an
error to write thus : "Miss Walters presents her compliments to Mr. Travers, and begs to be informed at i hat hour
Mr. T.r av.ers intends t? start for B~th to-morrow, as I partic. u~arly wish .to see him before his departure ; and remain,
su, yours smcerely," &c. It should have been "as she
'particularly wishes," &c.· The last clause should be omitted. · ·
·
·
. Notes written in the third person 'are frequently rendcrcrl amlnguous; and sometimes quite unintelligible, by a confusion
of the personal ptonouns; which, unless th~ sentences be
carefully constructed, seem to apply equally well to the wri"
1

..

' ter as to .t h.e ,receiver. For exam pl~ : }~Mr. A. presents his '
compliments to his . friend, Mr: B.; and .has the . ~atisfaction
of informing hiin,:that he has just been appointed, by govern-·
~ent,,t9 the lucrative office 9f [naming t.hi::l 'office] in his. na-' .
tlve towg." ' How could the receiver of this note learn from '
it whether he or Mr. A . had been favored with the. above
~ ' · · .·
.~
appointment 1 ·. . ",
14,. Ever'!) le~te'rthat is not insulting, metits a'iepty;··if it'be
require_d . or necessary. If the letter contain a request, ac~
cede to it gracefully.and without ostentation, or refuse without harshness. An answer to a letter of condolence "or
cohgratulatio]l should be grateful. ·The subjects should succeed ea,c~1 otl~er in ·proper order ; and the questions piit pe:
consecutively ansW~red. .lh all ·replies; it is usual to ac~
knowledge the receipt, and to mention the date of the last'
lett~r r~ceived : this sl}ould .be an invd.riable r~le; by neglectm~ it, your correspondent may be ,left in doubt or deem
{ou guilty of offensive inattention.! ' . '· . . · , · ; .· '
15 .. ln a,nswers to letters of busint:Ss, to a(old misunder.,
stand mg, the substa.n ce of'.t.h e ·cornmunication to which the'
writer ' is aboµ~ ,to reply· is generally !!'lated. ·.'.'.This should
~e do~e,. also; in .other kinds ~f .letters: . i.T~e . manner·of do~·
mg th1s. i~ ,usua~l! ;i.s (ollows: , "Ip. .repcy to.·your le~ter; da.,
ted, &.c., .m whi.ch you ~tate that,. ~c. ·[briefly' .~ettihg ·.forth

<', -,\,,··· .. ·". ·

l~esf;;~;~P~c~~·1nt~. wluch you are . ~~.~~~

1

t: . ~~~'Y{l~~· ' ~'. -~ ~~~ '., 1
,

SECTION II.
..

·.

J.

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,

· '",. ,

·

: ' f .

(continued). ,., :". '
' . "
.1. It is a bad prac~ice to suffer' letters to remain long una~~
~wered. · It shows disrespect to a corresponden~; ,. There is
.

. '

' ON LETTER-WRITING

-- m some a strange ave~sion t? regul.arity; a desire to delay
what oµght to be done immediately, m ;otder to do something
else, which might as well · be done afterward. Valuable
COTfeSp~ndence is, t,hUS Oft~n Sacrificed. , I • :· <.' :· . 1 ,, · ;-,
. IL In letter-wntmg.,as mother compositions, the ruld of
. rrammar· should .be. st.nctly_observed . ., So, also, of spelling . .
. fo speH correctly is no honor, but to :Spell incorrectly is a

great disgrace; 1 . • · ', .;·
· · . , · ,: , :<"' l .'.·· - '. ' " ·
. A pizrenthesis is objectionable, if it br~;l~ the- aen~~ and .di~~
. t~rt the sentence.: It is rare that the subject of a parenthe~
. ~1s ;m~y not.be better co~tained in .a previous ·or fqllo\f!ng .
paragraph, or an, elongatwn of t.he sentence, than · thrown .
a~r,up\ly in.t9 th~,. body· oot. , ·
.·I .· ~.... - .:; ~ i j ., ,,-: :.:1 ; : (.:-, ti.;."., · 'f.:/'t:i
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.
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118

LETTER-WRITING;

[rART III.

.PART

The usual contractions in the English language are permitted in letters between friends, relatives, and equals-also
in letters of business. Such only should be used, however,
as polite custom has established.
.
III.( The Date-Address-Title-.:...Signature-Postscrzpt-

,,

Superscription-Folding-P?stag~.

in.J

Th~ tenderest ~ega~d evermor~ await.s · yq~, from yo~r n;oet.
a,ffecti~na.te, ·F _·.1 · _- , .. · ~ ; .;i:/C,~.':~J:i0~> '.·;A. ,f•·
Adieu, dear~.,; . continue to write t~ me).nd beJie~e · no~'e ~f

you~ goodness is lo~t upon ypur, &c.,
,

lt is very improper to omit datmg a letter.
The address, as well as the signature of the writer, :;ind tl~e
address and name of the correspondent, should be wntten m
a very legible hand. Instances have occ~rred o~ letters remaining unanswered, or o~ never reacl.ung their place of
destination, from a neglect m these partwulars.
.
Postscripts are, for the most part, needless, and m bad
taste. They may be avoided by pausing a few moments
before closing a letter, to reilect whether you have any
thing 1i1ore to say. Above all things, you must not d~fer
yqurcivilities, or kind inquiries for any frien~ or acquamtance, to this part of a letter. To do so 1s a proof of
thoughtlessness or. disrespect.
.
. .
'· To all fantastic signatures there IS a strong objection ; so,
also, to ali fantastic modes of folding letters or notes. It is
no proof of talent or educa~ion, to fold the~n in su?h a manner as to require rnuch tune and labor m opemng them.
The common modes are the best. In these, pupils should
be instructed and practiced by their teachers, provided the
latter understand them ; which, unhappily, is not always
the case.
·
.
In sealing a letter, be ca~eful no! to c?:rer any important
word with the wafer. It 1s best, m wntmg, to mark off a
space beforehand for the wafer. •
.
.
.
In writing to any person upon a matter of busmess wlu~h
concerns ·yourself more than your correspondent-also m
opening .a correspondence-forget not to pay the postage.
In Mr. Pierce's English Grammar may be found ample
directions and illustrations. in regard to the proper arrangement of the date, address, folding, &c.
·
The terms of respect, and clauses connected with them at the
close of the letter, should receive sp~cia_l .attention. It may be
useful and gratifying to some to subjo~n a few .forms of expressions that have been adopted by wnters of literary reputation. ·
·
·
·
·

Ever your affectionate son,

R. C.

I have the honor to be, Rev. sir, &c.,

B.F.

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. . "' ; ._therefore, good-night! .. :
- ·,
Yours ever, · · ·
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·'··
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· May God bless ahd direct you, my dear friend > , ':~ ":· :; . · . ·.
'
' ' -·· f, Yburs affectionately
' .. ' '
iI:M " .:
I

P~~y,·mr ·fri~nd, .ft

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b~ ·;o~g . be~or~· yo~· ~rite~ td_";~~~

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let
ever ~ffect10nate,
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' . Believe me, my 'dear .nephew, with true affectio~, .' ' · · . . ' .., ·
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Ever yours;
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Go oni my dea~ br~ther, irl the admirable ;dispositions you have
toward · all that is ngh_t and good. . I .have neither paper nor·
wo~ds to t~ll jyo~ h~,w t~n~_ei:~n_i ,Y;O~r1~ .•_: .··.=:~ ~ . ··'. r.. ·.. ·...c. ·:,.

· Believe me to be, :with the utino~t ~inperi~yj( as , 1 .'r~a'lly alli,' :.
madam, your fai~hful, humble senantj ·:'i• ;~_;. :.;-. . -.:, .:., 'J. s,., . ..

. ~ . . ·-. .; ' 1_'~:,.. . '.... ;\ \ ··~· ~ '~. :'.- , ~: .~·~. ~-. ~:· ~.:t·~. :· , ~':.:·<-:'_".. . . ;.i: \.~; ...
If there be any thing "with regard to the ·choice or·'matter of ·

yo:ur studies ih which I can ,assist 'you, fo~ . m·~ Jino.w~ as you· can ,
have no doubt 6f my being, in all .things; ;~.'\ _.c .-::· : J/• ;'.'; '. ·, ': .! '. '·<'.·"•
·
·
· Most aflectionately y61,irs 1 · .'· "' :. •• · ! . \';' :' ~ '. G 1 , H/~::\
.

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·. ' ' , '

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·,I ~hall only add, t~at I ain! 'wlth since~e· ~espec~, madam, : r ..:
. , ·. Your fa1.thful frlerid .~nd·ubedient iietvant,; : . ·...· , . .
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yours~Jf,"j

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. With ~ur wishes ~f 'all happine;s to Mr: ."1L. and
.beg lea.v eto subscribe myself, madam;' ,. .· .' : . ,1 ,.1 , .:. , > 1 .·. '
. .; : ~ Your .affectionate friend; ·
·· '
; , .. C. M. ·•· ,
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My 10".e to .brother and sister .M. and their childi~n, and to all · " ·
my relatives m general.
· ·
.. ..: · ~ ·, :.:. '" · -;. ' ·
:B. F. · "
I am .your dutiful son,
I.

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· Once more I ·be!( to hear speedilyfrom you. ' Jane arid DiCk .
are truly y9urs, so is my dei11r .unc~~ •. ~our..affec!iqnate. kinsm3:~ .
a,nq humble. ~~rv~nt,
. .. , ,
· . • : , ~ , . , E. B. .
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· Ad~eu, my dear G., and believe me, tci you and to all \vith yo~ ' ,
at B. and D., a most sincere and affectionat~ .friend and .kinsman, / ..
•
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120

SPECIMENS OF LE1'TER-WltI'I'ING.

· PART rm] sPECtM~Ns oF · iM'TER·WRITtNG•

[rART HI.

In the superscription of a letter, be careful not to
give the double title of_Mr. bef~ne the n~m1e, and Esq.
after it. One of them IS sufficient. It IS proper also
to give the professional title_ of a minister <;>f the Gospel, a doctor, or lawyer, which are, respectively, llev.,
M.D., and Esq. The latter title is often given to other
gentlemen. These directions_ might be multiplie?,_but
we now furnish a few specimens of l~tte r-wntmg,
wort_hy of being imitated.

,

Aberdeen, Dec. I, 1790.

Knowing with what kindness and condescension your grace is
interested in every thing that concerns tne and my fami ly, I take
the libertv to inform you that my son James is dead; that the last
duties to ·him are now paid; and that I am endeavoring to return,
with the little abil~ty that is left me,; and wit~l entire _submission
to the will of Providence, to the ordmary busmess of life. I have
lost onll who was always a pleasing companion ; but who, for the
last five or six years, was one of the most entertaining and instructive companions that ever ma!!- was blessed wi th : for his
mind comprehended almost every science ; he was :;i most at~cn­
tive observer of life and manners; a master of classical learnrng;
an<I he possessed an exuberance of wit. and humor, a force of understanding, and a correctness and delicacy of taste, beyond any
other person of his age whom I have ever lmQ_wn.

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He lived twenty-two years and thirteen days.
' 1\fanv weeks before death came, he saw it approaching; and he
ir.et it with such composure and pious resignation as may, no
doubt ' be equalled, but can not be surpassed.
He 'has left manv things in writing, serious and humorous,
scientific and misceilaneous 1·prose and verse, Latin and E nglish;
but it will be a long time before I shall be able to harden my
heart so far as to revise them.
l have the satisfaction to know that every thing has been done

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' ;. JAMES BEATTIE. _, '

The lJuchess of Go_rdon.
\.

; 1.;lie. Hon. llorace Walpole to R. West; Esq. .
' DEAR WEST: . '
;

"·' .

Naples, Jun,e 14th, 1740, N. S, "

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SPECIMENS OF LETTER-WRITING.

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for him th11t 'could M d6ne. - * .* 14< .· ~* -But my chief comfort
arises froni reflecting on the particulars of his l_i~e, which.was one
uninterrupted exercise of piety, benevolence1 fihal affect10r:i. and,
indeed, of every virtue which it •Was' in ' his power to prac~Ice. ' I
shall not, with respect to him, adopt a mode of speech- which _has
hecome _to? COl!'mon, and. call him my po01: son; for I must.behe.ve·
that he .is mfimtely hajJPY• an~ that he will be, so forever .. -:·: : ·.. "
. May .God grant every blessmg to your grace, your ~a~1Jn ard
all your friends.. . . · ·
·
·. 1
·
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• • ' . ·
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· ·The · Duke of Gordon has done me the honor, according' to his
wonted and very great humanity, to writf:l me a most friendly'•an!l
· t, b ·, & . · ,'. ,, ;,_·...·.-.~
sympathetic letter on ,this occ asion. · ·h
·'
I 1i11ve tie
1 onor o e, . c.,
.

The best wishes that can be formed fc;ir your health, honor, and
B. F.
happiness, ever attend you, from youts, &c.,

Dr. Beattie to the Duchess of Gordon, informing her of the death of
his son.

121

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· I ne.~d not desire you to bid any one remember me; but tell
thern I remember them. Say how Eliza does. Tell Amelia and
Sarah I do not forget them. God bless you all.
J.P. C.

SECTION III.

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One hates writing descriptions · that are to be 'found in every
book of tray(\ls, but we haye SIJen something to-day , that: I am
l:lure ~ you never read of, and, perhaps,,never heard, of. . Ha:'.'e you ,
· ever heard of the · suhterianeous town?. a whole Roman town;
with all its . edifices, rehiaiilirig under ground . . Don't fancy the
inhabitants buried it there to. save it from · the Goths .: they_Were
buried with it themselves. * * ~ . -* This under-ground .<: ity;)s,
perhaps, one ·of the noblest curiosities that~~e{)1as been. ?iscovered. It was found out by chance a .century and ah~lf ago; : They
began digging·; they 'found statues : . th~y dug fa_rther; they found
more. Since that they have made a very, cons1denible 'Pf?gress',
and find continually. * * * * * I forgot t~ tell 'you that m:,seV'·
eral places the beams of the houses remam; but b1,ane~ ta char:.
coal· so little .damaged ·that they retain visibly the g.ra1h af the
'wood ; but, upon touching, crumble to ashes. What 1s remarka·
ble, there are no other marks or appearances of fire but wha~ am
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visible oh these beams. * ~ ' *·
Adieu; my dear West, and l:ielieye me yours ever;
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Miss ~Baillie, by~ Sir
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H<wA·LPOf,E.

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Walter Scott. · .. · · : " ;·.
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· Your kind letter, my dear friend, heaps coals of ~re on my

head, for I should have written to you in comm.on gtatttude, lo_ng
sinr\l; but I waited 'till I should read thtoµgh the Miscellany with
some attention, which, as I have not done, I can scarce say m~ch
to the purpose, so far as that is · concerned. · My O\Vn product10n ·, ·
sat in the porch like an evil thiryg, and scared me from proce~d­
ing farther than to hurry through your cpmpositions; with which
I was delight!ld, and .two or three others. In my own case; I
have almost a nervous reluctance to look back on any 'recent po·

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SPECIMENS OF LETTER-WRITING. [PART Ill.

etical performance of my own. I may almost say with Mac•
beth,
"I nm afraid to think what I have done ;
Look on't ngain, I dare not."

l3ut the best 'bf the matter is, that your purpose has been so satisfactorily answered. * * * * *
Mrs. Hemans is somew~at too poetical for my taste-too many
fl~\".'e!s, I mean, and too little frmt ;, b~t that may be the cynical
cnhc1sm of an elderly gentleman: it Is certain that when I was
young, I read verses of every kind with infinitely more indulgence
because with more pleasure than I now do-the more shame
~~ now to refuse t.he comp~aisance which I have so oft en to solicit.. I am hastenmg to thmk prose a belt.er thing than verse,
and if yo~1 .have any hoji.es _to convince me to the contrary, it must
be by wntmg and pub ishmg another volume of plays as fast as
possible. "' * * . ."'.
·
We saw, you will r~adily suppose, a great deal of Miss Edgewort.h, and two very 111c_e girls, her younger sisters. ]tis scarcely
possible to say more of this very remarkable person, than that
she_not only completely answer~d, but exceeded the expectations
which I had formed. I am part.icu larly pleased with the nai:vete
and good-humored ardor of mind which she unites with such form·
idable powers of acute observation. * * * *

fo;

To Miss Edgeworth-Sir W. Scott.
Miss ~lar~iet had the goodness to _gi ve me an account of your
safe amval m the. Green Isle, of "".h1ch I was, sooth to say, extremely glad; for I had my o~v n private apprehensions that your
very disagreeable disorder might return while you were among
strangers, :ind in our rugged clim~te. I no"'. conclude you are
settled quietly at home, and looking back m reco ll ections of
mountains, and valleys, and pipes, and clans, and cousins. and
masons, and carpenters, and puppy dogs, and all the confusion of
Abbotsford, as one does · on recollections of a dream. We shall
not easily forget the vision of having seen you and our two young
friends, and your kind indulgence for all our humors sober and
fantastic, rough or smooth. * * *
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The L?ckharts are both well, an~ :it present our lodgers, togethe~ with John Hugh. They all .Join In every thing kind and
affectionate to you nnd the young ladies, and the best compliments
to your brother.
.Believe me ever, dear Miss Edgeworth,
·
Yours with,the greatest truth and respect,
.

WALTER SCOTT,

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romantic beauties of Hyde Park! ;Lo.rdpn,· l\t t~is seasrm, is a
·lllere deserted village! nobody that is any bQdy, m! town; ~ot, a
shutter. open in .Grosvenor Square. *) ' ,... * .* :.~ ..., :•·, , · :· .' . .
. · Shall I atte1ript 1 in a single page, tb describe this gigant!c .city t
Such ~n :i-chicvement wou.ld_resembl.e that · of 9,roi;kford s; cook,
who distilled a whole ox mto a basm of soup . . Th~ugh Iionaparte struck out the \Vorel impossib~e fr<?m his ·vocabulary', it re~
maihs in mine and falls like an extmgmsher, upon all my.h9pes
of succeeding'; but tak~ .L ord Byro11's , sketch,,.in full .of, ~Il..~~;
ffiands on ordinary pens.: , .'-. •,.
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" ·A .wildernees .ofeteeplee peeping,
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On tiptoe, through thin sea-coal canopy,
,. , .... : ·~ 't
·' A huge, dun cupola, like a fool's·c!1p crown,, ..
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On u fool's hend-and there is Louclon town.

;.

Som~ skillful physician once remarked, that Englai:id wou_ld cer·
tainly go off i11 an apoplexy at last, because th~ c1rcu~at10n toward her extremities grows daily more lang1:ud, while every .
thing tends to the head; and it gave me some i?ea OD t~e ~nor­
mous scale which London is on now, compared with former .t11n~s,
to hear, that forty years ago, the mail left this ,for Scotland with
only one '1etter, .and , now the average number .t~at . departs from
the metropolis every morning· is 80,000: . How ms1gmfican.t my
own epistle will .appear among so many! and '. we ourselves, after
.being accustomed tci' occasion some sensation :'at .inns and yilla~es,
· in lhe 'wilds .of ;.W ales1 .feel' now reduced agitm to obscurity, .like,
, Cindetella, when ,her carriage was turned mto. a , p_umpki~, her.
hors~s into miCe, and hersel('into .a .!Jlere .nobody.-... "· .-· -.1 " '- !' ·~·
· . It is highly <liver~ing to 'wa~ch the . i\lc.essan~ st.ream of an~1~us)i .
busy fac~s, uncea~mgly passmg o_ur wmdow, · Every.one -1s,,ox.r
course, pursuing some favdrite obJect,.comparnd with whkh the.:
whole world besides is insignificant, and all w1µ at l~st .com~ uni'
der the pen. of their .respe~tive biograp~ers, ,e1ther !n . quart~ or:
duodecimo, 1h magazmes, Journals, pr penny, tract~,_m t~e NeVf"',
gate Calendar, or the annual obituary. * * * '*
· You were diverted once to hear of the old lady who had 11 nerv·
6us complaint which could only be relieved by talking; b1:1t m~ch
as her fnends had their complaisance put to the test, by. hstenmg
without'intermissiori, you must prepare to find rne l~bon!_lg under ·
similar symptoms )'Vhen we meet. Make up youpnmd .to be.con- )
·sidera.bly_bor~d, and. to have occasion .f()r a large . sh)lr~ <;>f - ~11~-x~
haus.tihle ·patience. ~ *. * * * . : ~ , . :;. · · ..-: ·.,
. : .. . · '!,
Our correspondence is now about to -term1?alem .th~, w.a7. that.,
all corre,spondences ought, by a happy ID!Jetin&, which, w1l take :: .
place d~lightfolly so<?n, for .a.s A. says; with qulways !ind ste11m,~;...
boats, naj one · place is more than a hop 1 s.tepJ an~. a ]Ump, from
another; J In .the mean tirne,Lshall say ne mor.e, _bu_t fqllo,i'!'. lh!J~ .
vpzyjud1Cic;m,s adviCe of our fav<>rite C()wper, 1.;,,1 i ••."; . ..,.,.,-r;•·d~m-,.
~.-,~ ,;_; ' 1~ ... 11 Tell: not as news whlit every bO<lj- knows, \,~1· ·>1 • , '''."~""'-11!1.' _, ·i'f!.
···''·'. ~ ' ..\ ~ ,' ; And, ne.w or old,. &ti\l .ha.st1•11 to ~ oloae,'' ...,\. , :·",, ;J;l'li~. i .-' ~
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To a Scotch Cousin-Miss Sinclair.
London,-'-

Mv DEAR Cousrn,
Here are we, safely deposited among the rural solitudes and

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SP~IMENS OF I.ETTER-WRITING. (PART III.

124

To Mrs. If. Mure~Cmmf.ess Cremorne.
I almost scruple intruding upon you, my dear Mrs. More knowing as I do_, with sorrow, that you are so.very far from weh; and
also kn.owmg how many letters are pounng in upon you from all
your friends 11nd correspondents; but I can not help wishing to
tell you how gratefull{ I .feel your ki~dne~s in sending me your
most valuable book: wISh I could give you the satisfaction of
knowing with what sort of pleasure J have been reaclincr it. I
wish you could have seen me reading it, as I do the lett;rs of a
few ~eloved friends-slowly, for foar of coming to the encl; and
readmg those parts over and over again which most delight, and,
I hope, mend my heart. * * * * *·
·
Pray believe me, my de:u Mrs. More,
To be your affectionate and gratefu.
F. CREMORNE.
Dr. Franklin to John Alleyne, Esq.
Craven-~treet,

DEAR JACK,

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August 9, 1768

*

!'r~y make my compliments and best wishes acceptable to your

hnde.. I am old and heavy, or I should, ere this, have presented
~hem m person: .r shall r!'lake but small use of the old man's privilege, that of givmg advice to younger fnends. Treat your wife
always with respect; it will pr~cure respect to you.• no~ only from
her, but from all that observe it. Never use a shghtmg expres~iori to her, even in jest ; for slights in jest, after frequent bandymgs, are apt to end · in angry earnest . Be studious in your professio~, and you will be learned. Be industrious and frugal, and
you. will be nch: Be sober and temperate, and you will be healthy.
Be m general vntuous, and you will be happy ; at least you will,
by such conduct, stand the best chance for such consequences.
I pray God to · bless you both, being ever your affectionate friend,
\
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B. FRANKLIN.
Dr. Franklin 'io Mrs. Hewson.

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Passy, January 27, li83.

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At ~ength :ve are in peace, God he J?raised ! and long, very long, ,
m:iy 1~ contmue ! All wars. are foll!es, very expensive and very
mischievous ones. When will mankmd be convinced of this, and
:igree to settle their c;litrere~ces by arbitration? · Were they to do
1t even by the cast of a die, it would be better than by fighting and
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destroying each other.
· Spring is coming on, when· traveling \ viii be delightful Can
you not, when.your children are all at sc.;hool, make a littl~ party,
a!Jd take . a tnp. hither? [ have now a large house, delightfully
s;~uated, 111 which I could accommodate you and two or three
fnends, and I am but half an hour's drive from Paris.
.

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:l'ART

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rn~j si.>Ec1MENB.pF - llETT-J•m~.:WRITIN.G.

;, Let riie conclude by saying to -y:o~ what ,i. ~~,ve l111d .too frequQnt .
occasion to say to rhy other.remammg o~dfoends~·iAhef~er web~
come the more let us love one another. Adieu, &c, ·., · ··, , · B. FR,. ' .

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' :· . · , ·: .. Will1amCowpertoLady, #asketh. <:~:·• ·· ·!: .; , , /-, ";, ;

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, ·,, Huntingdori, •Od"~r. 10, : 1765;,d . ..

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·Mv iJEAR · Coos1N 1 ·
·'" ':""(.1.ft,,.,. ·.t,.,.,, ,,::.iJ 1
·
'-; I should grumble at your long · silence, if I did. n.ot know., ih~t
one may love ,o ne's friends very w:ell, though one IS ll?t al~ay1pl)
a humor to write to . them.-".Bes1<les; ·I have the t saqsfa<;t1on,..ol(
beirtg perfectly sure that you pave at least, twentyfim~~ .l.'ecotlcc.t•
eel the debt you owe nie, and as 'often/resolved ~o par it; an~_, per~
haps, while you remain ~ndeLted to me, you thmk ot, me twice as
often as you would do if the account was clear. ;. 'I ~ese are the .
reflections with which l comfort myself under the affiict10n ofnot
hearing from lou ;· my1temper· does 11ot· i~cline me to jealousy,
and, ifit did, should set. all right by havmg recourse to .what I
have .alrea'dy received :fronl you. "
. ',., ,' · 1 .r. .'. · . : '.' '
·· I thank God for your frien'dship, and for all the pleas~ng cuc~m·
stances hefe' ; for ihy .~ealth of bod:(an? perfect serem.ty of mmd,
To recollect the past and c<;>mpa~e it, with t.h e pre~~n~ 1s all I have
rieed of to fill mP. with gratitude; and j.o be grateful is to be hap•
PY- .· ,N9t tpat I thin~ · ~yself suffici~ntly than.kful, or that I ever
shall be · so hi this life.·'· The wartne~t he!lrt, 'perhaps, :only. ~eels
by fits; and 'is often -8.s ipsens~ble' as the C<jl?esL .,:T~~~· at least, .
is frequently the case·with mme, and :oft.enei: than .it shoµld ):>a
But th°' mercy that' ean forgive · iniquity ·will·.never·be ' seve!e 1to
mark our frailties. · ,To · that : inercy, my dear cousin, I com~end
you; with earnest wishes for your welfare; and remain. your_ev.e r
affectionate ·. : · · . ' . ..
· · , . , "' ' W. Cowr.ER.:·

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. Dr. Jqhnson tb
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Mr.

Elphinston.
·
· September 25;- 1750. .

'' "DEA.R ·Sni ... ·
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, You have, a~ I find, by e~ery kind of e.vidence.s, l~st an excel·
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lent mother, and I hope you will not thmk m.e mcapab.le of par. taking of your grief. . I have a_mother now ei~hty-two years of
. age, \vhom, therefore, I rriust soon lose, unl~ss it pleas!! ~~d \~at
she rather should mourn for me. · ·
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:" The business of life suinmons us away from useles~ grief; and
calls ·us to the exercise of those virtues of which we are lament/ i'ng Ou.r deprivation. The greatest benefit_which one frien.4 ci.m
confer upon another is to gµide, and incite; and elevate his vn. tues. ' This your mother will still perform. if you diligently pre·
serve the memocy of her life and of her death : a life1 so f~r as l
can leain, useful; wise, and innocent ; and a death !es1gned;
pe,a teful, and nqly. ,J can not forbear to mention that.neither rea~ ­
sorl nor revdation denies you to hope that you may111:1crease her..
happiness by obeying her precepts ; and that .she may; m he~ prelt' .

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126

' PAR~

SPECIMENS OF LETTER-WRITING. [PART III.

*

. ,.

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..."·

· y'our letters. to cons'ist of. ybur ,sen(im~nt.• a:id op_~nion· of the;.books.yo_u

'

perm~. :

·you '.have. no idea how ben~ficial . this wop~d be to your~
self; and that you are able to do -. il, I am certam. ·1 One· of the
greatest inipe1ime~its to goa.d writ~nt;, is ,the thinkin~ too much biF .
fore you note down. Thi~, .I thmk, you a_re not entirely fr~e .from •.·
l hope that, by always wntmg the first idea that presents itself1 - .
you will soon conquer it ; my letters are always the rough first ,' .
draft-of course there ar~ many.alterations : these you will excuse. .
~
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* .. . *
... \ * . .... ' * *·. ' \. ... -~ . -*, . ·~
-'You had bett~r write again to Ml:. B-··- ; Between friends, the
cqmmon' forms of the world, in writing letter for letter, need not
be observed; bu~ never·write ,t hree without receiving one in·re•"
turn, because, in. that . case1 they must be · thought· unworthy. of. ~

1'Villiam Cowper, Esq., to Lady Hesk eth.

•>
I

I

Your letters are so much my comfort, that I often trembl e lest
. by any accident I should be disappointed ; and the more, because
you have been, more than once, so engaged in company. on the
writing,day; that I have had a narrow escape. Let me give you
a piece of good counsel, my cousin : follow r;tY laudable example;
write when you can ; take Tune's forelock m on.e hand .and a µ~n
in the other and so make sure of your opportunity. It is well for
me that vou' write faster than any body, and more in an honr than
other people in two, else I know not what would become of me.
When I read your letters I hear you talk, and I love talking letters dearly especially from you. Well! the middle of June will
not be al~ays a thousand years off; and when it comes I shall
hear ypu, and see you too, and shall not care a farthing then if
you do not touch a pen in a month.
*
*
*

ans.w~r. ·.

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· · We have "been so busy, lately; •lhat'I could ·not artswer yours
sooner: ,. Once a month; suppose _we wf.ite· to each .otheM ' If you
ever find' that my correspoiidence is·not w.o.r.t h ~l).e trqµb~~ .of ~~rt . i '
Tying on, inform, me p( it,.ai;id i( shall Cease. '<l; ~ ,' I~ i.{(611 ,";,.,.;}
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_,.,, . " ,.·, .. nENRY 1 .K.IRKll: '" nHTo;. >-'
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'p's. lf any ~~press~on i~. tltl~ ·be.·;toe)· _:harsh;
~~c'i.ise it'. ".1a'm' n6°t .
.·, '.'
'in an ill-humor recollect. .
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Kirk~ White to his Brother Neville . .

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~r. ~;~nk;in t~: D~~id Ha~tley·, ~~q., · ~.~-~ ;:

;

Nottingham, - - , 1800.

DEAR Ne:vtr.LE,

l.

nr;J_ SPECIM.ENS , OF'i LETT,ER•WRITINCl<: 12'7
'' -

*.

There is one expedient by w~ich you m~y, in some degree,
continue her presence. If you wnte down mmutely what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with great
pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing recollecti<;m ,
when time shall remove her yet farther from you, and your gnef
shall be matured to veneration. To this, however painful for the
present, I can not but advise you, as to a source of <;omfor.t and
satisfaction in the time to come ; for all comfort and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear sir, your, &c,
.·
.
.
S. JOHNSON.

, Henry

.,

trivial, th~t did not require some application:at first,i* -* ;* .. , ...
You may,, perhaps, think thi~ art .beneath your' noiice1 or' unwor•
thy' of your pains; if so, you are assuredly mistaken ·;· for .there is
hardly any thing which would corttribute·: mort;l'-to . the i:advanc~~
ment of i1 yoimir man, or wliich.is more engaging:;.·J 1 11!-r 'l q ';. -., ,,t
· You read,. I believe, a gooP, deal ; notlling ~ould be ~more -ac!.
' ceptable to me, or mor,e improving to you, thari ' m'ciliing._a part .of

ent state; look with pleasure upon e v~ry a.ct of virtue to which
her instructions or example have contnbuted.
. · *

,·.

> • •,;

.•

, " Pass11
r'·, July' 5' 1785.

,'J

I can not quit the coasts of Europe without_t.akirtg leav¢ of ~Y .
, ever dear friend, Mr: Hartley.- . We were long fellow,-1,aborers m
the ,best of all works; th~ work of peace. I leave you :srn1 in the
field; but, having finished my day's task; I am going home to go ,
to bed. " Wish me a good night's rest, as I do you a P.leasant even· .
ing. Adieu ; a,n d believe me ~ver yours mos.t a_ffectl0nately, : · ·

I can riot divine what, in an epistolary correspondence, can have
such charms (with people who on.ly write · cor~monplace occ~r­
rences) as to detach a inan from hrs usual affairs, and make hun
waste time and paper on what ca.n not be ~f the least .benefit to
his · correspondent. Among relatrons •.certainly, ~here is . always
an incitement: we always feel an anxiety for their welfare. But
I have no friend so dear to me as to caus~. me to take the troub~e
of reading his letters, if they only contamed an account of hrs
·health ' and the mere nothings of the day : indeed, such a one
would' be unworthy of friendship. What, then, is requisite to
make one's correspondence valuable ·1 I answer, snund. sense.
Nothing more .is req~isit e: as to .the style, one may reachly excuse its faults, rf repaid by the sentiments. · You have better natural abilities than many youth, but it is with regret I see that you
will not give yourself the troubl~ ~f wr.iting a g~o~! letter. . There
is hardly any species of c:ompos1t10n (m my optmon) easier than
the epistolary; but, my fnencl, you never found any art, howevor

.

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l

FRAN~LIN.-

For.. other specimens, consult the letters of,Co~Vper
, and Rev~ John Newton ; ~ also . the Class.i cal Letter-:
'writer, b~· the author of thEi) ;y6img Mari's :own Booki
· The following letter is one 'from the wife of.the late
poet SouTHEv, of England, to Mrs. L:"H. Sigou}neyi .·
of Connecticut;· ih reference to .the poet's derange~ ,
meni. - It 1s beautifql arid .tol:!ci)ing. , ·:. . ;; ..~· \,\.'"
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}28

SPECIMENS OF . LETTER•WRITING.

[PART III•

cr You desire to be remembered to him, wl10 sang of' Thalaba,
the wild and wondrous tale.' Alas ! my friend, the dull, cold ear
of death is not more insensible than his, my dearest husband's, to
all communication from the world without. Scarcely can I keep
hold of the last poor comfort of ~elieving that he still knows me.
. This almost complete , unconsciousness .has not been of more
than six months' standing, though more than two years have
elapsed since he has written even his name. After the death of
his first wife the ' Edith' of his first love, who was for several
years insane,'his health was terr!bly sh3:ken. Yet,_ for the great~
er part of a year, that he spent wit~ me m Hampshire, my forrr:er
home it seemed perfectly re.established, and he used to say, It
had s~rely pleased Gorl that the last years of his life shoul~l be
happy.' But the Almighty's will was otherwise. The .little
cloud soon appeared, which was, in no Ion~ tii:ie, to overshadow
all. In the blackness of its shadow we still live, and shall pass
from under it only through the portals of the grave.
" The last three years have done on me the work of twenty.
The one sole business of my life is, that which I verily believe
keeps the life in me; the guardianship of my dear, helpless, unconscious husband.'' ·

·In a recently published and curious work, containing Fae-similes of Washington's Public Accounts,
from 1775 to 1783, are the following, among other let..
ters, from gentlemen in high stations under ~ur government which may serve as favorable specimens of .
one kintl of letter, for which, in this book-publishing
age, a call is often made.
.
Senate Chamber, 23d June, 1841.
DEAR Srn, '
·
·
.
I take pleasure in complying with your reques~. The. fac-s~m­
ile of General Washington's accounts is a prec10us rehc which
every American citizen should possess. ~t demonstrates the
·method and the economy of the Father of Im Country.
I am, respectfully, your obedient servant,

H.

CLAY.

.- Mr. Franklin Knight.
.

Mv

Office .of Attorney General, June 25th,

1841.

Sm,
·
. .
I am pleased to learn that you are about to publish a fac-s1m1le
·. of General Washington's accounts. He \-:as a man so exei_nplary
in all that is useful or great, that every thmg t~at m a rl~ s his cc_mduct and the habits of his life must be interestmg and mstructrv~
·to .h is countrymen.
Very .respectfully, yours. &c,
. '.
!·
,
J. J. Cn1TTENOF..N ..
Mr. Franklin Knight; .
DEAR

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"

_PART." Iif.]

·. '

c129

DIALOG.UE ' ANi> r ENIGMAS.

1 <, J. ;
· • .· , . , : · ,·• . : . · · .
• . . · . o/ash!ngton ·!une_.28thi 1841. ·
, · · I concm m the. pr9priety of.the pubhcahoh )Vhl~h you propose.
: Order and _method were str~king features .i~ tpe ~hii:rac.w of General W ashmgtoh; and they' are well exhibited: 1H 1iht! <manner in
. which he kept .the account of his personal ·exp~iisesYrnf,.'~ ·i ·· <' ·I~;

·.

·,

: :, · , ,·(· '.! ·. 11·\··· ': f' 1· ·· 1, '"' D,ANIEL · WEBl!TEk~ C
1
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Fr.~ri~iin ~'!is;~.-.

......

' . The .follow.mg is ~ specimen of: ,tl:rn J¢tt.ctrt wr~t1r1g
of Mrs. John Adams ·: it was w'ritte~· before ,4¢r.~~r:
. riag:e • . ' ··.··1 ' ·ii. c . '. : c' ...·:.:.":·,:;::·< I .... i.· ·· i') :l!;ifN.. \..' . . :
.',

MYFRIEND,

1'

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· >'.·;·i, We~~out~, _l~th :~f~~l,' ~{~4•"

I think I write to you every day. Shall not:I make. my letters
, 'very cheap 1. Don't you light your pipe wi.t h.thein 'I . I care not
if you ,do. 'Tis a pleasure to me, td write.' Yed \von:der I ~rite
to you' with s9 little restraint, for; as a ·critic,, I fear :' ydu ~ mq!e
than any other person. on earth, and . '.tis : th.e only chl\racter Ih ·
\vhi~h I ever did or ever witr foar. you.' ·What t!ay you '! I Dotyou
; approve ~fthat ·speech? f;DoJ!'.t you ~hink !ne a courageous .bein~?
Courage is a laudable, a glorious vntue 1 m. your sex, .':"hy ·not m
mine ·1 F~r my part, Uh~nk. ygu ~1fgh~ to, ~pplaµ<J.; me.Jor. m.i.ne. · •
, · Here .a~e. lpve, .re~pec.ts, r~gards, goud,~~Qe.s,..a . whol.e wag~n ·
l~ad . ~~ thei:n" jeµ~ )'011 (~ortj. , alJ} he.' goo? f<?lk.~ ·~?'. t.h e : ~e~g4bor~
· h.ood. · · To .morfo~ thakeS' the fourie~nth 4ay.1;•.Ho\t 1many mdr13
· are to'corne? . I dare not! tttist,myself .with, th~.thoughtJl1Adietl.
, Let me hear from ;you ' by ..Mt, Cy~rs,· ·and ) excuse• thisivecy bad
writing; if· you had :mended '. iny pen. it would'hav;e been b~ttet. ·
Once more1 adieu: ' Gold and silver 'have I none; but such a'sI
have give I unto th~e..:....,Yhich is,.the affectiOnaie t~gard of yout,'
.
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; ~ c.HAPTER·I· i1.:· J'::';:::;:·-:;:,,'.<t:, ~t~'.:~i;:~'1•:~~
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t lf' J.-!1.· . .

DIALOGUE; AND ENIGMAS • .

Q. What do you understand by Dialogue? . ,_ .

,A . .Conversation, real or .!?UP.posed, kept' up by differeht speakers upon an:{ subject 'of interest. ' . . ;
Q. Is it confined to any p11r~icul.ar subject 1 .
r
( . A. · No; for\ like let~er~ 'Y.r!.~~ng, it m.~Y. , l?Ef . ~ppli~cl to
. .'~µ\:>j~c.t~ , ~.f..all.sorts. ,., ·· ,· .:·;· . · ;_.;:. ·(1;1u ifi :) ')'.·.:~:} · :;~,:: ..
..;;.,Q., it, ~ .d ,~c~lt ,s tylr: ~f ~q~mg) , , .,; ~ ... ) >._ . . : h; 1 , :of
A; V:e ry mucH so; as the ddferent pa.rt~ .o,f . th~ (9%~
~ogue, 1q. q,rc\elr, t<;> . , app~~r ~ natur~.I, ·r.eq':nre tO ;¢?rre~pon~ \Y1th,:t.IW, H9,<1:t~c~ex ;: ~~14, ~,eqt1m~µtf? o(. tl}e. d.1~er­
e11t speakers.
· .J~l:!r r ~+ 1 ; r 1 ;,i h!
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130

HISTORY.

[PART III.

' Q. Is this branch of literature much in request r
A. Not nearly so much so as it once was; though

there are still some :v.ery popular works of this class;
as, Conversations on Natural Philosophy, Morehead's
Dialogues on Natural and Revealed Religion, &c.
Q. Who are supposed to have excelled most m this kind of
writing? .
·
· A. The ancients; particularly Plato, Socrates. and

Cicero.

Q. What is supposed to have given rise to this particular de·
scription of composition?
A. The desire of imitating real life, or probably the

conversations between ancient philosophers, who were
mostly all public instructors, and their pupils.

Q. What was the particular .mode of conversation pursued by
Socrates called ?
1
. A. The Socratic dialogue ; and consisted of a par-

ticular mode of reasoning by means of question and
answer.
.
·
Q. What kind of composition is an Enigma ?

· ·A . It is an obscure question, as, for example, What

word is that in the English language, and in common
use, which will describe a person or thing as not to be
found in any place, and yet, without any other alteration than a separation of the syllables, will correctly
describe him as being present at the same moment 1
The proper answer to this enigma would be-" Nowhere," "Now here."

1

'. '

· Q. What may all be included under the ,term history?

A. Anhals, voyages, and travels, with the lives and
memoirs of distinguished individuals.
.,

...

_

.;.A. ·Because they ate all, though v.ery differ,ent.111
other respects, an account of events and; tran~a·~ti_on~ '
that a:re·,entirely past, and therefore beyond· t.he , OQ- ..
~ervation' of the persc;m who reads thetn. ·.· .':;~·'': :~ ) :·.· ·~.·:

Q. By what ._ name is the history 'of incli.v~dl':a~~ ' · ~e.~~~a!lY
known ?
·
-' ' ·
· · · · 1·· ·, • · - , - ' -'. - - ~
; A. ::By the t~rtn bipgniphy; while that ofkirtgdoin~ ,
i~ called ' national history, or, by way of eminencef .

merely history. . . . . '

.' .

.

~ :,~

' r .

· , Q; .What is the cQ,ief excellence of all thes\'l 1 -:

:.. ;

-- .··~

' '

· ,, . '

. .

A.' That of being a true report o(what has actiially

taken place, wit~out : apy .appearance· of either d~stor..
tionorex·aggeratfon. · /':
.. ·, '. ·" · · . · ·.
/

, 8·

:.>:.'.!>.:.
:>·

In wJ~a~. style. sliould ,hisfory be ,wntten 1 - ·, ' ·.:/: .

A. '!~he parts that, relate to; common ~vents : f~d ~c.:
currences should . be -simple ,,;and : pei'spu;:ttous; while
t~ose ;which .relat~ 'to' g~at ' ~n~ . splend~d: actio_n~ · may
rise to the~ h1gpest ··e1evatio~ : of §ty:Je."'c~ '{-'! ,>J;r" ·:'. ->· '

''i,

.
.

. ·· '.·

Q. Wh~t,· upoh: ~h~ ,~h,<;>.lei.rhay I?,e co~s1~~.red, th~ M~~ h.1~tory- T; ·. ·
A. :· That ·which 't~ " at . once"the . most faithful·. 1rt its

detail~1 ·~11d ..t~e ·-~os~Jntet~s_ti.i-ig ':tq"}p~ ~:!n.W~Jj>_~: ~hK

.

reader. ·
-;-~·
~ .1 ·.. ··· ·• ·-~ •·· .' ·,~·.-.. ~ -~ -~-(·~~: ,( ~-.- r, . :. _v
~ Q. 'On what does fidelity' in history depend 1
· ·· ·
· . ;:
·k Upon the writer's diligence bf inquiry;and fre~'." :
. I ·_

:

.... 1, .

•

.- ·

•

domftorhprejudice .. ·· ".

·

.· ' ·

. Q. And on what dpes the interest of history
A~

; '~ ~ ·

dep~nd?

) ~
'1}

· · '-·'
... .

.

CHAPTER III.
A . . Exceedingly so; as upon it depends all our
knowledge of events beyond our own limited circle
of observation.

.•

, Q. How may these, in treating of ~o~pbsition, :be in~luded un- _
the term hist?ry 1 <
. . . . · . (i .>>~:;..: . ·. ·:. . ~ " ·

writers, every subject . acqi1ir¢s interest; while, .in.
those of others,' every . subject beco.nies ·dull: and in~
sipid, • I
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OF HISTORY,

, ,

4~r

Partly on the subjec:t, .but mC1re upoii .tbe; m~n:...
her in which it is treated. ·
· ' . ~.. . ,, ,; . · ,. l

. Q. Do you think History an important branch of composition 1

·~·..

1ai-~

• ,

[Nole.-ln connection with thUi lesson, each scholar should be required
to .write a letter and a dialogue,
several of each, in the course of the
study of this book.]
·

or

-

I

Q. How do you know this ?
. . '· ·- · , ·'
'A, By the circumstance that, in the hands of some .

Q. Have we many good historians 1 ' · . .

· it.: _Many excellent writers

.

. . .

.

.

.

of national history; as,
Robertson, Gibbon, ·Hume, Bancroft; -Prescott, · &c.*
but re·w goo_d writers of biography.' -; · · ... :_

':l'- '. ''_:··,

'· ,Q.. What are the most common fauf ts m biography? ·

·-

'

· .·A. · It. generally. disJ?lays either a minuteness hi9h
renders it ·tedious 1• or ' l\ part~ality .whiQh .e xcites d1~ .
guSt. ~ . 1 rl t~~ · · . 1 · ·'1 1'\', .~~ , ~ ·.· i\,,. r . :~. . :. 1r:, ·· ~ . .. ~: · \ ·:. ..
. ,''. ., .;. -.J./1~~t:r

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132

UIS TORY,

[rART

tu.

BTYJ,E ·OF PRESCOTT 1 THE .A!llERICAN HISTORL\N,

It may serve to convey· just ideas of the best his·
torical style; as 'Yell as of the excellence of this
branch of American literature, to add, from the North
American Review,
criticism upon W. H. Pr~scott,
author of the History of Ferdinand and Isabella, and
of the Conquest of Mexico.

a

· The style of the latter work, published in 1843, has essentially
the same qualities of style as those which throw an unvarying
charm over the pages of the former work. Mr. P . is not a mannerist in style, and does not deal in elaborate, antithetical, nicely·
balanced periods. His sentences are not cast in the same artificial mold, nor is there a perpetual recurrence of the same forms
of expression, as in the writings of Johnson or Gibbon; nor have
they that satin-like smoothness and gloss for which Robertson is
so remarkable. The dignified simplicity of his style is still farther
removed from any thing like pertness, smartness, or a!fect.ation;
from tawdry gum-flowers of rhetoric, and brass-gilt ornaments;
from those fantastic tricks with language which bear the same
relation to good writing that vaulting and tumbling do to walking. It is perspicuous, flexible, and natural, sometimes betraying
a want of high finish, but always manly, always correct, never
feeble, and never inflated. He does not darkly insinuate statements, or leave his reader to infer facts. Indeed, it may be said
Of his style, that it has no marked character at all. Without
ever offending the mind or the ear, it has nothing that attracts
observation to it, simply as a style. It is a transparent medium,
through which we see the form and movement of the writer's
mind. In this respect. we may compare it with the manners of a
well-bred gentleman which have nothing so peculiar as to awa·
ken attention, and which, from their very ease and simplicity,
enable the essential qualities of the understanding and character
to be more clearly discerned.
. Many of the sentences would have fallen with a richer music upon the ear, with some changes in "their structure and
rhythm. But, in looking on the work (on Mexico) as a whole
and from the proper point of view, every thing else is lost and
forgotten in the general blaze of its merits. It is a noble work ;
judiciously planned and admirably executed; rich with spoils of
learning, easily and gracefully worn; imbued every where with a
conscientious love of the truth, and controlled by that unerring
good sense without which genius leads astray with its false
lights, and learning encumbers with its heavy panoply.
One of the principal ~uties of an hist?r!an is to give the v er}'. f?rm
and pressure of the t11ne he 1s descnbmg, to mfuse its spmt .mto
his pages ; to paint his scenes to the eye as well as to the mmd ;
to produce an effect resembling, as nearly as possibl e, the illusion
created by seeing the events he narrates represented by well]-

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ESSAYS .!;AND «PHlLOSOPJ:I):•.

. .tl83

t!ained .actors, ',Yith apJJropri,a te coet~rnei scenecy, and , <lecoi;a.
t10.ns. . Here, tM, Mr; P. has been signally i!uccess(ul. · tn his lih,llliated pages we eee, as in th~ mirror of Oof!Ieliu*1 4,grippa, tWi
'~ery shape and features of the s1xte.e nth ce1,1U11:n .1 f. ,-,/. ~'~·. ~·· , , :. ,
·. The sty~e of. George Bancroft, as an· histor!an, is sen~rally. lie
. tnuch ad,~1r~d as that of Prescott. ·, " . ,, 1 H'r ·r ·r'r~(~t~f: '.r,•r:d V ·

· ······'··· · ·

/"?1 t:; '::~r;tt~t;

CHAPrr.ER IV. · - ,<_
OF ESSAYS AND

'

PHIL,~!'IQPHt<

i:

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, _, . .

· .

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:

.·p-: ;. ,; 1. ·,;·; ·
,

>'r~>r ·:

Q. What sort of writing do ,you include p~dqr the. ter~

eays '!

.,·,

· . · · •·

to

.

Et-.

. A. · Essay;s are a species of writing confined
sub~
jects of nQ particular kind, -though generally unde~­
,stood as 9en~ting ~hort dissertatip~s tip9n ' ~opi.cs con·
Iiected with hfe and manners. ~
·
•
·
, Q. .Whatdoee_thewordessayprqperly'mean? .-

;:.-i ) · ·~ , ~

· ·· A. ·A t_~lal, · or ~.ri attempt , at' something,;', 'ari~f is''a
,term often ~ode~t1y)1ppl~~ttP; t~~!~t-~~~-s -, ~~ -~h~t g.~~~t·
est prof~tnd1ty .. ., . 'i,' ... r-- · " .., ~. ,-,,,,_, ..... ,,-r;·:•11;; 1-. ,
, ,Q. What'is . mean~. by tP,e Britieh:Essayiiits t- ~ -~\" · {,.J•J~ • <:~

, '·

'~

··l
~

..

,_.· A. The Tatler;.Spectafot; Guardiati;JiatnJ>ler; Idler.
Adventu.rer, -Obse:r_ver, Mirror, Lounger,· &c., &c.; all
consisting of short dissertations Qpcin ' various . subjects, and exhibiting some of the -choicest specimen's
of Enf5lish · corrlpositio~1. - (For other reJI1arks, see
part vi., sec. v.) . ·
·
.
While this statement is just, there is tOo mtich'truth
in the following criticism, from Chambers's Edinburgli
··
· ..
·, ·
.. '
Journal, respecting them :
. The Essayists occupy a conspicuom1 place in the literature of
the last century; but, somehow, I do not feel disposed to set much
store by them. Their fault, or, let ,us be gentle, their misfortune
is, that they do not-relate so much to human nature as to some
of its teipporary modes. There is a sad deal tod much about
hoops and flounces, and rolled stockings, and ertforcements of
little moralities which no gentleman now thinks of disobeying;
and then ,t he Fli~tillas, and Eudosias, and Eugeniusee, and Hymenreuses, are stiff old frumps at the. hest. , The whole rerriinds ·
one of an exhibition of waxwork and old dr~sses ; yet tHere are
fine thin&"s ar;nong them ~oo: Sir Roger De Caverly, for instance,
~fo1t admirable Old-English gentleman, so humane, so little th.i nk
mg o( the current of the wor~d, so unreflecting on every thV!g be·

M

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ORATIONS.

yond the traditionary habits and duties of hlS station and locality.
Here, also, we have the majestic moral melancholy of .Johnson,
and the fine pathos of Mackenzie. But, after all, it must be a selection from that long line of essays which can give pleasure
nowadays. .
,

· The author farther would express, as his own opinion, that the modern British essayists, Professor Wilson, Sir Walter Scott, and T. B. Macaulay, in brilliancy and power of composition, far transcend the
justly-lauded British essayists of earlier days. ·
Q. Is there any particular style in which essays should ho
written 1

A. Their style depends altogether upon the subject,
and they may contain every' species, according to the
topic discussed, from the simplest to the most sublime.
Q. What do you understand by Philosophical writing?

·

A. All kinds of ·composition connected with the
principles of art and science, or with the investigation
of moral and physical truth.
Q. What should be the character of cotnpositions of this kind ?

A. Plainness, simplicity, and perspicuity of style,
with clear, accurate, and methodical arrangement.
[For an account of some British philosophers, see part vi., sect ion vi.]

CHAPTER V.
OF ORATIONS.

Q. What do you understand by Orations?
A. All those displays of public speaking denominated oratory or eloquence. . .
.
Q. Into how many species may eloquence be divided ?

A. Into three : . the . eloquence of popular assemblies; the eloquence of the bar; and the eloquence of
the pulpit: the last, a species entirely unknown to the
ancients.
Q. What other names no thr.se sometimes receive 7
The first is called the eloquence of the senate ;

· 4.

the second, the eloquence of the forum; a11d the last,
which is appropriated to sacred suhjects, is generally
styled sermons . .
Q. What is the object of all pnblic speaking 1

A. To instruct and to persuade.

''

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[PART III.

PART

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ORA'J,'IONS;

. Q. _wh~t are some of the chief requisites j.n tn·~ art of.p~rsuad ,
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A. Extensi've k1iowledge1 sound sense; .keen,'s ensi-.
bility 111nd solid judgment, with great cq1nmap~ i?f Ian.~:
. uage, and a correct and gracef~1l_ elocution, :~r·f.t~;- 1 ,. 1 , :·)

·

. Q. Whatdoyo~dee~thenextreqms1te,1 · · ·';''~:.· ·/;.1 jh\•· , , , · ·

- A. Perfect smce.nty, earnestness, of manner{ ati,d a_
thorough convic_tion in the mind of the $peaker) 1_s .t9..
the truth of what he delivers. ·
· . '~·- ·. , , 1-.,;.>.:·;;;:;
.' Q. What are the principal parts of a regular oration or discourse f ·
· A. The Exprdiurn; the-Division, the Narrati01i,' ~he
Confirmation, the Refutation, and th~ Pero~~tio.n. <-i.•·i;;' Q. What do you understand by the Exordrnm.1 , . .

' ·,

\,

. . ,_,. ,

A. The beginning, or. introduction, fo .which the ·
speaker st.ates the object he has i1fview, 3:nd; b~sp~aks ·
the favor and attention of his audience. ! · • · .!. -~- : . : :·. ·., ·,

' ·-, Q. What do you 'tn~ari . by· the D~vision ?. '. . , . , /, ,- i~' . ,. , "·

A. , The part in, which;.the

~peaker .m.entiCms. tp,;:r'na~1

tur~ of the ques~1R.r1 ~t :. 1~sµ.e, . a~d laJ:S ,d_~~1.1, t_~.~;i~la~.
which he mea~~ ;to . Pursue m g1s~us~ml! ,1.~!. h-siJ.l -.,11 • f'.r
Q. What do you understanq by the Narra~1onT:.. / ./ ~ ',. .. . ,
' A. T~e . part irt whi<;:h : the .speakerJakes. a .1view of 1

, ...

·-

his whole subject; and staies all'.the facts and farctim- '
stan,ces connec.ted with' the case·. ,, ;'..B\'):~b:.~:<r \ ,. -;'
l' Q. And.what is.the. Confirmation? ,· 1~
.' i >'r , ·ri .-1'1 ·' :~ ... ... , .
. A. ·The part'in whfoh the. orator gives .his own dpirt-.
ions, and brings forward _all the proofs a1:1d, arguriJents.
on .which. they are found~d. ,, 1 • l
:. - , ~. ·~·-, '. ! . . . ,
.· .Q. And what 1s the Refutation? •

· . ·:. · · .. ·

.·

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· A. The · part in which the speaker answers· the .va.;.
rious objections and arguments that may be brought
against his opinions by an opponent. · _ . ~-· .. . ·. · ·s

.Q. What .ill the Peroration? ·
·
·
,
.- A. The part in which the speaker, after ' appealing ·
to the passions and feefo1gs of his audience, sums up
all that has been said, and brings his oration to a ·conclusion. '· ·
.·
- ... : ·· · ·-~ ,., 1 :·~ • .• · ,
i · Q. Are all these parts kept perfectly distinct? ·· ··':: , , ' ~ .\ • "'.
. ·A. Not exactly so ; for the one 'is often .le~s or more
blende<l with the other. " · ' · · · , :· ,.
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;

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·:. - What, ~besides talents,, is necessary to make a great oi'ato.r 1 ·· .
.· ·A. Long and unremitted appl,i cation to ' study~ a.nd

I

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'' mit1d tnoroughly ·imbued with the principles of virtue; ''''
and actuated by the n?ble principle qf independenc.e. · .. ·
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ORATIONS~

[PART III.

Q. Is eloquence as much cultivated now as 1t once was?
· A. Far from it; the period when eloquence chiefly
flourished was in the days when Greece and Rome .
were in all their splendor, and in the full enjoyment
of liberty.
·'
·
Q. Who were the most distinguished of ancient orators 1
A . .Demosthenes among the Athenians, and Cicero
among the Roman.s ; the former considered as the
greatest that the world has ever seen.
Q. Have modern nations excelled much in oratory ?
A. The French, the Dutch, and the Swiss, have all
excelled in this art, but more particularly in pulpit
eloquence; while the British and American have excelled in all the various kinds.
Q. Can you mention some of the most eminent of the British
orators?
... .
·
, ·A. Chatham, Pitt, Fox, Burke, Sheridan, Grattan,
distinguished for the eloquence of the senate ; Curran,
Erskine, &c., for the eloquence of the bar; and Darrow, Atterbury, and Kirwan, for the eloquence of the
pulpit.
Q. Who are and have been the most illustrious among American
·
orators?
A. Patrick Henry, Alexander Hamilton, Fisher
Ames, Henry Clay, John C. Calhqun, Daniel Webster,
E. Everett, John Randolph, W. Preston, G. M'Duffie,
and some others.
[For a beautiful sketch of the eloquence of Cicero and Demosthenes, of
Burke; Fox, and Pitt, of England, and of Hamilton, Ames, Calhoun, Clay,
and Webster, of America, see an article in the Am. Bib. Repository, Jan.,
1840, by N. Cleaveland, Esq., .of Mass.]

. ' SECTION II.

· · To aid the student in preparing an oration or speech,
the author would first avail himself of the fine example of our distinguished countryma.n, EDWARD Ev1rnETT, of whom, as an orator, the following sketch is
· given in the North American Review for 1837. It is
here given only in part, but sufficient for our purpose :
·"The great charm of Mr. Everett's orations consists,
not so much in any single and strongly-developed intellectual trait, as in that symmetry and finish which, on every
page, give token of the richly-e?dowed and thorough schol-

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. ar. .The natural inovelrl.ents .of his'. :fliinc(~1;tl"full uf gr~ce ;
and the most indifferent sentiment Which: falls from' his pen ·
~as that simple ,elegance which it is as· diflicult,_to:defii)e as
It is easJ to . perce~'ve. '.. His level passages are never tame~
and his fine <;mes al'e never superfine. , His :stylt, wiih)Jiatch- ,.
less flcx_i~ility, rises and/alls with his ~ubjeet, ·and _is, 'ai.~eNiftely .
easy, vivid!, elevated, ornament'!.l, or pictu~esque 1 t;J-dapting ·itself.
to the dominant mood of the rmnd, as an mstrument ·respt>Iids
to. the touch Of ·a master's hand. ·His knowledge is so e:X:, ·
tensive, and the field of his allusions so .wide, that .the 'most
familiar views, in passing through his hand.s "gather stich 'a
halo of luminous illustrations, that their \ likeness ' seems·
trapsformed, and We entertain doubts of their identity. '·;·ESpec.ially in reading the&e orations., do _we ,perceive the. pqwer '
which comes. from an 1accurate knowledge of history''· ·No
one wields an historical-- argunient W:ith more skill ; no one.
is niore fruitful in effective historical parallels and applica~'
tions. He has, ;n P.e!fect~on, the historical. eye, if w~ may so
speak; the power of.rµnning oye~: an epoch and.seizing upon ·
its ch~racteristic e~pr~s~i?~n; and.pf,~i.stirigu~s~lf!g. th~ ~yen~~ .
by wh1cl! that expression IS most ~ec1dedly. matufested. ) His .
picturesque narrative i$ alsd ~>ne of_Qis most 'strikirig accoti1~ ·
plishments: · This is ~een tno~t.happily' it( nf~ 'Plymouth atjq _
_
Bloody; Brook Orationsii;' "'"· 1'~' -. •.:·t."''1:.' ) i'· f, ~.w 11 •t,'· _:,h!~;..c~·"'..t:l _c
' "His f?fyle appears to -us ' a_nearly 'p erfect specimen 6r a: r
!het9ri9al.: ~nd orname:h~al style< PertaiplY'·it. is:· '~o·;· jf.th~­
JUst defii;i~hon of a good. style be, p~opr.r words in paper pla:a
ces. ,He Is a~ careful ,to select tl}e nght word, as a w_orkman
in m,osaici is to pie~ out. the exact shade of color which he,
requires ... His oratibns abound with those delicious caden•
ces,\vhich thrill through ihe veins ljke"a strain, of fine mu;:'
sic, and cling spontaneously td .the . niemoty; -' Wliere can
we find the English language ' molded ' jnti:> more ··graceful
~or~s; th.an il,l , 51;1P~ se~t:,nc~s . ~~ . t~e,s~ r_ .~_.;,;,;,:,'i: '<:, 1;.;~· ·: i ._ >'. ;.:

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.tc '.The sound of ~y n ati ~·e languag~ b~ybnd the sea,'is' a inu~i~
to my ear,' beyond the riches~ strains Of Tuscan,,softness . or Cas-"
1

tiliah majesty.' ' ·..
.. . -." - • i/. ' '. '·, ' ,;. \,; · ·>
.:~;
- "'' ' No vineyards, as now.• clothed our inhosp~table . hill-sides ';
no blooming orchards, as at the .pre~ent day, wore the li'veryo(
Eden, :~~cl load.ed, the breeze with swee~ odors.;
rich pa~tutes;
not w~vmg crop~. stretche,d. beneath the e}'.01 along !he \'faysidc, .
fr<;>m vll~age tg v,~llage, as if Nat.me had been srreadmg her h~lls
with a catp!J~, fit ,t() be pressed by the footst!Jps of her de~ccndint_ ·

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ORATIONS.

[PAR'r JIJ,

onA'f~oNs,

PART hi;] ·
'

· "The passage which desc1 ites the forlorn condition of the
Pilgrims," on th e ir voyage and at the ir landing is singularly
expressive and beautiful.
'
· "'The extracts we have made or referred to from Mr. Everett's volu_me of ~ra~ions, are s~ecim ens of that magnificent
declamat10n which 1s one of his most obvious c harac teristi_cs; but s~me of hi~ discourses are of a practi cal cast, and
d1sp_lay a corresp?ndmg style. His singular power of illustrat10n enables lum to give dignity to the lowes t, and inter~st ~o t~e dryes~ subje_ct, while that unerting taste, which,
m !us highest flights, msures him t emperance and s moothness, preserves him from the unpardonable sin of being
heavy, commonplace, and prosaic. His brilliant intellectual
a_ccompli~hments and his fine taste rest upon a granite f ozmdatwn of mgorous good.sense. Read his speech on th e subject
of the Western Rad-road for an illustration of these remarks."
ORATORY OF DANIEL WEBSTER.

The eloquence of Webster is of a less elaborate
character. than th;,it of Everett, but it makes its way
. more eastlY: to the understanding and the heart. At
t~e con1pletion of the Bunker Hill Monument, he delivered, !une 17, 1843, an admirable address, in the
presence. of. many thousands, displaying great variety
of style m its several parts. The following extracts
are from that address :
"Yes! !Junker I-lilt Monument is comj)lete<l. Here it stands
· fort~n~t~. m t~e natural eminence on w 1ich it is erecled ; ma~
Jestic m its object and purpose. Behold it there ! risinu over the
land and the .s~a, visible at this moment to three hunrlred thou.
tSan<l of the citizens of Massachusetts. It stands a memorial of
t~e past, a momtor to the present and to all succeeding generations of me11.
·
,
' . "'I have spoken of its purpose; for if it had been withobt
· other purp.os~ than the erection of a mere work of art, the granite
of ".'htch 1t is composed would have continued to sleep in its
native bed ! _That purpo~a gives it its dignity and causes us
to look up to it ".'•th emot10ns of awe, and invests it \vith attributes of a great 1!1!Plle~t.11.a l personage. It is itself the great orat~r of U11s occas10n. It 1s not fr~rrt my lips, or from any human
hps that the stream of eloqu ence 1s to liow, which shall be competent to express the emotions of this vast multitude. The potent speake~ sta~rl~ m ot10nl~ss befor~ ,YOU. It is a plain shaft.
It !wars .no 11~scnpt10n , frontmg the ns111g sun, from which a fu.
turc ant1quanan shall be emr.loyed to wipe away the dust-nor

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does the rising sun . awaken strains of ni.tisi.c (rol'rl~ it~ r8'ummlt~· .
But ther~ it .stands, and at the rising of the stlni:and..at-its setting,·
in tb.e blaze bf nnonday, and under. the tnildet effolg'ente oflunar
light, it ldoks, speaks, acts to the
compreh'ettsioh 'bf·,e'verY,
AIJlerican mind, ,and awak,ing the high~st' ~ntnu~iastt : r1tt.~ ~verY:
·f.rue American heart. · Its silent but awfol ' 1.ttterance-.:....!\b~ t deep
' pathos with 'which, a~ we look ·upordt,: it ' lJH~gs ; bbfqt~'. u ~·.:.the
' 17th of Jnne, ·1775-the tdrtseq,liepces which res,ulted •frbm •the
events .of that' day, to us, to this _~cmtinent; ai1d to' tlJ,ll t w?rld~ ,
consequences Which we know must continue, and ram ~hei~·, ft111
tlueri.ce on the destinies of mankind to the end of time,' surpastf
all the most arduous study Of the closet, art~ even the inspiration
of genius. To,day--:to-day it speaks to us . .. It$ futi,1.re 1audit~r1
' will be found' in the succeeding generatio,h s of then, 'd.s they r'ise
before it, and gather 'r ound it: It speaks, and will ever spealt; of.
courage and patriotism, of religion; liberty; and"godd,goverhtn_e nt,
and of the renown of those who sacfificed themselves for the
good of their country. ' Jn the older .world iiiai:iy gigantfo' fabrfog
are still in exfatence; reared by' htima11 ·. hand,s 1 the mystery. of
whose. erectiori is lost .in the ?-arkness of ages. '.>T~ey are mon?•
men ts of hothing ·but . the power· of mil.ti.· ·The mighty pyramid
itself, which has stood for tliol.!sands of years, amid the sands of
Africa, brings down: and reports , to us nothing but the power o(
kings, !ind the · ~ervitude '. of, theif people.i') As. to arty lijgh sehtiJ
ment~ari.y' hbble ' ~d.mtinitiori 1 cl-r wis~" lessoh Jof ·lttstfuetiifuf•'or
any great end of efistehde, it is 'a s silent as .th~ 1 tii.illi~ii ' bf huiliiin beings who lie in the dust at its base or slumbe'r in the '¢atacombs
around it. , There is no just' obj ect .no~ . khpwn;·toJtccomplisli
wh~ch the hands 'of inankind raised its immense proportiorts to
heaven, and its cohtetnplation excites in the· hul!lali tnind, in' our
day, no ·feeling but ,of power and of wonder. '' But. if our present
civil institutions, founded .as they are on solid science ,1 high at.l
tainments · in art, deep knowledge of hature,- enlightehed motal
sei1timent, and tlie elevating lruths of the Christian religion, are
destined 'to perish, this monumeht, and the fame of those whose
deeds it is to honor and commetnorale; ~ill still .be dear to th~·
_h eart 'gt every true ~inericart. · Its ?bject .w ill b~ krt~w~ till th.at
dreadful hour shall come, and that knowledge will not even then
fade· from the minds of our race.· If eivilizatfol) is destined to b~
again overcome by another deluge of barbiiristni still tlie tnemort
of Bunker Hi!J, and of the e~enls with which it is connected; will
be. ~he ,part and ~at.eel of th~ elements of l~ght and civilizali<?n1
which shall remam m the mmd of the last ml}n td whom the m•
. tluence of the Christian religion lihd of civilizll'.tiort shall ei:tei:td."

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~·'.Toward' the cio~e of the add res~; spJaking·ilf what
America had' dorie· for the world, he remarks'_: ,
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my' friends, Aml!rica 'has done more.:-America has .ftif
nished to Europe the chatacter of Washington.' And if our instil,
tution .. Wld done· nothing .else, tl}ey would hat e de.served the. r~

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spec~ of mankind. ~ ashington, first in war, first. in peace, and
first m the hearts of his countrymen-,11/ashington is all our ow11 ·
and the veneration and love entertained for him by the people of
the Uriited States are proofs that they are worthy of such a.
~oun~ryman. I would cheerful![ put the question to-day to the
mtelhgent men of all Europe- will say, 1.o the intellect of the
w~ole wo!ld-what charac.te~ of any country stands out in the
reh ef of history· most pure, most respectable, most sublime ? I
doubt not that by a sufltage approaching to unanimity, t.he answer
would be, Washington. That monument itself is not an unfit emblem of his character, in its uprightness, it.s solidity, its durability.
Hisjublic virtues and his private principles were as firm and
fixe as the earth on which it rests _ His personal motives were
as pure as the serene h eaven in which its summit is lost.
"Ye~ , indeed, although a fit, it is not an adequ ate emblem.
· Towenng far above the columns our hands have built - beheld
not by the inhabitants of a single city or a single state alone, but
by all the families of men, ascends in colossal grandeur the chara.cter of Wa:;hington. 1 In all its c.ons.titu ent parts, acts , eflects,
titles to umversal love, and admuat10n, and r enown. it is au
Ameri~an product. . Born up_
on our soil-of parents born upon
our soil-never havmg had for a smgle day a sight. of the Old
World-reared amid our gigantic scenery-instructed according
to the modes ~f th~ time !n plain, solid, wholesome elementary
knowledge, which 1s furmshed to all our children-brou ght uµ
among and f6stered by the genuine influ ences of American society-partaking of our great destiny of labor-partaking in and
leading our agony of glory, the war of our lndependence-partaking and leading m that victory of Freedom which ended in the
establi;;hment of our present Constitution-behold him and benold him altogether an American. That crowded and' gloriou s
life in wh~ch we Blie ii multitude of virtue13, each contending to be
foremost . m the throng, and yet seem to be making room for a
greater multitude \.o come-that life, in all its purity, in all its elevation, in all its grandeur, was the life of an Ame rican citizen.
I claim him, Washington, wholly for America. And amid the
peril and the darkened hours of the State-in the midst of the
reproaches of enemies .and the mi>'~ivings of friends, I turn to that
transcendent. name for courage anufor consolation. To him who
denies that our fervid Transatlantic liberty can he combined with
law and order-to him who denies that America has contributed
any thing to the world's stock of great lessons and great examples-to all these, l would reply by pointing to the character, and
to the great example of Washington."

·· ·It will be interesting and profitable here to present
to the student a criticism upon three of perhaps the
most distinguished of American orators now living,
CA1,nouN, CLAY, and WEnsTKR. It. is ex tracted from
the American Biblical Hepository for 18,10 ~

·~.

, ·.

ORATIONS .

[PART JH,

~

. Mr. Calhoun is the acknowledged chief ofmetapMs1cal orators.
His mind is uncommonly ac1,1te, with Ji 'tare fac;:ulty- of seeing
or making distinctions. His ; 'iea!'!Oning . is equally : suotle . and
plausible. . He lov~s to revel and soar in the airy regipns of ab· ,
straction. · He is the great Des Cartes of the Pblitieal Academy.
His theory i::i always cilrious-ofteri beautiful_!somelimes sublime; butitisatheory 'of"vortices." ~:_ .. ;1 J!i -. t'.):uY.r,t: ,L, ,·-:.
·; Not so w~th Mr. Clay. He loves to move <m tlieJ!ttrface ofolir
~atth., and amid the throng of fellow-men: or. if at' any time' dispos~d to dim_b, 'tis only to some sunny hill-tc>p, .that he may get
a ,w1der view of the busy, happy scene below.. '" He' is the orator
of popular principles and of common sense. His \riews are :ex·
pansive rather than deep-his grasp of subject not so ·strong' as it
is broad. He needs no interpreter to make niore clear .his mean~
ing, nor any .other index t_o the kindness of his character than his ·
h<?rrtely, but open and expressive face. As a SJ?eaker, his style is ~
C1ceronean; graceful and winning, rather than impetuous, Witty
and powerful at repartee, he _is more. skillful and ready iii the ~kir~
m,ish _?f d~b~te ~}).an either. ¢f,his_ g'reat conipetitors. · ';'. , .· · . ' :;.
One remams . .J In all -the qtiaht1es .of the orator ap.d statesmaH. ·
fitted to , confer -present j>ower. and lasting fame, Mr. Webster's
pre-eminenc_~ . ~ill . b.e,4enied by. few. r,, )_ ';"t_: i l 1· :.- .,,-, ,; \
·,1< :·, ,
, "'
*'
i,ri *: . :, 1 i; ...*~.: · ."~ · · · ~4..!'',:.....:. : ~ · /fl, .f ' \~.: ,~ ,- ;~ I ,;'!" : ; ,' , - ..
i·. Hi~ ' style i~ . r~mar.~~bl~ fqr * ·,simplicity'. ' ; --i:o',utte~ thopghts ,
o( the highest o~de!, _11,1 _l~ngt?-age pe~fectly ,simple ;)>y. 'ucid ar.·
rangement ~nd apt . ~ords, to . ~~ke '. al:l.~tr~c~ :te_a,so~ing, an~ _ the .
most recondite prmc_iple~ of c.o~~Mce, ~olit~l!s :,an~ 1a~,'J?_lap1
the humb~est capac1ty 1 1B a •pnv1lege ;md 'pow~r iti which Mr, ,
Webster 1s equalled, probably, _by no living ,man:· !rThis' simi.
plicity; w~ich i~ thought so easy of attaimrient, is, . n'everth~·
less, m. this as m most cases, undoubtedly tM result. of uncom.. mon care. Like the great Athenian orator, Mr. W. ts always full
' of his subject. · Like hini., when mo~t simple · in ' hi~ diction, he
is yet admirably select. · Lik.e him, too, he can adorn where orna! ··
iuent is apJ?rOpriate, arid kindle, when .occasion 'calls," into the
most touchmg pathos, or loftiest sublime. · • ' '· ' , ··· .\!_' . 1•. ·
As a public man, Mr; W; is ~minently American. , His speeche~
Jlreathe the purest. spirit of a broad and -generomi patriotism.
The' institUtions of learning and liberty' which nurtured hi~ ti)
gr~atness, it has. been his fi~i~l. pr;de lo ,cherish!_. ,hi~ ~anly p,riv! _
ileg11 to defend, if not to save, .
/
, .. ·: •.'· - \ ,, ,• r ·. •) •
' For sgecimens of these . and other American : orators,' we mu!!t .
to Lovell's United State~ Spe'aker, arid .other collections~ ·. '
1 ·';

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to

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refer

~: ",1, ;,,'"' '' ~: ' :.. ' '·.' (·:;:,;.:,,,'.~ ;,·;:.: ;i;·

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-J42

l PART

NOVELS •.

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~ART ,iit.]'

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·NOVELS."Jll ·;::'.f' v:·
,

CHAPTER

YI.

OF NOVELS.

:

Q. v\nat do )' OU' understand by the term N ~vd r
A. Novel~ in its literal signification, means something new; but, as denoting a branch of literature, it

i~ ~ene~ally used, as the ,name of all fictitious cornpos1t1ons 111 prose.
·
·
Q. What may this term, in its widest sense, be made to in-

clude?

.

A. Allegories, fables, and stories of all kinds, whether invented for the purpose of instruction or of amusement. ·

Q.

Whete had this specie8 of composition its orig.in?

A. It is commonly thought to have origiirnted among
. the people of Asia, and from them to have found its
way into Greece -and Rome, and thence into all the
other nati011s of Europe, and into Aiuertr:a.
Q. What are the best kuown of Eastern lict.ion s '!
A. The Arabian Nights' Entertainments ; tnough
-all the writings of Eastern nations possess more or
less of a fictitious character.
Q. Who introduced or revived the writing of novels in more
modern times '!
J A. A set of strolling bards or stoq-tellers in France~

called Troubadours, who went about proclaiming the
deeds of imaginary heroes, in order to prompt to acts
of chivalry.
.
.- Q: ln \vha.t language djd they compose?
· A. In a sort of Roman-French, called Romanshep

from which ,is derived our wor<l romance.
· Q. What is the difference between a novel and a romance ·r _
A. A novel is a fictitious work, either founded upon
the events of real life, or at least bearing some resemblance to them : while a romance is a work of a
similar kind, having something wild and unnaturnl in
it; and, if not purely imaginary, resting upon some
extravagant tradition, and extending far beyond the
limits of probability.
Q. When did novel-writing find its way into Great Drit.ai11?

A. It \.vas ilitroduced into England during the reigll
of Queen Elizabeth;. and s.ince that time it has gradu-

.

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:;;•r

ally exiended,· tnr' now 'rriore ·· novels dssu~:.fr?m th~ !
press than . wbrk~ ~of almos,t any o~her.de~orip,t~on. i . ~{
Q. Are nov~ls an.important ~>ranc~ ofh~e~atu~e ,}s<-: i•1·1": · .f-1 : ·j
: ~ A: , On· this pomt there ts great d1vers1~y_,ofki,op~~1on;' ·
some extolling. them : as the best· t~a,ch~rs; 9,1 1tIDQr;a,ls,
"··
and oth~rs ~. condemning --.them a. ~ ; the 1.~9~rme:~;~f~\;,<>,f
winciple·, ~nd the_contamuiators of , lh,e ; ~·i:i.~.·:~1~~;<.:?.·•dl ',,.
, , Q. :What 1s the ·ch;nacter. o{ a ;good novel 1 . --' ; '-"'"'.-i'··'r·M·t· :
. -A: A perfect freedom from etery degree of,-_~~tn()r3:! 1~endency, t?get~er with . th~ power of.d~eplY, .~~~~r~~l\i"·
mg the feelings of the reader. . . , , 1; · .,_:: ;, . ·-;:fo .
: .Q. 'What _is the consequence of t90 great a love.; of,~byels.1 ~,: _ It, tends to distrao,t the, niind, ·_ ~nd ., disq~ahfY: ~~t
for solid thin~ing, ai~d the p~f~pit of us,e _ful ~.P o'~}i~d.~?! ..
; Q. Is there _a,ny p_ecuha_r style a9a~te4 fo novels 17:: , •• ~ • '
· _A . .~ljey ad~1t
, ~fey~ry .vCl:r,1,ety bf-_~tyle, ·.~c~ordrn~ .
to the iiature ,1bf , the" )nc1a_ents and ·: ?haq1ctet~ ' ~~7
scribed · but that must" al w~ys ·be the best, which· 1s
1
. .1•·.an d' a· ·11·1·,n" a:-·tkd'
1nos. t na't u1a
,"' .. · •n
. .. .,.'r,1
, · c.\,.. :•.
. 1i..-1u
..· ,. .rl:-i,·1
, ..-_:_ ii7·l .·
· Q. • What pectillar' 'quality· of ~ind } does 'ith~: \vritihg :of, good
1

A:

~.~A~~ ai~~~.~~aai·n-~~~1~-~; j~~~ri;i6n',c\vi~J;;·tj~_ i_ckn;~~;i~

discer1ih~g, _and pow~r : in_:-O~~c,tibi_n:~ri ~~ar~_ctet~-J .~~4 \
1"'< ! - _, ,,.,, ,,_,_, ._ ;' f' J.f ' j "Y l ·. " '"!'•• )j1f
events - '• ! '•r
<
' · Q. c~~ you m~ntio~ _some efth~ "niost dis~iy~isil~4 ~.rit~~~J~(

. noA~

8

Le·Sag~·- .antl\;_b1~ai;~ arriong ;th~:·Ft~~:~li/Ce~~1

vantes among; the Spaniards, an~ Cooper. '. a~_ong t-h.e :
Americans, with numerous novelists of g~eay_ceJe9ri­
ty amo1ig the I~aliaps a1~d : _Gertnans. ': ~: · :· .: · : . " -' •·
, · Q. Have not the Bnghsh d1stmgmiihed themselves _m.thu:;_~al.Jt _
of literature ?
'
,
· · I . - - .. : , · · ·: >
A. , More so than almost ar:iy other nation; .and th~1r
most eminent writers of this cla_ss are, De Foe, Swift,_ · -- - ~­
Goldsmith1 Richardson; ' Fieldfog~- Smollett, Mi$_s Por_~ .
ter, Miss Edgeworth, , Sir ' Walter Scott, and _ Mrs.
Ellis,
.
. .. "
;-.! ·_. ·-, ·,-,,t:'" <( -, .1 ,.,.-~ n _,_,'
.. , . , r ,, . ., , / ~ . .

-.

.. . . .

, · . ; · : . · . .. r, ... ,. : ... . , ·;

_;' " _., · MORAL AND -L1TERARY .

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-: :JN~vels, in this - day~~- f1re · :m~ltipiyi~g : in~efl,nilely.
They ar~ made the velucle.s. of every dn:e~f?1ty. qf sen-'
timent · m philosophy, pol1t1cs, and rehg1on. : · Som,e _.
of them display ge!1ius 1 some wit, am~ some. r,1b~ldry. ,

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iNF.LUENCE - . ~F 'Novhs . . -. . .

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BLANK VERSE AND RHYME.

[PART Ill•

Some are remarkable for the high moral tone that
pervades them; some are negative in their character,
and others are positively infidel and licentious. Some
exhibit in their heroes the finest traits of humanity ;
others exalt the criminal to a hero, and endeavor to
render vice attractive. It is probable that there are
more pages of ephemeral novels published yearly~
throughout the civilized world, than of all other literary productions united. They are not only published,
but circulated and read ; read, too, by that very class
of persons who have no moral strength to resist their
vicious influence. The German press, since 1814, has
produced not less than five or six thousand new novels, for the most part bad in their influence, embracing several millions of volumes. French novels
· have been nearly as numerous, and more demoralizing. ,
·
I ,
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'
English novels have, in proportion to the issues of
the press, been as . numerous as in France or Germany.
·
In our own country, ·the facilities for cheap publication are manufacturing a flood of this species of
.literature, which is working out our destiny as a nation. Their influence can not be overlooked by the
statesman, moralist, or philosopher. The unwary may
imbibe the poison of vice or infidelity
for amusement.

~hen

looking only
·

[For an ample discussion of this subject, consult the Amer. Ilib. Repository, 1843.; also nn .article ii; the pemocratic Review, July, 1844; also
North American Review, April, l8Z., and for July, 1843

CHAPTER VII . .
OF BLANK VERSE AND RHYME.

Q. What do yoii understand by Blank Verse?
A. That poetry which depends upon measure alone,

without ariy correspondence of sound in the terminating syllables of different lines.
· Q. Can you give an example?
A. ·"These, as they change, Almighty Father, these
~ Are but the vatied God. The rolling year
,

Is run of thee: '. F~Hh .ili: tlie plJ~shtg 's '$g .:. 1.;·.t'.' .·,·y::
Thy beauty walks, thy.tenderness and love. :'·d ' :- .' ···
.'
, Wide, tlrtsh the fields; the softehirtg ait 'iA' baltfi\'\ ' ~ c;
:
Echo t~e mountains round; the forest sinlle~ ·" ~ /.. .
'
· AI?-d .e".~ry sense imd 'every .h eatt'is j9f.:".i1;'J' jr,:/1 . , : ' · · "
.. Q. Wh at d o' "·you, mean
' b.y RIiyme
' 1 .· ,, ' "....
, ,..,i, ,:+\'i'.:lr"
'[ h J·t,1 . .
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' A. Poetry)µ ,,which, besidesJhe measured·arrange- -

me1~t

, '
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of. the ·wq.rds, there' i~ ·a tecurtence:..of )siinilar
· sounds at the. end of certain lines; .~ ·'· ',,. -·:. i <;'":i!';1'H .1 r;:, · ·(

r:· Q •.:C1m :you ·exemplifythis1.
, , i-,,;:;-;-:-1 1; ~rf . .!-// > .
" A ..';u Order is Heaven's first law: and this cofifest; \,.~ '\ P·.) ' .H~i:{, .
, ; 1 ;n .:: .Sotne ~rejand mu~~ be; greater_
than the fest, .., ,. :•1,:-i•i;;~l
. ' 'More .rich, more Wl~e; but who infers from hti'nct, :,r'.,:.{t''
, . . 'fhat such are happier, shocks aUcomnion sen8e." . i n, ~ "
. Q, What do ·jbu'call t~o s~cces~i;e lines rhyming toget~er t .

·A. A couplet; while · three, under similar 1 circum.:..
stances, are called 'a'_triplet ;1.as1. · 1,n/. • . : , ·
,

n9

"Honor and ~ham~ from:
corldit,iotl riJ{•
'i. ; • ; •
. A.ct 'Y~llyoui: j>art, · th,~rEi. all 'the honor li;s."
,- '
~
J '}
! "• ' '" I , '
, ·;icr , , ~ f'
'
r ·
Four limpid
fountains
' . ' from the ~cliffs .di~till ,,· }. -·-" ' '. l .,. '
And ~Y~rYl..fi<?l\nt'l-~n,'p~mrs
a several nil, ·' , · ;:,, ~ ' "' i · , . . '
. 1" .Inmazyw1hrungswandering.downthehill· ·'' v" . ~)
,· : 1 • .. -Wheie'blOoms'. Witli'vivid green wer&'cfow{i1
cfl' .k ·. ·
'''
~ .· · . : ' .And :glchvirtg 'viol~ts cast their odors·rdund;i' l ):.~ ·1:fr)·; <
·,Q; Wh~i dq . you'~e.~n bf°tclp·~~r~ct;· rh~~s'f: ·; i iy :,i ;,-:.; , r,,;,;~,
"' ' ' ')" ..

1

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A. Rhymes _in which: the so.unds in ' c.ertahi 'sylhi,.;
bles .make merely an approach to e~ch ,other, ,but are;
not perfectly alik,e ; as, , 1 .. . , ,
_,
...- . : ::' ~, ; ,, ,
-".Shall only man be taken in the gross? . ·· <' , <; 1 \ 1 r1 '~ .
,"
'· Grant but as .many sorts of mind as moss."; "' ' ' I,,

'.•

Q. ·What do you m~an by double : rhymes ? · ' ;· · · . ·. .'. · · ·}' ' ·
A. Rhymes :wluch occur both in the middle and at: . "
t1b e~d of, the ~ame· yer.s~; as :well ~s in the final syl~: _:, - ·--~
la l~s of d1fferen~ verses ,, as, , . . <, ., " , , . •, '<' ,,. -.d: .
"You, bustling and justling, - ,
.~ .~ ~ ~ r -:..;:::
.

i.

Fo~get ea_ch grief and pain )'<
'_listless yet restless;

' '

,
·
. Find. every prospect vain."
,
:
Q. What tlo y~m uhderstand by the term stanza 1' . · 1:. \

. <. . .

A. A certa1Il':arrangement of :v erses 1,in which the,, .
rhymes .do ·IlOt take place .in· successive lines; but in" .·
sµch a~ · ~te plac_~d af some d~stance from eacn oth.e.r_;,:;:,
as, . \, ··-:"; . : :···· :i ' 1, . r .'.
. :~ ';;: ; ·',, : '~ <
· tJ~.\ /,~:;; /.·"~ .

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146

THE STRUCTURE OF VERSE.

[PART III.

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Q: Hdw d~ , a.certain number and \:ariety of: ey llables get· the
1
1
n_a1~ 0~~~~~s~;. it is: .cl~iefly ~y '.th~Gii·~~~·~s : th~t;;t,4~

"Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
The steep where Fame;s proud temple shines afar!
Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime
·
Hath felt the influence of malignant star
And waged with Fortune an eternal war'.
Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown
And Poverty's unconquerable b'ar,
'
In life's low vale remote hath pined alone
Then dropp'd iuto the grave, unpitied and unKnown !' ·
Q. What is the shortest stanza in our language?

l

I

A. That which consists of four lines or verses

.,
I

sometimes with only the second and fourth line~
forming a . rhyme, and sometimes with the first and
third also ; as,
"0 thou Great Being.! what thou art
Surpasses me to know;
·;
Yet sure I am, that known to thee
· Are all thy,works below."
"How smiling wakes the verdant year
Array'<l in velvet green;
'
How glad the circling fields appear
That bound the blooming scc11e !';
Q. What may be conceived as the origin of rhyme?

.

yoice steps, as it ·were, along the yerse, dividing, it
ihto· dis,tihct 'portions 1 which 'coh~titute· :W:h~~. js'. c;1lled
measure. '
· · · ' 1 " ' '. · · • •:'t!-.' l-'~.d1 \ 1 ltr 1r. ,lr:\r
Q. _Can you illustrate this by example 1 <'· : ,i_i ' "''- •,-:·h V /;:>
.' A ,. ''' " But .H,ope I can h~re- I her in?o?Hight viglils ke'ep', ~ ti;. ;.. ,

· .. /

. ; :' ., · ARd .smg I to charm l the spirl1t of I the . dE(ep.'~ ~''i° 1n:I.rA
. Q.· On what d.o these poetic feet depend 7·-. ' I ;' ,. : ,1 :,/):';~rkf

,.
·.'

·.A. ,:With us they depend principally upon accent;
among the ·G reeks and Romans, ·they · depen'de~ alto·
gether upon quantity,
rto ·
.. , • · - · -'. being
·· · , ··equal
I I ..._;.
·· · •one· longsyllable
twosh ortones. •~-· -. :·.,
.: .. ·, · . . . · ; -. - .
. Q: lh what respect, therefore, may all eyllables be viewe~ with
regard to poetry? . . '.. ··· ·: . ' I · · ·: ·, "; ;:-- : .' ..'·' '·' I') · 11: Hl ·; r

A. The pleasure which the ear feels in the recurr~nce

of similar soun?s; so that rhyme and alliterat10n, as well as poetry itself, have all a common origin.

. Q. Are rhyme and blank verse alike adapted to all sorts of sub1ects?
,

A. -Rhyme is best fitted for light and familiar sub-

jects ; blank verse ·for those which are of a graver and
more dignified character.

Q. Do blan~ verse and rhyme eq1~ally prevail in all languages ?

. A. No.; m Greek and Latm, rhyme is almost un·. k~own ; m French and It'.lli~n, ther~ is hardly such a
thn1g as blank verse; while 111 English, they are nearly alike prevalent. [See Montgomery on Poetry p
109-113.
'

' 'A'. -• Either as'lorig a11d short,"or as-.accented aJid ,un~ · .
" . ;·
. .•:'t-. u'; ·;.li.1 -·l~• ·.
accented: ' ·,_. · ·-,r .'"·'··
· .Q. Do accent and qu~ntity .ever coindde 1
· · .·
·
. ·. A. , They always 'do so. .wpen the accent falls upon a
vowel, which causes the syllable to.be long a~ .well.as
accented; as 'g rateful, polit¢., ; n:"· '' ,._
:, ' ''~ ' : '
Q. Ho,w many kinds ~flioeti6feet' a!~ _,th~re1 • , :.'
. ..
·A: •rwo: th9~e)~avi,J:?g l>µ,,t, ~WH-~Y}ifbles,_ a~d :t~ose
~,aQ.11i~~tr::e· ;th~ feet that ha-Ve ea~h· cinly 'twd 'syllables f ·, .\) ',
i ,i :·A. The Trpchee;'the Iambus; the ~pondee,·;a_nd~~~e '
Pyrrhic; '· ·. : " ,; _,,.., · .. .. .,, 1, · -;'.w!·11·. ,. 11.··· in: h

·

"<'.~

•! ' I . >· :,'"'i'
A . .The Dactyl, .the Amphibrach 1 the Anaprest, 1~nd
tlie"Tribrach: ' . --~ ' " : ·_.,' " ;·; · .-":· .,.. ..,. ,, " .. :r. • .. ·..

Q. What are those which have three each 1 :

,- '

: Q. Can you explain the feet consisting of two syllables each t .

·· A~ 'The troehee has the first syllable ac,ce~ted, -and

' the second unaccented j ' the iambus the first llnaccent·
' ed, and. the second accented\· the spondee;; both 'accented; and the pyrrhic, both' unaccented; · as, bold·
ness ; delight; pale suns; ori It. " : '. · ,":

.-

'··:f .

Q. Can you. explain the trisyllabic feet, or those Which have

OF THE STRUCTURE OF VERSE.

· Q . .On what does the Struct11re of Verse chiefly depend?

,

A. On a certain arrangement of words, or syllables

called poetic feet.

·· • , i ~

threeeyllablese'!ch? · "··

CHAPTER VIII.
'

1

·

'

:_

'.:

r, r

,. ,

.,;

. · A. The dactyl has the first syllable acc~nted, and ;"
· :the second and third unaccented; the amph1brach the
. first and third unaccented, and the second-'a·c cehted; )'. 3 '
. the. anap,rest ,t he, first :and second uhaccented,_,. a~~- ~he ·~
)

'

'

'

'

' '

J

.~~

· .->

I

,

148

VARIETIES OF VERSE.

,,ART ·tm)

(PART III.

, " Ye friends to triith, ye statesm~nf· who sii.rv,ey ,) . 1 ,~·
The rich miin'sJ'oys increase; the poor's,deca'/;'1 ., •.: J°~
, 'Tis yoiir~ to jii ge how wide the limlts__l1!~n
· ·, ':. 7
Between
a splendid
iind a hiiJ:ipy,liitid."
' 1 . " •. • ' · ·"-'':
~
~
.- J',1i.,i , jlJJ '-1\;,( ti .. f" I
~ \ '
Q. What1stb1s.Iast .spec1es called.1. ., ,; , ~ ,~!;•; , ·. , : ·

third accented ; and the tribrach the whole three unaccente~ ; as, regular; determine; countervail : measurable.
..
.

-_'!\ ·

· ; Q. Do these feet admit of any other division ?
· A. Yes; they are divided into those called princi-

pal, and those called secondary feet.

•

the Trochee, the Dactyl, and the
A~aprest: while the Spondee, the Pyrrhic, the Ainp~1brach, and the Tribrach, a!e _the secondary.
pr1~c1pal

feet?

,

A. Becau.s e that of them alqne, or, at least chiefly,
whole poems may be formed.
Q. Why are the others called secondary feet?

• I

Q. ' Does iambic verse never consist of more

Ia~bus,

: ·Q. Why are the former c.alled

"' •

'A. Heroic measure, aud 'is '. the ',inbst ) iommon species bf verse in the English language.:~· H.~~··-,1-· ...... :· . ;

·

Q. What are the principal feet?

A. The

,

'·

thlui fi,.e'l'eel.?9

..

. · A~ ..Occll$ionally it tak~s six, andis .,th~D.-H~µ,~q:'iq~Eit1
a.ndrme measur~ t~e c~ief u~e of .wh~ch. ,1 .~ i !~)~tV.,~if~i
r1ety. to th~ other spec1~s of iambic v.erse. ·!i .,,,rfV:r .I.)
. \ Q. When is the Alexandrme measure commonly mlroduced. t '\. ··
. · : A. : Chiefly at .t he Close,..ofa··po.em,') .~ p,l:\,J;.~g!ilP~.t:~r ·

a stanza, of:heroie,,measure ;' as, •.< ;, , · 1 ·, i 1 , ; r; ,(.~

· A· Because they never either wholly or chiefly form
whole poems, but are merely mixed with the other
feet, for the sake of varying the measure or movement
of the verse.

·~

01 1 f.')11~ri·

ic The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, , . .'. .. ·

·

('

..

~-

.

Rocks fall to dust,·. and moup.tains melt away! , ,
·
, .
, But fix'd his word;' his saving power remains; , ·,
Thy realm'fore'\·h lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!''
Q. What is done with iambic
'cbrlsisting of seven feet T

verse

A. It is divided into two Jines or ver&es, the one
contailling thr~e, the' other'four reb'f;· as, ~ :: : · ~; ; :, : ;
J.
. e . ii·..:,.,,. : 1 b .'·""~ fu
··, "'' cf~ '":-....- 1-f··i i: 'Jf,;~ . v ~-t Ui> ~i\l) ·~·1 : .~1· •
... " ""' 1 , .aws. y ,so e egreeo . o, . -'.:, " r ,:'· ''1' ~ ~ · ,
1

•. ''

CHAPTER IX.
.

.OF" 'VARIETIES OF VERSE.

Q. How are different kinds of verse denominated ?
~ccording t() the particular kind of feet

. 'fl.·

·

of which
it is c1t~er wholl:r or principally formed; as, Iambic,
J:'rocha1c, Dactylic, and Anaprestic verse.

; ' · Q. How many sorts of iambic verse are there ?

A. Chiefly four, according as it co~sists of two,
'
three, four, or five feet. ·

Q. Can you illustrate these different kinds of Iambic verse by
exrunplEls ·1
·
·'. A.. :I. "With riivished ears
, ..
; The monarch hears,
· Assiimes thO god,
· Xtrects to nod,
.
2. And seems to shake the spheres."
.3. " 'And now when biisy crowds riitife
I 2.' l To Uike th«3ir evening rest,
.
· ' 3. · The herinit trimm'd his little fire,.
2; .An.d cheer'd his pensive guesb..'..

r •

We ev'ty bli~s mi1st ''~iiln : ~ ~· ..;;n . ~:l'.\OU . . ~ '
The heart c.ah rie'er ·a trilnsp!>rt .kh&#p:rn.:~ .,111 ·ml

'.. · ,l:." • : .
' .

I

0

._

,,,

I

_.,. · · ·· "' ·<i That·neverknewapain.':'.; :-r ·.f1~ ,-~H '1 '• '1 "11n\I .r.i.:
. ' Q. What 1s the nexthlost ~ommon~ spe\:i(\s of ver~e- t ·~: r f .Ji';<n r

,, 4 : The An.apre.stie, ,whi.ch' m~y: eon$ist 9ftwo;tlll:e~

or.:fc).µr _feet; -.as,,' :"!; 1 " .:':·-'· •·'''' '.~".· I'·,.<}~- : _'ll\~[.j .LJ\! 11~.nJ
"1·i <:. ~ .
··~ --l · ··~- . ··:- - ~{'! 'i '. 1 f :_' j"'F):..dJ ~~~ · i;d ~Hla
. n my r~ge snall be seen .. i .. ~.;·,, ... , ...· · : :. ·~ 1 ·' ,., : ' '1
The rhenge Of a queen." ' ; > '· ' L~' ! ' . ·' ' ' i •.;4;i.: t1 . ' :.:
.4•
•
·
• ·
··~ · -- • :ri.· ,·,r.,: ::n!,/t . ~)
:'< , Not a pine Ill my gro~e is there .seeq., " .. , ~ ·'..11"'i' " .
· , But with tendrils Of ~oOdbineis bqii.rid; , '.' '' • . ·/ • .
Not a bP.ech is more beautiful green/' 1' «u1;_: .! :; ;':'·:~'iH~ 1 L ..
) .J·'

\,Jt'··

i,

.

1

1

•....

·' But·a:sweet-brier entwmesit ~roiind." ;i'· : u ·1h.r: •i . ;ui'11.:1
11.M:ay l'govem'in'Y passit>ns\vith absohite s\..t~K:
. · .And grow wiser ol'better as 'iife 'wearH'.wliy."'
F ,;k , . .
1
I~ a~aprestic .ver.se a bo~mon spe6ies of po:et~Y.7 "~ I " f ·:.-1 .

''. ;'..:., '

.

. Q.

" A : Pretty t:ommon for . short.. iW~n~s;·,'.~ilt:~·seldoirl ,
used in poems of.any length .. 1 • • '. "' ' 1 '; ,''''!l '.• ,11·H1:1 ,
Q. ls there much fii:\e trochaic and dactylic vereef :,'\'.' ! · · .t,.\ .

.. )

. ..

')

.

, A. : Very little;· for, though ofttin ' found' :'rtfixed. up .
'.W'ith iamJ.>iC, Qrjmaprestic verse, neiiher i1:1 ··~uch' used .. ' ·
't lf.. ' ..· .,.. . ....
.) ,. ' ' r
· " · '' ·L/'" '·':" .. t.:~/: ·
'·,·r"N
. ..2 .
., .,,,
..,·1
.;,·-v;:..bIV
_, l se.i .. .. . . . :. ·'
, ,, ...,.'. , ,-.,•_
';' t. ..iJ.-' 11·,. ),·:.
1

I

•\

..

·'

'\_· ·

·1"56

PA'it +lii:j-:-.·j \;i ·:. ' i:io~'i'rn;· li Aus.tsi;·i~. ,1:,ii> r ;._._ r. 15!. .

[rAR'r' nr.

POETIC PA USES~

coupl~ts 1

.

,,

.

·

.

1
· •

Q. Can you illustrate both of thes~ 1·... J ~ 1: -r~\ < 01"11~· ,,,,( ·
A "The time shall c~me', I wheii free, ·j 'as sea~ ·ot"Wind,' I .
. UnboundE!d 'l'hlimes I shall flow for all mlmki:hd.'' I ..
. Q. When are heroic verses generally most harmoniou!! 1 ,: · 0 '

•

·

•

A.: Scansion, or scanning, an exercise which tends

much to impro-ve one's skill anq taste in poetry.

''

".
',

OP POETIC PAUSES.

Q. What do.you mean by pauses as applied to poetry?'

A. Those rests of the voice which are necessary
for preserving the harmony.

Q. Does poetry, in reading, admit of any pauses which prose
would not?'
'

" A. Some say it, does; but it may be safely asserted,
that no pause should be · made in poetry that in the
.slightest degree interferes with the sense, or would
be altogether improper in prose.
.Q. What pt>etry is most harmonious
A. That which is so constructed as to admit of

pause,s at something Itke stated and regular distances
from each othet~ and m proper places of the verse.

· Q. Is it the poet, then, or the reader, that regulates the pauses?'
A. The poet · principal~y; for, if he. so c?nstructs
his verse as not to admit of pauses m their proper

places without injuring the sense, no skill in reading
be able to render it harmonious.
.

willQ. How many sorts of poetic pauses are there?

, .. A. 'f]NO : Final and C'<:fsural.
1~

Q..What do you mean by the I'inal pnuse?
· ·A. That which takes place at the close of the verse.,
or when the sense is complete. .
.·

.

..

.

'

· A. When so constructed · that the cresural pause
!;1~~fel.a~e imm~~i. ~t'.el~_. a:ftr:~ ~,h.~Jourth'. fifth, or:irh '.
·

Q. Can -yoti give any ·examples of this! •!·:;., r.'·.· \

·~ " .

.

.,.tt ," And henc.e the .c harm I' his.toric seen~$ impart ; .~ i r ,~i

'

" : ',' ..' · Jte~c;e . Ji~ber awefl,J ar,d. Ayq~ .rrelts 1tqe .l?-~~r~. ~ ; . ~,
· "Mark yon pld ;rµanston .I (rowi:ung th:ou~h the · tree~, ' i .1
Whose
.hollow' l turret
I woos the wh1stlmg breeze .
.
•
,
.I'
; ' " Remark each anxious ~oil, I each eager st~fe:, . .
'. ' '
. ' ' " ~ And .watch the busy .sc(;lnes I of.crowded life . . . : ; ' .. : r
, Q.' whe~ i~ 'the .ha~~~i1y .of v~t~e ,imp?irnd t :·: , ' · ; · ., .', ~ <~
I

, · CHAPTER X.

.

where the · sense· is incomplete, ·ahd f•whi~h · marks .a
mere suspension of .t he.voice for the !sake ,i>!;h~rmony:

·· A.' The first foot of the first verse is a trochee ;
white the third in the last verse is a pyhhic.
Q. What do you call the reducing of verses into their different
feet? "'

. :~'

~" 1 'fi,. :What dot you' me'a~ bj _thi!. C.U!iral pausl!.1u; trn "'! m . t
,
.. A. That which· takes place Ifi the (tmddle of: a :vers~

Q. Can yon give any examples of this admixture of feet of
which you speak '{
·
.
· A.
" Soon wonld the vine his woiinds deplore,
And yield its purple gifts no more.''
"She tells with what delight he stood
To trace his feati'1res ill the flood.''
Q. Can you explain the mixture of feet to be found in these

,

•

'

' ':

. A.,. When ~l].e p~s4ral1 p,a,1;1,sH; h11pp~ns ~~~r~r t,~e 1 bei, . .,.
g_inning ·than, t~~ . . .(crnr~.~~ 8.~ ~J.0ft,~t,er.i ~~~·1 ~1H-;~f~~y.,,t1~.~ .
sixth syllable_.. f· ,;,; ·,· 11;.. i11 1 i: ih~'l':i>.t' o;:J.~ ',~... ..- ~·,lr'' i~'·U :\>
. Q, . C!ln you ,g1ve 1an f:l.Xal?lp.J~li · :~~ r · u .: '< ~:j: : 'ld~ ·liw1: 1 . t·.' :" .
· A.
.

':'

1

. .·.

"~s o'er, th~ ,du$ky fumitlil'.e :~,_ b~11d,./, .· 1 ·< ·"; '.;;.rd. i;f ry

·Each chair J !\wakes the feelmgs:.of.~ {pe~d:. ,· :.•" ') •
.1 ·Q..Does aver'S e neyer admit of more Waf) one '·~~sµr~l pa~~~! ·
. A. It oft admits of two,
ev~P. :!11re~; as; ,,' ·· :!': ·; ,~
_ ''.But hope] can here I her m?o~li.ght vigils keep, r ~!l .1;:, ..
" . ·" • tAnd ·smg I td charlll-. the sp_m t j ·of th6 de.ep. 11, · ~· , \. . i. ,
·1 ,, Yes; I tiJ thy 'tongue I shall, seraph .w ords be giv~n. .. ~.-} ::
· And power I on earth I to plead the cause of Hea.reJ?.." 1; ! •i:
Q. Has great uniformity Of pauses a ·plP-asing effect? ,.,<·< i,

or

( .

I

;.

,

' A. · No; for though 'each df the verses, if the pal;lses
· ai:e judicjously placed, may N~ suflici'e'nU~ Jia,rt,nomou~ .
ih itself1 yet too much sam~ness BOi>;I1 ·tires, ·:or ey~n
disgusi_s_::: . -1.... , '. ;: : : .- .,·, ...... .1 ' .' ' w: : . .,., : ,.._.j, ,, '! ' '": r.)
.. Q. When, therefore; ·are,they.so plac'e_d J\S ~°: pr~9reJ~e. mo!'~
lasting pleasur!l,?

.

··

.

'

·' .

··: . ·: •. i ·

A. When they a,re most vaneo, ~spec1~llY1W1thm ·
that ·rarige of' position most f~vorapl~ te> '· th~: lmrrrwny .
of.e~ch:ver$e individ,uaUy1 l •:;; 11·. ·i'/.,:j i;_· ·!1:; ,;, _. .. ff~
Q Have ali the verses of any of the particular( sp,e~.a.J~f...i~·

try exactly the same number of syllaqles?

,

,

.~

·

. .: .·

°'

.
• 1• ' ...

; '

.

•;-"~

-=~:~-;~~~~;" ;'~-"'-~~:~~~~
"•.

'

'

152
'

' PART iu.j; ~mAo~r,e AND.' L!RIO POETRYli_, , ·

PASTORAL AND DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. [PART III•.
'

-

I

>.A.. What)s\~equisite
:Acute opservat10n and

A. By no means ; a verse may frequently, from the
admixture of different . feet, have either a syllable
mor~, or a syllable less, than the requisite number; as,
I.

fo_r the wijting' ?~ P.~~ctiptlye

Q.

,:153,'

: ' \:

poet~ T -~-~; ; ·

gr~at; v1v1dnes1;1

9f 1magi•
· nation', that. we may at once .bbserv~, '. ~nd ~. be able :t~f
delineate, the most striking ·foatrire$•.of; ap..:..,qbje,ct. or;.~1 ,
Jandscape .. :: ~ ;. ,,, "·-··i ,_.,, ~- ·1:,· 1 , ·_,~ ;- ;(1- 1 < 1·:-...~ i ' / , Q._:Can you: m~nt~o~ ~ny poem.t1?-at ~tanP,s 'v;e#, ~~~! !\i?-~-~~\'; .
·1·

"How fleet I is a glance I of the mind,
Compared I with the speed I Of Its flight ;
The temlpest itself I lags behind,
And the swift-lwinged iirlrows Of light."

1

1

1

,,

'

''

; ;,.

longmg to ,t he ,desC\lphve class? ;I ; , :. j

r ;. ·, ; ~,

,:

·:, ·,

·:r.

r.

A . . Thomson's Seasons, a 'York which abotmds w1tlt some of th_e most delightful deliqeati,oi1$;,bf rl,a~ur~~.~''.~ 1 ·

,. Q. In ;What light may we view ,poetry in \Vpicli P~'!lt. ev13nts.
~e
described? -,·'. , : · '-, .
, '. · · ·, .' ·, ·' · '; : '.' -·' r '1 ·, · r, , .

CHAPTER XI.

· ·A·\A-s .a

Q. What is the nature of Pastoral Poetry? '

A. It is that poetry in which the scenes and objects
of rural life are celebrated or described.
· ·

Q. . Can you mention.any _poetry of this class? . .

Q. Whence does the great charm of pastoral poetry anse?

A. From the tranquil scenes; and pictures of simple innocence, which it sets before the reader.
. Q. Into what error are writers of pastorals apt to fall?

A. That of making the actors, in their different
scenes, either too gross or too refined.

Q. Is not all poetfy, to a certain extent, descriptive?
A. Most poetry abounds in descriptions, and is so

far entitled to the appellation; while no poetry is altogether descriptive without possessing some other,
characteristics ; and, therefore, the term is applied to
such poetry only as . has .descriptipn for its chief object. ·
.· ·.
, · ··
·
Q. What is the chief excellence of descriptive poetry 1

A.· Its' possessing the power of exciting in the mind
of the reader a correct and vivid picture of the object
1
·
described.

·· \ ·

but partfoulatlf lits ,' Lady ~(the~ L_ake, 'his Marmion; ·
and his Lord.of ,the Jsle~ J; ' '/ '/ '. ': ;''.'. )' ·.:' • · · ' ,. ; ' .
.· Q..Are not oasiqr~l p'oetcy.Jtid d~'script~ve very ~uch aruea_to
each other?""t; '·' · . .,,)"',·: 1'c'- :" 1,'.'i \. '(.. v.:. '.\I. ,.;;.,_ .1 :1 'i (..!' \ '..''l ... .,J_•'Vi !

•.

.!

,,,,'A. 'Tttefar'e·bertainl}''~logely ; cop0;e~ted ; · ~lit P,a~.f.

•

toral po€;ltty· is a · display .of·'rtiral· l1.fe ·:·and · manners·;

_-_.

. - ..

dcsqriptiv~ poe,try;~ :c,W.~~r::~::.'iJ~c.~~fEf ~?f inanirnate.~ ~b-·

jects; thpugh · ne_Ither . Is ,exclusrvely. cohfined· to ·its, , ·, (
own· ptovince'. -l(See 'MqtttgiiJ?i.ery·~··.necttir~~; i_ p.--157.;.;. ~ r

l67)
•

.. •

•

1 '

,\

:·

{' _

'

', •

'

' . ··\ •'" .. ~--\ \\,•
.. ..
~·

,r --,

'

•

'

'

' '

"

•:

' ~'

\ . _.-...

'

..

.;

I·.
~

.'

· ''.".·· .

, .t_:~>·I\ · ~

.

•

'

' .

t

, ; - ._; .· :
(' ~4 •
-

.

··

'·"i' ' .1."·"
~

!\• .

- •

. f: .

Q. What do you understand by Descriptive Poetry?

· A. Poetry, the professed ·object of which is to give
a correct delineation of objects, whether natural or
artificial. · .' · •
· ·· ·

,J

' A. The most '. ·o f Sir" Walter Scott's is of-this sort,

.· Q. What is the strict meaning of t~e word pastoral 1

A. As corning from the Latm word pastor, a shepherd, in strictness of meaning, it implies only what· is
connected with the care of sheep; but it is generally
taken in a wider sense, to denote every thing connected with country life and o~cupation.
'
.

--

~pe9_ies of ~.escrip_tive'. p_oetryJ and, whe~
well executed, It po,s sesses great power both of fa~~
cinating and pleasing.the mind. ,' · .' ., ..•
, : <t_'·:::;

OF PASTORAL AND DESCRIPTIVE POETRY.

.'

' I

·'~<.-

•

•

~ '~

·ii -:; ~~ , ~~ .

::<_· · CHAPTE~ · x#~ '\:··_ :; ; ~: ::;. !'··: j,.
1

. ·'",

.,.

, ',

OF

DIDACTIC AND .LYRIC POETl\Y. i :i-_:-

I

,

, '

'·

•

!.

'j

(' : .

-

.-, : 0"

:..

· '· Q." What _do you mean by Didactic 1P,oetry l

.. ; ,

;

1

' ,• I '

1 ' , -~·'•'< ¥
~ ,~

,

. .· . ~- .

:' ·, .,

.l'

:

'.'

,

--._

,.
'

,

.- ~

: A. Poet~y e1pplQyed . fo~ , the , purpose ·_of teachiog
. some particular art · o,r science, or oth~r : .btanch pf
'knowledge, _whe~her ~oral or intellectu;il. ,,, .. ,;:, /, - - ~·-·.. '

· . '. Q. l!qlu1:1 a pleasmg,veh~cie. of know,ledg~ ?,

1 1-

. : ; A ;,·If well executed_, tJwre_ can. be but

' !' L '

,on~

· • : , " .. , ,

opmiort

,~s ·t<r its iple~santness, but. it. ip~yj ~;e, d,~ub~ed ;"'li.e.th~r ,

it.beo always
a safe mode of acqumng accurate
infor- .
'
·o •
\ ,
ma t 1011.
" ·· . : .. f:. · ,. · · ,
.
1 , ... , ,,
..
, ,, ; :
1:·
' I

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~

•

(

,

;

'

, 1

•

•,

f'

',\ ' '. .,

'

I ',

~"

•>

~ •. , •

Q. What •rii" its .clii~f ad~antages 1 · ' : . -~ · 1 '
:
"
/ • ·. ·:; •
, · . •
A ; It at onc_e ,, ~leases the fancy and assists ).!he. · · ·. ·. . ,.
._._,.,.,
. .

'"' . ·

\

·•
i'

.

I:

. · .II . ~ .

./

'

,/

'.;

:
'·

·· ,

154

. i~fiJ\-.1'~ _g~t) ,- P,IIJA€TIC J4?4D. " ~-~.RI(l tfOET~Y.
: :1£
4.;.~~e- word is from ·th_e·Ita,lian, at1cf1i~e.rally meahs

III~

DIDACTIC AND LYRIC POETRY. [rART

memory ; and an obvious truth may ?ften be expres~­
ed with. greater brevity and force m verse than m
prose.
'
.·
. '.
.

;a ·little. song; ·but; as usually etnployed;;it signifies a
,short poe!It, ·co_nsi.sti11g generally '.'oC:'fo'u deen foies,
~r~ang~d Hl)l. part1c~la~ manner, and: ·e~ding i.n some
.P9~1lt~d; thought 51r sentiment.
.., ._':( :",···'. . '-' :. : ~" ' >
~ · ·: :
,,
'
.
.
'
. ,
/' · !-.) ! . ~'. 1 11 ...·.. ~\~ i {~ . ~~~
, SBCTION II. · -·;... _, . .
,, .
t
....

Q. What (to you conceive t? be its chsa<lv.antag:s ! .
. •
A. By taking possess10n of the 1magmat10n, it is

apt to mislead the judgment, and make. us re.ady .to
acquiesce in what is said by the poet, without rnqmring into its truth,. .
.
.
_ _
1
Q. Can you ment1011 ariy poems of the,, dnlact.1c clas~

• •

•

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Q. What, then, does a poet mean when he speaks of smgmg or

tuning his lyre?

A. Simply the writin~ of poetry ; . and he uses these
expressions in a figurative !nanner, m re[erence to the
inseparable connection which once subsisted between
poetry and music.
.
·

·:·-~
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·.· - · '-~,- -~-~

·:,
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. ., · When Sprrng, with dewy fingers cold,>'. . .
· Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, ·
She there shall, dress a sweeter sod .,.' i
. · Than .F.a ncy's, feet have eyer trod.
" ,.
By fairy bands their knell is tung, · ·
. Dy forms unseen their dirge is sung';
· There. Honor.comes, a pilgrim gray, _ "
·' To bless the turf that wraps their clay; '
:,And Freedom shall a while repair . ·
·
To dwe.ll, a weeping hermit there,"'-CoLLINS.

among the ancients ; and hence the lyre is generally
an emblem of all poetry.
. ,
,

··,~:;

• ,·

~Hd ~EL1.'n(;HE R~BELLION°0/1745;

:';~, With aU; tl.1eir 'country'~· wi~bes , bless'd .

· '

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. P9~try is the shqrt-hand .of th9ught. , This is evident from the
quantity of thought COIJ.taihed. in the .few lines that follow· '' . ·
0
TO
JF: THOSF.:'
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,: . "Iiow· ~te~p t.he--br~ve · ,~ho si~k tJ ~est ·1 · : ·
·

positions were originally accompamed with music,
either vocal or instrumental.
A.. From the lyre, an important musical. instrmrtent

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A gain, what a quantity of thought is here 6on<lehse<l in the
- ::,:1
cotnp~ss. of twelve lin.e~, like a cluster ofrock-crystals, sparkling
<~
a_nd disTtmhct, yet recehlVing and reflecting lustre by their combina_:;~
hon .. ·
e stariza_s t etnselves are almost unrivaled in the assoc~atio~ .of poetry. wit.h ~ict~re, pathos ;with, fanGy, grandeur \vi th
: ~·~
s1mphcity~ l!-nd romance with re.ality. , The melody of the verse
_ '.-~~
leav.es notnmg/orthe ear. t.o.des1re, except a c.on,tinuance· C?f the
-·-.·
stra1~, .or, ,rather, .t he repet.1t10n of. a stram, which can not tire by
' ',Ii
repehtH?~,/ - The .ima_gery i,s of the most delicate .and .exquisite
·
char~ctther,, Spnng clheckmg the turfy sod, ,Fancy's , feet trending ·
· - ~'
upo~ · . e . ower~ ~ ere, fairy ha~ds ringtng the knell, unseen
· ·"·
· · :.. ;£;
forms. smgmg th!) dirge of the glor10us dead · but above all and ,
neve~ to ~e surpassed .in picture_sque and 'imaginative be~uty, •
, ' -~~
H~~~·'' ~~ .'.n. ~ld .Ond. hmk<n •oldie<, coming on a (" 1,ng,«••ge '. ,::,_:~~

Q. What do you understand by a song?
. A. A short poem in regular stanzas, and fitted for

,,

Q. What is the nature of the ode ?
. .
A. A poem somewhat irregular m ~ts stn~cture, and
which may or may IH?t be set. to mu~w ; ~emg ~enc.r­
ally a short but fervid flow. of ge111~1s, displarm~, rn

1

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:numated strains, all the variQus pass10ns and ieehngs
of the human heart. ·
·
·
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, · ~ "The _wretch., concl~nnn'dwith life' t~ pari; ,_ , ' · .'.;_':~~.'.
·. _ Still, still on hope relies,
' :
, . , , . And every pang that rends his heart
\ -: \• : . . Bids expectation rise. , ·
1
'; · '
. '• ·. ·· ,Hope, ' like the .glimrhei_-ing taper's light,·
, ,. , ·• ' . ; ., .< Ado~ns nnd .cheers his way,
: · . · / · ..
~·: ,·
;.'. , ,:,. ..,/ ,.,f ).' ;Ands~ill·,as~nrker. growsthenight;
,
·, · ·•1' ·
· ,
Emits a brighter ray." 1 , ',
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;·'

Q. From what is the word lyric derived?

,,

t .:; .

· · ' ''

A. No: for, in ancie nt t.1mes, it might be said to
include poetry of all descriptions, as .all p~etic co~-.

being set to music and sung.

• •

.' ' ·. , EX.A MP.LES . OF ENGLISH LYRICS. ·• :·,: -. ;.~ ~: ,., .·

.. ;The ' first·is a.s~all on~; but, as Montgomery. says/ it grows
. (hke . the taper m the second stanza) ·clearer and briO-htet
the
0
' more it '_is contemplated. It destribes a captive under Serttence
of death; and is writt~n by Goldsmith: ·,,' . .

•

- A. All poetry intended to be set, or that might be
·set to music, including chiefly songs and odes,.
.
Q. Was its meaning ah".ays so.confine~]?

,I

.

A. Virgil's Georgics, Pope's Essay on Cnttc1sm,
Armstrong's Poem oil' Hea~th, and some of _Cowper:s
poems, are among . the_best and most popular of tlus
class.
·'
·.
.
Q. What is to be understood by Lyric Poetry?

;. • •

,Q. Who 'a re our principal writers of odes?

A. Dryde11; Pope, Collins, Gray, and Warton.

Q. What do you mean by sotmet?

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"156

DIDACTIC AND LYRIC POETRY. [PART III.

to visit the shr~ne where his companions in arms are laid to rest;
and Fr~edom, m whose cause they fought and fell-leaving the
~ountains ai:d fields, the J1amlets and the unwallcd cities of
Engl~nd, delivered by their valor-hastenin~ to the spot, and
dwelling. (but only .for "a while") "n weepmg hermit there."
'.fhe sentiment" too, ls profound: "llow sleep the brave!" Theri
lil that lovely hne,
·
'
"With all their country's wishes bless'd!"

is. implied e.very circumstance of loss and lamentation, of solemnity at the mterment, and posthumous homage to their memory
by the threefold. personages of the scene, living, shallowy, and
P!eter~a.tural,~em.gs: As for t~ought, he who can hear this little
dnge sung, as I~ 1~, ~y th~ "unseen form" of the author him~
self, who can not drn Ih it-without having thoughts "as thick as
motes that peo~le th~ sunb~ams,'' thronging thro~gh his mind,
must have a b~am as 1IDperv10us to the former as the umbrage of
a. South Amencan forest to the latter. There are in its associat_1<?ns ofwa'., peace, glory, s.uffering, life, death, immortality, which
m~ght fu'.ms~ food for a midsummer-day's meditation, and a midwinter mght s. dream afterward, could June and December be
made to meet m a poet's revery.
FROM THE EXEQUY ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED WIFE

By Henry King, bishop of Chichester; born 1591, died 1669.
'

"Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bod
Never to be disquieted:
'
My last 'good-night!' thou wilt not wake
Till [ thy fate shall overtake ·
Till age, or grief, or sicknes~; must
Marry my body to that <lust
It so much loves, and fill tho room
My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Stay for me there ; I will not fail
To meet thee in that hollow vale •
Artd think not much of my delay '
I am alreadv on the way
'
And. follow 'thee with all' the speed
Desire can make, or sorrow breed.
Each minute is a short degree
And .every hou1 a step toward 'thee I
At mght, when I hetake to rest,
Ne~t morn I rise nearer my West
Of hfe, almost by eight hours' sail,
Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale."

1

·

What,~," last good-night!" is this! and oh! what a one "goodmorrow . to ll!-st for etermty•. when such partners awake from
the same bed, m the resurrection of the just ! Is there the "man
born of a woman,~' who has loved a woman, and lost whom he
loved, and. larr1:e!1ted whom he has lost, that will not fee l in the
depth o( h1si spult all the tenderness and truth of these old-fashione~ couplets . I d~re not offer a comment upon them, Jest J should
disturb the sanctity of repose which they are calcu!:tteJ to inspire.

Nature speaks all languages; and no style is too quaint cir pe•
dantic, in which she n:uiy riot utter heart,simtin'l.ents in terms that
Cat:) not be misunderstohd, or,· Urid~rstood, be reili11ted.' ", . .
Dryden's "Alexan~er·'s· Feast" is undoubtedly the lyric master• ·
piece of English pqetry 1 i.t\..rcepect to versifica~~?llJ . Ei?templif)'.ing,
' as it does, all.the capablhhes of our languaget)Il th~ . use of iam·
bicS',' troche~s; iltuiprests,' dactyls, and sponde~s·:; '' The · metres
fo :this composition are so varying, arid yet : so' ·consonant...:....so
harmoniou~ and i so :contrasted-:they . implicate . and 1disentangle
0gajn so naturally, so necessarily almost, that I kno~ ,not to what
they can b~tter b~ c~mpared tli~n to a gro~p .of you~g liors at
tilay.,.-meetmg, mmghng,. separatmg-pursumg, attackmg, re.pel·
'· lihg:....:.changing att'itude, 11ction,.motion1 every instant-:-all fir~,
force; : arid flex'ibility-exuberant i,n spirits, yet wasting none;
while ~he poet.' like t)10 sire, couched and looking ori, .~ay be pr~· .
· sumed with his eye to have ruled every turn and cns1s of their
· game:.. · He . sincrs, indeed; the "triumph of music; • but- his poetry
triumphs ·over.hi.a .subject, and, he msinuate!l .as muchj · It w,as
less "the 1.hea.thing fhite and sounding lyre" of Timotheus than
.the living voice, the changing themes, the language of ligh~ ' and
power of the bard, ",that won the cause.".' :A single. section-w~Jl
3ustify •this 'Praise J the !Ileasures,: it ·V.:iH be ·_obs~rved, chang~ m .
every couplet: ; therR ·are scarc,e tyw Imes. ahke:m accentuation,
yet the whole seems as spontaneous as .the ·ones .of alarpi ,a~d
co~st~rpation excited, by._ ~,he . J:i~cl:P,anal 'cirgi,eii_;~e~cri~ed; ':.~.:; .. .

,:<'. :; (:

!l'oi<len Jyie again,
:j,·,-\·:: ·~'. . ·"
A louder yet; and {et a louder stratn; . -. ,;.11 _,. ··.,, '.·.'.• -. ···'. ·,· ,-,',>," ,'
,... ·'i Break
hi~··ba.rlus · o l!leep asurtder, ·"'.' ,i,·
And rouse him like a rattling P!lal o.f thunder.
.-1 .·;'.' . '.·
Hark! .h!'-rk ! the .horrid sound, ·J ~.' \ . t:: ".' . ' . , • '"
, .Ha! raised up his .head,. ·· • · . , . . .,. -...
'' ' A8 awaUed from the dead; ·' " '
' : ·
.And amazed he ·stares around,
· ,,
· ' · .,_..
: Revenge! revenge! Timotheus crie~' ; '
..S ee the furies arise ;
. ,
·· see the snakes that they rear, · '
How they hiss in the air, .
And the ·sparkles that flash ·from their eyeg; ·
, · . Behold the gha,s tly band, :
• · .. ·
.:
Each a torch m his hand !
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle are 1lain1
. And llnbu.ried remain,
·
.' ., ·
.~
. Inglorious on the plain I '
....
'- .. Give the vengeance du.e
· To the valiant crew ! c;
· · · ' ·, ',':' Beh~ld how they tos~ their torche~ on high~ ': ." '
! : ~ . : ' ••
How 'tbP.y point to the POO"sfan abodes ~
'." '
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.'·'. And, glitt~ri,ng tP..ipples _oft he h?etile gods! '. , 1 , •
,'. :'·~ ·
·. The princes applaud with a fUhous Joy,
, '·
.
·. And the king seized a tlatnbeau, with. zeal to desiroy .1 >•ff:.
- !' ":,; . > 1";.;' Thais-led. theway,
· · : .~ .... .· · "· •. . ,_ , /
... ·
·. "· To light-him to his 'prey,
"
·
, , " .(:1.:. ·; ;...
.
'And,·.like ,aiiother Helen, /ired 11nothet Tro7.", j ; ·••. '. L ,
1 - .. ' .
.· , ; ;. ·:, ,
1

'f •N6'1f strike the

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158

EPIC POETRY.

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DllAMATIC:· roETRY. , --

(PART III.-

'

CHAPTER Xlll.
0 F

EPIC

: Q. How should an epic poem be arran~ed? " · · ·· -· •

P 0 ET RY.

1•

A. vVith such order and regularity; that alhl the pa:i:_ts
may have a close dependence upon each ot ~~: _ri

etic compositions, and, if well executed, is regarded
as one of the noblest displays of poetic, if not even of
human genius.

-ahd never stooping to what is mean or trivial. _,_ .,·. __

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Q. ·What ought the sentiments and langu~ge to ?e? - · -'. ' · _ ,
A. Lofty arid dignified, alw.ays movmg ~1\h maJ~sty,

Q. What must be the character of the style? . ·

Q. What is its peculiar object?
A. To describe some great and important action or

1 .!

• · ;·· . ·

: 11 • . If may, in point of ornament, a~rl11t 01 e~ery variety of w~ich composition i.s s_uscept1bl~; but .1ts}e_ad~
ing feature ought to be subhqi1_ty. _ , · · · _:· }· ·

event, for the purpose of making it subservient to
moral instruction.
1

; · Q. Have there bee,n m3:ny gre:;it

~pie

·

poems produced? . . .

. · A :"Very few, compar~d with the number ?f _excellent productions in almost every oth~~ descnpt10n .of ;
poetry :· · · ~ - ·- · ·
·
, \, -

.n

every poem of this sort, there is a leading character
called the hero.
·
Q. Why is he so named ?
A. Because the whole course of the action, and
train of the events, are made to turn upon the manner
in which he performs his part.

· Q. Can you mention the principal? J T

·

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_)~

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· -A:- The Iliad .arid Odyssey of.-ttorner, the JEne1d of
Vi;gil; 't he ~Jeh1~ale~ D~!i"~?~e.? :~E.Tas~,~ \an~y1~ P~~~·
ad1se Lost of ,M1.ltpn. ~ · , . : :_· ~--· -,'. •,
.>
'.:

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-·: · "

'- ·h

, · _:·.~-;~
_,

•

Q. Can you menhoti the SUbJ!lCt~ of, ~ach _of ~hese? . ' . ', -'.
· : A/,The ' subject ' of the 1lhad'. ~s : th~ ·· destruct1o_n of ,

Q. What name does the plan of such a work commonly receive?
A. It is commonly called the plot, which denotes

Troy t M the Odysseyi_the wandering~ of Ulysses; of ·
the .IEneid, the settlement of .IErn~as 1p. Italy ; of the .
Jerusalem its deliverance from , Mussulman oppre~- sion · and 'or Paradise Lost, the fall of man from ~1s
prim hive state of innocence, and cons~quent expul~1on
from the gar_d.e1~ of E~en. , ; i.
·· ·

the arranging of all the various parts into a regular
whole.
Q. And in what manner is the plot carried on?
A. Partly by the descriptions and details which the

poet himself makes; and partly by the introduction
of actors, who have all their different parts to perform.

.

Q. What is this selecting and arranging of the different parts
called?

A. It is usually styled the machinery, which denotes

.

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OF "DRAMATIC ' POETRY.

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an~ ,

· A. Poetry founded. upon a re.gular plot or stor!,
fitted to be represented by actio_n on the stage. ,.
_Q. In what _does it differ from epic p~etry?

'i)

..·-·
·_./:
'·~.·

','
~;-"

_:·;._,
c

, ·' A .'_111 its contaihing no nartat1ve oh the par~ _ of toe _
po.et; being ,au- ~poken o.r pe~formed by ._ t~e ulfferent -

--, _

" ~;

. ,

- :<,·~
actors' or characters who aro mtroduceJ. .
• ..
.,,o:i
. ·- Q: What is the greatest excellence .of dramatic poetry 1 · . ' _ ,
.-;
1
'. A.t" Jts bEiil1g in accordance with na~µre, .an? JI1aku~g ~. 1 , , -~,':-~
a neat approach, to -tqe char~cter of real hfe. - ' ' - -'.:~ '.' • _- ' J - /~.
I

.

<

i~ ' ._: ~;

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Q. What do you unclerstan.d by Dramatic Poetry 1

Q. Does he begin and give a regular account of the whole trans·
action from the commencement ·1

'~.

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the means adopted by the poet for carrying his plot to
- 1''

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. '-_ - : CHAPTER,.XIV. _

a conclusion.

A. No; he generally begins in the middle, but at
some important part of the narrative; and, afte r describing the state of things as then existing, he introduces different actors to explain what had led to such
events.
<J,. What name is given to those parts which are introduced as
if for mere ~mbP.!Iishrnent 1
A. They are called episodes, which mean separate

1
:c:ra
"

Q. What rank does the Epic hold in poetry?
A. It generally occupies the first place among po·

Q. What other name does it often receive?
A. It is frequently styled heroic poetry, because,

..,_

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inciderits or stories, having an. i,ntimate;. though hot a '
nec¢ssary conbectit?n with the main _a,?t•?n: " ' - , > _.

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160

DRAMATIC POETRY.

[PART III.

Q. What, thf'n, are the chief objects of dramatic poetry?

A. Men and manners, with an exhibition of all the
various passions, viftues, and vices incident to human
nature

I

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Q. \\'bat are the passions which they chiefly awaken?

A. Terror, pity, and indignation, are the passions
chiefly excited by tragedy; ridicule and contempt,
those principally produced by comedy.

Q. What knowledge would the dramatic writer require particularly to possess ?
.
.

. A. An intimate acquaintance with life and character, as well as with all the different movements . and
operations of the human heart.
·

Q. What must be the style of dramatic poE>try?
A. Its style must depend altogether upon the na-

ture of the subject, and the character of the different
actors. '
Q. Who may be regarded as the best dramatic writer?
A. He who best displays the workings and effects
of h11man passion, and gives to every .c haracter the
great ~ st distinctness and personality.
Q. fo tragedy a very common species of composition?

A. Very much so ; it prevailed greatly amo11g the
Greeks and the Romans, and has since found a place
in the literature of every nation in Europe .
Q. Can you mention any of the most distinguished ancient dramatic writers?
,

I
I

A. Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes, among
the Greeks; and Plautus and Terence, among the Romans .

Q. Who are among the most eminent of modern dramatic writers?
·
·

A. RaCinc and, Moliere among the French; and
Shakspeare, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher, Dryden, Otway, and Congreve, among the English; with
a few German, Italian, and Spanish names of c01~sid·

.. .

...., ·.'. . .

G, .

A. Chiefly two-Tragedy and Comedy.

passions, virtues; vices, successes, and distresses of
mankind; comedy, on their whims, fancies, humors,
vagaries, foibles, and follies.

· 1a1

ETO.'·: ·

HYMNS, '.' ELEGY, -

erable celebrity.:.......(See M,n~nlgomer'§'s Lecfures, p : -14~, .
150 l5L) ! _(. .\., · .' -'-·:·:' '.'.'·'':' . ··((<c; ,1~· ,~ · : · , · ·
.

Q. How many sorts of dramatic poetry are there ?

Q. What constitutes the difference between these?
A. Tragedy is founded principally upon the loftier

rn;]

, PART

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·;~ ;·;1 _: ·,~;c ·_'.

CHAPTER . XV
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ETC'.·,'. _·;::.':·i· · .'.. ,,-,

OF HYMNS, ELEGY;

Q. What do you understand by a Hymn?· .:· -~· - ,·
A. ,' A religidus poem, fit for being set to mµsic and
~ung, for the purpose of awakening devotional feelings. ·
· Q. C~!,l ,YOll m~~tion some pf thE;J," most,distinguished writers of

hymns?
·1

, ·1

·

l·

-·

.-·:

.1,

• •

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· ·.

>\I

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:A:' Watts; Pope! Addison, Logan; Cowper.: Montgdm>

ery, Edmeston; '_Vlth a}~ost a~.l our mo.st distingu,i!3h_ed
modern poets. ·· .
·, , · , . ., ·
-• _.. , · . . · .- 1 · - ~ •. '·
. Q. What is an Elecrf?· l ' ~' ' . ·
· :'A : A sh.ort ·patheti.c po.e m,.ih

., · . . ".:

-.:., , "' 1f

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coni~~m6ration of the
dead, :. though -it ofteff assumes a different character
arid is applied .to any plaintlve_ subject.'.;_ (Se~ Part VI.'.

sec vii)

... . _, (

.?·:·· i[:t,•-:-i :,.1.

F f',t,. ~

, f~; · : ·:.,li r~J~ ,,, '

1-'i "•"·\ tt< ,<I

·.· r.;{ Ca~ · you 'give 1af:i ~~ample :ofatj ,eleg~ i -,;.~:~, j- -'.'r~' ·~ ·. i ::·

~· A S J'he foflo\v,i ng ~~.s ' an · iro_!lical elegyj ~rOJiith(rpen ·
of Goldsm1t_h, ~~~.,~1.sco,v~!s m?r~~ \Yit ~t~ari-.pathos :·\ )_ .
. , _\ .... r_..· :' AN. ELEGY · ·· : .:": :-:•; 1 '.· "~ 1 ( 1 1 ·· · 1 :').
·: . ; 1 :
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·• ~J ,,~ . . I
. ,_ , · : · ' . .,, "':' J.. 1
oN i'HEi aLoRv , oP. ii&R sEx,'. ·MRs: '. :MA.lti ,' hA'izE- ,,~ .'\ · : ·
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Good people all, wi.th one accord; :. ': . \ ·; ·' ~ ' 1 \:'./~·
J.;ament ·for l\iadame Blaize; .· ~-- .,, ~ .1 ; ::.;,,: · Who never wanted a good word- :.'• ·.). :·.:\ i .
From those who spoke her praise
· ·
.. · , · ·The needy seldom pass'<'- J.ie~ door,. ·. ;, . ...
'\
,
:J· ', , And always fourfd her kmd; ,....,1 ' ·'' '·'
· She freely lent to all the poor....:
, . • • ••.- >·;'. '! ··~;.:: ·
WM left a pledge behind.
i'
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She strove the neighborhood to please ,1 ' • .
. , . With ~anners Won~'rous winning· ' ' : 'i::
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: · · And·never follow'd wicked Ways-~•
> ·1·-~ t . ~- ..
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Uule:;is when she was sinning: .
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At church in silks and satins new .. ... ·
'·
.: Witl1 hoop of monstrous size, ·' '· 'Y· , '" .. :, .•. ' ; .
$he never slumber'd in her pew'
'\ .,
) ' But whe~ she shut her eyes, · ·· · · ,. \
. \· Her)o".e was eought, ·r do aver, ··
.• - : 1
_· By t~ehty beaux and more;
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., . · The krng hunself has follow'd her_: , ' ,
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.:· ·~ - '' : : W~n she h!\s .walk'd before; , · '
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HYMNS, ELEGY, ETC.

LrART m.

Bot now, her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short ·all ;
The doctors found, when she was deadHer last disonler mortal.
Let us lament in sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say1
That had she lived a twelvemonth moreShe had not died to-day.

Q. Wbat is a Satire 1
A. '.A species of writing, not entirely, though chiefly,

confined to poetry, and intended to correct the vices
and follies of mankind, by holding them up to laughter
and ridicule. · .
Q. Can you name arty poetical .satirists of note ?
A. Horace, Juvenal, · and Persius, among the Ro-

mans; with Dryden; Pope, Young, Churchill, and WalCQt, among the British, ar.e all famous for this description of wr.i ting. ·
..

Q. What do you mean by an Epigram?
A. A short, witty poem, contaimng some peculiar

conceit or point of humor, usually expressed in the
concluding lines.
·

Q. Can you give an example of an epigram ? ·
·A. The following lines from ·wordsworth may

serve as a specimel}: '
" Swans sing before they die-'-'twere no bad thing
Did certain persons die before they sing."
Q. What do you mean by an Epitaph? ·'

A. An inscl'iption upoh a tombstone, or some public building, written sometimes in verse, sometimes
in prose 1
·
Q. Can you give an example of an epitaph?

'A. Thomas Gray has produced one that is deservedly admired.

We quote it, though familiar:

" Here rests his head upon tlie lap of earth,
A youth to fortune and to fame unknown;
Fair Science frown'd not on his h,umble birth,
And .Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
Heaven did a recompense as largely semi:
He gave to misery all he had, a tea1 ;
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend,

PART nt.J
"'

No farther seek his fnerit!htb disdose;i.f{l ,' ·!i<;i M"!:: ':'.'.1f;\> ;:~'
. ~ _ Or draw' his frailties from their dfea,q. nJlode :1; i~· :,': , .i ;·~~ \
(There they alike in tremblirig hope repose), ,..' 1;: 1·1•1 , ;·... 1,,_: !
fh' F th" · dhi G dH . ,., ' " '' '· ... .
."
Th e b ~s,
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BY : COWPF;R. '

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"Here Johnson lies-~ sage·by all ailow'd; :>r·: ",\ 1~ d:;'i.1~;~~ ;·tr
Whom to have bred may well make England'pr0 u ; ;•, .<t._ ,
. Whose prose :-vas. elpquel).ce, b:Y' wisdom ta~g.b,t, -;!.;.~,,_ ,. ,:: :;i
The graceful vehicle of virtuous thought: 1; ·., ·: 1 . .. '
Whose verse may claim_:_grave,' masculine; and ~trpng- "
Superior praise to the mere poet's so.n g; · ' · . '. ·. ~;,;.. :. ·.
Who ~any a noble sight from Heavi:m poss~ss'd, >~ . , .. i
And faith at last, alone worth all the ref!t . . , . ,"· .1 ,, .. ".'
0 man, immortal by a double prize,
· :, .'. ; 1; ,, , ; r ,
By fame on earth-by glory iq the . skies !'.' : . " .'. (
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EPI'l'AP~ oN·:aENRY ic wHiT:E, :·:~<.'j . ·
·:,.··

· -.,.-:·~~- ~ " ·,·.,··~:·.~. BY. ··~y_ n.o·N .,'/~· ....: ·: ~~:;i: ....; .~~ - '. .::6 ~·, ..t;~~ ( .

· No marble marks· thy -couch of lowly sle~p; li:r.'. -:;xi'·; <,.·

.

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to weep! ~'.:c,:.,:.-.~'l.,:U·, ll r .jJ · · .
.· Affi~cqon's ·. semb,an~e: bends poto'el'. ~hy,fo,in\J. ;frjd \·f.:,,
, ·Affi1chon's teif ~ep~o~e~ ~.~¥: ~pulhful gooin ,·~:-iff":~~\· )~·t i-:r
Q. Are not letters somehmes Wntt.en m ~ers~ ?-: · .'.,'!', '.' { ;_iJ ,. . ·
. A. Frequently; ; and inuch, e~9~ll.elit poetry ,has ap- ,.
peared und~r- the character o( , epistles, p~rt1c':1l.arly.
But living

stat1ies, there ,a(e,seen

froin the peh-'o f J;>ope: . · -·

·

· · · , : .. " _ _',

Q. Is the _line 9f distinction between the <ii!fere!1t .de~~ription~
of poetry very clear 1
:,
,
· , . · · · 1 · . ; - -.
- ' A. ·.F~r . (rorrt'it; , th~ poe so~t runs. ahyays ,less,.' Or

more into the other; .arid al' the species are, to a~cer:.,
tain extent, entitled .to the character: Of d~scriptive:
and didactic, as they are almost all used, in some degree, for the purpose both of describihg' arid teaching.'

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XVI. ·',:,:,', .' '; ; :_.' ;_· \:"_' . ~.

THE.· SONNET; .

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expressiv~

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of some strong feeling, or descriptive>of,
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EPITAJ>H ON JOf{N;~ONhH. J·i i};::</U, \ · ·

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SONNET.

.P~~RT" ~n.} ',LITERARY · MEll,.IT·:p:F .THE ' -BiBLE•

[PART Ill.
>

some striking object ; and so constructed, that the
first, fourth, fifth, and eighth; the second and third ;
the sixth, and seventh; the ninth, eleventh, and thirteenth; and the tenth, twelfth, and fourteenth lines,
form rhymes with each other. ·
Q. Can you give an example of a sonnet?

· their selectest and purest conceptipns;" is ~ an · argument of fact
against all speculativ~ objections 1 ih favor· af the ih_tdnsic excel. f; ,
lence .and uripar.al,leled perfection of_ the 'Sotin_et/1.~ /A ' ' '.

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He adds " · · -, .. · ·. · ·

Q. To what is this difference owing?

A. To the circumstance chiefly of the Italian language being better adapted to this kind of poetry than
the English.
.
· Q. Can you mention some of the most ~istinguished writers of
sonnets?

·A. Petrarch stands at the head of the Italian sonneteers ; while Shakspeare, Milton, and Wordsworth,
are the most distinguished among the English.
Q. Why should a sonnet be confined to fourteen lines rather
than any other number?
·
A. "The quota of lines '(says Montgomery), and the arrangement of rhymes and pauses, already established in the regular
sonnet, have been deemed, after the experience of five centuries,
incapable of improvement by extension tir red uction; while the
form itself has been proved to be the most convenient and graceful that ever was invented, for disclosing, embellishing, and encompassing the noblest or the loveliest. the gayest or the gravest
idea, that genius, in its happiest moments of rnpturo or of nrnlnncholy, could inspire. The employment of this form l>y the finest
Italian poets, for expressing, with pathos and power irresistible,

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the opptobifom of not admitting the legitimate' sohnet 'i n its seyerest, as well as its inosi elegant CQnstruction; . The following,
though according to the strictest precedents, and therefore the
least agreeable to ,unaccustomed ears, is full Of deep · hann_ony, '
strong sentiment, and chastened, yet impassioned feeling. ·· The
Tyrolese, amid their Alpine fastnesses, are represented as return•
irig this lofty · answer to the ·insulting demand of uncon,ditional
surrender to French invaders. If their own mountains had
spoken, th~y cou~d not.have replied more majesti\!all:r-. .1, '- · ~ ,

A. The following, "To Sleep," is a very fine specimen of one from Wordsworth:

A. It is far from being common in English; but it
is frequently to be met \\."ith in Italian.

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Word·~~~rth' ha~ redeem~d ~h~- E~~lish .\ anguag·e ·l rorn

·"Mi.

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"A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,
One after one; the sound of ram. and bees
l\'Iurmuring; the fall of rivers, winds, and seas,
Smooth fields; white sheets of water, and pure sky;
I thought of all by turns, and yet l lie
'
Sleepless! and soon the srl1all birds' melodies
Must hear, first utter'd from my orchard trees,
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
Even thus last night. and two nights more, I lay
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth,
So do not let me wear to-night away.
WithoiJt Thee, what is all the mornill g's wealth!
Come. bl ess'd barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health."
1
Q. ls the sonnet a common species of poetry ?

165

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··~The land we, froni our fathers, had in trust, '' , · --~ · · · · · ·

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· And to our children will trim~mit; or die i · .: ', ·
Thiiis ou,r maxim, thi1r-our piety, . · ·.
And God and Nature say that it is just:
. .,
That which we would perform in arms we must!
.;- ,
We read the dictate in the infant's eye,
.· ' . . ..
In the wife's smile.i' and in, .the placid 11ky1 ;i · · "
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And at our feet,:amifi the · silon~ dust "·:. J · r.', : ; . :, ",.- . ~ ',1·
Of them that wer~· befqre ·us. : Sing aloud .· ' _ · .-_ , . ,
~·
OLD SONGS-the preciou~ music of the heati ! "'''.':I : .. I•, ;, '
. ' . \ ·. Giv~, herds and flocks, your voices .to the : wind;' . !· -: '. .;! ' :.~ i
. 'Wh1.le. we go forth, a self•devpted ~towd;· · · .. .. ~ ( ,~. ,.. '.: · '..i
_, , ·" . With _w eapons in th~ f~arles's _han~, to assert , .1 :· :,/, .:~l ! '.·,,;
: ,.
. .'., ·,
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· ,Out Vlrtue, and to Vlhdmate rnank.ind-. 11 1 · · •. ,

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. [Se~ the sket~h , o'f W.?rdswo~th, Pri:rt_".~-~- s~c. , x~lijl
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.·,1 . CHAP,T ER 1XVIL'._, ' . . 1,:'.:" I ., -.

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THE LtTERAaf 'MERIT ~ND STYLE OF THE ENGLISH BIBLE.

[Dr. G. Spring, of New",York, ln a recent course of lecturP-s; has nreseiit~<t
this subject irt a just and striking light. Tlie following remarks are gleaned. ·
from one .of his leoture1i:] · "
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· Tirn world is . fill~d :with books .that are the product 6( th.a'. '
mightiest sons of geniµs ; but they are steril~. arid jejune,-:
deformed and ungainly, in.. coinpariso~ · witq the , riches · of-: .
thought, the e,xtenf ofi:esearch. the accur,~cy, the gra~~ 1 .and .
' '
beauty which distinguish .the Bible;. :· ' ··:" ""·'.' ;' · .' ·. ' '.
,. ,.,.,..,..
··Without th13 Sqipttires; the world ·:wouid'. be profotin~tf
ignorant bf some of the'. tnost ' imporfartt : and' interesting' " ....~:)•
points ·of hi~toriilal' inquiry:, Th.e .narraiive of ¥~ses ~c;nn~ .­
.. ~ jJ
pletelj co,-V.Qrs ·that perfod ,of history which; with other_ri.a-.: ·
'' I
tioni!; i~ c~lled fabu~ou~' . and which is, me_rged ,in th~ regionr " \ .
of•fa~ncat10n and_c~nJecture. · · . ' ,_, · · . ·
" " ." , ;/: .i ,

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. 166

LITERARY MERIT OF THE BIBLE. [PART III.

· ~Aif ~ifrj ~1T:E:1h.ri-v>~til11'~ oF.>rHi1\ nrntE. 18'1 ~'
it~";freshrtest \ .'they are, ahv~ys . rie\\;i:.ah~ . in'o re .' at1d more'.•.
-

There are multitudes of facts and phenomena; 'loth in the
.natural and moral world, that never could be accounted for,
but for the Mosaic history. The Bible is the great source
and .s tandard of ancient chronology.' . It may, ind eed, be justly considered as the standard of a polished and useful literature. The characteristic style of the Dible is, that it is always adapted to the subjects of which it speaks. A chaste,
nervous diction distinguishes all its compositions. It is
strongly marked by its simplicity, its strength, and often its
unrivaled sublimity and beauty. Its manner of writing, with
regard to the choice and arrangement of words, is at all
times dignified and serious, and at a great remove from
the pomp and parade of artificial ornament. Every where
we see that its great object is to inqulcate truth, and that it
uses words only to clothe and render impressive the thoughts
it would convey. There is both rhetoric and inspiration in
the Bible; but ,amid all the boldness and felicity of its inventions, there is no over-doing-no making th e most of
every thing- no needless comment- but every thing is
plain, concise, and unaffectedly simple.
Jn the historical cornpositions of the Scriptures, we have
the most simple, natural, affecting, and well-told narratives
in the world. For impartial ity and fidelity, unvarnished
truth, choice of matter, unity, concise and graphic descriptions of character, and, above all, its ztsefulness, the historical parts of the Bible are without a parallel. The characters walk and breathe. They are nature, and nothing but
nature. By a single stroke of the pencil you oflen have
their portrait. You see them-you hear them. And hence
th~ fme~t subjects for historic painting within the circle of the
Fme Arts have been selected from the Scriptures. The
best artists have awarded to them this distinguished honor,
and one reason why they have done so obviously is, t.hat
profane history furnishes no such themes.
And what i~ .there to equal the didactic and argumeniativt
portions of the Scriptures, furnished by the prophets, or in
the discourses of our Savior and the epistles of Paul 1 Read
the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters of Matthew, the third,
fourth, fifth, fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth
chapters of Jplrn, the eighth and eleventh of Romans, the
fifteenth of I Corinthians, the thirty-eighth, thirty-ninth,
fortieth, and forty-first of Job. No where, out of tho Dible,
can be found passages of eqnal force, sublimity, and simplicity. · Their flowers do not fade, nor does their fruit lose

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deepiy ihteiesf. '.a' .c lassical mind,·J~<t.~~,e~~.~r,;, }~:! ~w ,re_a~..
and the better they· are Jmowp.. ) ·. , ., ; : :• . ,." '. . . .
·
. \ .In' reference ' to .t.h e poetical parts, wher.~ . I ~ the~e ~{)e,try .
that can ,b e compared .with the song ~fM9~es, ,a t h/ s. :VIC.~orY.; ,.
over Phar·a oh ;: ·with tlie Psalms .9f I)~'V1d, ·'.Ahq _wit~ · -~~~ .
prophecies, .~r ISaiah,' _a hd som~ others t )Yhm:e ·!s ther.e an _;
elegiac ode tci be compared with the song . ofD~v.1.~ .upon the.
death' of Siiul imd Joryath\ln, or thr · Latne~tat10.ns
,Jere~ ·.'.
mlah 1" Like· the rapid, glowing argumentatwns Of_Pau~~ .t he_c,
poetje 'p-aits 'of the . Bible may be read a . thousa~d tinrns, an,d ,
they have' all the glow and freshness ,of the. first per~sal .1 .
Where, in the .compass of human Ia:ig~age, is ~here a p_a~- .. ,
agra:p_h,· whic~, fot boldn,ess a11d _".3rnety _of f!1etap~.or, deh-.
cacy .and maJe~ty 9f thought, strength and. mvei:tw~; ~le­
gance and ·refineme11t,, equals the passage m which , God
, answers Job out of the whirlwind,?'.' .. I can not but love _the
poetic associations ; of the ·B.i_ble. ~ow, they ar~ s~bhme
and beautiful Jike th~ µwuntam . tor~ent, swolle~ anq Iplpet- ..
t10us by the sudderi' bJii!l.t ing' {}f.: the. cl~Uf:J.: ~· · N,ow, t}1ey are ·
grand a.n d awful as .th_e ~torm:y Galil~~· ~hen .the iem~e~t .
beat upon the fearful disciples. '! A,~d, agam,, th,~y, are placid .
as that calfnJake when 'the Sav10r's feet have P.r~s~e,dyp{)ll ,
its watenhind stilled th,e,rii info peace; :: -~·>:r;; ·," ': :· .: ·,,'· '. ,
. English literature isr IJ.O som~·on ·debtor ·to. t~e . ·~1ble ; ·
There is not.a finer char,a cter, nor a finer desct1pt1?n m all·
the works of Walter· Scott, than tl~at of R~bekah, 111 Ivan- ·
hoe. · 'And who does 'not see that it owes its excellence to
the Bible 1 · Shakspeare, Miltori, Bryant, Y.?ung, and Southey, ·
are ·not a little indepted for so~e , of, t~<W)~~st, scenes . a~d
inspirations to the. same source. . .
. .·
·
.
· . May it not be doubted, whether sc.h olats have been suffi- 1.
ciently sensible of their obli~ations to, our. common E!lgli~h_
Bible? It is the purest specimen of Enghsh; or angl~-S.ax­
on, t9 be found in ,the, -wo~ld; · As ·a model of ~Lyle,." it 1s,·~~
says Cheever, "pure, native, uncorrupt~d, 1d10rrici:t1c Eng- .
lish . . It is t.h e be$t preservatjon of our Ian~uage 1~ all our ,
literature: ·· lt 'has most of the old, honest.' s1mpl~, vigorous,
expressive Saxon, ~hich is t.h e inairi body of the excelle_nce
of ouf'language.'~· ·' Addison has remarked, that " ,there 1s a
certain: coldness in the phrases of European languages, co!"- . .
par~d' with Jhe .Oriental . forms of _speech ; that the Engl~s~ ., .
tongue' has· teceived' innumerable 1mprovem~nts from an 1!1-,
· ·fusion of Hebraisms; derived from the practical passa~es m .. , _

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168

FORM OF BIDLE POETRY,

[PART

QUESTIONS ON THIS CHAPTER.

· 1. What is snid of the highest productions of human genius compared
\'.·ith the Dible 1
2. What do we learn from the Dible not found in other ancient books 1
3. Of what may it be considered the standard 1
4. What are the characteristics of its style l
6. What ie said of its historical portion 1
6. ~'hat of its didactic and argumentative 1
7. What of its poetical 1
8. What of the indebtedness of English literature to the Bible 1
9. What of our obli~ations lo our common English version of it 1
/

,.}69
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Holy Writ; that these warm and animate our language,
giving it force and energy, and con\leying our thoughts in
ardent and ihtense phrases, and setting the mind in a flame."
I know of no Btandard by wliich tlte character of literary and
8cientific men may be so safely and successfully formed. The
more he reads, the mote, I am confident, an accomplished
scholar will study the Bible. There are no finer English
scholars than the men educated north of the Tweed ; and
there are nbne who, from their childhood, are so well ac·
quainted with the Bible. ·I have heard it said that the
characteristic wit of Scotchmen is attributable to their early
familiarity with the Proverbs of Solomon. No well-informed
man is ignorant of the Bible. We can better afford to part
·with every otl~er book from our family libraries, our schools
and colleges, thaf!- this finished production of the Infinite
Mind.

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,1\vriter; as a ,poet, "With the blast of. thy nostrile, the
i~ater~ were gathered together, 'the:jloods stood up_r1ght ma heap, and t.h e depths \yere; cqn·g ealed in the
·heart o.f the. sea.'~ 1 The " strong·- east wind'.' becomes
' "the .qfast Of 'the Almighty's nostril~\··, 'the ;,11 divided
JVaters'.' s.tand " ,upright," " are congea1e.d; '!''..1 he,poet
)~ .dramatic . . .Th~ . ~nemy said," I W:ill; ptjtsue, I :will
,pver_take; 1 .Will dWide the Spoil.; m)i'. lUSt,.shaltbe sat·
·}sfied,.upo9 them; I,;will ~raw. the · sword,,.m:y h_apd •
- . s~a~l . des.t roy the1!1· ! This, by-the-way; . IS'. 0also ;. a
)eautiful example of a poetic climax... .. ; -- · . ; · • .,: : ;
. : ' 'l'he _difference is thus ~learlr se~ri .in the. styl~~ ~.i
.'~~lc;same .book; :. ~t, _on~ t~lll.e h1st9n1c, at ~,.a!J~ther -~~-

CHAPTER XVIII.
'rHE FORM OF BIBLE POETRY,

certain portions of the books of the Old
Testament; there is such an apparent diversity- of
style, as sufficiently discovers which of them are to
be considered as poetical, and which as prose compo·
sitions. .
·
· In Exodus, chap. xiv., an historical account is given '
of the drowning of the Egyptians in the Red Sea; in
chap. xv., the same event is '· poetically described.
Says the history," Moses stretched out his hand over
the sea, and the Lord caused the sea to go back by a
strong east wind all that night, and made the sea dry
land, and the waters were divided." Says the same

. ' . AMONG

'.

Take another illustr~tion from the same c~~neotion.
"The waters .retur.ned;'.~says.th.e historian,~' and covered the : chano~s and the:liorsemen 1 ,and all the hosts
of Pharaoh;, that, Game1 into the .sea after them : 'there '
remained not ·ao riluch as o,i;ie of,'therit." \. '. ·, ,, ." - : '· ~
" · The sartie .eveht"i,s ' thtis :a~s,cribed,t:i~eti6~1i;Y. .in:·;t he -.
song of ~fo~es !. "~'~ T,~o~· }iqst;-~Idw :~it}}.. thy'. .wip.d. i
the sea , covered · them! \. 1T~ey ·sank as ·iead. m the
mighty waters ,'; Who is> lJke ~. uni9 } fhee, ' 0 ' ,Lord,· .
.·.among the gods 1 · Who ·1s Jike Thee, glorious in' ho· _. ,
line.~s! fearful in p~aises, doing .wond~r~)'~~(S.ee Bia.· -

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Repository for April, 1842.)
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For another illustration; compare·· the sty I~ of the
first and s,eco!1d chapt~~s <?f the Book · of !ob, with
Job's SJ?eech .m, the begmmng of the next chapter.
You pass a~ once from the regio.n o( prose to that. of
poetry . .· There is an al.teration in the cadence of the
sentence and,in the 'arrangement of words, as well .as ·
tl!,e figures of_ speech, tO assure yqu of this . ·
Didactic poetry is found in the Book of Proverbs -·
.elegiac,. in the Lamentations of Jeremiah, and in that
, of Dav1q ~n~ Jonathan; pastoral, in .the Song of Solon;ion ' ~' lync, m . the whole Boo~ o~ Psalms, th.e Song
.?f Moses, a~d .o f betiorah; dra.m~tit;_ a~ some suppose;
.m .,the Book of)ob. ,... i
.
" . ., , - ' · . ·· · . - , •

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T_~e .lfebr~w . pqetry is s~ngul~r, and unlike any other., '. in

:its · c;onsttuct,i.on~

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<'.ons1sts ·. m dividing every: period
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170

FORM OF BIBLE POETRY.

. PART

[PART Ut.

into correspondent; for the most part into equal members, which answer to one another both in sense and
sound. In the first member of the period a sentiment
is expressed; and in the second member, the f'ame
sentiment is amplified, or is repeated in different
terms, or sometimes contrasted with its opposite; but
in such a manner, that the sarrie structure and nearly
• the same number of words are preserved. This is the
general strain of Hebrew poetry. It did not include
rhyme - the terminations of the lines, when they
are most distinct, 1wver manifesting any thing of the
kind. Thus, " Sing unto the Lord a new song-sing
unto the Lord all the earth. Sing unto the Lord, and
bless his name-;-show forth his salvatfon from day
day.'" It is owing, in a great measure, to this form
of composition, that our ver~ion, though in prose, i:etairis so much of a poetical cast. For the version being
strictly word for word after the original, the form and
order of the original sentence are preserved: which,
by this artificial structure, this regular alternation and
correspondence of parts, makes the ear sensible of a
departure from the common style and tone of prose.
Those who desire to see to great advantage the poetical diction of even our common English version of
the Bible, should procure a copy of Dr. Coit's arrangement. His edition, also, of Townsend's Bible is beautiful, and to be highly recommended to the reader of
fine taste, and to one who desires fully to appreciate
the sacred writings as it is probable they were at first
.chronologically given - the historic and poetic por, tions, thus arranged, throwing great light upon each
other.
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17F

FORM : OF BIBLE POE'l'RY.

. Read Homer once, and you ·can i'ead.rio more1 ·, . '•:
For all books ~lse uppear so mean, so poor: · · ·
Verse shall seem prose; but stiU .persist to read~ : ' ·
And . Homer will be all the books you _n eed. 11
·

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· . This ·is the language of a professed frien~ of the Puritan -reformation antLfaith. The Bible itself is not_excepted. · It was once
fashionable thus to depreciate the. literature of the. Scriptur~~· .
· The fashion still remains, and Christians are sometimes seen tO ,
bend the knee at this unholy shrine. The exclusive and fulsome .
praise bestowed by the ostensible frjends of religion,.uvon the .
writers of classical paganism,.is e11ough to .move · ~he pity of a ·
heathen, or stir the indignation of a seraph. : Let tis make a. ~Tier";
,comparison of Homer with Job, in describing the same bb)ect--'-' c
the favoritJ animal of the Greek poet-the horse-that which he
most ~dmires (loves) to d~scribe ; and it shall be the horse of his
hero.
·
·
·
·

to

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-.. ......-. ,

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· " The wi~ged coursers ,harness'd to the car,
. Xanthus and Balius, of immortal breed,
. . '.. Sprung from th.e wind, am! like the. i:vind in speed:
.. " · : '·
· · . ; -Whom the wingei;I harpy, swift Po<large, b,ore, 1 • . .
'· -, ,.
.. By Zephyrus iipon the ~reezy shore; ''. ·· ·.
·
. .
·' Swift Pedasus was added .to. their side/ ,., ,.,,-,. '. 1;'. ~·: :'i \ · ' ·' ··n.L·•.":
i

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Who,' lik~ iri str~ngth,
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iii s~lftness: a~d.· iii ,r~cti.
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··A mortal courser_ watch'd th.e immor:tid.raee1~ :. -:.;:,-1.-: 1_. ;~ '·'. '~ · '.''>~(;
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. Without emphasis; ' without italics, without ve'rMfication·:
even, iet us now. listen to the .·niajesty of the. Hebrew:poet}
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The quiver rattleth against him.;
·'
The glittering spear and the shield! ., ·
...
He swalloweth the ground with fierceness, and rage t"
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" Hast thou giyen the horse stfength 1 , ..: . .: , . ; ·,, ·,· /;.· ,,, .., ·' ·. _.. 1 • •
· Hast thou clothed his neck with thunaei.1
.
,
Canst thou make him afraid o.S the grasshopper! .,, . . · · ,,;· ,.:·i ·
The glory of his nostrils is terrible !
.
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He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his s~~ength !
He goeth out .to meet the armed men ! ·
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Quts'f!oNs.-L Are the hooks of the Ol<l Testnmcnt composed in a
uniform style 1
2. What e:rnmplP.s of diversity of style arc given 7
3. What vnrjous kinds of poetry <lo you fin<l in the Ol<l Testament, and
what examples of each 1
4. What general view is given of the construction of Hebrew poetry 1

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We can not close this account of

the splendid literature of t!te Bible without quoting from the Methodist
Qual'terly Review for October: 1842, what follows:

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The Duke ~f Buckin gham tl:•1fi eulogize~ the prince of Epic
poets:

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."- ;~ART

PART IV.
ORIGINAL COMPOSITION.

author would here refer to what is said m the
under the head of Preparatory Exercises, and in pursuance, reconnnen the
following common-sense plan proposed l>y, Whateley,
in his work on Rhetoric.
THE

PRELIMlNARV OBSERVATIONS,

CHAPTER I.
SELECTION OF PROPER SUBJECTS.
THERE should .be a most scrupulous care 'in the selection of such subjects for exercises as are likely to be
inte1·esting to the student, and on which he has, or may
(with pleasure, and without much toil) acquire sufficient information. Such subjects will of course vary,
according to the learner's age and intellectual advancement; but they had better be rather below, than much
above him ; that is, they should never be such as to
induce him to string together vague general expressions, conveying no distinct ideas to his own mind,
and second-hand sentiments which he does not feel.
He may freely transplant, indeed, from other writers
such thoughts as will take root in the soil of his own
mind; but he must never be tempted to collect dried
sentitnents. He must also be encouraged to express
himself (in correct language, indeed, but) in a free,
natural, and simple style; which, of course, implies
(considering who and what the writer is supposed to
be) such a style as, in itself, would be open to severe
criticism, and certainly very unfit to appear in a book.
Compositions on such easy subjects, and in such a
style, would, by some, be disdained as puerile ; but
the compositions of boys must be puerile, in one way
or the other, whether by being adapted to their age ·
and rendered intelligible, or by being made up of unmeaning, but loftier and superfluous expressions.

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1"v.J

SELECTION: OF PROPER , SUBJECTS.

· : Subjects for composition, selected on the principle here
, - . recommend~d, ;wiU generally f~ll ,. ~ndfi)r O!Je of three ·
. classes.~ · ·· .
,
· · - ... · , ' · . · , .
FIRST : subjects d.fawn from the studies the learner is
eng'at,e.d in, ·relating, for ~nstanc,e, fo the characters or
incidents of any history he may be reading; and some·
times,' perhaps, leading him to forestall, by conjecture;
something which he will hereafter come to in the book .
itself · · · ·
·
·
·
·
· · ' ~ .· ..-· f
· .~oNnr,v, supJe~ts drawn from any conversati~n· h~ :
may ha".e listened to (with interest) from his seniors,
. whether· addressed to himself, or. between· each othef':,
or,
· ·~ .
. ·. ,
.
.
·
~. ·' ··
. ~'FHFR~L\T.j relating to the amusements, familiar oc.;
ci,urences, and eyery-day transactions, which are likely ·
t<? have .f?rme? the topics of easy1 cohvei;sation ap10ng
his familiar fnends.
.
,·
•·
·
·
,
. · The. s.t udent should nofbe confined too exclusiv~ly
to ~ny on,e. of th~se thr~e ·classes of ~pbjects .. - rhey '
should be 111te,rm111gled 111 as much variety as possible • .
The. . teachef should frequently.' recall to : his own
mind these two · considerations : · ,· .-. . ·, · ·.
;.
Firsi, that since the b.enefit -proposed does not consist in the intrinsic ;va,lue of · the · composition, but in .
the exercise to the pupil's mind, it matters not how in.: ·
significant the subject, may be, if it will bi1t interest
him, and thereby affl'lrd him such exercise ; arid,· • '
· Secondly~ the younger and more backward each'
student is, t,h e ,more unfit he will .be for abstrad specu-:
lations, at1d the.less remote must be the subjects from
those individual objects and occurrences, which always'
form the first beginnings of the f~rniture of the youthful mind.
_ ..
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.. If this system· be pursued, with the .addition .of sedulo11s care in correctiori, encouragement 1 from the.
teacher, and inculcation of such general rules ·as. each'
occasion · calls . for, then, and not otherwise, original
exercis.e s in. composition will be of the most · import.,;
ant' and:. lastmg advantage; not: only in respect.of 'the .
object irrme,diatefy, proposed, bufin producii1g clearnes,s; .
of thought .and m g1vrng play to all the faculties~ _, ~ ! ~ ; .
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[PART IV.

"'"hen you are to write upon any subject., the best way of entering ufon it is to set down what your own mind furnishes, and
say al you can before you descend to consult books, and read upon
it; for if you apply to books before you have laidJour plan, your
own thoughts will be dissipated, and you will windle from a
cpmposer to a transcriber.
· · In thinking upon a subject, you are to consider that every proposition is an answer to some question ; so that, if you can answer
all the questions that can be put to you concerning it, you have a
thorough unde.rstanding of it ; and, in order to compose, yo n have
nothing to do but to ask yourself those questions ; by which you
:-Vill raise from you.r .mind the latent matter, and having once got
it, you may dispose of it, and put it into form afterw ard.
By this way of asking quest10ns, a subject is drawn out, so that
you may view it in all its parts, and treat it with little difficulty,
provided you have acquired a competent knowledge of it by readmg or discoursing about it in time past: where no water is in the
well, you may pump forever without effect.
THE various kinds of ORIGINAL CoMrosITroN, in which
the Qrecediug Rules ai;id~Exercises may: b.e practiced,
are Narrative, Descriptive, and Miscellaneous Essays.•..-·--~

CHAPTER II.
NARRATIVE ESSAYS.

N A.RRA.TIVE essays relate e\rents which should be recorded in the order of time; and facts, which should
be mentioned in the order of place.
Write narrative essays from detached sentences
given out by .t he teacher.
EXAMPLE

David was born at Bethleh em.
.. He was sent to th e camp to inquire for his brothers.
. He was provoked to hear the Israelites challenged by Goliath.
He slew th eir champion with a stone thrown from a sling, and th e Philistines fl ed. t
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DESCRIPTlVJ!!' :ESS-AYS / '. .~

PART 1v:J

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NARRATIVE ESSAYS.

SUGGESTIONS TO THE STUDENT WHEN BEGINNING TO WRITE UPON
ANY SUBJECT.

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The t eacher may occasionally vary the exercises in Ori ginal Composition, by making his pupil s write them in the form of l.ETT E R R, which
ought to be composed in a more easy and familiar style t han regu lar Essays.
t The teacher can be at no loss for subjects of narrative essays. After
his pupils have had som e prnctice in originnl comp<•siti nn, h o nmy discontinu e givi11g th em detached sentences, especially when t ho uarrn.ti vo s are
taken from Scripture history.
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_·:. ·. .CH.A l>TER

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DESCRIPTIVE ESSAYS.· '·

' DESCRIPTIVE Essays give an'.aocotin~ of pers?n.s,.animals, places; o~je~.ts, &c. ~ · · l ,' •· .:_·1•;' · ; . : ••: ·:.::' .! 1 ·_ ·, ·
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EXERCISES. ,

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' 1.' The Apostle P iml; his birthplace; by whom ' educated:' in the opin' ions of what sect; on what occasion tlr$t mentioned in Scripttire: for what
then remarkable; his eon version; subsequent hist?rY,; ; fgr what .di~~~'!17
. ghishe d. .
·
· ··
1
· ·
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.-.,
•2. Jeri11alem; its s.ituat~on; r~mll~kable localities. int~~ dty and ne,i ghborhood · when first mentioned Ill history. i to whom ongmally !>elonged;
when th~ citadel taken by t.he Israelites; by whom lnade, the capital i ,the
rnost famous of its public buildings; how tn1.ny times taken an.d phmdered '; ·
the most remil.rkable events in its history i by whom ilestroyed ' by whol!,l
rebuilt; present state. , I
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3. Rome; by whom (oun~ed; on what built; mi>st famous public buildings mentioned in h.istory; .es:~eq.t and population ,in .the time .o f Augustus i
present state. _ · · · ·
·
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._• .. '. ,. : .··,·. :: , ·
•. :, . ·
· . 4. The elephant '; where found; size; 1!-Ppearan~.~ i foo~; habits; utility.
· 5. Th.e seuona: .appearances of nature; operation•; amusements, &c.·1
at the different periotls 'of the year.'· ' -' ·' ,. ' ·. ': ,.-,• • .,. t ' " '- ' . ;" ' "
6. Give t~e principal e.veo,ts in ,the, l/r e.s ofcharact~rs ~ecorde4 in the
Scriptures.·~ . · .. .,. . !--, .~ • :': .-..: i 1-!~ l "'··.i /..4 · :·r ~ ,.,. ·: .:: .1 ~.i) - 1'1, 1;~.rt, l.'· 1 ;~~ ,L · • f ~.·. ·
· 7, Give il.n a.cC~unf of several events •recqrded ih~r~in:.t .:J •~i J·i,: ; '!<·1;.·'
. ~- Descr!be cettS:in a?P1Hls; 1their habits1 use!!? &c. -!'.
:: ·,. ·~ · i'"l.
9. Describe scenes anci ,e:vents that nave been observed by. the scholar., .
10. Describe various occupations of lifo-:--klrlds o(buiiness-'-ainusem,ents;
&c.
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I!. Describe various s'tudieg-their uses, &c.
·
·
· Hl. qive, a desct"iption, of fa~iliar objects of &ight:-~~1* f9tms, materiale,
structure, &c.
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. . QH;APTER IV~ '. :\ : .. ' , ',
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DESCRIPTI~E EssAvs (contin~ed).·_ ( ',· ..: ;:~
. .CoM~ARE o.ne objep~ with anot~er, P?inting OU~ the ..
thmgs m which they agree and m ~h1ch they ·1ddfer,
F.or Ex,ample~ take ,t~e following! · · · .. :: , _. .. .·.: ·: ·, ·

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· Water and air-"a newspaper and a book-'-a tea-cup and a wineglass-a canal amd a rail-roa~-a wagon and a sleigh;-~ ho~se, an<l
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' * As recomm.enc!ed in the preee<ling note, the tea~her may disc~ntlaue
giVing hints ,".when· his pupqs have had some practice in ~riting descriptive· essays. · \Vhe)l they have a competent knowled~e of geograph:r am).
local histor,r; narr11tioil and de8cription may be coihhmed by' making tbelll
write i~agm~~!- l!xc, ur1io_ns._ t.ra!'~ la, &c., either ill :the form of .e~sa;r•; .1~1.
klzs, OrJOurll<UJ> '
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176

MISCELLANEOUS ES SAYS.

rrART

I.V.

an ox-a common school and an academy-a barometer and a
thermometer-a pin and a needle-food and education- a tree and
an animal-snow and rain'.

CHAPTER V.
MISCELLANEOUS ESSA VS.
WnITE miscellaneous essays according to the following method :
,

· I. The DEFI!UTroN: state the subject distinctly, and, if necessary, explain it by a formal definition, a paraphrase, or a <lescrip~
ti on.
·
IL The CAVSE: show what is the. occasion of the subject, or
from what it proceeds.
.
·111. The ANTIQUITY or NovEr,rv: show whether the subject
was known in ancient times; in what state it was, if known; and
in what state it is in modern times.
IV. The UNIVERSALITY or LocALITY: sf1ow wT1ether t11e subject relates . to the whole wcrl"d, or only t.o a particular portion
of it. •
V. The EFFi:CTS: examine whether the subj"ect be good or
bad; show wherein its excellence or infe riori ty consists ; and
point out the advantages or uisadvantages which arise from it.
Describe the feelings or reflections excited.
I

EXAMPLE,

°" Ffitii(ljhip.•
· I. Friendship is an attnchmen.t betw:een persons of congenial disposLtions, habits, and pursuits.
II. It has its origin in the nature and conditi on of man. He is a social
creature, and naturally loves to frequent th e soci ety, and enjoy the affections, of those who are like himself. He is al so, in<l i vidu ally , a fee ble
creature, ands sense of this weakness rnnders fri end ship indispnnsnble t c}
him. When he has all other enjoyments within his reach , he still finds
his happiness inwmplele , unless participated hy one whom h e r.onsiders;
his friend. When in difficulty and distress, he looks around for advice,
assistance, and consolation.
·
.
III. No wonder, therefore, that a sentiment ofi<uch importanr.c to man ,
should haYe been so frequently nnd so hugely considered. We can Rci>Tccly
open any of the volumes of an~iquity without being reminded how oxcollen.1

* This. subject( and those which follow, may also be proposed in the
form of questions; thus:
· ·
I . What is friendship?
IL What is the canse of friendship?
.
III. What was anciently thought of friendship, and what c:rnmplcs sre
on r.,r,ord? What is fri endship seldom remark abte for in modern ti.m es? ·
IV, Is frien~ship confined tCJ any particular rnu.k in life, or stnlo o( 50.ciety? .
· · Y. What are the benefits of true, and tlie evils of false friend.ship"'

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. M1s9ELLANEops ;. ESSAYS~

. P-ART .IV•]

a thing is friendship. The exam~les ofDayid ~nd

• .f

Jona~h~n/Achilles

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and

Patroclus, Py)ades and Orestes, Nisus and Eurynlus, Damon and PythiM,
all show to what a degree of enthusiasm it wns sometimes carried.. But it
is to be feared that, in Jllodern tim<>s, friendshif is seldom · rema rkable for
similar devotedness: · With some it is nomina rather than real, and witil
others it is regulated entirely by self-interest.
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IV. Yet it would, no doubt, be possible to produce, from every rank in
life, and from every state of society, instances of sincere and disinterested
.friendship, creditable to human nature, and to the age in which we live.
V. After these remarks, ~o enlarge on the be11efits of possessing a real
friend appears µnnecessary. Whitt \Vould be tnore intolerable . than. t4e
consciousness that, in all the wide world, not one heart beat m untson
with our · own, or cartld for qur welfare 1 What inda&cribable . happi~e$a .
must it be, on the other hand, to possess a real friend; a friend who will .
counsel, instruct, assist; who will bear a willing part in our calamity, and ·
cordially rejoice when the hour of happiness returns! Let us remember,
however, that all who assume the name of friends are . not entitled to our·.
confidence. · History records many instances of the fatal consequence~ 0£
infidelity in friendship; and it can not be denied that the world contaiila
men, who .are happy to find a h ~ art they t:an pervert, or a head they can
. mislead, if thus their unworthy ehds can be more surely attained. · ·. , , ,
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~. EXERCISES.

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I. Periodical Literature.
. 8. -On Poetry.
· ·.
'··:
2. Education. ''.'• ' ,:, : ·. ·· ' ·
: · 9. On Painting
.
3. On Youtli. .;. 1.·~
:~·
10. On Music. ·. ,.. ,. · ·l- r·
4. On Old Age. : · ; · · "' '·: · · ·. ; , ii. On Commerce ;:
1:'· ·
5. On Dramati<i Entertainments., 1i " 12. On Gaming. .... ' "J · •· ,. ': : · ·
, . 13." On Ch!valry. · · -.- ( ' ,
6. On Books.
. · • · ··
.
~ ··7. On Traveling.
· -,. . · · · .' , · 14. On Philosophy. . 1. .
•
> ·• 15. Difference between Happiness. and Wisdom• " · .
·;> ~-· ·
,

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MISCELLANEOYS . ESSAYS

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CHAPTER Vt

.'

.) :.
.

,.

(continued). :

. W Rl..;E . miscelia~OU.S ess~ys according to ' the ' fo}~
lowing niethod : : · ' . . · .· · . .

,

;. ·

., :

· I. ' The PROPOSITION, or .NARRAT.IVE: where you show the
meaning of the subject, by Amplification, paraphrase; <!l expla.l . '
nation. . ' · ·· · . · ·
·
·
· . .·
" . : ··
. .;
·ll. · The REA.soN : where you prove the truth of the, proposition
bf.some reason or argilment.
. , .· ' · · . · , ·' .
III. The .CoNirIRM-'.TION: where you shOw the unreasonable~
ness ·of the contrary opinion; or advance fi!Om~ other reason in
suf1port of the fdrmer.
·- .
·,
.
V. The SIMILE: . where you illustrate the .t ruth of 'Yhat is af- .
firmed ,by introducing sbme comparison.
~· ' , · .\ '
: ·
V. The EuMPLE: where you bring instances from history to
corroborate the truth of your affi.rmatiOJ!S pr the soundness of your ·
reasoning.
·
·
··
·. ·
. .- .
VL The TEsTIM.oNY; _wh_ere you introduce proverbial.sentences,

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MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS.

or passages from good authors, which show lhat others think as
you do.
VII. The CONCLUSION: where you sum up the whole, and show
the practical use of the subject by some pertinent observations.

6 Custom is second nature.

1: Honesty is the best pol~_cy.*
, 01

·' I. History and

EXAMPLE.'

I. Virtue consists in doing our duty to God and our ne ighbor, in opposition to all temptations to the contrary. Such conduct is so cu ngmiant lo
the ligljt of reason, and so agreeable to our moral sent ime nts, un<l producP.s
so much peace of mind, that it may he said to carry its reward a.long with
it, even if unattended by that recompense which it generally mee ts in the
world.
II. The reason of this Recms to li o in the very nature of thin g~. Th.e
all-wi~o am! bcncvolcut Authur uf nature. has su fram ed the sou l of man,
thnt he can not but approve uf virtue; and has annexed to the practice of
it an inward satisfaction, that mankind may be cricouragcd to become virtuous .
III. If it were not so, if virtue were accompanied with 110 self-satisfaction, we · should not only be di sco uraged from practicing it, but should he
tempted to thmk that there wns something very wrong in tho laws and tho
administration uf Providence.
IV. IJut the reward ofvir.tuo is not nhvny3 confined tu this internal pence
and happiness. As, in tbe works of nature am! art, what ever is really
beautiful is generally useful, so, in the moral world. whatever is truly vi rtuous is, at the same tim e. so be nP.ficial to soc1ety. that It seldom goes without some external recompense.
V. H ow has the approbati on uf all future ages re warded the virtu e of
Scipio! That young warrior had taken a beautiful captive, with whose
charms h e was greatly enamored ; but, finding that she was betrothed to a
young nobleman of h er own country, he , without hesit;ition, generously
delivered her up to him . This one action of the noble Roman has, morn
than all his conquests, sh ed an imperishable lu stre around his charac:ter.
VI. Nor has the approbation ·of mankind been limited to the virtuous actions of individuals. The loveliness of virtue generally has been the constant topic of all moralists, ancien-t and mudern-. Plata re marks, that if
virtue were to assume a human form, it would command the admiration of
the whole world. A late writer has ~id, "In· every r egion, eve ry clime,
the homage paid to virtue is the same. In no one sentiment were eve:r
mankind more generally agreed.•·
VII. If, therefore, virtue is in itself so love ly-if it generally command&
the afljlrohation of mankind-ii it is accompiinicd with inward pence nnd
sntisl'.iction-surely it may be said to be its own r eward; for, though it
must be acknowledged that it is freq,uently attended with crosses and misfortunes in this life, all(! that th ere 1s something of self-denial in the ver1
idea of it, yet, in the words of the poe.t. 1~
"The broadest. mirth unfeeling folly wears,
. Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears."
EX ER CI SSS.

, l. Delays are dangerous.
· !. Evil communications corrupt good manners.
3. Well begun is half done.
4 . Perseverance generally prcvnils.
5. Nece_s sity is. t.lie mother Qf iu\'.elltiau,

179

PART 1v.J LIST OF ,~UBJECTB FOR EBBAYB·

[PART IV.

OF.

\

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18 . . Differe~~

. , · ;,.

1

s~BJ~rjT!i. ~oll'" ESSUI.':·.:, •.

~har"acter. _offJAbrahham.

·
History and .character o psep •
History and character of Mps.es, &c. '
De's cription of Athens. ·
Description of Lm1~lon_.,·
Description of Pans, &eBiography of Pompey: , ·
Biography of Columbns.
.
, \I. Biography of Napoleon Bonap~rte, &~,
1
JO. History of 11. h~t: '
'
1I. History of a pl~·.
12. , History of a sh1llmg, &~ .. .
13. Tour through Great Bnta!n·
14. Tour through Fra1:1ce. · ' .
.
· 15. Tour through Spa1h, &c. · · ,
l6. Journal of 1, voyage round the ~~.r~d • .
17. Different forms of go~e~nment. i ,
.
2.
3.
4.
- 5.
6.
7.
8.

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fo~'f~~f~:I~g:~~he countries in which they live.

~g: 1~~~~~t:~~,ofvegi:tables to the s!tuati_o~ in-~hi1~h they~"·

21 Arrangement of.mmeral strata. : , · •"i ·.
· .- 1 ,
Invention of tile marlner's compass. . . .
Inv en tio~ of the t.e lescope.
' i, .> • ;
.:. , , '~. • •• ,
Invention of the stea~-boat, ~~· · ., , , , ., ; . : .,. ' _. \ - •· ·.• .. . ::
Sculpture .. . · ·.. ·"· .;
·
··
· • q.,_
1
2tJ. · ArchitectUre, &c; . "'• -'~?..' .J ·"~·· ,,, .~p •...' !: .i-'· 1 1 ·:·.H.~ _ ..; _i::
'27. Progress of error. ' ·! ! -·~;-f-:/·-·\ 1 · ,""" ' ~.~ ·Ht :,:· · i ' ? ' >
'~ .
28. Puhhc opinion.
.·.
'.
29. ',I'he senses.
,
·,.J.
30. The mental powers., . ,
.
.31. 'The law of gravitation.
. ".' "
•
,
,
. 32; An effect pre~upp~ses a ?ause.
; · I • . . .·
1
Summary
of
Scripture
lustory.
. , ..
33
1
34: Typical. character o_f, t~e Old Test!IJllent. · . •!:
.; ' .
,
•'.;
35 Evidences ofChnstmmty. .
·ai
dlf ' ( ankind . : l :·
. 30: .Influence of Christianity .~n the SOCJ ~on ' i.on o ~
·, ' • .
' ·' 37. · Immortality of the soul · ·
38. Temperance.
·
·· '
~ .''
I .
~" . 39. H i>spi tality. ·. , . ·
-.,
40. Ambition.
~ ,'.,
I '>
41 1 Ilenevolence.
· 42. Magnanimity.
43. Patience.
.~ {
44. Truth. '
, · 45. Prejudice. .
'' 1 •
• •
.' ·
46. First impressions.
. · · · ' ..~· , , . ·- " ~ ,
'22:
23.
24.
25.

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* The exercisei on thes.e subjects may also b~· ~tteli
titious narratives. , ·.
· . ·. ·• ..:

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~ ~he. folfi of ~c
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PART

. <J.

PR1M1tr\7E"

And how came

t..\N'auAdEs··'ot

EUROPE.

thi~ language t6 be ch~nged ?

·.. "

'iSf
.

. A. By the.se countries having; ill the com;se of time,
been overrun by rude and barbarous nations from the
North of Europe; a,nd thus th.e it languages ·gradually
lost. t.heii:' pure Latin character ih coilsequence. of. bel. '
ing blended \vi th those of the invaders, thciugh they ,
tetained ~o m~ch o_f .~he_ir primitiv,e .,cli~Hn,q~i?!l .a~,'~ t,o
mark theu Latm .or.igm. . · . · .. ·~ . :· ! · ii' w . .·" · ·

PART V.
HISTORY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

CHAPTER I.
OF DIFFERENT LANGUAGES.

Q. Is language much subject to change?

iv.]

.

A. As much so as perhaps any thing connected with
human affairs. ·

Q. On what do these changes depend? '
A. Partly upon the political changes occasioned by

war and conquest, and partly upon the progress of
knowledge and of civilization.

Q. Does each la~guage, then, stand separate and distinct from
every other 1

A. Far from it ; for many of them, being closely
allied to each other, require them to be viewed in the
light of families or kindred.

Q. What produces this close conne~hon ~r allia!1ce?
A. The circumstance of their bemg either sprung

from a commaµ origin, or subjected to the operation
of similar political changes.
Q. How would you illustrate this 1

A. lly a refe1:ence to th~ languag~s of .F~ance,

Spain, and Italy, among wluch there is an i~tunate
connection, as having all sprung from the Latin. .

·Q. How come they to be descended from the Latin?
A. Because the Romans, who spoke the Latin Ian·

guage, having long had full an~ entire _po~se~sion of
these countries, had succeeded m estabhshmg 111 them
their ownlang.uage.*'

* Through the influence <?f thir Romish priesthood, the lang~age o~ an·
cient Rome was preserved m some degree. of punty. As D 1.sraeh re·
marks "The primitive fath ers, the later schoolmen, the monkish chron·
iclers,' all alike composed in Latin: all legal instruments, even_ marriage
contracts, were drawn in Latin: and even the language of Chnsttan prayer
'was that of abolished paganism.':
.
, In the rage for the classical 11ternture of Grceco nnd R omo m the fif.
toenth century, the vernacular ~ongucs ?f. Europe wcrn ncgl octod by
scholars. The ancients we re copied and umtnted-ongmul gem us was
cramped.
·

It

Q. Into how inany claAses, therefore, may langu9,ges be d1y1ded r,

_ -A. Two ; such· as are primitive ~nd original,' ~hd
such as are borrowed or derf ved from some .other: , .·
Q. But if all languages; as we have reason to be lie~e, have de-

·'·
' . -:-~

scended from one origin, must. there not be only one primitiV:e
language?
· ; · .·
· )
·
· .: " · . ' , 1 ,·, '"

'

(-'

A; ·Strictly speaking, there must; but as ·w e a~e .ig;:
norant. of. what that original language was, we are
accustomed · tO consider. every language as original
which does not · seem. to have any close ·affinity with.
any qt[\er.with which,
'Ye are.·~ :~'\acquaiµted.
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OF THE PRIMITIVE LANGUAGES OF : ll:UROPE> , · .. ;· ·~>

Q. From how m_any prim~tives: are the larigt1age~ :'.of Europ~
supposed to be denved ! · · .
· .· .
.
· · · · I·.

A. Chiefly' from four: the Greek; the Gothic
T eutonic, the Celtic, and the Sclavonic.

or·
'.

Do any of the.s e,.as spoken languages, still retain their orig: ·
mal form ? . . · ..
·
.
..
:·

. Q.

Dante and Bocciicio, ia the fourtee~th century; are regarded as the pa· ·
rents Of Italia~ lite rature, being the fir.s t Wl\o wrote .in th.at language ~ny
work of taste. Still great effort was tnade hy many to discourage Italian
literature, in favor of the Latin tongue. · .
.
· ' · · ·
Son:ie Freneh, and J;'ortuguese, an<l British scholars soon attempted to ,
give shape, ;an<l beauty, and reputation .to their oWJi ~ernac:ilar. tongues .
. It was not until the ~vent of the ~eformat10n under Luther that the preJ•
· udlce Of writing.in Latin was first checked in Germany, France, and England. ' That event a\vakenecl benevolence tO"'.itrt.! the common people, and.
the production of works in the native tongue, that the people might read .
thein. The .versions , of. the Scriptures into them served more than any
other circumstance to give foundation and beauty to the various lnnll"uages
of modern Europe'. The people, as such, thus became .intcre!ted m the·
study and improvenient of their owi1 languages. Various writers, among
others Lord · llacon 1 composed· some work~ in . Latin, and others in the vel'"".,
nacular.
.'
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182

ENGLISH LANGUAGE,

[PART V.

A, The Celtic and the Sclavonic do so to a very
great degree, but the others have become greatly
changed.

Q. And where does the Sclavonic continue to be a spoken lauguage?
A. Chiefly in Hungary, Poland, Bohemia, and Rus-

.sia.

Q. In what places does the Celtic still prevail?

A. In Wales, the Highlands of Scotland, Brittany
.m France, and some districts of Ireland.
"Q. What are the pri111cipal languages derived from the Greek?

A. The modern Greek, spoken in Greece, and some
·;Of the islands of the Archipelago, as well as the difJerent languages of which Latin is the basis, this lat·
.ter tongue being itself a derivative from the Greek.
Q. And what are these languages?

A . .Most oC those spoken in the South of Europe,
including the French, the Italian, the Spanish, and the
Portuguese.
.
Q. What are the languages founded chiefly on the Gothic or
Teutohic?

A. The German, the Dutch, the Danish, the Swe. dish, and the English.
. Q. Do the languages of different countries always retain their
distinctive characters?
· A. They do so to a certain extent, though those of

adjoining tribes and nations always run less or more
into each other.

CHAPTER Iii.
;- OF. THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.

. Q. What renders English a language of so much importance ?
A. The circumstances of its being spoken by so

,-great a multitude of the human race at the present
day; of its being so copious, simple, and expressive;
and of its containing so rich, so varied, and so refined
.a literature.
Q. Has it always possessed these characteristics?

A. Far from it; for, till within three hundred years

•Or so, it was rude and irregular in its structure,

'•f

!•

•.

j

.

meager Tn·· its v.o cabulary .ahd pow~r, of:expression, .
,and destitute of evety ' thing deserying t,he ,n.ame oJ a
literatme: .
· ·. · . ·. : . · · ":, ·.·':_ ; ~" ::, ;;; ,·.;;_ ;,'-:( ·.;.

..

~

. ! ~

"

· Q. What iende.d to keep .it so long m this ~tate? ·; . ·'
. . A. Part~y the ign~rance .~nd barbanty.-of ~he people,
1nnd partly the practice which &o lot1g p~eva~led a~1ong
1

. · ..

,

the learned, of writing almost every thmg m Latm;·.,

Q. What prompted the 1eamed for so long a period to ~bmpose
' chiefly in Latin?
' .
: • .·
· 1 , . . · :1 "' ·" · '. : ' : -· '
':· A. · That they might, by enlarging the ?ircle.of tpei,~

readers, enjoy a more extended

.. · ··q.

p~pulanty.

·

· '. r-' .··

How did writing in a dead hmguage mcrease the number, of
their readers?. ····
·1 .•
'.
·' •
·
·

,,

, :''i A. Because Latin at that time was ·the language ·
which the learned all cultivated and understood, while
the' illiterate were generally so ignorant as to be una·
. ble eveti to read or .write their own tongue. "' .·. ' '

' Q. Was therfl no other caus~ th~t · te.r.ided to, p~rpet.uate the u~e
of Latin as a written language 1 · '· ·
··/
.. ' ·
.. .:
A.;-Yes; .there ·was the drctnnstance of:~o much of '

the service , of the Catholic .Churqh being . perfori:ned

in :Latini . anq besides, the .Hritish ' schools .,apd univ~.r~.

I :~

sities .being founded almost 'excliisiv,ely,for .the ed~l~,a~ '
tion of churchmen, the Roman tongue was honored
in these _seats of learning_by being made nearly· ~he
soie instrument of communicating ~bought. ,,
. :.>
· Q. Who were the first improvers of the English language? ' ·

· A. Those chiefly who wrote for the common peo·
ple ; l and of these the poets took the l~ad.
·. · : ··

Q. Supposing Latin to have been less cultivated, would the
progress of the English language · have beeri slow on ~any other
·. ·. . ,
account ?
.
.
· · . · · :. . . - , . .

. A. Yes; .for, besides the unsettled state

. .,. ,

of the,coun-

try; .the dearth o( books would hav.e :pre9l\lded every
·thing like learning amo.ng .the grea~ btilk~of the ·pe?pte, ;
.and a language can not, 1~.Prove rapidly pH ~xtens1v,ely
used ,i n ~iterary .compos1t10ns. ' i . . . . :.'·· :. c·; -. . ··"
Q. ·How does .t his happen 1 · . , '· · '·· · . , '· · , ·
..
A; Because, till such time as writers find nun'le.rous

/

readers, they can not be expected to bestqw much
pains upon"the~r co_'.~~ositio~1s. , ·: :·- , .· \ 1 : ' • , ',

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184

OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, ETC. [PART V..

' Q. ·From ·whom have we the earliest accounts of Britain?
A . l<\om the Roinans ; and mo.re especially from the

famous general and elegant writer, Julius Cresar.

Q. What language was then spoken in the country ?
A. That known by the name Celtic, and the same

as prevailed at oqe tinie in France, Spain, and Portu-

.

.

'

Q. What proof have we of the Celtic having been then the
common language of th-e country?
,

·'.A. The names of a vast number of its mountains
rivers, and lakes, and of other objects of a permanent
character+ are Celtic in their orjgin) a thing which
never could have happened, had that language not
been early and long the common speech of the coun-

try.
•

Q. Why are th-e names of towns not also of thP. same origin ?

1

. -A. Because towns ~eing fluetuating in their nature,.
many of ~hose of. anc1ent date are now extinct, and
many of those still existing have been of a date long
subsequent to tpe pure Celtic period. .
Q. W.hat effect is the Roman conquest supposed to have had
upon this language ? ·
.

· A. By. introdticin!! the u~e of Latin among the upper
classes, it caused the Celtic to become the language

of the .lower orders merely.

,

I

.

I

'

Q. Did the· two languages not blend into one ?

.

A. No; for those who had adopted the Latin generally abandoned their, native tongue; and the Homans
never ca~e to settle in such 11umbers as to produce
any material change. upon the original language of the
country. .
· ·
.
Q. To wh~t purposes was. the Celti<;: language applied, besides
the common intercourse of hfe ?
·
A. To t~ose ch.iefly of eloqu~nce and poetry.
. Q. Whatmst~es have we of Celtic eloquence?

A. The warhke harangues delivered to their follow.
ers by Caracta.eus, Galgacus, and Boadicea~
·
Q. Who were their ·principal poets?

A. Those among the Dru.ids denominated ba:cds,,

•

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.

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whose. offi~e 'it was · fo ~e~~l!rat~~";h.~; p~~~s:es . ·t;~ thel~
rgods and heroes · -. - - ·' ··r ·' •· ·t'v ~~'\{"' ·'"'· ' '" .• "·~ .... · ··. ·. .
•

OF THE EARLY HISTORY OF Tl~E ENGLISH LANGUAGE, ETC.

g~.

'

.' ; .PART
r

CHAPTER IV.

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· Q.-- What branches of knowledge_did the 'Druid$ chiefly culti·

~ vate7

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·U··r~

;, Jil+ "i.:.t- 7·."' · ' · · ... ·
1

· · .. 'A;, .B esides the learning peculiai tb'ei"~ ~ab~rdotal
,office; they cultivated principally.medicine; ast~oriomy,
andlaw. ·
.'.
· .... ,i · ., , ... ;}'"':·' ' '·f1~t ..;i1'.t1:.
. Q. Were they acquainted with

td

the art ofwr\tirig!

." ~ ,.,1:,- .,\i

· : A. ~resar says they were; but that they rtevei: prac~
t1ced 1t ~ except for "the .purpose of concealing; ;rather
' than of promtilgating 'the knowledge whic,h th~y pos·, · · > · l . ·· , '. ~ · · _; " .:"::~· ••,-. • :._j, "''.
' .sessed. · .
· Q. .What were some of the principal~hai:J.ges U,.tro~uced by the.

.· ~om11:nconquest?

· · '. · ·.' :· :.: •:d' : :

.· . ,·,. ,·r"··>,!.I. "'. , ~:,. :: ,'

· A . .The art of \niting, of agricul.tu're, arid .Of 'architecture
whil~
it ::.\abolished
D.ruidism,
it substituted
·
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.; arid
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.'\ ...

>· . ·; · · \· \ ~( \ d" ;. . . ·.: ~ . . . .',·~ '·',. ~ ~Hf.'!: . ·., i"·i,r ~!ft ~ ') :..., it; \.'.,:"J\:: I t~..f · '. ,~-·. •.
. :· • . -..:~]": J: ~w ...~ · ·~··· ·.,
·'.-:: ·~ -:·~·.:~ }:~~;::,·~.\~··.:~.; ~.t~.'~;J ,}S,; ~~- ·.
";: .. \ , ':..:..,:' · PllJ\P..~~~i~''.~11r;~.~lt::~rr 1 thl°t-' ..'Ji; :;.

, }. .·

1

, ... t .

:._. . <w ~a: E~FECTS · 0F f Ta~>:JiAX01f:~ ~dNQtTkBT~ ··\\ ./.iif{~;'.
· Q._ pid the .arts an.~ improve_iients~,~~~o~~~ed)ii}~~:Ro-...
co?tmue long, to flourish 1: ·"';' · 'J.[/•' ~ -> ~ ;.,,q , Ur! ; '-.tyr~~?' _-::,~ ..'.·· , ;
.- A ·. N 0 ; ' they· had ,llQt_been ;long ;,estabhs\i~d when I

. they -were ~no~ , .m~re~Y- ~J:t~k~d~~ but . . en.tir~ly~ 9bl~ter~

..ated. .·

· ".

. . , , · · ·..:·.·,_,~

· Q. By wliat event' did this take place.?' '

:.=- , t~ "·':.,~1

'

r:

.t·<· r l t."' 1:.. ~ t: ~, ·
. ~ ' , . , , ·:
-

..A. By that great rev.Olution, . c~lled the ~ Saxon con• .
iguest. ·
. ' 1 , . ', ·• -.-··.:> . . -· ,.. :'· · · - .,.-·1.-> JI\-, -:,,, '~.: / ·_~ ·.
· Q. What clui'nge did this produce ·upon the langl:iage t ; , :'. .~,
.· A.· The .people havihg' been exterminated. by their··
. illvaders, rather than subdued, except among -the fast~.":
nesses of Wales. and · the ' Highlands, every trace of
the .Celtic -language became obliterated ·in' alt' the
.· -Other parts <>f tne island, .and the Saxon introduced in ·
. its stead. , , ' . .· · ''./ . ,' .. · " ',• . '.·" -. : ,..-., i\' ' f"
. Q. What .was the charaeter of the Saxons for learning t . . , ''·': , ,
-,, ·.~
r -'! .' ,Being
rug~ and .s~vage race, whose: sole·. b~cu~ : )~/.~
patlon was war, m rehg1on they were heathens, andl :' . /-1 '
in, learning SO<deficient as not '_even to be, acq~ain.t~dl.·i/· •I ·,~~:··l
with the us~ ofletters. - ' · · "
".,., . ' -'· :1 ._, . :'."··d7!~. •::' . ·:·: ~f~
Q 2 '.
'I
.
:"
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J86

EFFECT.3' OF THE SAXO N CONQUEST~ [ p ART' V.

i.
f.

· ,Q. Did they lon g continue in this state?

A. No; for, having completely subjugated the coun...
try, they ~radually settle_d down to a more regular
course of hf~; and ,the rem~roduction of Christia nity
gave ':l new If!lpulse to learnmg by making· the people
acquamted with the ~rt of writing.

. ~P'.A]l'I,' v.J . ~FfEPT.S; Q~·; :t:~.1!l,,P,A ~~~!l ' ~9~4uE~T· · ~ ~7

,,:' ff.· M~~h ,l~ss ' than

might ha,ve ..b,een; ex~13cted,i for
b.a111~h, like 1 t~e. §flxon . tongu,e,<be1pg ,of .Gothic:
,origm; :was ~nly a .diffe,rent dial~ct : of: the aarue .lari..
' .guage; ' an~, with . the ,.exception qf ~fi~cking its 1im- (
provement, had little effect in ;iltering the . speech. Qf
the cotint~y. .. . ;,,
· · ~ ; · , : ·»,:,,.i; ·:,·:''.;~~·,:',' ,~: · 1;/',~:·:t>- '

.trr ..

Q . .In what language did. the learned men continue for a time
to wnte?
•

A. In the Latin; and one or two of the most distinguished of the Saxon Latin writers are Gilclas, a
native of Alcluyd, now Dumbarton; Alclhelm, abbot
of Malmesbury; and the Venerable Bede 1 a native~
and afterward a monk, of the Abbey of Wearmouth
in the county of Durham.
,
Q. What characters did the Saxons use in writing 'their own
tongue?
I
··
•
·

A. With the exception of a character to denote th
and another to denote w, their letters were the sam~
as the Roman.
Q. Who were among the earliest writers in the Saxon. language?

.

A. Two individuals called, fo.r distinction, the one
the elder, the other the second Caedmon who were the
authors of religious poetry.
'
Q. Of ~hat. did the Saxon; literatur~ chiefly consist?
· A. Pnnc1pally of poems, histories or chronicles re-

ligious treatises, and translations from the Script~res:
and from Latin authors, with some few tales or fic.tions.
. Q. Who is one of its brightest ornaments?
A. The celebrated King Alfred, who is regarded not

,only as one of ihe wisest of monarchs, but as one of
' the rriost learned men of his day, and an ardent promoter ~oth of religion and learn.ing among his subjects.
·

Q. Did the Saxon language andl ltterature: regula:rly improve
,
.
after Alfred's time ?

A . Quite the reverse; for, first by their incursions
and then by the invasion and ultimate conquest of th~ ·
country by the Danes, society was thrown into the utmost confusion, and all improvement in language, in
, literature, and the arts of life, was completely che cked_
Q. Did the Danish conquest produce much change. upon. ilia
character of the language 1
-

. ·.I

·.

;.!. '

. c. ,

:·:,.' . .!:,;' '. ', ·~~.~·.· . ··,<'.: ·;/; '~::.\'.\.~") ·~~.Ji'

' . .· 1. '
I . \ . CHAPTER / VJ; -: 'I' '· ,::; '' · >~1 · .-~;f;
t • • ' oF· ;.HE hF'F:c+~
TltE! nA.~1s~ c<>~4JE.~T.: ::Y>::~·;
1 .

:

ot

_,

r{

.: ,

' · ..q..W.h at \V3:s ~he fir~tpent
th~

··~

Saxon language?

that produced m~ch effect. upon
. ·. . ' .
. '' ·
··

.

11 .~· The ~~e.~t i~1tercou~~~ whi~h. b·egari ~<'>. tak,e.plac~
~.~tw~en, B~1t,a.m artd , Nor.~andy, m part directly,.'but

_

....

. s~!.ll m.~re, rn~~~.e .~tJr;. 1was , tl;l«(, nrst ;·thing .~~at

tende4
Jcu1ffect ~~e. langqage ,to ,. any1great dearee, "., , ., :, . 1,,,
' Q. ·To What. Yv,~s this lntercoii'rse chiefly' owing t: ' .

..· :A·

-:,., :.-~-~

To th13 c1~<;~11n~tri~ce of so .r:nany '!f. tne ~flxoii
p,n nces. a~d nobility hav111gJaken refuge, in, that ~QU[l-_
try durmg .th~ .r.erio? of~anish sway .i n Britain . .: .

'

Q .. W~at mdmd.ual ~, J>3;r,t~~~lar /\19;vved. greai . partiality. for ·
every thmg Norman? .1 "· '• 11 ·, • '.~ ,,. ~·1.' l ,.. · ''-" ·· ·_·· · •...:
A. Edward,. the;' Confes~or 1 who 1 :being !!descended
from , EJh~lred .. tl:i_~· .second, a .Saxon .refugee;- had been _

brought up at the. court:.of ,Normandy, and therefore
. t~ok every opportunity of testifying h•s attacl:ilzje11t \o .
his. benefactors. :. -<; · '; ' :>· ,.,. , ~··,•·. , · .!· ·.,:( ,
c . , What effect had his example upon the rest _o fthe c.ouiltry ?
. A '. . It. caused the . nobilitr,. and · .those · possessed
wealth, to send their sons mto Normandy to. be educat.e d, .which _i11. time produced; iri lhe higher 'classes,
a - stro~1g part1ahty ta the N orman 1, and a sad disr~gard
to their own languilge . .. .. -i. ·:, ' "· · . ,.!.·,.·i,. ," ,,. ~
1

of

. Q . .What ~ort bf language

was the Norn)a)l? ·· .. i-<".

· · ·.

r ,; , ; ,

. .A. ,f., l;rnguage which .had arisen frotn the ,admixtUre
of the Latit~ . ~s spoken in France, and. of tha~ dialect
~f the GJj~~1c 1 "'.h1ch~was: spo1ain b:Y ~lie , Ndrthtneri a~d
. other warlike :tribes, who had ·ov~rrun : arttl ·conquer.e d
that fine:dountrY1 ,, , .. :··'. : 1 ·· ·'! · ,.., .. ,, ,, '.·: ~ :\ ·:. , ··· · 1::'·
' Q. :'rn :~hat' r~spe~ts ?id the new language resembl~ ot.dltfot
from those

.

~rom. fhich , 1t
)

had sprqng 'I

,~

· : ' ,' .' :, } , •. :.·,· : :i ,,:tr
/
.
~.

·'

'.

)

188

EFFECTS OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST. [PART V.

' A'. It retained a greater resemblance to the Latin in
the words of which it was composed; but seemed
more akin to t~e Gothic 'or Teutonic in its general
. structure, and m the arrangement of its words into
sentences.
Q. What motive had the English nobility to prefer the Norman
language to the Saxon?

A. J;"'r~bably the vani~y, in part, of being thus farther dtst~nguis_hed from the common people ; though
the cons1derat1on of the Norman being regarded as a
more refined and cultivated language, must have had
no slight influence.
·
Q. ~hat was the. indirect consequence to the language of this
great mtercourse with Normandy?

A. ' It paved the way for the Norman conquest an
e_vent which happened in the year 1066, and which ultimately produced a complete revolution in the language, the literature, and the institutions of the country.

.,

...
.

.

/'

.,,'
.,

I

,,[As an evidence· that the Engii~b: language was whoij.y foreign to the
English cciui"l, D'lsraeli relates a ludiCrolis anecdote of the chancellor of
Richard the First. " This' chancellor, in : bis fligh't :from': Canterbury, dis•
guised as ii felnale hawker, carrying under hie arm _a bundle of cloth, ,and
an elL measure .in his liand, sat by the sea-side waiting for Ii v·essel. The
fisherme~'s wives inquiring the price of the clotli, 1\e. co~ld ·only answer by
a burst of laughter ; for this mart, born in England and chancellor of Eng~
land, did not know a single ·word of English!) 1 • ,,, , ; ./ ,.: ~ , :,. . ''" .r ·. ·. , .· · ·

, Q. How many languages, then, were

·country ? .

·

·

.

'·

a time· sp,oken, in the
'
• · ' :·

fot

·:

A. Two: the Norman, among all who aimed at be- '

ing genteel, and the Saxon, by all the common people; while the Latin still,continued to be thelang~age
of the learned, and .of the Chutch service. · . . · · · . ,
, Q. ,W_hat was ultimately the result of this distinction 1 :·
· '
. A. For a ,time, these two languages kept perfectly

distinct, but at last they began to coalesce, and then
sprung up that noble tongue .which we now call E.n glish. ~ . .
· : ,:. . '· · .· . "' . .. , . ·1 • • • " • • ·. , • " 1

,' I
,

-~'

.Q. At whiit time 'did this r~sult begin to take phlce 1 . · ·.. ·
A: '.fh~ precise period can _not , n~'Y. ,be .ascert~~ned_;

but it is hkely to have been. early; (or, as the common ,
people could not 1 speak .the . N <;irm~n,
the . higher'
classes 'the Saxon, they would soori see the, propriety
of compromising the · matterj ·by :each. party, ·for the ·
r:;ake of being µnderstood; p.dopting moi~, ot,less o( the
Janguageofthe. other_, · ,, .:. · -.. .•" ,, .. ·: · '· "

:nqr •

CHAPTER VII.
OF THE EFFECTS OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST.

Q. To what barbarous policy had the Norman conquerors re·
course, the better to strengthen their usurpeci. power?

· A. To the ,dire expediency of endeavoring to extirpate _the very language o_f the people, in order that, by
makmg the~ forget th.e1r Saxon lineage, they might
more reconcile them to the Norlnan yoke.

Q. What measures were taken thP. better to effect this purpose?
A. All offices of honor, of trust, and of emolument

were filled by the foreigners, and the Norman tongu~
was enjoined as the language to be used at court in
the enactment of laws, and in all legal proceeding~
~- Whom did the Normans easily get to obey these ha;sh

edicts?

A. The nobility or higher classes, who had not been
ejected from their estates, though of this description
of persons the number was very small ; and the Norma1~s, who became masters of the country had no
motive to abandon their origiilal speech.
'

. · Q. ·Which language ultimately prevailed over the other?

·.' 1

.

', I

·:,A, 'J'.hey 'w.ere. prob.ably nearly on a par as io the · '
number of words adopted from each; but the Saxon
retained the decided ascendeticy a~ .to )he .termina- ,
tional distinctions and the grammatical <;:Oristru<;:tion
of the wbrds into sentences. . . . . . .
. '' ' '. ' .

>Q.' What are the kinds of wotds.in our langu.age that are chief·
ly of Saxon origin? . ' · ,
. · . . '. · , . , .
. ""·

I

~

:

,' A. Most of those .t hat are. short, and , ar~ "used'Jo .
· expres~ common objects and common. events. . · ;. '. ," - ~i ·
... Q. What was the nature of thos~ wotds derived from the Notman F'rench ? ·
. ' . . · , · , · ':' .' ": . • · .~· . :'. .
, 4. They: were chiefly those of,. a Lati~ origin~ and

which, being generally words o_f, more: sylla~les thari
ohe,, are llS~d .to express less COll}mori object~ and OQ.::- i
·CU.rrenceg, " - ·' , ·
·· .
· . ' : , d · .,. · . · ·:
· ; Q. With what two languages has this unioh chiefly allied the. · ·· ~ . · ;
English? . ·

. ·· . ...

_

,. ·· . . •.

!.

•

;/>·c . .

~ ·:/
.,
'.·

I'

:.

'r

' •· ,

,

190 MODERN HISTORY o~

OUR LANGUAGE. [rART v.

, A . . 'With the original Saxon, and with the J,atin
through the medium of the N o~man ,Fr~nch .
·
Q. What peculiar characters does 1t receive from each?
A. From the former strength and vivacity, with

sometimes considerable harshness of sound; from the
latter smoothness, harmony, and greater pomp and
dignity.

..

J
,.:: \

.
I

•

'

·.

' '

;

. .

.

'

~

'

I •

'

I

J'.ART v.] MO~E~-N :HIS'l'ORVfOF . otiit i:LA!iGUAGE.19f
.

.

I

·.· _A. Geoffrey ·Chauc'e r, who ' ~as ·borri iii' 1328,' and ·
,died in 14001 leavirtg behitid him many_inoriuments ·or
his noblegeµius, the_principal (!f:~. hicW!lre ~h~ Canterbury Tales. - ·. '- . ' - ·' r - ,, .-;:r: •:~ ;, .,,'il~'.-Ytt'.·c'' 1 '
, Q. Who were-the ,principal prose ,~riiers, o(th1tfpkriddi-~\;:;' -'
· · A. Sir John Mandeville, a distibgliishecl' trave113r f
and John Wicliffe, who is often regarded as' th~ fa the~
of the Reforrnatioii ,.
· ·'
· " •· ·.- :;; ·~-?: ·.< ., 1 \ - / •::

•

-

Q. After the great cel~brity of Chahcer, did.~h-g1ish'~riter~ ~tic- ·
ceed each other in rapid succession 1 · , , :; -,;. , · .- ''":< ': ;~ -· :":: '·· :

OF THE M,ODERN HISTORY OF OUR LANGUAGE.

Q. What length of time did the Saxo~ and Norman French
take to fuse and form themselves into the .new language 1
·

A. A period of nearly three hundred years ; for,
though 'the process was early begun, it required this
long time to bring it to completion; so slow is the
progress of human affairs in rude periods of society.
Q. Were there many writers during tlus period?

'

A. A considerable number, though none of any very
mgh reputation.

Q. Of what kind were they chiefly ?
A. They consisted prit~cipally of the le~r~1ed, who
composed mostly in Latin, and upo~1 rehg10us and

philosophical subjects; and of c?rom?lers and poets
called minstrels, who wrote cluefly m the popular
language of the country.
.
.
Q. Do the latter exhibit much uniformity of style?

tions seems to vary not only according to the time,
but even to the part ,o f the country in which they lived
and wrote.
·
(t Jn whose reign might the change of language bo said to
·

,

.

A. In the reign of Edward the Thud, which began

jn 1326, and ended in 1377.

.
..
· Q. In what manner did he accelerate this event? .
A. By makii1g English the language of his court,
and by discontinuing the Norman Ill all law proceed-

jngs.

.

hi~r _r~putation as .Chaucer, prior_ to the ,period, ~(
Elizabeth · . .· ·. . ·
-~
· . . · ,) -. _,).' ·" . ··;_· . .,;
"',
\' .
' '
Q. ·What were the principal changes. which took · place, in the
language during the 150 years fro~ Chaucer's time? . . ·. ·. --.' . ·. 1 , · :

.

.

Q. Who .may be regarded as the earliest writer of genuine
English poetry'!

'

'

~

'

'

'

A. It .be.c aine for . one ,th111g more regular · in its ,
orthography, many of the old ,words .were suffered to drop out of use 1'and new ones, :chiefly frqrri ·the: Latin,
were introduced ,;_ ~nd altoget~er tli~ J~~gli~ge becam,e '
more elegant, copious, andrefiiled. ::; ; " \: · /·'- ~ ·' : , _
, Q. What class .bf writers took the.lead ih this improvernen_t ?1. ,
A . .The poets ·chiefly', and of the~e Scotland . can '.
boast of more than her _~ue proporti~m. >, ».; . ;· ,,. ; , : . ~~ . ', ,

.. ; .11'
'·' .-''(,

Q. What e'Vent tended to secure · past . and prpiiloteJuture jm~ provements in the language? , '. ;: . r , ~:· , '; : ' :>; . ' . -- ,):.: . '

A. The art of printing, wqich _was invented ~in Holl.arid early in tlie fifteenth cen,tury; and·introduc:ed irit~ ~ ·
England by William Caxton, in the year 1474. - ;_ '·_< .'
,~ '

•

A. Far from it; for the character of their composi-

have been completed?

so indeed ; though norie gaitled s'tich

· A. Very much

CHAPTER VIII.

,'

·~

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'

I

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,

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.... ..

, :- ·

. -' .' . . .· .·. IX::-'. ,'..<- -'.>::'. :,~ , { '_,

.•...

_. _ ._ ... _

;

\ 1 .'

,' 1'·····

, .CHAPTER

•

"··

'

'

'

'·

I

: · '

-

•

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, ,

'

'

'

I

THE SAl\IE SUBJECT CONTINUED.

,:

1

\'

,

J.

,. r 1 · _:- , ·
~
tf' .,:· ·'. \'t~

,1'

' I

'

'

.' •:

·•

-: -.... • ' ·

· ,

·. Q. In whose .re'ign did th.e English_lartg.ua.ge ~ni: li~er~t~'e -, nui.ft,e greatest progress ?
- ' -_ ·
: · : ,- , ·· .(1_ · " · . ,

· A. ,Iii _-_that of Elizabeth, .and , of h~r ; _ successor, -.
. J'< - ,« ", ~ · : ,,_.- :~
· '
· James. ; " t , · : ' . ' · ·
·- · Q. · What. characters· did the langtiage the~. l\ssume'7 \1 , ' r -' .. ·!:.,
' "'·A. ' Those of . great ·copiousness, flexibility\ vigor; ,
and graiu\eur; 'an.d it acquired farther _th~· chara~~~~ ·_
of a more regular orthography. · · - ·-· -. · · . ~:·
1

,, , .

I

· :·

.Q. To '\vhat had diversity, of spelling beeri previougJy ownig f ;' :. '

,

,

,.

. '

I

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.

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- I~·:
~-'

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' •,

,

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-~-

·192

MODERN HISTORY OF OUR LANGUAGE. (rART V,

. A. To the circumstance of there having been pre-

. viously no fixed standard, every one spelling his
words according as his own ear or fancy dictated.
Q. Who w ere some of the principal ornaments of English lit·
erature during these reigns?
.

A. Sidney, Spenser, Essex, and Raleigh; but especially Bacon, Shakspeare, and Hooker.

Q. What did the language still require to make it almost per·
feet as an instrument of thought?

A. Nothing but a little additional polish and refinement ; a slight. infus ion of taste and elegance ; a lopping off of redundancies and 'extravagances ; and a
greater closeness and ·condensation of thought.

Q. Wh? were among tho next great improvcrs of our language?
A. Milton, Dryden, llutler, Clarendon, Burnet, Til-

lotson, Hobbes, and Locke; with many others too numerous to mention.
·
·
Q. In what were many of the writers of the times of Charles
the Second and 'William and Mary chiefly defective?

A. In correctness of taste, often substituting quaintness for originality, and mistaking affectation for wit.

Q. During what reigns did our language receive its highest
polish?

A. During those of Queen Anne, and of the Georges,
and of their successors.
Q . . Who have been mainly instrumental in this improvement?

A. Addison, Steele, Pope, Swift, Hawksworth,
Chesterfield, Goldsmith, Johnson, Gibbon, Hurne,
Robertson, Blair, Beattie, together with all our distinguished writers, whether of prose or poetry, who
have adorned our litetature during the important period of the last half century.
Q. What may be said to be the present character of our language?
A. It is copious, elegant, and energetic, well fitted

for every species of subject, abounding in all the richest stores of literature, whether designed for improvement or pleasure, and adorned alike with the treasures
of religion, science, and philosophy, the effusions of
fancy, the records of history, the sublime inventions
of imagination, and the majestic movements of the noblest' oratory.
·

: _ rART

-v:J :PERIODICA~ . LITERATURE

'

. . ....

'

-

.,

193

I

: 1V!
·.r:.i,-:: . :.,. . "'
. .·--,!,, ,··. _.,;.CHAPTER
A•'-T4H• - ;;1
~ i ;·.:.·
. F:--.
. . ~"i·

·. r · ... :.·,_::

.,J .:

'

.

o; ti~aiorim~i} iir.li:ttA~tlii£:: •\1 r.'_:,: \•: ·~· ;-;:~
1,

1

.

~

_· ,,

Q..What db you ~~9~rstand by P~rlo<li6~t'.Liti~;tiire 1 ,.· ·. ~: '' '
..,. ' A : ··"~ orks published in ~de~ache~ .port~ons, : a~d -..a t
stated,tm1e·s .\ and , devoted chiefly; lf. no~~-e~9lus1velyt
to literary or sci~ntific subjects .. ,, ,:· :1 · '\· ~ ...,; , ....:<.: ~-p·
. . Q.: Dq pot irn>rspapers belong to this department of literature 1 , ·
1- A. 'Strictly speaking they do; though, from the ,cir· · ·

' ,

'

'•)

-~

cumstf'.!_nce of their being devoted- almost entirely 'to
political topics, and a detail of the remarkable occur•
rences that .take· place in the world, they ·are ' geriej:~
ally i:anlted . .as a 'distinCt class by themselve~, o'ftert
s.tyled ~he · newspaper pr~s~. ; · The first newspaper pub·
hshed m Amenca Was Il1 1604, called the News-letter.;

'· '
I
~'

\

. Q. Is_ periodical literature of high antiquity? ·' : ,. ',' ·· .~· · :_ ·
A. Nci; i_t is of ~omparatively re'cent origin,' having

never _be~n 'ap:p,a rently thought of by the . anci~n.ts ..

~: ,

Q. How can this oversi~ht be accounted for 1 ., · · · ·
· A; By the wartt <:>f that itbportant' inst.rttnient_,, the
printing-p1'ess; for, had all works still to be written out

by the hand, this species of literature, if known at .all,
must have been exfren:il3ly limited. · . _.. '
· · " .. ·

· Q. Where· and when did periodical literature take ifs rise 1: '1'.,

· A. , In France, in. the year 1665, when the first work, , , ...
of the kind' not properly .political, was beg1iri by one
Dennis de Sallo, under the denomination of the Jour·
nal de.~ S~at•ans.
.
. . ·. - .· . ,· ' "' ,; . . .
';»:.. ~- .
I

•.

' Q. From w_hat time inay we date its origin in England 1
.
·.·' A. From February, 1704, when the celeb~ated Dah·
iel. De_,, Foe commenced his work called the R~l!iei.J{.-. ~,
, ', Q.. Did the Review <;ontinue 'long solitary 1 · '"

'. .

. .:

<"

· · A. No; for it was speedily follow.ed by the Tatler,

the Spectator, and the. Guardian, which, though ranked With the British Essayists, Were nevertheless ·peri, · ·.:· ·' · · i · · · · ,·
odicals. " . ·· .:· · ' ·
. : Q. H:\is yeriodical lit.erature extended much eip~e t.q at time .? ..
·A. It is now,, perhaps, the most ~xtens1ve 9f all our
department~ of literature, and seeni~ to command the
attention of readers of' all classes. . . . ' \ '
.
· Q~ At what intervals 1 and unde.t 'What titles, do period~cals now
'
:· · :' r ' :
generally !lpj>ear ?- ; , :. : · · .. ·

l -

·~ .

· .4. .. _Sbm,e, ~re publis}ied. weekly, some monthly, ~th., ·
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[PART Vt

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ers quarterly, and not a few yearly; and under the
various denominations of Journals, Magazines, Miscellanies, Reviews, and Annuals.
Q. In what does the principal attraction of this kind of litera·
ture consist ?
A. In its containing a great variety of light, elegant,

and amusing reading, with a good deal of general information, though commonly of a rather superficial
character. ·
.
Q. What is supposed to be the effect of so much periodical lit·
erature upon the public mind 7
A. While it induces some to read, who, probably,

otherwise would not, it is supposed to withdraw the
attention of not a few from the perusal of more regular and important works, and, by giving a mere smat·
tering of many things rather than a thorough acquaintance wtt.h any 'one, to make our knowledge lnore superficial than solid, and more showy than useful.

CHAPTER XI.
THE COMPONENT PARTS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE,

[From the Edinburgh Review; 1839.]

THE English language consists of about thirty eight thousand words. This includes, of course, not only radical
words, but all derivatives, except the preterits and participles of verbs; to which. must ~e .adde~ some ~ew terms,
which, though set down m the d1ct10nar!es, are e1tl~er obsolete or have i1ever ceased to be considered foreign. Of
the~e, about twenty-three thousand, or nearly five eighths,
are of Anglo-Saxon origin. The majority of the rest, irt
what proportion we can not say, are Latin and Greek; Latin, however, has the largest share. The names of the great~
er part of the objects of sense, in other words, the terms
which occur most frequently in discourse, or which recall
the most vivid conceptions, are Anglo-Saxon. Thus, for
example, the names of the most striking objects in visible
nature, of the chief agencies at work there, of the changes
we pass over it, are Anglo-Saxon.
. ,
This language has given names to the heave1ily boches,
the sun, the moon, aud stars ; to three out of the four ele-

.

I

.men ts; earth, fire, anQ. water;<tl~ree ,out ~ftl~{four' seasons,
spring, summer, and winter, i ahd, _i.llde~d,,to ap · t~e natui'~l ,_;
divisions of time except one; as <lay, mght, morrung, even:-. i
jng, twilight, :noon_, midday, midriig.ht1sunris"'.~ sunset, som~
··..:
otwhich .are among the moist 'poetical terms we ~ave : ·. -To
....'_, ~
the same language we are indebted ·for :~h'.e names. of h~ht,
,•
beat, cold, frost, rain, snow, h~il, s'leet~- thun.dE(r, hghtmng! .
:~
as well as· almost all those objects which ~orm the compo- _
nent parts Ol the -beautiful in external SCe~ery; as sea a~d
]and, hill and dale, wood and stream; &c: · It is :fn\m · th1~
language we derive the words .which are expressive of the
earliest and dearest connect10ris, and. the strongest an~· , .
·1
\ . ·.
rp.ost powerful feelings of nature, and which a~e, conseque1,1t~
~.y, inreste_d with our ,oldest and most comphcated asso~t~~
t10ns
. · . · · ". ·
'< It ·is this l~nguage wtiich . has gi~en us names for fati~er;
•'..~
mother husband, wife, b~other; sister,-son, daughter, cluld,
home,' kindred, friends. ·: It · is _thi~ 'which· has furni~hed _us
with 'the greater part of those metonymies and ' ?the~ fig~ra­
tive expressh,ms, ,by.which we represent to t~e ~magmat~on;
and that in. a single Word, the ' reciptocatduties and enJoy~
. · ments of hospi~ality, friendship, or. lov.e,: _such ~r~. hea~h,
roof,_ fireside. · The. chie[' :~~otions, ftoo; ?f wluch we· are,
susceptible, .are exp_ress,ed 1n the same ~anguage, as love!
hope, · fear, sorrow, shame; , and 'Yhat Js of ~ore cunse•
quence to the ·orat.or _and the. poet, as. wel~ a~ I!! comipon
life the outward 'signs by which emot10n . ts mdtcated, are
alU:os~ all Anglo-Saxon;· such are tear, - smile, blus~, to
laugh, to · \\·eep, to sigl~, to groan .. , Most o~ those .obJec~s
about which ; the practical reason bf man_ is employed m
c01i'1rrion life, 'receive their names from the ' ~nglo-Saxon:·
his the language, for · the most part; of busmess; .oL the
countirig-house, the shop, the market, ~he street, t~e farm ;:
and however miserable the,:rnan who JS fond of.. ph1losophy
or dbstract science might be, if he had no other vocabulary
but this we ml1st recollect that language was made not for
the few' but the ·many, and that portion ofit which enables
ihe bulk of a · nation td express their wants and ttahsact
tlwir affairs; must be considered of'at least as much import.;,
ance to generai happtness as _that which serves the purp()se,
p)lilosophical_science: . ' .
. . ·. . ' . ~ .1'· . .. . '.)
, Nearly all _out .nati~nal pr?verbs, m whtc~ 1,t is t.ruly ~a1c1d
so. much .,o f the.. practt<'.al wisdom of a nat10n resides~ an,, '. . '·I,'-·,
which constitute the manual and vtide mccum of ".hobnat.led ; .
' .
philosophy, .are almost wholly Anglo-Saxon . . A very large .· .. / . :~
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196

THE COMPONENT PARTS, ETC. [PART V,

proportion (and that always the strongest) of the language
of invective, humor, satire, colloquial pleasantry, is AngloSaxon.
Almost all the terms and phrases by which we most energetically express anger, contempt, and indignation, are of
Anglo-Saxon origin. · The Latin.contributes most largely to
the language of polite life, as \W'll as to that of politr litrrature. Again, it is often necessary to convey ideas, which,
though not truly and properly oflcnsivc i11 tli('msc!H's, wo11ld,
if clothed in the rough Saxon, appear so to the sensitive
mod esty of a highly-refined state of socict.y; 1hr.ssr.1l i11 Lat.in, these very same ideas shall seem decent enough . Thero
is a brgr nnmhcr of words, whicl1, from 1hr frr'r11101wy wi th
which tlH'Y are llsed , anrl from their !win~ rn constantly in
the months of the Yu!gar, would not be f:'ndnred in poiislw1l
society, though monoi privilegP.cl synonymei:; of Latin origin ,
or some classical circumlocution expressing exaet!y the
same thing, shAll pas~ nnquPstionPd.
- There may be twthing dishonest, nothing really vulgar
about the old Saxon word, yet it would be thought as uncouth in a drawing-room as the ploughman to whose rude
use it is abandoned. Thus the word "stench" is lavendered
over into unpleasant e.Uluvia, or an ill odor; "sweat," diluted
into four times the number of syllables, becomes a very inoffensive thing in the shape of" perspiration." To "squint"
is softened into obliquity of vision; to be "drunk" is vulgar,
but if a man be simply intoxicated or inebriated, it is comparatively venial. Indeed, we may say of the classical
names of vices, what Burke more questionably said of vices
themselves; "that they Jose half their deformity by losing
all their grossness." In the same manner, we all know that
it is very possible for a medical man to put to us questions,
under the seemly disguise of scientific phraseology and polite circµmlocution, which, if expressed in the bare and rude
vernacular, would almost be as nauseous as his draughts
and pills. .Lastly, there are many thoughts which gain immensely by mere novelty and variety of expression. This
the judicious poet, who knows that the connection between
thoughts and words is as intimate as that between body and
spirit, well understands, There are thoughts, in themselves
trite and commbnplace when expressed in the hackneyed
terms of common life 1. which, if adorned by some gi·aceful
or felicitous novelty of expression, shall assume an 1111wo11t.ed _a ir of dignity and elegance. "\Vhat was trivial, llccomes
striking ; aud what was plebeian, noble.

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.

CHAPTER I.

1,

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;

ENGLlsn LITERATURE UNIJl!:R Tirn TUDORS AND Tin: YrnsT
BTUAllTS.

,. ,-

the reign of Elizabeth to the protectorate of
()romweH, incltisively, there rosein phalanx, and con.:.
tiuucd in succession , minds of all orders anJ hands
' for
work, in poetry;·philosdphy, history, and t:t:ie·
ology, which .ha,·c hcqne athcd to us such treasu~es of
what may be called · genuine I•:nglish - LitefattJte; that
whatever tnay be the changes of taste, th~ re\·oluti,0ns
of style, and the fashions in 'popular. reading; these
wi11 be the sterliilg standards: .~_: : · · '--' -, -- /. · · ,:- ·. · ,
· · The standard of 6ur 'tongue .having been fixed at an,
era wheiiit. ~as . rich, in ~ i1_atinUdioms, full o(prjstine .
vigor, and pliable almost as soun,d articulate tan be to sense~and that·-' stand~rd, having,be~n . fi.x ed .ill p~e~ry;,.­
.the most pernianent ahd perfect c>f.aH forms of htera1.
titre, as well as in' the version of the Scriptures, whfch
.are necessarily the ' most popular species of readiI~g~
no very considerable .changes 'can be ~ffected. · 111·: ' "-· 1
Contemporary .With Milton; though his · ju~ipr, ' and
belonging to a subsequent era of literature, ·of which
he became the great lumifiary ahd m'aster-:spi_tit1 was '
· Dryden. Hi_s prdse (not less admirable tliail his ~~rse);
- i.n its· structure and cadence, in.·compass ·of· ·expre~:-. · ·
.sion, and general 'freedom. from cumbersome'. 'pcimp, ·
pedantic restraint,· and vicious quaintness, '\vhi'cQ. -mo're '
-·.or· less ·· characterized his ' predecessors~ ·be¢ame ; the ,
favorite rno~el .ih that species ,of idompositi'ori,-which\_ was happily follo .w ed and highly improved .})y·lid4ison, · ·
Juhnson.- and dther periodical Writets :·of the - la~i c~nf,. '
1 tury i ., ·1 ;hcse'{ to' wliom mu~t be added the triumvirate '.'
-Of British- histori.an~ 1 Hume, Rohett&on 1'atid 'Gilih.iin, ~ho
·
R 2 .
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198

BRITISH LITERATURE.

[PART VI.

exemplified, in their very dissimilar styles, the triple
contrast and harmony of simplicity, elegance, and
splendor- these illustrious names in prose are so
many pledges that the langtiage in which they immortalized their thoughts is itself immortalized by
being made the vehicle of these, and can never become barbarian like Chaucer's uncouth, rugged, incongruous medley of sounds, which are as remote
from the strength, volubility, and precision of those
employed by his polished successors, as the imperfect
lispings of infancy before it has learned to pronounce
half the alphabet, and imitates the letters which it
cannot pronounce with those which it can; are to the
clear, and round, and eloquent intonations of youth,
when the voice and the ear are perfectly formed and
attuned to each other,-(For a more full account of
Dr. Johnson, we may refer you to chap. vii., sec. v.)

CHAPTER II. ·
FROlll THE RESTORATION TO THE REIGN OF GEORGE THE
THIRD.

the Restoration,. in 1660, to the time when
Cowper had risen into full fame in 1790, may be dated
the second grand era of modern English Literature,
reckoning from Elizabeth to the close ' of Cromwell's
pr~tectorate, already mentioned, as the first.
The early part of this period (the reigns of Charles
JI. and James 11.) was distinguished for works of wit
and profligacy; the drama, in particular, was pre-eminent for the genius that adorned and the abominations that disgraced its scenes. The middle portion
of the same period, from the Revolution of 1688 to
the clos.e of the reign of George II., was rather the
age of reason th an of passion, of fine fancy than of
adventurous imagination in the belles lettres generally. Pope, as the · follower of Dryden in verse, ex:celled hiin as much in grace and harmony of numbers as he might be deemed to fall below him in raci•
FRoM

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J;>ART
••

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BRITISH. ~ITERATURE"o :

·"7

. ness and pithy origillality. , 'It isito be~ reinarked\ alsH,
that; 'while·P.ope gave the ton~ 1 ch ~facter," ~l1rl . fashion
to the ,Verse · of his day; as decidedly:a ir ·Addison .had
given to the prose, yet, df all h~s _imitators; 'not one
has maintained the.-rank of even a,secolidltate atlthqr ~
the gr,eatest n,ame~ among his cqntemporaries/ T/iom.:
son .and Young, being thOse who ' differed •most··· frbm
him in manner, subject, and taste, espeeially .~1ttht)s():br
their w·o rks which promise to last as lotig 'as·his own.
. ' B~ tween Pope ai1d Qgwper, we have the' h'a mes,'o(
Collins, Gray, Goldsmith, and Churchill. ' Of these, the
two · former have nothing in com,inon with Pope; .put
they produced too. little, and were too great manner-'
ists :themselves to be ihe fathers, in ' eitherJine ~ 0( 1ii •
,s¢po9r of mannerists; it is only when niailrierlsm ;is
connected with geniu3 ·of the . proudcisf order or th~
mos~ prolific species that it be.co~es extepsively ih~
fectious ari1ong minor 'minds> ::As .,for Goldsmith and
Churchill, ··Whatev¢f they appear/ to\ haveco'wed·' to
Pope, . tJ1ey ' are ri"e(Jiembered ·, and;. ad mi.red ' for ~ wlfat ·
they poss~ssed it1deperidetit ·of him '. .. :1 , :t '. ,,·:v1 · 1:~-~
Nothing in the English language' ·can.be·· more·· per:..
. / feet thati the terseness; elegance; and' con<}ensatiQn of;
Pope's sentimei1ts; diction arid rhyme. ;~, r: '.; . .. , :;:;~,,'··· .·
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E ~GLISH , LITERATtmE ' OF 'T~E, P~ESENT A.GE ; ':;'',:'~

. :~· WITH the exceptions already named, thtfre was hot
a poet between ·Pc:ipe and Cowper '\vho ·had power td
co·m mand popular applause iri any enviable ·degree~•_,:;·
· . Cowper's first volume, p·a rtly from · tliii grave charJ
~cter · of: the longer .pieqes, and the purposely -r~ggetl ;
.r_arripli!ig; slip-shod versificatfon, _was'· Iongneglected;
ttll ···The . ;Task ,' the noblest effort · of his muse; com~
posed urider,the inspiration of cheerfulnessi hope, and
love, ' unbc)~oming the ·whole soul of his 'affections•
_intelligence; ~nd' piety, at' once made our c6untrymeh ,
·f~l ·.that ··neither: .t he genius of· poe~y . had ifled ·fl'.Ot!l ..
.

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BRITISH LITERATURE.

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~rit_ain, ~or had the heart of it died in the breasts of
Its · inhabitants. The Task was the first long poem
from the close of Churchill's brilliant, but evrinesceni
~areer, t_hat ~woke wonder, sympathy, and delight by
Its ~wn meffable excellence among the reading people
of England.
·
From qowper may be deduced the commencement
o_f the_ third ffreat era of moderri English literature.
s~nce 1t was 11~... no sma~l ~neasure t_o the inspirati•m of
his Task that J~ngland 1s mdebted, 1f not for the existence, yet. certa111l_y for the character of the new school
of poetry, estabhshed first at Bristol, and afterward
tr~nsfer~ed to the Lakes, as ~cenery more conge nial
a~1d undisturbed for tt~e exercise of contemphttive gemus. Southey, Colendge, and Wordsworth started almost contemporaneously in the same path to fame.
T~~se author~ hazarded a new style, in which simplicity, ~omehness, common names, every-day objects,
and ordmary events were made the themes and the
~rname11ts of poetry. They set forth rural sights and
hghtS-the loves and graces of domestic fife-the
comforts of our own_ fire~ide-:-the flowery array of
meadows--t!rn sp~rklmg v1vac1ty of rivulets, kind inte_rc<?urse with neighbors, the generous ardor of patnot1sm, and the gentler emotions of benevolence.
But these subject~ were; ere long, ~xhausted, and they'
gave place to higher, m_ore heroic, and magnificent
scenes. Southey, by his marvelous excursions in
t~e region~ bo~. h of history and of romance-Cole!1dge, _by his w1!d fict_ions of. a class entirely his own,
Ill which t~ere IS an mdescr!babl~ wi_tchery of phrase
and conceit that affects the 1magrnat10n as if one had
eaten_ ?f " the in.sane root that _takes tl_ie. reason prisone_r, 1 and Wo1dsworth, by lus mystIC1sm, his Platomc l?ve of the supreme good and the supreme beauty, winch he seeks every where, and finds wherever
he seek~, in the dancing of daffodils, the splendor of
th~ _settmg s~n, the note of a cuckoo flitting like a
spmt from hill t_o hill, which neither the eyP nor ear
can follow, and Ill the everlasting silence of the univ~i;se to the man born deaf and dumb~these were

)

BRiTISH' LlTERATUltm_1

:,~·(r' '

~: 201

the 'three pioneers, ih10t ~the' absdl~te founders ·ot the
· existing style of .English : liter::i.ture ;!·,'whii::h 'has . be. come so ''diversified, artificial; ano exqhisite ; ! sb ' gor:·, geously embellished and adapted :; td >ev'ery .' taste, ·as
well as so abundant in its . resources ·by h11portatioiis
from the wealth of every other land, that ~it ..·rtrny._ chal-· ,
lenge similinide to the grand metropolis · Of· the-:empire, where the brain of a stranger is bewildered amid
the infinite forms of human beings, human dwellings,
human pursuits, human enjoyments, and , human sufferings ; perpetual motion, perpetual excitement, perpetual riovelty ; city~ manners, city edifices, city luxuries i all t~1ese b,eing ,no.t Jes~ strikingly ch.a~acteristic
of the literature of this age, than the· fairy land ·of1ad.:
venture and, ~he landsc?pe gardening of ·" Capability
Brown" were : characteristic of the two periods fi9m
Spenser fo Mil.to11, and from Dryden to Cowper> t ,:·!
· The literatui·e ·o(oUt 'tiriu:r is commensurate ·with
the universality" o(e<lucation: ·nor iis· itdess '·various
thar\·universal tO 'm eet. capaCities of all ~ize's1 minds ·o f'
all acquireme11ts, 'a nd·ta!Stes, of every 'degree •..;.· PubHc
taste; pampered !with de1lci1cies e~eti' ta lo~tl}ing·, · 11nd .
stinntlatesJ to stupidity with . excessive ·excitetnen"t, ,is
, at once ra'v eilous and mawkish; gratified wit.h nothing
·but novelty, no'r with novelty itself for··:more than an
hou.r . . To meet this diseased appetite, in prose not less
than in verse, a factitious kind of the marvelous has
been invented ; consisting, liot in the exhibition of supernatural intidents or heroes, but :in 's uch' distortion~
high coloring, a.nd e~aggeration ·or·natural incidehts
nnd ordinary personages by 1hQ ari.ific'e s ·of style ·ana
the audaqity o'f ·'s entiment employed ·urfon th~m; ns
shall produce that sensatioh of wonder in''whiol1'half.:;
instrltcted ,111ir\ds delight. '· This preposterous effort: at
display 'lrtay .be . traced _through . every walk Of polite
littfratme;· and in every channel of publication.~ ' ·:;· · i ,:;
· Never.,W.as ~hE;fre a time wl.ien so great ,a number of.
me11 · of · e'xttadrdin~ry genius flourished.· together · in
G~eae Britain; Ii As~ many. have existed,' and perhaps
there. niay· be .1alway.s· an ·equal' quantity. of'lp.te.n t c~~
pacity; · buVsind( the cir.cu1nstances of
prnvious .

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DRITISII NOVELS AND ROMANCES,

[PART VI.

period of human history have been altogether so calcul_ated to awaken, inspir_it, and perfect every species
of mtellectua~ e_nergy, it. is no arrogant assumption in
favor of the hvmg, no disparagement of the merits of
the d.ead, to assert the manifest superiority of the former m developed powers-powers of the rarest and
most elevated ,kind in poetry.

CHAPTER IV.
BRITISH NOVELS AND ROMANCES.

· IN what are properly called novels, fictitious narra-

tives of common life, t~e period between Pope and
Cowper was mo~e prolific than any preceding one.
In?~ed, the genume novel 'Yas yet a novelty, which
or~gmated, or, rather, was mtroduced in the merry
reign of Charles II., but never had been carried to its
h~ight of humor a.nd r.eality ti~l Fielding, Smollett, and
.R_ichardson:, each m his peculiar and unrivaled way,
displayed its utmost capabilities of painting men and
manners as they are.
These were followed by " numbers without num- ·
ber," and without name; that peopled the shelves of
the. circ~lating libraries with the motley progeny of
their brain.
"The Waverley Novels," by Sir Walter Scott, are
undoubtedly the mqst extraordinary works of the age ;
but exceedmgly faulty in one literary point of view.
The author, in his best performances, has blended fact
and fiction, both in incidents and characters, so frequently, and made his pictures at once so natmal to
the life, yet often so contrary to historical verity,
~hat ~enceforward it will be ?ifficult to distinguish the
1magmary from the real \Vith regard to one or the
other; thus the credulity of ages to come will be
abused in the estimate of men, and the identity of
events by the glowing illusion of his pages, in 'vhich
the details are so minute and exquisite, that the truth
of paintiug will win the author credit for truth of eve.

PART ~VI'] .

1

THE. B~lTJSH i P,E~_IOD~(JAL,{ PRESA1 _,· ,

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ry-, other kin·d~ ancl . most, jt ~ may ;be; ,~whe)'e ',he ,l~as(

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·,, Tit!!: BIUTISH ~E~1oDlbA,L f.lttlSS:, ~-i ;/'5,.:1, 'r ., < i.~~·

·BuT.it is in the issrn~s from the periodic.al.press that ,
. the chief influence Of literature in the present day coth'.
sis ts .. ·Newspapers alone, . if. no bther ev~de!1c,e . ~~r.e_; ,
to be adduced, would prdve1 mcontrove~t1~ly, ~pe , i!11'."'.
tnense and hitherto unappreciated sup~r10,~ity, m p~mt
of mental culturn, of the existing generat10n over .all, .
their forefathers, since Britain was invaded by Juhu~ .
Cresat. The talen~s 1 le:;trning, iIJgenuity; and .~loquenc.e,
employed in the .cbnduct of many o,f tlw~e;--;the van~.\
. ety of information conveyed through . their:<colmnns.
from ' ~very quarter of the globe 1 to)he obscu.rest cot•,
-tage, ~ii.d intci 1the h!l~b!~st 111i~~ _ o,f the. realm; render~ ·
newspapers, no~ luxuries, which theyom1ght be exp~ct7.
ed to be ramong an-indolent and voluptuous:populat1':m, ,
.b11t absolute necessaries ofJi(e:::;-..the' daily food of m1ll,i.;.
ions of the most active; intelligent laborers/ the .most.
shrewd; indefatigable, a~d enterprising· tril:>es "on ,the
face' of the earth. , 1;· , ,.· · :·
'. :,, : . ~ · ' :'··· ; · ··
" ;i
- ;;, Of higher· rank; though far inferio! potency, are the:
magazilles ·: they rather reflect the 1m~ge ,?nhe pub-.~
lie . mind, than contribute toward form~n~ itf! features ,.
'or giving it expression. · Black wood's Edmb,u rgh Mag·
azine at this time (1831) probaply takes;the_lead among~
the· fraternity; and by the boldness, hilarity,, an~ ad~.
dress with which it is managed, it has become equally,
formi9able in politics and predominant iri literatµre;r ~ ·
In · both of these departments the ..~ew Monthly, the:
. Lond6,n;· the.· Metropolitan, Frazer'~ Mag~zine, and oth:-1
· ers assun10 a high station; ·.· , :; '. ,; r,.i ··... ,'·, 1· : .._ c .. ,~
. ' " :rhese writ.ings. display admir~ble · tale11ts~ .but a~e,_
· obnoxious . to l the .: censur~ that, m the style1of. tJ:ieir,. ·
. leading articles~ all is. effort, and splendor, anq ~1s~~aY1 , ·.
..,_it is fine acting ~ which fall~ short. o,f nature:·\ : ;;' i";' fJ , '
, :Reviews,)not
only1:rank higher ;t.hfl~ maga~111e.~
4 ~~~
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204

ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS AND CRITICS (PART VI,

l~terature-rather by usurpation than right-but they
rival newspapers themselves in political influence,
while they _hold divided empire with the weightier
classes of hterature, books of every size, and kind,
and character, on which, moreover, they exercise an
authority peculiar to the present age, and never dream ..
ed of by critics in any past period. , The Edinburgh,
the Quarterly, the Westminster, and the Eclectic are
the most prominent of the British reviews.
Besides these, works of the largest kind and the
most elaborate structure, in every department of learn·
ing; abound in .Britain: cyclopedias without measure,
compilations without number, besides original treatis·
es, which equally show the industry, talent, and acquirements of authors in all ranks of society, and of
every gradation of intellect.
I

CHAPTER VI.
li:NGLiSH PHILOSOPHERS AND CRITICS OJ!' THE PRESEN1'
CENTURY.

Extracted from the North American Review, 1835.

DuoALn_ STEW~R.T, by far the most disti}lguished of
the English (Bntish) philosophers who have lived
since Adam Smith, was a beautiful wl'iter, and pos·
s~ssed a .large store ~f book~~earning, which he has
dig~sted . mto several mterestmg, systematic works,
which display, however, but little originality. He
pursues with' patience the track of the masters whom
he ~enerated, ~mooth~ng ob:structions, removing difficulties, scatterrng flowers as he goes-but he strikes
out no new path~. JV!aclcintosli, with an equal elegance
of taste, had a lngher power of thought, but his works
have done no justice to his talent. Coleridge, who is
no_w ~xtolled by some. of his" admirers, especially on
this side of the Atlantic, where his reputation, singu4
larJy enough, is greater than iri England-as the first
of philosophers, and, as such, the "greatest man of
the ,age," appears to ~1s, we must own, to possess very
slender claims to tlus transcendent distinction. He

< ·PART

VI.j• OF 1 TRftl·-·PRES~Nf::1
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;possessed, undo,ubtecily; a mind .,of. '· ~ '~ery; :high , order, ·
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.and was particularlyfitted to excel in 'poetry, of~hich
"he has given some exquisite ·.specirmipi:i .·r but, everi
:pere ' the fotal · influehce of inqolEJnoe,1; or; S,Qn;ie :Other
still rnore pernfoious principle, has ,preven~~d him from
·,doing himself justice; ; In · his. phiiosqphic~l ,;writings
he shows a great deal of re(;l.dmg, put· a1L~\most1 total
.want of clearnMs and precision .of tpought{ JHis ;~iµd
' -, ·. /:
,
- s~ems to be swelling and ,laboring :)Yitp , ~~;chap_s 1 of
imaginations; which he .has not redu~ed ,1t9 ]Shape1 i ~pd
:_ofwhich he is, ' of course;. incapable ,o(estim<t\illg ~ \h~
real value. , .The '. only, principle J that .stands ' out .du
some degree conspicuously,in the mipst of.this·:confu·
sion; and which .he .seems ,t.o hav~intended . to ' make . ·. '
the corner~stone olhis system, .is .~ : suppo~ec1 dis ti~~ ·
·:
, ,tion between reason .and un.detstanding, Ql', in ,his own ,' . ,
·. .-•
·phr1;1seology, tM reason and; tlie iunderstanding, Which
we cons._ider as wholly in.1ag.inary. I and 1wl1iGh1 whether
' :.'··
well or 111 founded, ,h as :beerlfoti ,more-than ,half.a ,cen;.
turyth~ basis of.the Qetma6. ttanscendent,aLmeta,phy~.- , , , :
ks 1 and ·:of ·course : can entitle " Col~ridge ·i to 110 · ' gt~(\t
··1
credit on. the sc<?te ;of origillal pow~r.: r. Nor-,has ,he;,a,S
:fai: as we 'can perceive;. s,u cceeded iii estal;>lishing' t.tJ.is
.
'·
P!inciple, ~r .even- making it di~tinctly jntelligibl1f1tp
'bl~ r~aders. A: person who is c\irioos on: 't.h e subjeCt
,will learn more Jrorp. the first ' ten pages;' of Kantls , ·
, Criticisin on" Pure Reason, where :· the ·supposed ,dis:tinction, such as ,it is; .is intelligibly stated,,than 'fro.in ,
the whole , of.Colei:idge's : never4 ending 4 still~beginning
, . attempts to explain .it; in whiclHhe ·English language .
breaks down ,witli him at every:step; :,, , , , " .. :-, ,,.,., k.;· i.'~ ,
. , if'· Thomas Carlyle is; ~e think; the rriost 'profound and
.-.:original 'o f ,the living English., philosophiqal writers~ -He is the person to whom we look-with ·the greatest
. -confidenc~ .to give a new spring and direction to the~e- ..
J studies iil · .th~ mother4country. _· In fact, . the sceptre
' of 1philosopµy, , though it seems to pave passed front
, '~
·.Gerrnany, to France, where it is now wielded by the .: '
,. •"
rdistinguished Cousin, still lingers on the Continent of
. Emope, · and' will not,' probably, · be transferred . ,v ery'_
1 soon to England.- , Coleriqge and Carlyle are both, li~e .'.
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ENGLISH PHILOSOPHERS .AND CRITICS [PART VI.

Cousil1 himself, disciples of the German transcendental
school.
In the North American Review for 1844, the style
of Carlyle, as a writer,' is censured in the following
caustic terms. We in~erMhe criticism to discourage
students from an imitation of his style.
Mr. Carlyle .is a mati of genius, learning, and lmmane tendencies. His brilliant thoughts often break
through the ragged clouds of his most absurd phrase:ology, and make us grieve that an author, capable of
writing so well, should write so execrably; should
spoil the effect of his fine powers by the paltry folly
of imitating so bad a model as Jean Paul Richter, an
"original" writer who kept a commonplace book of
odd expressions and far-fetched figures, which he embroidered on the ground of his natural style. Thits,
Carlyle rejected his o.wn English and manly style, to
imitate in English a bad German model. The American Carlyle tribe imagined they were doing a wise
and brilliant thing, by imitating the second-hand absurdities of an imitator, mistaking these borrowed
follies for great originalities, and forgetting that af, fectation is the deadliest poison to the grow, th of sound
literature.
,
There is another English critic, Macaulay, the great
Edinburgh Reviewer, to whom we can refer with more
pleasure, in the words of the United States Democratic Review for July, 1844, as probably the most
brilliant writer of English prose now living, the last
reniaining member of that glorious band of wits, critics,
and fine thinkers, who constituted the force of the
Edinburgh in its prime-Jeffrey, Mackintosh, Hazlitt,
Brougham, S. Smith, Carlyle, Stephens, . a.n~ himself;
uniting alsb the fame of a snccessful poht1~ian to that
of a splendid periodical writer, he has o~tamecl an ac. cumulation of honors rarely to be met m the person
of a single individual. Macaulay's Reviews are the very
Iliad and Odyssey of criticism-models of that kin_d of
writing-abler 1nen and deeper scholars have written
review articles, yet without that mast.cry of the art.
Hazlitt had a more copious fancy, a richer vein, and .

PAR'r

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was altogether a rrlote p)·igin~l ·thin~e;. ~ri<l ~critic,·. ye1'~ . :;1• ::,._:·" : ·:
his reviews lie buried tinder a' mass ·df:dulleJ' inatl01i.' i . ' "' ,'.:,, ··~
.Macaulay wants; to be sure / the soliaity.<>LBifrke 1the'i'
/'<~~~
rich pnilo~ophy 'i:J.f that pcieth:1~.t1.1inke~:;·· ye,f.~~ven.:B!Jt~e;: · · .'~ .:'·:~
could not haye hit the · mark .w.1th ·greater· mce.t.)f.:~ ,':,; :!I~;,
. -;~lf;·
would )lave c11rrie.d too much ' nietali ~ ·1 :M~cau)~y.i i~1.:e&~ · , · , •,/~~
se11tially' a crit~_cal essayist; ·ll(lt a rtjer.e ¢riticr.iiot:;kn :
: ~!ff;
or!g:inal judg~1:,t_10,t .a , lecttp'e~' - but that: f,~fe~puio~: . or~:,\.· . .· :' ~/:i:
critic. and. . m~scellaneou~ · wnter~a cr.1.t1cal -·~s.s.ay1~~1f, . :cci
Porta1t pamtmg ·,an!f fimshed declamatiot1. h!!-ve ;;p~~llf ._.
: . ~;
car~ied to perf~ction in his ar,~icle~, ~i1 \~hie\~ yoµ · fi.n~;J , ·.,', .. ;·.~~
· b.es1de~, a treasuty of. fit~e ,_and , 111geri1du~ d~o~g~~~H · . , . · ~\!'
r.~ch~y_ 1llustrat~? : an~.: ad~1rably emp~o~e~...;~;.. \)U·,::1 ; f'':-: · -: · . .. ')

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\vhat'a~~ ~oriie' "dt the1 '.(:it6turistanc~~ · his1 lif~l,1~ ~ j,,;r
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He \\•as.":bor~~ -.'at. r\se~ilifaril-oii~A~dn;_ . 1:~iii ', q sG,~ 1: 1
When a youth, he had ,trespas~ea · on <,the i hunting-·1·-, •
grol.1.n ds of .a rich .nejghbpr 'ancl: :i.vrittert a.scurrilous . ·.
satire· 11pon hirµ, and to escape . ~is veugeailce . fl.ed . ~o :
London, where he, soon ' connectetl 'him~elf: with ' the .'
. stage, firi:;t as an actor; thetf as: an atitl:10.r. ' :He ' con/
. th)ued to write ·plays 'u.n til two years before.'. his 9eathi1·· ..
which oqcurr~d in _hi~ rintiye place in '16.16.' :H_His'pltiys l .
are ,thirty~fiva in nur11ber. · 'fhe s/i,bjects 'treated ,01i;:a!,e.i'
..; ;~tZ
: the more striking parts of} mcient and mode.rrl hist()ry, ., . · : ,'. ~
. .and .the stories supplied by Italian ·.1iovelists:!}!l'hey 1c ·'·~·> A :J:f
· ~te tragic, 'comic, and. mixed in . t~eV . c.~~t.r~cter.. >; -1~he 1 . • , .• ;_':::~4author appears to have hfld no ant1c1pat1otl of th!;l _bnll.:\, .. . .·.· ·\,;'.
iant reputation they w_er~ des\ilied tQ ·receive ·after his · . · ·'. :t,~,
1

decease. ·<: · · . ~: 1.·_.i· ·:·.,·•..:.
· · ,...... ~ '.~··· .. ~ .';._·
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. ; /~·. Wh~t ',ha~e e~hics said ofthe_~e~ulia.riiies, o.f.~is ge~ius 1!nd

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·.log'lZe his · literary ~ .!Der1t~o One has,· said , tha~11 *~t <. ,· ,. ·«::~,
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pyramids will crumble to the dust, and the Nil~ be
d:y, and the Ethiop change his. skin, and the l e opar~
h1s ,spots, before Shakspeare will grow obsolete with
us. He looked on man, and at once became master
of the inmost recesses of his soul, as it were by intuition. He has exhibited the mind of man in all its
phases. His propensities, his habits, his practices,
his reasoning, false and philosophical, were all exhibited by him in truth and power. His virtues, his
weaknesses, his eccentricities, were all known to this
great anatomist of the human mind; his hopes, his
passions, his frivolities were all laid bare to him.
·
While unsurpassed in the variety and magnificence.
of his poetic creations (says another critic), he thinks
with a precision, a depth, a comprehensive and intui~
tive power, seldom equalled. In all his characters,
whether fanciful, or intended to personify real beings,
not a feature or a line is misplaced. Nor is he less
true in his representations of inanimate objects. Human nature he learned rn;>t from study, but from observation and intuitioq. He may justly be called the
poet of human nature, not of one age, but of all-the
poet not of one country, but of all. To say that Shakspeare had no faults would be saying that he was not
human; his blemishes are those of his age, his beauties are his own. He stands alone upon a summit
unattained before, and inaccessible to all that follow;
above the elemental strife of criticism, smiling at the
thunders which roll beneath his feet, and unobscured
by the clouds that gather only around the base of that
proud eminence.
.
It has also been remarked, that in none of the persons of his dramas is any thing of their author to be
seen. Every one speaks and acts for himself, as he
might be expected to do in the supposed circumstances.
Q. Whence did Shakspeare derive the materials of his plays ?

A. ' Though not a clasRical scholar, he read numer-

ous translations of ancient works. He had read all
the · romances, tales, legends, and novels, written in
English ; also in historiP.s and biographies then ex-..

.

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· )lttITISH " P,O ETS.

· PART VIJ

'I

tant. He is generally accu~ate i.n the Incidents he in-'
· troduces; though he sometimes ).akes _'liberties with
them. He took his .\vords from·the) ::oininbri people,
from all c.l asses .in the busy, scenes '. of.life; and from
the popular books of his day. , . · '-: ,; :::(,j ;- \.:··".1 · ;:~ ,

.· , Q. What· objections lie against th~ writings Of S)lakspeare t .·
A. He disreg~rded the tinit!es of t.iriie "':i.n~ 'place-:-·

but this is, no. great matter-, he deals in puns and quibbles - qut, above · all, he often'· emp]oys . '_'expressioriri
not only vulgar and low, but ind~cent..:... comrrion .1 ih .
his day; but unsuited to the higher ideas of propriety
that prevail in our own day and country; .. An .e dition
of Shakspeare; purg(fd from vulgarity a,nd indecency;
would be a yalua~le corit.ribution to the literature of
the age. , A volume p~s lately been published, entitl{'.d,
11
The . Wis~o01 and Genius of Shakspeare,"·consisting
of ex~racts under approprj~te . heads;'.· This deseries
a high place in the: private; aDd in the SchcfolLibrary.'
· It is difficulf to ' select fine · specimens
from
Shaks•
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pe~~e that · hav,t;i ~ot become··: to9' farrijlial ; to ·excite
much . interest. :., CardinakW olsey's ~~Pe.~qh: to c,i·om.:_
well-Marc Antony's .Address on th~ dea.th. of.,Ca;sar,
may be referred ·10 as admirable portion~ · ofShaks~
.
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: , "',; , ~ -~ _;.-,.,,.:· '·'> t'
. We can not forbear ·to give his graphic account ofi
the Seven Ages of Man. . . - , .. · ·. "' . > '.'. ''·:· .<i. '.t ·
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· And all ..the men and women metely players; ·' "
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" . They have their exits ,and their entrances; .. ;r .'· '"' i" ':~
And one man in his time plays many parts, . · 1 . . },i..
His acts being seven ages. · At first the infant, ."
. . · :,
the
nurse's
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Mewling
and
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And then the whining _school-boy, with his satcheL · '. .,,.
:· . , And shining morning face, . creeping like snail :· · .. ' · .~· :
, unwillingly to school; ahd then the loveri" (•~ .~.~ . ~· r ,,
· ·Sighing l~ke furnace, with a woful ballad ' · ·...J · • ·' •• ·::
. Made to his mistress's eyebrow : then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and. bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking tlie bubble reputation, ... '
. _
. ,· ,
' Eve~ in th.~ cannon's .mouth :· and th~n tnejuetice·: · ,~ :,:
In fan round belly, with good capon !med;•,. .':.-.: .'1·«.1.";I;:
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COURSE OF HUMAN -LIFE.• . ·." ..;., ·' .;" ~ ': ;:

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vi.

With eye~ severe, and beard of formal cut
Full of wise saws .and modern instances, '
And so he plays his part: the sixth a'o-e shifts
In~o the lean and slippered pantaloon~
. With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His Y<?uthful horn well saved, a world too wide
For ~ts shru~k shank; a1_1d _his big manly voice,
Turnmg agam toward ch1ld1sh treble pipes
And whistles. in his sound: last seen~ of ail,
That ends t~1s .strange eventful history,
Is second chlid1shness and mere oblivion
, . Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans ev~ry thing."

. Of Shakspeare! Hazlitt remarks, that his genius shone
equ'.111Y on the evil and on the good, on the wise and on the
foohsh, the _monarch and the beggar. He turned the globe
rou~d for his '.1m~IS.ement 1 and surveyed the generations of
men, and the md1v~duals as they passed, with their different _concerns,, pass10ns, follies; vices, virtues, actions, and
~ot1ves-as well those that they knew, as those which they
did n?t know .or acknowledge to themselves. The dreams
of ,cluldho?_d, th~ ravin~s of de~pair, were the toys of his
f~ncy. Any bemgs wa~t?d at lus call and came at his biddmg. The world of spmts lay open to him, like the world
of ~eal ~en and 'Yomen; and there is the same truth in his
dehneat10ns of the one as of the other; for if the preternatural
characters he describes could be supposed to exist they
would ·spe~k, ~nd feel, a_nd act as he makes them. He had
o~ly to thmk: of any tlung in order to become that thing
wit? all the .circumstances belonging to it.
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_'I he poet may be said, for the time, to identify himself
with the charact~r he wishes to represent, and to pass from
o~e to anot~er1 hke_ the same, soul successively animating
different bodies. . H_1s plays are expressions of the passions
rather than descnpt10ns of them.
,·
Sl~akspeare's language and versification are like the rest
o~ him. H~ h~s _a magic power over words : they come
~ mgcd at !us b1d<lmg, and seem to know their places. They
are stru?k ou~ at a heat, and have all the truth and vividn~ss which anse from an actual impression of the objects.
Hrs language translates thoughts into visible images.
SECTION. II. ·
MILTON-PARADISE I,OST .

Q. 'W hat are some of the circumstances in the life of this re-

markable man ? '

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-.' ··1 ..·He ·wa~ born·irt'/to~dorfrin· ; t~o8, was graduatedi

at the U niv'ets. i~y of" Canibtid,ge r spe~L l;lo,me. years· in·
, ru,ral retiremeh~ then traveled ' ort :•tne ·~ Col)hnent, so- ;
journing a while in Italy.: Up~m his r~turri;he became
Latfo secretary·io Qromwell, having 'g ained distirictron'.
by~ri\ing in favor.. cif the ,Comhiotiwe!).lthJinnl6521 he,
was deprived Of sight; yet coi1tinueq tO' p'ttbl,ish 'political'
pamphlets, 'Until C.tom well's deatH' and the; re!;toratioil
of the Stu.art family .to .the . thrort~: ·i He:theti 'retired·
· and composed hisiminottal w,o rk;!the'"Paradise Lost;•
. . .which was · first ·published · in · 1667 . . ~ ·FcH· ·Jhis :iiol;>le1;
he' reGeived·only ten 'p ounds from his' pul;>lisher';\
while .his wfdbw received but ~ight ' tnore~· so·little was ·
the work appreeiated iri' that ~ge · of loose morality; f.d • .

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work

· ·'" Q. What ii.re 'the :most import:tht' featur~s of th.ls poem? ; : ~,:, >i: ·
,.L 'A. It is written iri ·ihe"fi1iest' stvle' of.blank ·verse> ·

As

soon aa

we open

it; :We ·find Outselves 'ihti-oduced:

all 'at once int.o ari - invisible ' WOtld~" and- surroundedf

with 'ccle,Stial ~ttd- inferrial be~rtgs :~i\Ahge\s :a'tid,devils
. are nol'the in!,t ehinery," but:the prindpal'actors ·m: the:
poem, and whaJ, iµ any:, ()ther - co!np9siti0h ~nvould ~b~'. . , .
. "·
.the · mai:"VelOUS; \ is\ here':pnJy,· )heirfa.t~fal, 1 c<,'nirse),Of.}r.
eveitts. '. The' subject' stiited ;.the i'~atirig Lstiblimity: off.
his genius; · He 'tiarfa,tes th~ circulns~ance_s of.the .fall .·
of .man, for.which the Scriptures ·ttirni's h·t>nly sca1ity:_
materials, !;mt the imagination of.'tbe poet' has Sl,lp}Jlied: ·. ' , ' '
a :wonderful '.variet)r'~and fi.bunda:ntjnddents. ·: , ~, .j f' , .
)
· /~· Considefable' portions ' of · the ' work ~ des,ctibe scenes
arid eveths .above' this wofld f a1\d '38 fnari :.can form
no ' ideas , which the' . objec,ts' ' arouri~ ' hiiri' have not
surplied, at least, ~he ele~nents, the poet 'may he said
to have fallen short of his design: , His heaven' is only .
a more magnificent kind of earth~ : and his n:tost ex~
.. !
~lted superiiatural ,beings only a nobler orde~. of men•
These · passages, ·however, are the finest hi the book,
i '
. Tl!e ' art.ful change of •object~ :.:..the scene ·laid .n(),w in .
. earth, now"in hell; and ttow in' heaven, affords a suffi.:
Cient diversity ';; while unity of plan ·is, at1 the · same
.time, supported,,- Still lifo and 'calm scenes ·are pret
.
· sented fa _the employments of Adam and ~vefo Paral.
' di.Se; whilti busy scenes and great actions·,occur:,in ,
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the 'enterprise of Satan and in the w::irs of t~1e arigel_s .
Satan makes a striking figure, and is cons1d.ered the
best drawn character in the poem-though Milton has
not described him as an infernal spirit should, in truth, .
have been described. He appears no worse than
some bold factious chief sometimes read of in history.
The different characters of Beelzebub, Moloch, Belialt
are exceedingly well painted in eloquent. speechest
which they make in the second book. Among the
good angels are the fin~ly-drawn characters of the
dignified Michael, the mild and affable Rap.hael, and
the faithful Abdiel. The poet has greatly failed, however in the attempt he has made to describe the Almighty, and io recount dialogues between the Father
and the Son. With respect to the human characters,
the innocence of our first parents and their love are
finely and delicately painted-perhaps overdrawn;
however, in some respects.
· Almost the whole of the first and second books. is
a specimen of continued instances of the highest sublimity, in which qualil~ he surpasses Homer, and e~­
pecially Virgil. The s!xth boo~ affor~s other specimens of sublimity, particularly m relatmg the appearance of thP- Messiah. Some parts of that book are
justly censured; Ior instan~e, th_e witticisms 1of the
devils upon the effect of theu artillery.
Beauty and pathos disting\lish other portions of this
great poem. The , latter part of t~e poem is not so
well sustained· as the former. With the fall of our
firs~ parents, the genius ~f. t~e author seems to ha~e
declined, yet t_h ere are stnk1.ng passages of a tragic
and pathetic nature, th~se wh.1ch relate _to the rem~>rse
and contrition of the gmlty pair, and then lamentations
- over the loss of Paradise.
. .
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Fancy, learning, vividness of description, stateh~
ness, decorum, are exhibited throughout the P?em'.
The style is elaborate and powerful, and the. ver~1fica­
tion, with occasional harshness and affectation, is superior in variety and harmony to all other blank verse.
It has the effect of a fine pie,c e of music., It am~rds the
most complete example of the elevation wluch our

language.is capable

of _atta,l~ing' ~y',th_e ~for_~e ~r· .nurri~

\bers ·
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· ·· A~ t~ - d~f~t$- of .the work; beside.s .~hos~_ .me.n~ioned ·
already, he .is thought. to deal too profoilri?ly m thr;io:" .

logical . ar:id · me~aphys1cal sp~cuh~~1011s-:;h_1s langua~e .
is. often harsh~words techmcal~and toq great _a dis-,. ·
play . is -1nade ; hi~ · 1earning~but· ~h~s~ '. faul~s were ; .
those -o fhisage. .. , '·, ,.. · . "·· ~ ·, ":· _t:.:•_l'; .·_, .':~ .• .r .-t _
. . ; The · above critic,i sms have .· been sel~cted . _chiefly_ · ·
·. from Blair.: ·They are sufficient to aw.~ken - 'a desire'.
and a determination to read thii;i immortal poemt afid ·
· to. prepate for a p~o6_tabl.e a~d agreea_~~e- rea~in(o~ i~} ·
but the s~bject will JUStlfy a few add1tional lmes' from ' .
the pen of .a late writer in our own, country.;· He says; .
that probably, o(aU poel!1~, ~ow in exi§t~nce~ this i~ the most learned; the'tnost ong~n.al, and the m_o st subl~f!le:
Iri his descriptio.ns, the. poet . s~ems a.yo1cano, pourmg .
forth floods of }ire, .shak~ng · natu~e : _to . ~er 9entre...:.. ·
shaking eart~ and he~ven-:-all but_,~he , t~ro,ne of ~od~1 :
It m,u st, indeed, be· con~M~e~; that , ~~i:nehrnes seell!s ·
extinguished ; · his ' thundermg~ , are: :,h~shed. ; ._,a nd ·we .
see nothing but ,the Aark' lava{ ~he : cp1q~_i'~, and· t~e
ashes.'· . But he
still a g~eat mourttam. · -~' ~'t-". '.· <..!'., '
' But sublimity and origiliality, though the· ch1e~ glo- ,.
_, ries of this· amazing poem,~. are· llot th~ : w.hol~. He dips his pe~cil in: heayeiJ11 fountail1~, · arid gives us
picture~· scarcely less bea.uhful than ot~erf:? are grand.
. He .c an pairit the dew-drop 1 an9 show us th~ hl!mh~e · ·
. violet in all it:'J bril_liancy, in all its ·;humble lov~lme~s, ·
as well as the battle-field of heaven, con,vulsed -with ,
warring angeis, bl,azi~g and s!no~in~. ~it~ th~ ~rtille~
Of Satan, and tempestuous with flyuig. mount.ams. . .·'
· "As a sequel td the Paradise Lost, Milton afterwar~s
con1posed the Paradise. Regained, iii :Whic~. are re pre• ' ·
sented the circumstances of the Redempt10n of man.,
By some it is more highly e·~t~e,me~ ,than the f~rmer.
It was so by the author, _ b~t ~ 1t is generally cons1d~red
~n , inferior . {>rodlictio(l, prob.ab~y b.ecause. th,e subject,
. is less favor~ble to poetical mventIOli and fahc.y. ., :.r. . A dramatic poehl°; on the . story of Sa~son, and_ ~
beautiful masque _entitled Com!'s, ar~ adm1_red produc- ··
tions C?f th~ sam~ great author.
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(rAR1• VJ!.

We shall close our critical remarks on the works
of .Milton by quoting from H azlitt, an acute and dis.critninatiug _English writer, though, apparently, not
always ca11d1d.
~ilt~h wrot~ w~th

a resolution to leave nothing undone
which 1t was m l11s power to do. He strives hard to say
the finest things in the world, and he docs say them. He
adorns and dignifies his subject to the utmost ; he sur:..
rounds it with every possible association. of beauty or
grandeur, whether moral, intellectual, or physical. He refines on _his descriptions of beauty; loading sweets on
sweets, till the sense aches at them; and raises his images
of tenor to a gigantic elevation, that "makes Ossa like a
wart."
MiltQn's learning has all the effect of intuition. He describes objects of which he could only have read in books
with the vividness of actual observation. His ima!Tinatio~
has the force of nature. He makes words tell as plctures.
"Him follow\! Rirnmon, whose delightful seat
Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks
Of A_bbana and Pharpar, lucid streams."
The word lucid here gives to the idea all the sparkling effect of the most perfect landscape.
And again:
"As when a vulture on Jmaus bred,
Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds
'
Dislodging from a region scarce of prey,
To g?rge the flesh of lambs and yearling kicls
On hills where flocks are fed, fli es toward the springs
Of Gmiges or H1jdaspes, I11dian ~tru1ms;
But in his way lights on the barre11 plains
Of Sericmuz, where Chirieses dri1Je
With s<Xils and wind th eir cany wagon.& light."

'If Milton had taken a journey for the express purpose,
he could not have described this scenery and mode of life
better.
· Again,.nothing can be more magnificent than the portrait
. of Beelzebub:
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"With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies."
Or the ~omparison of Satan, as he "lay floating many a
rood," to "that sea beast,"
"Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim the ocean stream~"

,"·BittTISiL'PoETS.. ; .
PAR1' vi.] .
I ·: What af~rbe bf itnaginatkn · 1~ -there- it{this:iast eXpr~S­

.· sion ! What an idea it conveys"or,:t lutt,· htig(;3st ·ofcteated
' beings, as if ·it · shrar.k up the ocea:n:,t~ 1 a );t~e.~m~ -~nq t.o ok
up the sea fat its nQstrjls · as a very) ittle!'th1p.g r:,:, For~c .of .
§tyle .i s .one .Of Milton's. greatest ,exc~µ~nce~°'- }te~~' per- ·
haps, he stimulates us inore i_n the re.~d~n. g, an~ l~ss afte~~
ward . . The way.- to defend M11top. a,g~~~! .al:~,~~p,~gne~s is
to take down the book and read iL ;- 1 ,:,"·-d ,•.-11' ~.,.:: ·· 1 :' .. ,' ~
Milton's blank verse ' is tpe only blank_verse m ·the language, eX;Ce_Pt Shakspeare's {f!1e . 11uthor W?~ld al~o except
, some American poets, an!l some qther Bnt1sh ,poets too),
that deserves the name of verse. Dr. Johnson, whO ·had
: modeled his ideas of versification .
th_e .regular sing~80ng
of Pope, col).demns the Paradise Los(as harsh ant!' unequal.
· ·This is, indeed,. sometimes rthe , case ;" but_T irriagin~ _that
there are .more perfect , examples in_Milton, ~f musical expression, or of an adaptaqo.i;i o_f the sound and\mo. ~ement;o~
.the verse . to the meaning , of the .passage, th3rli m all our
' other (English) writers 'pui tog~·ther, :. with)he exception
.mentioned; The s.ound oj'his lines. i{ moulded .'i1llo th.e exprea-

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s~nti;,u11:t, ~Imo.st I?~ thf;v~!~ itp.~~: . ' ~The! ri~e

-0r fall; paµs~ -or hurry ,_orir with . e~q~1s1~~ .a!t,)i~t ~1t90.1;1t
51
. th~ least tr~ck (Jr affecta~~?~· : ~~9:\~ '·1~9f. . ?,~)~~~~!?~:~1'. ~t
.quire.
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, .. ·The following are some of the' finest instances i , ,~'.' . ~ ~~ • .
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• , • 1 H.1s ha11.d ·was kno\vn ': :\ ~·
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In heaven bv many a tower'd structure higtl 'i L ,.
·.,•1
Nor was his. name untieaid oi: unadore~ ··· ·. .. ' .i '<~· -; " ·
.,Jn ancient Greece: and in the Auso.nian iand.,. '. · ·· ·
Men call'd him Mulciber: ·and h~w. he fell ... ; , . '
From heaven, they fabled, thrown PY angry .Jore .. . .. l ;1
Sheei: o'er the -crys.t al battlements ; from m~r~ ~ _
,To noon h:e fell, from noori to dewy eve; ·. · · :.'(~
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A summer's day; and with the setting sun .', ,_.. :....
Dropp'd from the zenith like a falli1;1g star ,
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On Lemnos, the Egean isle: thus. they relate,1 . :
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Thick swarm'tl, both on the ground and in '_ the .air
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· Brush' d with the hiss of rustling winds-as bees. ·
In fipring time, when the sun .with Taurus r~des,
. Pour forth tlu'1ir populo1~s youth a,bout the hAv6
Iii chisters ; ·thev among fresh dews and flower~ 1
Fly toa:nd fro: or -on the smoothed plan\t, . • !'-• · ,:·~
The suburb of their straw-built. citadel, · ' -. :· . ~ .,, : ;or
. New rubb'd w~t~ balm, ex~atiate (l~d con,fer ·I ··:·, . :'.{~/
Their state affairs. So thick. the !J.~ry crow<\
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DRITISI-1 POETS.

Swarm'd, and were straiten'd: till the signal given,
Behold a wonder!" * * * *

The verse, in the exquisitely modulated passage that fol.ows, floats up and down as if it had itself wings :
"Round he surveys (and well might, where he stood
So high above the circling canopy
Of night's extended shade) from th' eastern point
Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears
Andromeda far off Atlantic seas
Beyond the horizon : then from pole io pole
He views in breadth, and without longer pause
Down into the world's first region throws
His flight precipitant, and winds with ease
Through the pure marble air his oblique way
Among innnrnmnhle stnrs thnt s11mw,
StarR <listunt, hut nigh liaml scem'1! other worlds;
Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles," &c.
The interest of the poem arises from the daring ambition

and fierce passions of Satan, and from the account of the
paradisaical happiness, and the loss of it by our first parents.
Three fourths of the work arc taken up with these characters, and nearly all that relates to them is unmixed sublimity and beauty. The first two books alone are like two
massy pillars of solid gold.
Satan is the most heroic subject that was ever chosen for a
poem; and the execution is as perfect as the design is lofty.
·He was the first of created beings, who, for endeavoring to
be equal with the Highest, and to divide the empire of heaven with the Almighty, was hurled down to hell. His aim
was no less than the throue of the · universe ; his means,
myriads of angelic armies bright, the third part of the heavens, whom he lured after him with his countenance, and
who durst defy the Omnipotent in arms. His ambition was ·
the greatest, and his punishment was the greatest : but not
so his despair, for his fortitude was as great as his sutfetings. His strength of mind was matchless as his strength
of body. He was the greatest power that was ever overthrown, with the strongest will left to resist, or to endure.
He was baffie~, not confounded. Ile stood like a tower; or
"As when Heaven's fire
Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines."

He is still surrounded with hosts of rebel angels, armed
warriors, who own him as their sovereign leader, and with
whose fate he sympathizes as he vie•vs them rnun<l, far as

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PARf'"v1:j ·

(PART VI.
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· the eye can reach ;· th~ugh .h1{kt3~ P~; ~~~~(1-;~~· th~~ in his .
own mind, and ·holds supreme counsel .only,;with his own
.b reast. Ai1:,outcast from Heaveit; ' Hell i ttemb~es' beneath
his feet, Sin .and Death are at • his ' heels, · and ( jna~kind are,
his easy prey:" ;.> !,.,.· '· ,....;.. ·:: ! ; :.1~::'!1 .~1.'11~·~"':·~·:."' ll, ,
"All is hot lost;. the 'Un~onque~~bi~\:\..,»}~::::; .'.'.~
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are still .his. •.'.i The' loss of infiniie ·happiness: to:· hhnselt is"
compensated in tht>ught hy the ·power of infliC'tii1g .infinitf3·
· . misery on ·oth~rs. :Yet Milt~n ·s : Satan ·is . not:'the pifocipl~·
of malignity, or of the a.bstract love of e\'il,;but of the. abstr,a ct
love of power, :Of pride; of self-will petstiliified. ·He exp~e'sses.
the sum and substance ufaJl ambitiott in 'bne line ': · , .i~r" ~'.·
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After his conflict arid defeat; ·he• founds . a riew empire in ,
Hell, ·and from ·' ifi conquers ·this ne:w. ;.;world r::Whith~r~ he
bends his undaunted' flight, forcing his way through nether ·
and surrounding fires. Wherever the figure 9f Satan is iq- ·
trodu'ced, Whether he •Walks 'Or flies;;.di 'ri:;;ing aloft, inCUID"- '. '1,
bent on thB dusky , air,'' it ji:;, illustrated :with . the mos(:
. striking and .. appr.o~r~ate .' iniag~s: so th.a t we .~~.e. ,t, ahyays · 1,
before us, grgantic, . Ir.regular, po~tentous, ..uneasy, and disturbed, but dazzling in its faded splendof:: Thl)J .deformity
of Satan is on.ly iri the . unpar,all~led~ d13pravi~y' .of hi~ will ..
He. has no bodlly .P.eprav1ty to excite our loath11:1g or disgust.
He has neither horns, nor tail, nor cloven foot. < Some think, ·.
and perhaps justly, that Milton ,has erred iri · drawing the·
character of Satan too favorably; or, rather, iri making him ·
the :chief person In: his ~oem : , ~nd they.)1av~·. a~~~ibed th!~ . .
· to Milton's lov~,. o{i~~5~111~R.. ~.ga11~st. t.~,~J P1U.~i~~~~~i~~ of his
own day. · · ,.,., .. · ~" ... , .. · , ... ,.. ··.. .··"•. ;·. ·,
.
.Satan's filial ~epaHu.re 'from Heaven,, arid. the, sen.tim~ntiii ~-,
with which., he approaches; aQ~ enters · Hell, line portrayed
in the mp st masterly cfity\e : :1, 1." : .· ; 'w · £,I' ::;.: ·1 . '. i .' ·
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And study .bf reven~e,'lrrunortal hate,• ·:" · .'. .
:·i Attd cuura~e never to subniit or yield,'<fi {( r;,:.'1; · ,~ l .
, 1f\.n4 :w,h.at else is not to be overcomcj'!•"i ·., , " ·i;., ·1·i/J

· ~· Falleri cherub,' to. be weak. is miserable, , .
!,'··'. ..,· ·1 1 :~ .'r,,, ' JI», .. : . ',
' DOingorsuffetin«.!"
6

.,

.

·•
. '·

\

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.,
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;r

Where joy f.01.;eye.r dwf!H~ !' . Hail.no.rrc>ts,, hi!-~ 1 ·, i
lnfernal world! and thou, profoundest hell, , \ . .
:•1;
Rec~ive thy •new: 'possessor; on~ who ~riJ?gS \<,I, ;; ! ' '
~
. . . A mmd not to be changed by place or time. 1 r, . :;;'· ;•u11h !' ·
The mind isits·own pince, and iri itself :'. ,·.,,:J 1it r; ~ i .:" <:. iu~
Can make a. Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heavjn. ,

~

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.

.

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·~

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:J18

BRITISH POETS.

;.~~'.A~; .'vr'..J

:·'nlil.~is1f)'l}l~~f~· · ·,
.. :This most attlidts rlie/that~dep!~rti~i lle~cJY.

[PART VI ..

' What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than He
Whom thunder hath made greater? . Here at least
We shall be free ; th' Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence :
Here :-ve !DRY reign se~u.re, and in my choice
To reign 1s _wor.th ambit10n, though in hell :
Better to reign ~n hell than serve in heaven."

.,

. . Perhaps of all the passages ih Paradise Lost, the descrip·
.t10n of the employments of the angels during the absence
:of. Satan 1.some o[ whom, "retreated in a silent valley, sing
with notes .angelical to many a harp their own heroic deeds
:and haples~ fall by doom of battle," is the most perfect ex·
::ample of mmgled pathos and sublimity.
The character which a living poet has given of Spenser
·would be much more true of Milton :
.

.· t·

· ·.
"Yet not more sweet
pu_re was he, and not more pure than· wise ;
High Pnest of all the Muses' mysteries."
T~an

'Milton has finely shown the power of discrimination in
:respect to character in
·
EVE'S LAMENTATION
ON DEING DRIVEN FROM l'ARADISE.

" 0 unexpected stroke, worse than of death !

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise '1 thus leave
Thee, native soil, thesP happy walks and shades
Fit , haunt of Gods? where I had hoped to spend;
Qmet, though sad, the respite of that day
· That must be mortal to us both. 0 flowers
That never will in other climate grow
'
My early visitation and my last
'
At even, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names,
Who n<?W shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tnbes, and water from the ambrosial fount 7
T~ee, lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorn\!
With what to sight or smell was sweet from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure
And wild? How shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits ?"
~dam's

refle?tions on _the same mournful occasion are in
.a different strain, and still finer. After expressing his sub,mission to the will of his Maker, he says,

·.
' As from His face I sha,,11 be hid, deprived '. '.'.'. : ' · ·
lii.s bless'd ?ountfinanc~ i",'her~. l ~ouldJrequent ' ·With wors~iti placE) by pace :ivhe;re ~~ J~P.f,~sa,fed
Prese~ce divme, and to my sons· r~l;i~~ ·. :~·:'· f! . .:;: .. .
On this mount He appear;d, under this tree :.· .
St<>?d v~sible, ·~!Dong_ thiise ·p~nE)s' Hi~ xoi.ce~)' · .·. ·'
I heard, here with Him ·at this, fountam taµt.'d: .
So many grateful altars 1would re~r . ",'."{ '."· .. .,.. :., Of gr:,assy turf, and pile u~ every ~ton~i .:;·::,.. " '. ·, •. ,
Of l'1stre from the brook,· m memo_r i . :,'., :~··~., . ;...
.';. ,,;.
Or monument to ages, and. thereon · · '.' J'. 1 : •
Offer sweet-smelling gums, an.d fruits~ and ~owers~: · >.
In yonder nether world where shall I see.k · . "'. ' . :. .' ·/
His bdght af pearaiices, or footst~p' trace? :·~ ..· > . ·-.··\'/; .
FC!r ~hough fled hirri a~gry, yet, .recall'd :·:~ · . .' ;~,· ·.'.
To bfe prolong'd and promised rac~. I now ·, · · · .. ·
Gladly behold though but his utmost skirt'!!' · ,
Of glory, and far,off his steps adore/~ .:,,,.-,>) ; ·
~·..;,;. \_: .r:~·; :.. ., '...: .. ~ < :') .' '" :;:. .}{; .;.;:; ·'> < ; ~ ~
. . . '-.· '"' · S~CTIO!'f . III..::·,~ . , ; ._i',:· ;,i,( .

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. .. .Auth<>r of Hudihras., 1 ;" '.. . • i
:
.. :
· Stro11gly · c?4tra.~iM ,to · Mil.to.rt -•in ~ev~ry'.'resp~9t w~s1 his
-contemporary, · Samuel. Butler (161 1~1680), :.the son of. a
times a· poor man, -but
. farmer in Worcestershire,'.and at
:, possessed ofa iich fancy and li. singular po\v{lr-Of. witty and
. pointed expression. His chief work was l{udibtas, publi;>h~ '.
ed in 1663, and subsequent 'years, a .comic poepi_in shortrhrmed couplets, design. ~d to burlesque the cl;laracters of
. the zealously religious and Republican party~ which had re. cently held sway. _'- Notwithstanding the service which he
. thus performed to the Royalist cause ~nd to Charles II., he
was suffered to die in such ,poverty that the e~pense of his
-. funeral was defrayed by a fr~enci. In .Hlidibni.s; a Republican officer, of.the most grotesque figure, and accoutrements,
is represented as ·sallying out, like a knight-errant, for the
"reformation of the state ; and ' his charadet is thus, in the
..
·'
.'·
first plac;ie, described:

all

.·

CHARACTER Of .SIR

HU~IBR:AS.

was in logic a great critic,~ . . . .!

. }fo

. . Profoundly skill'd in analytic : ,
'·_
.· !Ie could distinguish, and divide . .
..
. : " A .hair 'twixt' south and southwest side I . ;
rT ..
.l · t ·. On ·tiithr.i(which he wo~ld dis~ute, ,
.· . _.}_ ; , 11 ,~:').'
Cbafute, change hands, aod still confute;
. ~ · ~r. ~ ::
~
-'

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.

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.

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220

"

BRITlSil POETS.

I

[PART VJ.

H e'd run in debt by disputation,
And pay with ratiocination:
All this by syllogism true,
Jn mood and figure he would do.
For rhetoric, he could not ope
His mouth, .but out there flew a trope;
And when he happen'cl to break off
l' th' middle of his speech, or cough,
H' had hard words ready to show why,.
And tell what rules. lie did it hy;
Else when with greatest art he spoke,
You'd think he talk'd like other folk ;
. For all a rhetorician's rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools.
But w~en he pl~sed to show 't, his speed:l
In loftmess of sound was rid1 ;
A Babylonish dialect,
Which learned pedants much affect ;
It was a party-color'd dress
Of patch'd and py-bald languages;
'Twas English, cut on Greek and Latin,
Like fustian, heretofore, on satin.
In mathematics he was. greater
Than Tycho Brahe or J<~rra Pater;
For he, by geometric scale,
Could take the size of pots of ale ;
Resolve by signs and tangents straight,
If bread and butter wanted weight,
And wisely tell what hour o' th' day
The clock does strike by algebra.
Besid e, he was a shrewd philosopher,
And had read every text and gloss over;
Whate'er the crabbed'st author hath,
He understood b' implicit faith;
V\rhatever sceptic could inquire for,
For every why he had a wherefore;
Knew more than forty of them do,
As far as words and terms could go;
All which he understood by rote,
And, as occasion served, would quote;
No matter whether right or wrong,
They might be either said or sung.

SECTION IY.
YOUNG (1681-1765~

Night Thoughts.

The principal work of Edward Young is the Nig!it
Th.oughts.

,.. , ·•

This poem, by some critics, has been pro-

nouocerl moHrnful, angry, gloomy, and represented as

,,

. ......
. 1' ,.,
22.·.':

s~ringi~g frpm d1sappoihtecf am~ition tather.thari from ·'
sup.erior i sertt~inehts. · I,t)~:.tho~gh~;;Jl~*.~.1:~,t' to E'.X- '~
hib1t a wide display; of . or1gmal.poeJry~~~if~1~ga~ed,w1th
deep refleetions and striking a.1,1asi<>11~~~.~~wfldj1ess of ·
thought, in ,w.hich the fertility ·o f · fancy 0 sca~~e~'.'flow-,: ..
ers of every hue . and of ever:Y·\ odorf~~~·He,. · w,as too ":
fond of antithesis, ;fod •'often too . tui:g~d ;iti hi~ · ~tyl~ ; '".
yet he pain\Si With.the most Iively, fa~,t-ji:', , t~~/feeli~gs.
of the heart, the vanity of h~man thmgs, .. 1ts . tleet~ng
honors and enjoyments, ·and he presents some of the :
strdngest argumehts fa support onh~ iin~(jrtalit~. of ;·
the soul~ ,_- (. ·· ... · ·
····.,1 · = ~ i ~ ·~·~ ·~·· ., , ·1 . ··
· The late · Joseph Emerson 'speaks of'this work' ·as _
the dear companion of h.is early youth, ~ost faithfii.l ·
counselor of his advancing ;days-a precious, invalu:able .friend--tfor "mQr~ . ~han )hi rt~ :.~u1nme~~- the b~lm
of 41,s sorrows, Jh~ ; p1llC?.'":}~f h,i~, ,~ea.ry, t.hrobbmg
head-t.he · sweetener- 6f his , $W'eete,st Joys . ... ·" Dark
,an_d dismal~ ,in~~.~d;:~t~~~~nr.. :,h!~ ;: pi§t~r~~ ; ·b~t . l .
thmk not. more ·1:1,., i rn~11}~e~r ·.pt1g1Aals ::jJ~ , so,, w~
· s~oul~ no.t blame,.U~e, -1?ap1~~b· .~li.~- th~~~~u,bJ~~~s•.~~.; · .B ut 1
.his pictures .of redempb~n~· ~re ,ft.los~_gl,C?r~~lis.'. / ":rp, .
me, the Night.Thoughts is a poen_i, on the ~hql~t, ilitlst ~
animating and delight(ul-amazmgly '.~J1~rget1c"""""'.full'
of the richest instruction<-';-improving to the. mind~ .
much of it worthy ·o f being commi~ted to. m.emory-;- ·.
some faults-some passages 'unfit to be read""'-obscure · ·
-extravagant-tinged .ocd1sionally with flattery." , · ·.
. The work is,- WeU adap~d for .e.x~_rc.~s$~11g .~ t~e mind
m the process 6f analys1s and. cntic1stn. ·' :;' v- 1 ;'-' '' "'1:.
·!·

1

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···

·.

:... · . _, .. .... ; ·\·· ";... •.

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.. ;<>·. -., f ·• t~.· r :·

· -.·-·

t·~ .;t

,,,:·".. , _.-:. , CONSCIENCE • . '1, 1 ,, . ..... , .:,· ,.,.;'·' . ·,·i

Consciencel\vhit.t.ir't ,tlwu'r' Thou treiitendoµ.~: ~ow~d· ;. ~" '
Who dost ~n~abit us w:ithout our leave ·; .~':·~ · : ;.1;:'. 1 ·c;· ' " 1: And act witlitn ou'rselves, ·anothe.r ·self+"tir i ~ · "Y · ' i./s: " ·_;, rr
· A master-sel.f, that loves domln.!"eti:" >;~· ; J_r. l:' · . ,'
And treat the monarch franklr, a~ the .slav.e: -·u, 1... : ·· .. l. '
How ,dost thou light a torch ~o du~tant deeds l . . . ·.. . , ,
Make th~. past, P.reseilt, a~d the futur~;frow,n ! :. . \ ···. . ,. , ·~
How, ever and anoh,"awake the soul,
. , · ,, '
As v.:ith a peal,of thunder, to s~r'an~e. horrors, ' ·. :. '. \ . r .
· · . In .this long i'estl~ss dream, which idiots hlig-' · 1•.--·. ',\•
. · Nay, wise men flatter with the nam13 of lifEI !" · :. .'. · .~· ! ~' \' :>
•i

to

.

.

. ·.

T2

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222

BRITISH POETS.

[PART

vr.

DEATH.

"W11y start at death? Where is he ? death arrived,
Is past; not come or gone, he's never here.
Ere hope, sensation fails , black boding man
Receives, not suffers death's tremendous blow.
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave,
The deep, clamp vault, the darkness, and the wormThese are the bugbears of a winter's eve,
. The terrors of the living, not the dead.
Imagination's fool. and error's wretch,
Man makes a death, which nature never made;
Then on the poin~ of his own fancy falls,
And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one."

For another specimen, yet more characteristic of Dr.
Young's mind, refer to the chapter on Sublimity in this
work.
:·
OF ~IL
' ' , -'

SECTION V.
SAMUEL JOHNSON

(1709-1784)

' His Criticisms on Milron.
(Extracted from the N~rth Americnn . Review, 1835.J

Dr. Channing' has gained great celebrity for his criticism
upon Milton, ,in which he vindicates the latter from the unjust representations of Dr. Johnson, in his "Lives of the
.Poets." Dr. Johnson has certainly not done justice to Mil, ton; but this was owing, we think, to his political prejudi. ceis, and not, as Dr. Channing intimates, to any want of
"enthusiasm, creative imagination, or loft.y sentiment." The
author of Rasselas, if he had never written another word,
would have amply substantiated, hy that work only, his
claims to the possession of all those faculties in th eir fullest
;.perfection. But all his other works are marked by the same
.general characteristics. The Rambler is one perpetual flow
·of the purest wisdom, embodied in the richest language. It
is, from one end to the 'other, as Cicero says with so much
:beauty of Aristotle; a river of flowing gold. Why should
we find fault with the style, because its merit ,is not exactly
the same with that which we admire in the works of some
·Other great writers 1 Are there not in the gardens of letters and art. as well as in those of nature, a hundfod kinds
·of beauty, all different, and each equally charming- in its
own way1 For ourseJves, we look on Dr. Johnsou as the
master-mind of the last century. We respect even what
we may consider his errors, for they were generally closely
-connected with the highest virtues. Almost every lino that

',

)

:

'.

:"B;RI'rISHI ,POE1:~~ •· '
..~
'

. ·.,l'AnT :vt.]

(

a

\\
'f

he wrote has real vafoe>UWe rejoice1.nior!=J t=isperliallfthat ·.
it fell to his lot-and it was a singular distinctiori; :reserved , ·
for hi~ alo~e d~: ~ll the hu~afi}~eii·g~ ,tha~i ha:v!:i~y~filiv:~ci_:_ .
to furmsh, m:1h1s conversation; the.·tllatet1als rJol'.,,a i cop10us
and elaborate book:'.-·-One of the 'most Jnstructiv.e arid ,enter·
taining , in the 'whble' coin pass o( Iiter~iu~~ ; 1:.ii \V!>rJ( Which
! is quaintly styled bfa late wriief the 'J'ohnsliniaa;a11d ' which,
· for our O~in teading;''"":e 1!!Uch :pie~er~~~i~~!\~::~l},9l~ ~~:~~ ,of
modern degraded epics.. ,
: " . "ts ·. ; ,. 1>-i:-.:0:~., 1 ,_,,,\» !' .
Of Johnson, Dr. Cha)lnmg says: · . , _<·· · ' ' ~ ·•;f.:, 1 ~ · :J \' · : . \
"We trust we .are not blind to .his 'merits;,;...,ltiEH1tately
march, his pomp and · power of language 1,· his' strength of .
thought, his.·reverence for virtue and religion~ his vigotous
. logic, his practical wisdom, his insight into the sprfogs of :
human actioh,' and· the '..~ 9lemn . I>.atqos, "7l,1ich o~·Gasi,dnally ' .
pervades h.is descriptions ofJife, ,and , tii,s):eforen<ee$ to :his ·
own his!ory, ,Gomrtj~ij4 , ~u~ ,~w~~g adp1irafj.on . .:.·.~e ,do not
blame him for not 0qe1ng}d1ltotL ,.:; /W,e lo.ve mte1lectual power in all its·.forms, and ,delight in'.the 1'Vatiety of. ~niind;·1 We ·
blame hirp. only that ,,his ' passionsr pfejudicesr and ; bigotry, ·
engaged hj~' in 'the 'unwo~thy t!l.s~ · o~ ob~cutir)g tp,e '. b~ig~ter '
glory, of1(me, ,q(the;,rpq~,~ g~{t;e~: jl;\lll ~v.{rt,~C,m'~ , ~e,~ ~ ". YI.~~ 9nly · ·.
. iiSk ,t h.e f~1.ends . 9.f g{jnl"l8 11 ~J,?qq,, p~It,, ~1e,I}; ' (a1\tJ;qn rJ~l;m~prf~.·-. ·
.. de1ineatioris' of it:: ', Hi~ 1 titogriiP.htcaf W,orkJ .ar:e ti.hg{lcl~ wit .
- ~is , notorious1y str?~~\' pV~jM~~·~;~ a,fid~ M:1';*1i,~1iis\' /,~~~~.~;, ' )
we hold that ,of Milt~~ t~ ,ti~,,tlie : ~qsf'.
a.P9.cryph~1,.;~_~;~r~r ,
some other, remarks on Milto11;~se~ 1 sech~n·1i.') "/'- ~'. 1 ' fl.'.
~!e. .~1~l ',
1
1
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; ., ,'1" \ " 1. \T' [ l ll "'l'~'H f','1;./(! ; 1 ( l"l'.J/'. (' !fJ ·
.
,,::: · ... ' · : ', ':'{ s.E0Tio~vi :~1i:1':\ ;:1;N: ).I .i 1!1n. :K
; ·~!
,
'r; . , ;,': ·, · . ,; 1 ; ''1r '.; 1'..iA~,\:. '. i;~~c,~: ·~ } ;' !,"~;1\~ . ·
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~.. L~ .xA , ~ _H~~ ~ .1·.rQ~ ~~-:_'p\l·~·, ..{ jJ~J \'t · . J.(,'F..:·~..-'~. -

:. appeared ~iili ~epute:·
'a ii!·ati'thi:;'r ~J1bouP~h~ 1
,· l7~lk His principal efforts 'jn boy Hood ' wete transfal. ' .
: tions from. ~he Ro,":I~rl'. po~ts: ·1:t, kind'.~[~ l~t~t~ture: ~li~fi
much cultivated J' AJ >- si~, t.~e,n . h~ Wrote ' sotne ' pastd.:. ..
tals, and thl:fbegi1iriiilg~Of>Wiii'd.$~f Cch#e, WhicH; when
· : ~ublished ; a few y~ltr'$ ~ 'atter, obt~ill'eQ : liigh': p,rais~· fot 1'
,melody' 'oFvef$ificatid~. rd His' F;sf?y lin C.rilfcisrri 1wa$ .
wtittett ' at tpe :age ·.oCJWeilt.yioile',' _
aiitl •~a.!F extolled · ,
fot,its happy ~Uus .tratfons ; '' 1t is·:_1:1Md id b~ ri;.r11 ir sp.e~i;. ...
men · of W.hat .the" wits bf ·Queeh .. Anne's reign w~re
.
. most pleased . withLan epigt:~rhri1atic turi1 of th.Ought', ,;... ''·'.')
' ..and a ,happy appropriut.e ncs$ Of . expressfon~' 1 L •i'{ '..: ','."·~ ! ·, , ;·" ,:·~ .
; l :-: .., · · ' ·; · "1 ' ·\

..

fts

tJar,:-

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:.'>>:~Y~·

' .: ~,' ' ' -' ' -; -;;i~?;g. _,:p
:224

BRITISH POETS.

,

[PART VI.

BRITif?,H" ..tf. OE'JjS.
;,) · _ ., ·· · .· ·,. "
, ., lf 1J\f"

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R'-'.'; :!\ ._
~la)~ ,"""i •
<.,

•

• ' 1i ··~·>l_--:~~~1.' v ..

to have destroyed ~herself ~n Frahc.e,-in consequence ::.-. j ,::..; ~ ...'
of her affections being blighted .t:,f;',tbe~tyr~ni}Y,of.aii· · : <.(;,. ~ :
~ncle! and t~e. foll~wing. a~e s.orrt~ o~;'~~: wg,!e. 1P~~h,c~-~irc . "... ".,.:;~· : ;
Imes m which her. loss'. is .deplored
:tl!"l ~.~ ~.)' c~. i,:ll :, .. . . '-.',:.:~
"
- . -·1 ';>tfl "ii.;ft,'•i··· ···
. ·;_
What can at~n.e, oh ever inj~:ired sha4e, itt: ll#;i1
1< ;--._. , ·. · ·.· -.: . \
Thy ~ate unp1tied, ~nd thy ~it.es unpa,14 J : ·. l(.~,. 1·i'l .~~ . • ._ " _ . • · "" ·
No fnend's .complamt, no kmd domestic leafj l, -. · ~·,~ 1·- " ·

The following is one of the most admired passages in this poem :

a

"But most by numbers judge poet's son a·
And smooth or rough, with them, is right ~r wrong
In the ~mg)1t muse, though thousand charms conspire,
Her voice ls all these tuneful fools admire.
Who haunt P~rna~sns but to please the ear,
Not mend their ~mds; as some to church repair,
Not for the doctrme, but the music there
These equal syllables alone require,
·
Tho~1.gh <ift th~ ear the. open vowels tire;
Whtie expletives their feeble aid do join

1

-

Pleased thy pale ghost, ?r graced thy mournful.bier :,i - 1 .: • ~
. " · '"'"~
By fore~gn hands thy dymg eY.es were closed; ~!'. ; .. ..,_.; ·· .: · _ ,..
By fore~gn hands thy decent hmbs coi,npo~ed, :. ! ~·1;-;·-~- .
By foreign hands thy humble grave auorn .d,
... ~. ,,.- . ·
i· '
.' \
By strangers honor'd, and by strangers mo~rn'd ! " -·y •

And. ten low u'.ords oft creep in one d11ll line':

*

W~1le they rmg round the same unvaried chimes ·
With sure returns of still expected rhymes·
Where'er you find ' the cooling western hr~eze '
1n the tlex:t line it ' whispers through the trees'.,
If crystal streams ' with pleasing murinurs cre~p '
The r,e ader's threaten'd, not in vain, with 'sleep;.
T~en, at the last and only couplet fraught
With some unmeaning thing they call a thought
A n~edle~s Alexandrine ends the song,
'

*

*

' * . . *»

*

' - *" .

0:

I';,

So peaceful rests,' without a stone, a name,
. · · ·1 , ;"
That once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fam~ : i ..
A heap of dust alone remains of thee ; , ,
'
' :'
'Tis all thou art, and all the· proud sh.all be !

''·'
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.,

At twenty-five Pope's , reputation·, as ' a poet? was
established. His next work was a translat1011 of the
Iliad and part of the Odyssey~bgth I as,ci!1ating an.d
brilliant translations, though .wantmg the $urtple maj.
esty. and .u..n~ffecte,d. g:ran~~ur 9~ , t~e }ieathe!1 poe.t. ·.
His prmc1pal sattricrzl poe(ll IS , th~ .Du7Jpaq, 3: .work
of misdirected talent, ' and. run ·of · ~e~ti~~h,ts .:n~c,on­
sistent with the character of a .Christian aµthor . . At
the suggestion of Lord Bolin~brok~, his . ne~t pr?duc..:.
tion was t~e Essay on Afan, .m . :which he emb??1ed .a
series of arguments respecti.ng the huma_n bemg, m
relation to the universe, to himself, to society, and to
the pursuit of happiness ... rhis ~as published in.1733,
and displays the , poet's extraordmary power ~f ma~aging argument : in ~. verse, and of compr~ssmg .lns ,
thoughts intd clauses of .the f!10St energet.1c )?r~v~ty,
as well as of expahding them. mto passages ghttenng
with every poetic ornamen.t, Yet_.the work abounds .
in theological errors. His Leite~s are ¢l.ega11t and
sprightly, .but are too evidently wntten for parade .to
be agreeable. He died in. 1744, at-the ,age of fifty-six.
The following fine pass~ge is fro Ill the Essay ort Man :_

Which, like a u:ottnded snake, drags its slow length along."

. 1:'he.dexterity with which the passages here marked
m 1tahcs were made to exemplify the faults which
t~ey condemned, ~a.s greatly prized by the readers of
~hose days ; and 1t 1s allowed that these deformities
we~e thenceforward ban.ished from our literature.
1 he two most beautiful poems of Pope. written
when he was only twenty-three years of age, are,
the Rape of the Lock, and the Elegy on an Unfo1·tunate
Lady. T~ie former contains more fancy than any
other of his ~oe~s, th.ough it is exerted only on ludicrous and artificial objects. Its machinery consists of
a ~~t o~ supernatural beings, who, like the heathen
de1t1e~ 111 the Iliad and ~n~id, ~ere employed in develoI?mg the plot and brmgmg 1t to a conclusion : it
con~.ist~d of the sylphs and gnomes; good and evil
gen11, who ~ere supposed by .the Rosicrucian philosophers tp direct the proceedings of human beings ;
and no ~md of creatures.could have been better adapted to ?irect the proceedmgs of human beings, and to
,~nter mto. a s~~ry compounded, as this is, of airy fash10nable fnvol1ties.
The heroine of his other poem, the Elegy, is said

Heaven from all creatutes hides the book of fate;
All but the page prescribed, t.h eir present state i_

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PROVIDENCE ,VIND~CATED lN TiIE · PR~SENT .S TATE OF "
.,. · .... .... . MAN.
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!~~1·111:
l~llJ

DRITI SII POET S.

BRtTISH,: POETS •.

[PART VI,

From brutes what men, from men what spi nts kn ow ;
Or who coul<l suffe r being h ere below ?
The lamb thy riot dooms to hlee<l to-day,
Had h e thy reason, w ould he skip and play?
Pleased to the last, he crops the ilow'ry food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood
Oh blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n,
That each may fill the circl e mark'd by Heav'11;
Who s ees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero pe rish, or 'l sparrow fall ;
Atoms or systems int o ruin hurl'd,
Aml 11u w a bubble burst, anJ 11uw a. wo rltl.
H ope h u mbly, t hen; w ith t rem bling pinions soar,
Wait th e great teache r, Death ; anrl Gori adon').
\Vhat fn t1ire bl iss h e girns not th e e to know,
Bu t gives that hope t.o be thy hl ei=:sing now.
Hope springs efPrnal in tlw hnrnan hn~ae;t:
J\1au llPYr·r is, but a lways TO BE Llcs s'd.
The soul , lmca,.y, :rnrl continPd from home,
Hcsts and ex patiates in a Iii (: to cn111<'.
Lo, the poor Jnrlian ! whnse un1111 or'd mind
Secs God in c lou ds, o r IH:ars !1i 111 in the wi 11tl,
His soul pro11d science nevr:r taught lo slrny
Far as the S ola r Walk or J\1 ilky Way.
Ye t shnp le nature to his ho pe has giv'n ,
Behind the cloud-topp\l hill, an hurnblcr bcav 'n;
S ome sa fe r Work! in depth of woods embraced,
Some happier is land in tlw watery waste ;
\\' here s!an·s once more tllf'ir natiH., Jami behold,
No fi ends torment, no Uhristiaus thirst for gold.
T o BE, contents his natural de$ire;
Jlf~ asks no ang('['s wi nf: , no se raph's lire:
Hut th inks, admitted to that Pqual sky·,
llis faithful dog shall hear him cornp:my.
Go, wiser thou ' and in thy sea le of sense,
W e igh thy opinion against P ro vidence ;
Call imperfec tion what thou fanc iest such ;
Say here he gives too little, the re too much.
In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies ;
All quit their sphere, a nd ru sh iuto the skies.
Pride still is aiming at the bless'd abodes ;
Men would be angels, angels would be gods.
Aspirin g to be gods, if ange ls foll,
A spiring to be angels, men rebel:
And who but wishes to invert the Jaws
Of ORDER, sins against th' ETERNAL CAUSE.

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, 1\ ,VII
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,-Tit,oitAs GRAY· (l716...:i77'I)'t~i-1
:,'.f!f{ .,: : ·_ .. '
,
•v• ,. : \
was professor of modern' laQgtl.age~ 'anq .history
the ·
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C'.1m)Jr~dge •

.

in

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,1

Hi~ ..mqst

p_opula.r::.J>oem ,

Is his Elegy, wr_itten in a countr.y .church·'!f(ltd, m 1750•.
'!'he charm of his writings is,~o _ be ' tr<;iced :io th¢ natu:.
rally exquisite ear of the poet, havihg been trafoed. to
consummate skill in harmony, by 101ig familiarity with
th e fin es t m odels in the most poetical of all languages,
the Gree k an<l ltalian . In regard to the " Progress if
Puctry," and "The Bard," it is said, that there is not
a n ode in the E nglish la nguage w hich is constructed
like the s e two compositions ; with such pow.e r, st1ch
rn<ijesty, and sLich sweetness; with such pro portioned
p :rnscs and just cadences; with s uch regulated measures of the verse . ·
,ODE
•.
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ON THE DI STANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE .

Ah happy hills . ah plea sing shade,
Ah fields beloved in .vain, .
. .. . .. , ,,, , .,
Where once my careless childhood play'd ,.
A stranger yet to pain I
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow,
As, waving fre5h th eir gladsome wing,
My weary soul they seem to soothe, ,
Aw l, red olent of joy and youth,
To breathe a seconcl spring.

*

Ii ·

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*

*

*

*

*

Gay hope is theirR by fancy fe<l,
L ess pleasing w hen possess'rl;
The tear forg ot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast :
T here's buxom health of rosy hue,
\Vile! wit, invention eve r new,
And lively ch eer, of vigor born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night, : :·
The spi rits p u re, the sl.umbers ligh,t , ,~ , ·
That fly the appro:ich of morn,· ' .. · ·
Alas, regard l e~s of their doom,
The little ~ ictims play ! . ,
No sense h ave they of ills to come,
No .care beyond to-day.
·
Yet see .h ow, all around them, wait .
The minister~ of human fate,

)

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BRI'l'ISH POETS.

[PART VI.

And blnck misfort11n~'8bn11rfn1 t min;
f\h, show th~m where m ambush sta11d,
Io seize theu prey, the murderous band 1
Ah, tell them they are men !
.

*

*

*

*

*
To each his sufferings: all are men
Condemn'd alike to groan ·
'
'l'he tender, for another's pain
The unfeeling, for his own. '
Y_et ah, why should they know their fate!
Smee sorrow never comes too late
And happiness too swiftly flies, '
Thought would d~stroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss
'Tis folly to be wise.
·

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AN EtEGY vVRITTEN IN A ClIURCII-YARD.

*
*
*
*
*
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade

Wh~re ~eaves the turf in many a mouldering h~ap,
Each 111 !us narrow cell forever laid
The rude forefathers of the ha111ldt sleep.
Th~ breezy call of i11ce~1se-bre athing morn,
'I he sw allo\v, tw1tt~rmg from the s~ra w-built shed.
The cock 1s sh11ll clanon, or the echomg horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more . the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or b~sy housewife ply her evening care ·
Nor ch~ldren _run to lisp their sire's return:
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.

*

*

*

*

*

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unfathom'd cavfls of ocean bear•
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen '
And waste its sweetness on the desert ai;.

*

*

* '

*

'

It would_ be idle to descant on the diction or imagery
of v~rs~s _hke _these. We will only advert to tho prophetic mtlmat10n of the catastrophe iu tho last clause.
Had the poet described the tempest itself with the

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{l736-18Q3), .. i_ - .
.
a native' of S6otland, w~s th~)ast' df those . whci can
pr?pe!lY. be -placed in t~EUirs( or9er. Qf th~ · poet~ of:~
this tune. In 1771, while pro(esso),' of moral ph1loS· ·
ophy at ·Aberdeen, .he published his celebrated poem,
The Min$trel, \Vhich-describes, in ·the stanza Of Spen~
ser, the progress of the ilnagimition a'nd feelings of a'
young and rustic. poet. • Beattie .also wrotp sev~ra1 ·
philosophic'al and controversial works; which' attract- ;
ed considerable. attentiori iii their day; · >f!is poetry is .
charaGterized by a peculiar meditative pathos'. - · _ .·
'fhe contemplation of the works o( Nature . is rec.. .
ommended i1rthe: following .s tanzas: · · ' ·-'
: - >" . ·

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JAMES , J:lEATTH:

*

Fair !~ughs the ~om and soft the zephyr blows
' Wlule, proudly riding o'er the azure realm ·
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes,
'
Youth on the prow antl Pleasure at the h elm·
llegarclless of. the ~weeping whirlwind's sway, '
·
That, hush 1d ln gnm repos~, expects his evening prey.
'
The Bard.

power ~f.Vi1:gil · i~ · t~ie first.book of his ~~eid, it .would ,
have failed m this mstance to producf:) , tpe eft(;Jct of
sublime . end 'ineffable horror, of.: which •a· glimpse appears in the backgrouildi while :the . gallant ve!!!sel is
sailing with wihd, and tide, and su'itshirle/ on ·a: ae'rt of
glory. All the sweeping ,f ury of th~ ·whirlwind; awaka
and ravening. over "his evenin~ prey,". would have ·
been less terrible thari his "gn\h repose;" a1id the ,
shrieks and struggles of dt'o\Vning mariliers less affecting than ~he sight of \ . , · .. · .
, . , . - . .' , ·
· 1 " Youth on the prow and Pleasure at the heltn," ·' ·.<· i
"regardless~' of th.e in~vhable . doop:i ·on ,which -'Ufoy:
were already v:ergi11g. :: :'. . ...· ,> ,·:- ,, '. · ;, .· , · > ,•, · -~)

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Oh, hovi canst thou renotinc.e the boundless Blore
. ,.. >i.·
:. ~
0 f charms which Nature to her ;votary yields !
; .". , •- . >Ji
'fhe warbling wopdland, the resounding shore, .
1 . . j~
The pomp of groves a11d garniture dUields; · ·
'·' .' \ ' · .. ·'~
-'
All .that the genial ray<lfrnorning gilds, . ·, _:· .
<:~
And all that echoes to the .. song of even, . .
·> ·;':' . ·. ~ ..;5.
. All th:it the mountain's ~l1elteting bosom _shie ds, , . . .: , l< '~~ .. . • _ .,~
And all the dtead magm6.cence ofheaven--c ..:
· .. .. r ·•
·"!
0 how d.nst _thou nmcil]nce 1 and hope to be forgiven•, , ;; ~,,);.~;:< . ~ _';~
O>

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;hes·~ ch~;~s ~-b~11. iv~~ k. t~·Y, ~~~1'.s ~ternal}~~alth; · .1; (~:f'./~.' .· ' ;~
And love, and gentleness, and JOY impart ; , ·

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230

[PART

BRITISH POETS,

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" I solitary court
The inspiring breeze, and meditate the book
Of Nature, ever open; aiming thence,
Warm from the heart, to pour the moral song."

The "Seasons" are the most read and generally
admired of his works, yet not without its faults.
The language is sometimes inflated-style sometimes
monotonous, but from continued elevation. The digressions have been objected to as l~lemishes, but by
others have been approved and admired as essential
to the highest merit of the poem.
Some have pronounced his " Castle of Indolence''
altogether superior to the " Seasons." It was designed ~s a s~tire upon his own indolent character,
and ~n mcentive to the young to put forth vigorous
exert10ns.
.several tablets were erected to his memory, con·
taming beautiful inscriptions. Beneath one of these

.. :... :i

His g1:eat work, ' " The Seasons," with · a few pre~ · -' ·~
cepts intermingled. presents, in beautiful series . and
,;
. harmonious connection, the phenomena of irnlure and
.··:
· the operations of mari contemporary with these,
~hrough t~e four se~soi1s; forlili~g,c in fact, cf biograyhJ.
.ical memoir of the infancy, maturity, and old af{e .ojan
. ·.'.1
English year~ ·' Thus beauqfully has Mon,tgomery de~
·..;
·
· · ·
scribed it; · ")\c' '· ~. ·. • ·: · ' " 1
·._;;::~
. A sh9rt char~cJer~~tic :specimeh . of Thomson
1
given in the chiwter. on Pers<;mificatid~. . Other speci7 · /
' ,., .'
mens will be.. iound in, the, ropo,~i9g section: . .,;.. ··'· •
. '
Some chara.cteristic .traits of Thomson a~d Cowper ~ are
given by Hazlitt; as follows :
.
. ·.
, · :· • . ' ' :·
"Thomson, the kin1Hv~arted '. Thonison, was the most indolent of mortals, and o(poets. His faults are, that he is .
often affected through carelessness, and pompous from un~ . '· r
suspecting simplicity of character. He seldom writes a
c,
good line hilt he makes up for it by a bad one. · Cowper has
'·
surpassed him in the picturesque part of his art, in marking ' "
the peculiar features and curious details of objects ; no one · ,
has yet . come up to him in giying the sum total of their ef~ '
fe.cis, their varying influences on 'the . mind . . · He does no~
go into the. minutia of a laqclscape, but describes the vivid
·',
impr~ssion wh\ch the whole makes upon his own imagina~ -)
tion ; and tht.~s transfers the same unbro1'en, unimpaired im~
'
pression to the iri1agi_nation £!f. his readers. . He describes, . ...·
not to the eye alone, but .to the other senses, and to ~h~ ··;:·..
whole man. He pu~s' his. heart . into ,)lis slibje~t, .w !ites as .. ,. ::
he feels; and humamzes whatever
·he touches. · Ho makes .· ::-~·..:,
all his descriptions teein with1 life. ''His blank verse~ is not..· ·~;~J.
harsh, nor ·utterly un.tunable; b~t it' is heavy and m~noto- . ·.Jf
~.nous ;-it seem~ always laboting 1~p hill. -- ·.· . ·
, ·· ·'·: [~· "'' · ,., ,:t,
. . " If Cowper ,had ' ·a . more polished taste, Thomson · had,· '::~f.~.
beyond comparison; a more fertile genius, more impulsive'. · -.,~·..;;:
. f?rce, a more. e,?tir~ forget.f~lness ?f. hi~self.,in I,ii:·;~?~.fQtfi: '~;~

~

(1700-1748).

He has been justly called the great painter of Na·
ture's. scenery and Nature's joys. His chief merit
consisted in describing her, and the pleasure atforded
b.Y a contemplation of her infinite and glorious varie·
ties. "Touched by his more than magic pencil every thing around us lives, and breathes, and spe~ks­
speaks forth its Creator's praise: the little hills rejoice on every side; the trees of the fields clap their
hands, and all c.reati~n joi.ns in one general song."
. He excelled 111 deltneatmg, not the strong and boisterou.s passions of the hu.man h~art, but its gentler
emotions and more pleasmg traits. Of himself he
says:

'·

_, ~(

0 teach me what i$ ;gqo9. !. teach me thyself; .:~ ' " ;.: ·'
Save me from folly, vimity, .a nd v.ic.e,:' . .; .,, ., ;' ·' .: ,·,
· From ·ever,Y low pursuit! anQ. f~e~ my soul : " : '. ~.
With knowle~lge, conscious peace, and vir~ue pure; ~· .
· Sacred, subst1;1ntial, never-fadingblis_s!?~ _,:..;,, :;· ,' . .;' -·:..

*

The Seasons.

•J

was writteµ_ this bea!lctifu1 p~s~ag~,, ~ro~ the , s~ason .
of Winter:
'·
. . ' ·.·;,.' .< ': ,i ::·· .. · ' ·, '
, '"
"Father of tight and Life! · .Thou 'good Supreme! ~ ·· '- · i

SECTION IX.
THOMSON

,-

PART.; y1.J

vr.

But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth
E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart;
For, ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart;
Prompting th' ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,
The stern resolve, unmoved by pity's smart;
The troublous day, and long distressful dream.

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BRITISH POETS.

(PART VI.

If in Thomson you are sometimes offended with the slovcnlin~ss of the author by P!Ofession, determined to ge t through
l11s task at all events ; m Cowper you are no less dissatisfied with the finicalness of the private gentleman, who does
not care whether he completes his ,,,·ork or not; and in
whatever he does, is evidently more solicitous to please himself than the public. He shakes hands with nature with a
pair of fashionable gloves on. He had neithe r Thomson's
l~ve of the unadorned beauties of nature , nor Pope's exquisite sense of the elegances of art. Still he is a genuine
poet, and deserves all his reputation. His worst faults are
amiable weaknesses, elegant trifling. He has left a number
of pictures of domestic comfort and social r efin ement, as
well as of natur~l imagery and feeling, which can hardly be
forgotten but with the language itself. His satire is also
ex~ellent.
It is pointed and forcible, with the polished
~an.ners of the ge~tlem~n! and the honest indignation of the
virtuous man. His rehg1ous poetry wants elevation and
fire. His ·story of John Gilpin has, perhaps, given as much
pleasure to as many people as any thing of the same length
that ever was written."
SECTION X.
COWPER.

The Task.
He is one of the most instructive and pleasing of
English poets, and is decidedly one of the best specimens of ~n easy an~ graceful epistolary style. His
most admired poem is the Task, some parts of which
are inimitably good, but there are others rather trifling.
"His language," says Campbell, " has such a masculine, idiomatic strength, and his manner, whether he
rises into grace or falls into negligence, has so much
pl~in and familiar freedom, that we read no poetry
with a deeper conviction of its sentiments having
come rorn the author's heart." He is distinguished
for a nch and chastened humor in most of his writings, though at times he was the victim of most lamentable melancholy. In the description of the quiet
pleasure~ of domestic life, he much excels, as m'ay
be seen m the fourth book of the Task. He is the
author of many other poems; and of somo adu1irablc

f

BRI'I' Isil PoE';i's_;-.

PART VI.J

;: As a

hymns in . consta.n t . u 'se ,' at ~he:' pre~ei:i~ <lay~ /
specim~n of _hi.s , poetry, read th~ fol~~.~1~1g: .- . : ·. l
'

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THE .INFJDEL · AND -THE CHRISTIAN;

1 '

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,; The path to bliss abounds with in~ny. ~Qar~ ;-:::: ;"' ' ·.(
Learning is' on~ a!1d ~it, _how~ver . ra re ~ . _.·~~ -~ , . ·: ·;
The F'renchm,an, first m ht~rary f~l_Ile ' -., . · ·
..
. (Mention-him, if you please. Volta1~e? 1 he same), ·~ ·.~.1·'·.· •
With spirit, genius, eloquence supplied, · ::; • ·. · · :· ...
.- Lived long, wrote m~cl~, laugh'd heart_1ly, and died::. '; '.,-:
The Scripture .was his Jes,t -b.ook., .whenc13 he drew ,. •.
• •• Bon-;nots to gal! ,the Christian and the Jew;,
:' . , .':· 1
1
· An infidel' in-health, but what when s1hck 1 . k ; f·. ·., , Jii.
Oh;....,.then a text would tou ch him at t ~ ,qmc .: .. , , '. · t; ,
· ' View him at Paris', in his last career, ' . · 1 · ' "
•
Surrouriding throngs the de11!i go~ ~eve~e; •
· , '. '.- ' ·" ~ '·'
Exalted on }lis pedestal, of pride, ,. · · .. ·,' ,
·· 1l • :~ ·
And fumed with frankin~ehse on ,every ~1de, . .
'.-.' . I.
He begs their flatte1"}' with. his l~teiit b_ri:~th, : , ·i : , , ; ~' : · tJ
.. •.\ml stnotfier'd in'l.11t l.~s~, is 1;>ra~s~d td death.;.< : .; "'); , ;~·.
Yon cottager, w~o ~eaves, at· her owl)_~<;pr,, .; .: · .,;, . ,-, , ,. 1
Pillow a11d b,obbms, e,11 h~r httle stor~; . ·"·; '· ·.. , ; -~ ·, · ,; :..
Content, thoug'1 mean, and che~rful1 if not gay, •," : :." ,
/ • ..
Shuffling her thread ~b~ut ~h~ ~ivelon~ dar •.
Just earns a scanty _ p~ttanc!;), and ·a.t tugh,~ . ·, ; · , :-:·):·'. : .
Lies down secure, her heart and pocket' hght ., ,:·,.· 1,.
She for her humble sphere by nature ,tit; · .'·. - ~ ;' 1,
Has' little understanding, and .no wit, · '
. . . ,, r . ,_
R eceives no praise ; but though her lot be sucp. :· \.. t!· ,.,. ,,
(T9ilsome and indigent), she renders m~tch: · : . ,; ·._:I f;- ;n
• ..lust knows, and kno~vs nq mtmi, her ' Btble _ tru~, ; : .·".' '.-,:Jl ...
· A truth the brilliant I• renchman. never knew; ·
·
\
And in that charter reads' with ' ~parkl,ing ~y,es _ ', ... ·~'·
Her. title io a treasure in the skies; " .r.·: 1 • . . . . ' .~ ,
I

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He praised; ~erhaps, for age~ yet to come, · ., , ·. ''.
She never heard of half a mile from home; ·, , . · ·:. ' ~ · '•.
He lost in errors his vain heart prefers, · : '· '": ' · . · · · .1t
She safe in the simplicity of hets.' 1 · ·~ \ ! ' • '. ~: , : . ' .. " :

•

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'the charm ~t Cowpe~'s po~try' ! is fl.t ire, innocent,
,.
lovely mind; delightii1g i~self ,in pur~.' 1pnocent, and ,,
, .. ;~
lovely n a ture ,: the freshness · <?f : t~e. _fields, the _ fr~~," . , ·']
gra~ic,e
t~e ..~o~e:~' b~eathes ~n his ye~se. , . : .· ··;~~; ·; : .· , . · -~

_o!.

, .,THOMSQN A.ND COWPER COMPARED .

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Thomson's genius, ·says Professor Wilson, does

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234

BRITISH POETS,

[PART

VI.

very, very often-though often-delight us by exquisite minute touches in the description of nature-like that of Cow·
per. It loves to paint on a great scale, and to dash objects
off sweepingly by bold strokes - such, indeed, as have almost always marked the genius of the mighty masters of the.
lyre and the rainbow. Cowper sets nature before your eyes
-Thomson before your imagination. Which do you prefer 1 Both. In one mood of mind, \.Ve love Cowper best ;
in another, Thomson. Sometimes the S easons are almost
a Task, and sometimes the Task is out of Season . There
is a delightful distinctness in all the pictures of the Bard of
Olney- glorious gloom or glimmer in most of those of the
Bard of Ednam. ' Cowper paints trees-Thomson, woods.
Thomson paints, in a few wondrous lines, riv ers from source
to sea, like the mighty Barampooter-Cowper, in many no
very wondrous lines, brightens up one be nd of a stream, or
awakens our fancy to the murmur of some single waterfall.
But a truce to antithesis - a deceptive style of criticism and see how Thomson sings of snow. vVhy, in the following lines, almost-though not quite-as we ll as Christopher
North _(Professor Wilson), in his ·winter Rhapsody
"The cherish'd fields
Put on their tender robe of purest white,
'Tis brightness all; save where the new snow melts
Along the mazy current."
~othi~g can be more v.iv.icl. . There are passages, nowever,
m which Thomson, stnvmg to be pathetic, has overshot the
mark, and ceased to be natural. Thus :
" The bleating kine
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glittering earth
With looks of dumb despair."

T,he second line i.s perfect, but the third is not quite right.
:Sheep do not deliver themselves up to despair under any
circumstances ; and here Thomson transferred what would
haye been his own feelings in a corresponding condition, to
animals who dreadlessly follow their instincts. Thomson
redeems himself in what succeeds :
·
" Then sad dispersed,
Dig for the wither'd herh through heaps of snow."
For, as they disperse, they do look very sad-and, no doubt,
are so - but had they been in despair, they wonld not so
readily, and constantly, and uniformly, nml s ncccsslidly
have taken to digging-but whole Jloeks hatl perished.

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· BRIT~SH ~ P~6~_lf.s.

I
·'

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i..

, But here 1s a ·passage ~which '. 'YiJl ·~ire fo;ever...'._m' -~hi?h ~ · · ·-~- ·""
not one. word could .be altered fo,t the ·, bel~er77-not one omit; .· · ·-4
ted but for the worse.,..-not one added that.~ould, not be s~- '
·perfluous-a passage that proves that pction is not the soul ,
- '..!
of poetry, bnt truth-but; the~, such trutq as · was never
~
spoken before on the same subject-such· tru~h, a·s shows
~
that, while Thomson was a person .of-the strictesft veracity,
,';".
J
yet was he very far indE:'.ed from being a ITI"1_tter~o -f~ct man:
.
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p~~tSHlNG IN THE , scy_o ;-~\·.r ~
11 As thus the snows anse, and foul and fi~rce
. ·. , ; .1 ~- · ., ,
. "
All wiriter drives along the darken'd air; .: : ·. ·.. ,_. ·_<. ,·: • q •f •·]~(, "··
In his own loose-revolving field the swain ·: ·:
,c ·· ' "' ' t : ' ; ';:
·.. 1_:;
Disaster'd stands ; sees other hills astend, ~ ... · · · · :- · ~ ··
Of unknown, joyless brow; and other scenes; · . >".:".' ;,:;".t:;-.
Of horrid prospect,' shag the trackless pl~in;
. , •. i":' .
No~ finds tha river; nor the forest, hid "
,
,.
Beneath the forniless wild;- hut wan,ders on,
.' · ' ,.
From hill to dale ,_ still more and more astr,ay, · ·- c , ·
, .... :
Impatient flouncing th rough, the .drifted heaps, ,.' Jc
. r .
Stung wit~ the thoughts of hom~. f ~he thoug~ts _of home, .·, ·
'•, \
Rush on lus nerves, and qall their.v1gor/orth ... '- ., .. J, ....
In many a vain attempt. :·: ··. ,: : -': ~-. ·· _- · . ··,. ·. -.i! ~. · -.
. ·• ,· How.smksh1s .soul! ., .., .r-i •'.
What black despair, what horror fil.ls his heart! :· ; c -~ ~ ;.
When , for the dusky spot, which fancf f\3ign\l, ·· :~· '·,: ;'
His tufted cottage rising through the snow, 1 ·;·: ~~ .< .: }'c ·.
He meets the roughness of the middle waste, .. •· , ·: /· · •
Far from the track and bless'cl abode of man; :. · .. ,J;·
.
While round him night resjstless Closes fast 1
And ev'ry te~est howling o'er his head ·
' .
Renders the savage wilderness more wild. · , ,
· Then throng the busy shapes into his mind · '
i --" t
Of cover'd pits, unfatho,mably deep, . ', ·, · "' '. · '
. ·. -~
A dire descent, beyond the pow'r of frost! ·. · ·: '· · , ' r
'-..·"Of faithless bogs; of precipice!! huge, : ' ·
.
•
Smooth'd up with snow; and what is land unknown, .,.
What water, uf the still unfrozen spring,
, ..
. ;J, ...
Jn the loose marsh of solitary lake,
· ·"
I ' :.-.
Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils.
These check his fearful" steps,' and down. he sinks · · _A
Beneath the ,shelter of the shapeless drift,';:· .' -' ·. . ' ·
. · ', " . "
. Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death, ·
·"
Mix'd with the tender anguish nature shoots · ·
Through thQ wrung bosom of the dying man, " '
'· '
His wife, his children, and his friends unseen:
i:. · ···
In vain for him th' officious wife prepare!'! . I, • .
... ,,
'fho fire fair·hlazinJt and tho vestment warm;
· ·· · ;,·: ·
i
, ,' <.-' ;.· ( '
In vain hi~ little chil~ren, peeping out ~: ·
' ,:
-, '

' ..A ,M,A_N

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236

BRITISH .POETS.

[PART VI,

Another; more ·. humorous ' ex_ample, \va~r given ·i~ .
partiii.;chap.,xv . .. .. :-· . ,;.> ~: , ,1:t~ ·, ,.'.1 ! 0 1', JJ ;: c,, .. ; .. 1 ~· t :

Jnto the mmgled slorm, demand their sue,
With tears of artless innocence. Alas !
Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold,
Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve
The deadly winter seizes, shuts up sense,
And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold,
Lays him along the snows a stiffon'd corse."

c

"The Traveler" and "The Deserted Vilh1ge" are
beautiful descriptive poems. The latter is said to contain some of the happiest pictures of rural life and
character ~n the English language. · His "Vicar of
Wakefield," a prose tale, is also much admired.
The following extracts are from the "Deserted
Village :'~ ·
·
·

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His powers of imagin:ition are. no,t , U,il~ommon, but
he possessed ,a talent for making accµrate ;atid;i·I)inute
observations on the realities of life . ., "·'l,'he moral tenl
dency of his wr.itings is good; His ' 'portraits are
mostly from humble life-exhibiting virtm~s . as ·Well
as vices. . ·
·
·
.- ·
'
,,·. " ::.:.' . .<:'\ : ';:'" ···
Crabbe, if not the tnost natural, is, in the opinion of HaZ- ·
litt, the most litera:J of de~criptive poets. He exhibits the
smallest circumstances of the smallest things_;_;_the non-essentials of every trifling incident. He describes the. interior
of a cottage like a : person &ent there , tp ~dishain for ren.t.
You know .the·C.h ristian arid surnames ". of\every one _of his
heroes-the dates 9q~eir, achieve~ents, w}reth.er on a .s un- .
day or a Monday-:-the1r place o( birth and butial, the. color .
of their clothes aitcl of their h.ait, arid whether they squinted : ;
or not. He takes an itrventory ofthe'humanheart exactly
in the same manner as ~f the furrtitui:e
sick rooin ; his
sentiments have very much the afr
fixtures ; he gives you . - " the petrifaction ' of a sigh, and carves a tear, to the 'life, ill
.
.
-.'
stone. Almost all his characters are-tired of iheir live,s, an~
you heartily wish them dead; Crabbe's poetry is Ijke a museum or a curiosity-shop: every thing has the same posthu-: ·
mo us appearance; .the same inanimateness and identity of
character. He seems-to rely, for the delight 'h e.is to convey to ~is reader~ on ~l\e ~ruth and accura:cy._";,i.th)v_l1ic~' he de~
scribes only what is disagreeable. > '.'' .' . · . ..' •-:·:. / . " .

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·SE?TION XI~.I.: ,-· . :> : _, ,, ', i ·•

4-

The village all declared how much he knew;
· 'Twas certain he could write and cipher too;
· Lands he could measure, times and tides presage ;
And e'en the story ran that he could gauge :
In arguing, too, the parson own'd his skill,
For, e'en though vanquish'd, he could argue still;
While words of learned length, and thundering sound,
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around ;
And still they gazed, and ~till the wonder grew,
. That one small head could carry all he knew.
But pass'd is all his fame; the very Rpot
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot."

f

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"Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skill\! to rule,
The village master taught his little school;

,,.

(·:

of

trHE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.

*

,

.·,; ··~· o.~~:~I; :~~: :;~:x~,1·j~]f:·~-;:..". ~;· -~· ,

(1728-1774).

"Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close
Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ;
'
There, as I pass'd with careless steps and slow,
The mingled notes came soften'cl from below;
The swain responsive us the milk-maid sung;
The sol_ier herd that low'd to meet their young;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool ;
The playfu 1 children just let loose from school ;
The watch -dog's voice .t hat bay'd the whispering
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind:
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made."

'

, ' "".

SECTION . XI.
OLIVER GOLDSMITH

, BRITiSH "PbETS.

PART VI.]

SAMUBL

Distinguished

_. ,. . ,, ' 1,

ROGERS. (' •;,•

for a melodious fl~w' of verse;'ahap-

py choice of expression, a power ofrtouchirig the finer

feelings, and of describing mental . as well as visible
objects with effect. _ ' It -is thought by some that the ' '
English language. does not affo.rd a more finished com~ '
.
position, iii regard fo language, thari the" Pleasures, of : ... . .
Mel'nory." , Upon his po~µis he be~iowedthe great~sf 1
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238

· DRITISH POETS.

.. l

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., . .

ROME.

"I '.11~ in Rome!

Oft as the morning ray
V1s1ts these eyes, waking at once J cry
Whence this e~cess of.' joy? Wh~t has befallen me?
And lrom _w1thm a thrilling voice replies,
Thou art m Ro.me ! A thousand busy thoughts
Rush on !TIY mmd, a. thousand images;
And l sprmg up as girt to run a race !

*

*

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*•

..

*

. *

+

*

*

*

*

Th~u art in R~me ! the city where the Gauls,
Entermg, at sunnse, through her open gates
And. through her streets silent and desolate '
March_ing to slay, thought they saw gods, n~t men;
The city that, by temperance, fortitude,
And love of glory, tower'd above the clouds
The~ fell-but falling, kept the highest seat,
And m her loneliness, her pomp of wo
W_here now she dwells, >vithdrawn int~ the wild
StJll o'er the mind maintains from age to age '
Her empire undiminish'd. '
'

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•

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.
And I am there !
Ah, httle thought J, when in school I sat
A sch_oolbo_y on his bench, at early dawn'
Glowmg with Roman story, I should live
To tread the Appian, once an avenue
Of n:10numents most glorious, palaces,
Their doo~s seal'd up and silent as t'he night,
The dwellmgs of the illustrious dead-to turn
· Toward Tiber, and, beyond the city gate
Pour out my unpremeditated Yerse,
'
Where, 0!1 his mule, I might have met so oft
Horacf'. lumself-or climb the Palatine,
Dream~ng of old Evancler and his guest,
Dreamm&' and lost on that proud eminence,
Long wh!le the seat of Rome, hereafter found
Less than enough (so monstrous was the brood
Enge~cler'.cl there, so Titan-like) to lodge
. One". m his madness; ahd, the summit gain'd,
Inscribe my _name on some broad aloe-leaf,
• Nero.

V -.-~-:--

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sJr~~ds'withitFth"OJi~#!iraWatfi·~~.~~ ~~f ::~.i.~~J ~~

. i i.: '.-That ehoCJts' and
· ,' -Where.Vitgil read ·. alo\i.d ,his.Ja1el'tlithUt~t:.i;:-~1
"
Where his vo,ice fal~et'9t: a~u ~· ~?~ ,e - ~epll
· · Tears o{ delightJ" _;-- , ;,:. , 1 "" '~ '.::.,,,,.';....Jt'~'"JtI

•

1

. Th_ou ,art in Rome ! the city that so long
Reign d absolute, the mistress of the world·
The mighty vision that the prophets saw '
And trembled.
·
·
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"", . ~tt.:"'"

- .•

[PAR1' VJ.

labor and cultivatio_n. "Italy" is another fine poem,
as you may learn f10m the extract here appended:

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$~CTIO,N 'JP~~~~F~f~'f{1~~rr:~~-~ ~. ~-.··~~~-~

" . T~OMAl!I , Oo\-MPDJFLL

(l 7,77"'."1844),

(f::'." •.~ ( '~ .' ·· . \

· To the sqggestion ' and eloquent·. advo'ca·~y .'d tthis .
distinguished man the London Uiliversity is. said to .
have ()Wed its origin.
· ' · · ·.. · · . . ·. : .' ,
- .~
''The Pleasures of Hope" is a splendid·poeni. ·." Its
polish is exquisite, its topics felicitously chosen, ar.id .
its illustrations natural · and beautiful. He lifts you .
up to an · exceedingly high mountain, and you see all'
nature in her loveliness, · and man in the · truth of .his
character; with .hope . irradiating, . cheedng; and sustaining him in .' the nm:rie_rous ills 'of ,life.', 'Gertrude
of Wyoming' is preferred by -some ' I,"eilders _even to
his ' Pleasures of Hope.' · It is a· ~ad 'tale; told with
tenderness "iis well as genius. : .But··if these had_' never .
bee11 written:, his so!i'gs w9ttld' have givel~ him' ,clai~s
as a first~rate poet. · •rbey, cover sea an~. land. ', Their
spirit stirs the ,brave, whatev.er fuay·pe ,their field of .
fame; whether the snow is td he ._ theit .winding-sheet,
or the deep their gt'ave . .. National songs are .of the
most difficult production and of the high.e st value . .
They are the sou1 of national feelilig and _.: i _safeguard
of national honor, '':--(See Knapp~s rursui~s of Litera· ·
._... · .. ... .... ·,
ture.)
·' . ._ .._. ·"'
Of" The Pleasures of Hope," "the music," says
Professor Wilsbn, "now: deepens into a . majestic
· rriarch-rfow it swells il~to a holy hymn-and now it
dies away, elegiac-like, as if mourning over a tomb;
never else than beautiful, arid ever and anon, we know .
not why, sublime. ' 'A s for Gettrude of Wyoming, \ve
love her as if she Wete our only daught~r--.:..filling our
life witq bpss, and then leaving it d_esolate. Never
saw w~ a . ~hip till' Campbell indited . '. Ye Marin~rs
of England.' i Sheer hulks before\ our eyes were -all
' ships till that strain .afose, but eyer since iil our iniag.;.:.
inat,ion have they brightened the roaring ocean.'' . ·· ' '

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BRITISH POETS,

(PARTVh

8,TANZAS ON TUE THREATENED INVASION, 1803,

. Our bosoms we'll bare for the glorious strife,
And ou,r ?ath i3 recorded on high,
To prevail m the cause that is dearer than life
'
· Or crush'd in its ruin to die !
Then rise, fellow-fr~e.men, and stretch the right hand,
And swear to prevail m your dear native land!
'Tis the holrle We hold sacred is laid to our trustGod bless the green isle of the brave !
Should a conqueror tread on our forefathers' dust
, It WC?uld rouse the old dead from their grave ! '
1 hen nse, fellow-fr~e~en, and stretch tile right hand,
And swear to prevail m your dear native land !

*

*

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...

*

"'

ON REVISITING A SCOTTISH RIVER.

And call t?ey this improvement? to have changed
· . My native CLYDE, thy once romantic shore,
Where nature's face is banish'd and estranged,
And Heaven reflected m thy wave no more:
. . Whose banks, that sweeten'd May-day's breath before,
Lie sere and leafless now m summer's beam
With sooty exhalations cover'd o'er·
'
And. for the ~aisied green-sward, down 'thy stream
Unsightly bnck-Janes smoke, arid clanking engines gleam,
1
Speak not to me of swarms the scene sustains ·
One heart free tasting Nature's breath and bioom
Is worth a. thollsand slaves to Mammon's gait1s.
But whither goes that wealth, and gladd'ning whom 1
· See, left but hfe enough, and breathing.room
The hunger and the hope of life to fee l
Yon pale Mechanic IJending o'er his '100111
And Childhood's self, as at Ixion's wheel
'
From morn till midnight task't"l to earn it; little meal.
Is this improvement? where the human breed
Degenerates as they swarm and overflow
Till T oil grows cheaper than the trodden w~ed,
.And man competes with man, like foe with foe
Till Death, that thins them, scarce seems pubtfc wo 1
Improvement! Smiles it in the poor man's eyes
Or bloorhs it on the cheek of Labor 1 No- '
' To gorg~ a few with Trade's precarious prize,
We bamsh rural hfe, and breathe unwholesome skies.

*

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; ~Rrr ·v1.J
lously ' far•fet<ihed ; :· ~~d his ver~e~ ; ~re:i ~~E'.~/·~.hi~fly, ~e- .'
cause no particle, hne, or, syllable.' of.~betn tead,~}1kef prose • .
You can npt see the . thought ·for · me ·,~ni,blgtiity·of the_lan· .
guage, the figute for .. the finery, th~ pictur.e for the · vam1s~. . ,
Campbell's Pleasµres o~ . Hopf1, Ii!r.Qf the _sam~ sch.ool, in ,
which a · painful attention is paid to the _expres,ston, -ltt _P!o~, 1 ·
portion as there is little to express, ~nd the decompos1t10n
of prose is substitutt\d .for the ~oi.i1pos!tion1, of 'Jld~tl')'i;, (,. lie
too often maims and mang1es .h1s; ideas before th~y are ftdl
fortned to form· them ,to. the Procru$tefii' ·be4. o( cdticj~1rq, ~
or stra~gles his intellectirnl ():ftsp!ing. in: th~ birth, lest~her
should come to an untimely end m tM Edmburgfl Revie"»'·
No writer who thinks habitually of: the 'critics, either ,to
tremble at their censures or set them
defiance, can write;
well. In his Gertrude, the structure ~( theJab1e is too me·
chanical. The story is . cut into -tile form 9( a pai:aUeJo·grain .·
...... , . 1 '·, ·.; '• 1'.~" «~ ~:! _:.; r r- ' ! ~.!~.P ·~ . ~.: i. :."- '. - ~ ; : --:~.!

. '~ ..~
. ·A
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at

>

. ·' · . .. · · .. · ..- SECTION ':X'.V : ,.,.,,,{t'lJ•'. i · . ' .
',· ~'~·1,·! 1 '-·'.. '/!
°'' t- f ,'· · l -.;'. ,: ,,..4'.f
.: . . I .' ' MARK \ i.\.tcENSIDE, {l 721d 770):: <.·
'l .
· His "Pleasures' 'bf 'th~' imaginatio'n~' is.d,e setvedly
ce~ebrated.
followjng i.s.'&i;t/e:xtra.c~ :·;'. ;~ ~ ; ··,:: ', '._,
\::... ;,:3
... * :, ,, · '.The·
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../11

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· '' Different minds :' · ' ·: "
·. ·
lncline t~ differ~nt objects f one ptirsu.ee · · · ." ·
·"
The vast alone, the wonderful,· the w1\d ; ,. _
Another sighs for harmony, and grace, , · .
·
And gentlest bea11ty. Hence, when hght11mg .fires ,
, The arch of heaven, and thunders rock the ground, · · r ,
When furious whirlwinds rend the bowling air, .
And ocean, groaning from his .li~west bed, " : :
Heaves his tempestuom!il~ill~ws to thti. tJl$.Y, ;. c;,- ,
",- ,
· Amid the mighty uproar, while below. ' · _ · - ..
'. ;
The nat~bris t.remble', Shaks.reate 1lpok~, abn;iad:
From some li1gh .cliff, supenor, a:nd en1oys The elemental war · but 'Jlorqller longs, . · ' · .
All on the margin some flowery .stream, ','': , ..
To spread his careless li~bs; af!ltd t~e ~ool :; . . .
-, · , '-, ' , ,
Of plantain shades, and tp the hster:hn~ de~r i : ·
1 ,;'
The tale of slighted.vows;and.l~tve's <l1sdam ~; '.
Resound soft-warblmg alHhe, hvelong,day.-t· • . . ·. , ··: /

ot

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"' . ·.. " : '·,

,.. \ .·. ·.• :·}•: .

Such 3.nd So various ~r~ the tas~eS ~ of lnen ~·

RoGE~s · and CAMPBE~L are thus described by Hazlitt:
Rogers 1~ a very lady-hke poet. He is an elegant, but a
feeble wnter. He wraps up obvious thou ghts in a glittering cover of fine words; is studiously inverted and scrupu-

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OH llLEs~':O oF ~EAVEN ! whon;i not ~he }apgutd s~g:s,_,'
Of Luxury, the Stren; not t~e bribes . .' . · 1..'
, .• ,i.:},; ·
Of sordid Wealth, nor all the gaudr 11po1l1 ~ .".; · .· 1:'. : ,:
. Of pageant· Honor; can seduce .to leave ,
"· .,., <·'

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244

,B RITISH POETS.

[PART VI.

lisped; on 'honey dews,' and by lips that have 'breathed
the air of Paradise,' and learned a seraphic language, which,
all the while that it is English, is as grand as Greek, and as
soft as Italian. We only know this, that Coleridge is the
alchemist that in his crucible melts down hours to mo.
ments-and lo ! diamonds sprinkled on a plate of gold."
"What a world would this be were all its inhabitants to
fiddle like Paganini, discourse like Coleridge, and do every
thing else in a style of equal perfection 1 But, pray, how
does the man write poetry with a pen upon paper, who thus
is perpetually pouring it from his inspired lips 1 Read the
Ancient Mariner, the Nightingale, and Genevieve. In the
first, you shudder :it the superstition of the sea ; in the sec·
ond, you slumber in the melodies of the woods ; in the third,
earth is like heaven." '

The. following EPIGRAMS are not difficult to be un..
derstood and appreciated; they display genuine wit:
"There comes from Avaro's grave ·
A deadly stench-why, sure, they have
Immured his soul within his grave !"
"Sly Beelzebub took all occasions
To try Job's constancy and patience.
He took his honor, took his health;
He took his children, took his wealth
His servants, oxen, horses, cows,
But cunning Satan did nut take his spouse.
" But Heaven, that brings out good from evil,
And loves to disappoint the devil,
Had predetermined to restore
Twofold all he had before ;
His servants, horses, oxen, cowsShort-sighted devil. not to take his spouse!"
11 U1.st Monday all the papers said,
····· That Mr. - - was dead ;
Why, then, what said the city 1
·
The tenth part sadly shook their heads,
And shaking, sigh'd, and sighing, said,
'Pity, indeed, 'tis pity!'

"But when the said report was found
A rumor wholly withput ground,
.
Why, then, what said the city?
'l'he other nine parts shook their heads,
Repeating what the tenth had saidP1ty, indet!d, 'tis pity!'" .

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-·}.<1 " . . .

' 'SECTION· XVIli· ·· ·1 ·,·: ·:··· ·

~

... ·, :- •

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l'-r

• •

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~OUTH~/c177it:2is#f . / ::." ·::: ~:·'.~} . '
. . . . ·.,,~ • .: . ,~·~ .. : ,., ._,·: .. . ,· ••. · ·.· · ··~·· ··
~s an,.other J?Oet o(th~ L.ake Schopl,i'Yho.has acquired:;~ ,
· JUst celebpt)':-:-more, m late years, h_o,we_ver, for: his .
prose thari his poetry: .·. in the.«}pihion rof. •S?·.C.i'Hall,
~· No poet;'in the present or past· csnhiry;· has -~wti~ten
three ·such poems as 'fhaliba; Kehama1/ and_ Rdtl~riet .
Others have . more' excelled in deliiiealingf wha't'Hiey ,. ' ~
find before ~them in li(e ; but n9ne have ' given ,such
proofs of extraordinary power in. cr.eat~ng~ . . JI e has
been callecf'difftise, because there i$ .a spaciousness
and amplitude abol.)t his .poetry-as .if concentration
was the highest qu~lity of a,.:writer!·-.,' He 1 excels in
unity of desigt1 and .c ongruity of char~ctet ;,and never
did poet in ore adequately' e.Xp,:~ss;l:forojc .fortitude and
. generous 'affectiomi'. ';" :He'::has '.· n~t;; h1hv.e'ver; limited
· h!s pen ~o gr;a1~\:lpq!~t!~1gs_ pf ~pl,c ch~r_acte.r. ·' _i Among
lus shorter prbduct1oos, , are'. :Jound : some:· light and
gracefu 1sketches;·:.ru1ror be'a uty\ahd , f e~Iingf and not
the less valuable. bet:aus.e' they
igv~ri.~~ly ·~irp M pro- ~
1
1 1
'./ ic.,. - '-~·-' ,·', .
· I .
m Otl·11g' v·1·rtue·
. • :!,, ~~ !•.•·~ ,=·~ ...:"'· ,, ,,.y\ .(\· ~ · "~ ''.~ . . •1: t: ::'~·;'~
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Southey, among all our_,living .pdl'lts;· says. J?rofessor 1Wi1• .
.· - -~
son, stands aloof, and ' t• alone in his/. glory.!-1 For he alone
~- ;-~
· of thein all has adventured tO illustrate, .in poems of magni.,.- ·~i
tude, the different charaCters, customs, an~ manners of na·
J
· tions. Joan of ~An.Hs an·English.arid :French ·story-Thal·
\i
iba, an Arabian one - Kehama is 'Indian ~Madoc, Welsh
and American ·~ and Ro.deric, ·. Spanish '. arid , Moodsh : nor
would it be easy to say (setting asil1e the, first, which was
a very youthful work Un :which bf these · ;noble poems Mr.
Southey has most successfully performed ah achievement
:. ';:;;;
"'
entirely beyond ·the · power of, any btit the .highest,' genius.
· In Madoc, and especially in :m>deric, he has .. relied on the ·
truth of Nature..:...:as if is seeii in the history of gi:eat nation, al transactions and events . .·:Ip .Th~liba an!f Kehama, though
in them, too, he . has brought to bear. an .almost boundless
. lore, he _follbws 'th.e leading of fancy, !!~d itriagination, and '
walks in a wbrld of; wonders. : Seldom; if ever, has one and
- ·~
the sa1ne pdet exhibited such power in 'such .~ ifferent kinds . . '..~ ..;;'i
of poetry, .in . tr~~h a _mas~er, and in fictioh a ¢~gi~ian . . ~t ·_; <:;..~
all 'these. poems;· the conception and the ~xecu,t10n are Qng• ·
:~
inal; in much faulty, ~~d imperfect.both, but bearing thrdugh•
.. -~
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"

1!46

BitITISII POETS.

,:.i, 'U"1-

(PART VJ.

-out the impress of highest genius, and breathing a moral
charm, in the midst of the wildest, and sometimes even extravagant imaginings, that shall pre!;:erve them forever from
oblivion, and embalm them in the spirit of love and of delight.
· The following specimens, of this class, are written in a
familiar style, and display strong inventive genius, making
much out of little-educing useful reflections from objects
in themselves worthless :
·

' " .I
PAJtJ:
· vL ~

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nat'l'rsn·
; 1>0Eiir~,1
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·;,
·;

TO A SPIDER.
1

Spider! thou need'st riot run in fear about
To shun my curious eyes,
·I Won't humanely crush thy bowels out,
Lest thou &houldst eat the flies,
·
. Nor will I roast thee with a fierce delight
1'hy strange instinctive fortitude to see,
For there is one who might
·
One day roast me.
" Thou'rt w~lcome t~ a Rhymer sore perplex'd,.
The sub3ect of his verse :
There~s many a one who on a better text
Perhaps might comment worse:
Then shrink not, old Free-mason, from my view,
But quietly, like me, spin out the line;
Do thou thy work pursue,
As I will mirie.
"Weaver of snares, thou emblemest the ways
, Of Satan; sire of lies;
Hell's huge black spider, for mankind he lays
His toils as thou for flies.
When Betty's busy eye runs round the room,
Wo to that nice geometry if seen !
:aut where is he whose broom
The earth shall clean ?
" Spider ! of old thy flimsy webs were thought,
And 'twas a likeness true,
·
To emblem Jaws in which the weak are caught,
But which the strong break through;
And if a victim in thy toils is ta'en,
Like some poor client is that wr~tched fly,
I'll warrant thee thou'lt drain
His life-blood dry. ·
" And is not thy weak work like human schemes
. And care on earth employ'd?
Such :ue young ho~es and Love's delightful dreams
So easily destroy d !
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248

BRITISH POET'Sr

[PART VI.

,;-....

SECTION XVIII.
J A ·M E S

lit 0 NT G 0 1\1 E R Y.

1'ART vi~]

~- BRI'rtsil " PPETS. ·
- .:.~,!'~···~"\
>, :;;,-.,
. ..
.
of the '. iih~ poet ".nbW.untie.·· r ;rJ\fie:W~ , ./Sptne .·m· . tiy ' .l , - ~

pen
need to be informed, thatthe ·.term Album .1s ~enved ,
from a Latin· Wont, Sigrtifying ··u)hite/and 'is ,therefore
'\ . '.~
applied usually to ari el.e~an~ bl~ilk ~o_pk;,i~ which ~e · , . - ~
rE)quegt ·our fr.•ends to write some.t~mg · a~ .a .tnemor1~l
. ."11
of themselves~ . This.explarta~i()~ m~y, ~e .~.~c~s.saryto
· _·"~
some, for ur,derstandmg the ~e~oll,d _~~o.t~o _be~t>_w,1 ~n!f
..,3
also the sixth · ' - · · · · · · :. «L.H • 'l .~»t:g,'r- · ·. -. ,..i. ..
_ _,

The Moravian Hymns are said to have Jed his mind
into the culture of poetry. His chief characteristics
l'.tre purity and elevation of thought,harmoi1ious versification, and a fine strain of devotional feeling. His
poems can not be too highly commended to the frequent perusal of the young. The variety of subject
adds much to the irt't~test ·of his works.

1

·_.: ~OTTOES

.
.

THE GRAVE. ,

* ·

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*

There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
And while the mould'ring ashes sleep
Low in the ground,.
The soul, of origin divine,
God's glorious image, freed from clayt
ln heaven's eternal sphere shall shine
A star of day."

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,;OR ALBUMS. \iJ: .~·;,,t_ :: :i1~ ~ .\~~ . ,
) .

. 1~

! '

i

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:

Mind is invisible, but you tIJay find '
A method here to let me see your mind.

"There is a calm for those who weep, ·
A rest for weary pilgrim's found,
They softly lie and sweetly sleep
Low in the ground.
The storm that wrecks the winter sky
No more disturbs their deep repose,
'fhah summer evening's latest sigh
That shuts the rose.
I long to lay this painful bead
And aching heart beneath ~he soil,.
To slumber in that dreamless bed
From all my toil..
For misery stole me at my birth,
And cast me helpless on the wild:
I perish; 0 :my mother earth,
·
Take home thy child.
On thy dear lap these limbs reclined,
.Shall gently moulder into thee:
Nli>r leave one wretched trace behind
Resemblirog me.

*

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Behold my Album unbegun, . 1 ' · · ' .; = ;
Which .w hen 'ti~ ~i>h'd will Qe none• , :' , .
, ·~

· :. ··

. "1

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· ..-.,.; '.i,1:J:-· ,

-II[

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Faint lin~s 1 o~ 'brittt~ gl~~ ~n{c!ear,: i.'i· ,
A diamond pen may trace \v1th art; -•· ,;
But what the feeblest hand writes her,e;1.~ .
IS graven 011 the ciwner'e hettrt.
'q ·· : '~!/ ,,- : ·. ' · .
1
1

• • ,'·

• .. , , •

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f. ·

May an the "names. rec~~<leo 'he't~ 1 ;''."'~· 't• 1 :~-.

...:l'.':

·

In the Lainb'~ book of life 'appe_li:r.' ~·1· ,.; ;;_; 1 ~' {

'

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Here frietl.d~ 3.Sserrible, h~nd ~atid h~alt;~;:;:~;:
.. Whom life,ina,y sever; death must1par.t ; '.: .. , _·", J;; .
Sweet be their deaths, their. lives well spent, .:· . ,.
' And this their_ frien~ship'.s motlumenth~1..U, L.t .•1 '. ·Jf '...: ,
.J • ••

>.....

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· · · ~i ' '. '· i " ''. ' VL' 't~~O'. lli- . 4! t,\lf r ~:·. ·· '.'i • · :·:;~'.'· .~'.-

My Album is a: barren'tree,, .. •1_y•Y.• 1il,(;: i'\': ,.:: ~ ·.,i . •·:l .
Where leaves and only leave!! you see . '
: '. - .
But touch it-flowers andfruits \vill spring,
· ·
•1
And-birds !'-~'?Ilg t).te. foliage sifig..1 ,
i.

*

·*
*
*
"'
We hope to receive the thanks Of young ladies who
intend to provide themselves with an ALeur.r, that social and literary luxury, for inserting IJ€re n collect.ioll
of admirable mottoes 1 from the versatile and vigorous

-, ·' . . , '

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. VI(. '

I·

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\ . -----:..

-~

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- -:-=3

, r· ' , · ·

Fairies were kind to couhtry jenh1es, , · , , .
.· .
And in their shoes dropp'd sil\-er pennies; , ,
Herethe.brighttokcns .whkh_you,Ieave; "! - •:
,. · .,:
Asfairyfavorslreeeive . . · . 1 )· · · ···" . · . ,. .- . ,
;.· · .-- "~ '·.-" _: ·'/ · :1:\ ~11~. : : \ .j . l~' , _.;·~r,·. ·~,:.: ·!. i '.,((11·/.,.- 1 · ::,··t · · !
.. M:y Album's open j c9me and ~ee ;''i ; : :·: I : : : ! : ; ' .!:I ' i
. , , . W~, won't )'.Ou waste a t~ought, ,o,ry .:~~
·! , ,., : , ; ,
Wnte but a word, a word or two, .· - ~ ·~ 'r ·. · , , 111
. .•- _-, .
.... . ·· ,Andh\akemelovetothinkonyou. , ; ·'' ' '"' ' '' 1 ". ,
~

1

k ..

tn e~tnestness and fervor (say!i Professor 'W;ilsofi)·~
his poem 11 The Pelican Island'' is by few 9r·nbm!"ex-

...

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IlRITIS!I POETS.

. [PART

vr.

BRITISH" ''

cell~~~ i~ is emb;tl_med in sincerity, :inc] therefore shall
~tot a< e ,tway, ne1tlrnr shall it moulder. Nut that it
:~n~ n~t~n~my ;_say, rather, _.a fair form laid asleep in
01_tal1ty-1ts fac~ weanng, day and nighL summer
ane1. w mte_r, look at it when you will a saintly ace
l estia 1 smile.
'
'
In proof that a gr~at poet, like Montgomery does
not n.eed a gre'.1t subject to display his powers 'upon
we give you !us
·
'

.

EPITAPH ON A GNAT

found cru shed cm a leaf of a lady's albt;rn,' and written (with a
different rea~mg Ill the last line) in lead-pencil beneath it..
~ie_ there, embalm'd from age t.o age!
,1 his is the album 's _noblest page,
f!10ugh _every glowrng leaf be frau ght
With pamtmg. poesy, and thou1rf1t ·
Where trncks of mortal hamJs
~een
A hand mns1ble has been
And !~ft this. autograph h~hind ,
TJ11s llnng:e from the Eternal mind ~
A work oJ skill _surpassing sense,
A labor of Orn111potence ~
Though ,frail _as.dust it meet the eye,
He form d tl11s gnat who built the sky·
S,to_r-le~t it vanish at thy breath- '
1 lusspeck had life and suffer'tl death 1
Sh effield, July 18, 1827. •
'
·

;re

You will find another

~ne

specimen of the style of

~o~tgomery, both prosaic and poetic, in the s.ketch

o

urns on a subsequent page.

SECTION XIX.
LORD DYRON (l 788-1824).
.In man)'." respects one of the most talented of writers, both m prose and verse. Many of his works are
alto~ether unexceptiona~le, i~~ugh his · private char, a~te1. m)d not a fo\~ of his writrngs are to be conside1 ed 11~famous: His <H~n feelings were, fur the most
part, b1~ter, nus~n~hrop1e, and violent, and to these he
:~ Cl~ntmually g1vrng expression in his. p0ems
His.
.Ch1lde. Harold," his / ' Apostrophe to the Ocea1~ "and
h>~ " ~nsoner of Chillon,'' have been much adm'ired.
tendan Knowles sets forth the gmml pernliarit.ies of By-

1

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POETS • .

'

ran as. follows' :' ~ear .~her year; an:d ·month after month; he
'continued to repelit that to be wretclie<l is 1the .destiny of iill ·;
that to be eminently wretch~d is :thel d~stiry :6fithe 'e minent';
'that all the· desires · by · which we.· are: cursed •lea<l alike to
misery-'-ifthey ·are not gratified, to ~he , tnise~y ofdisapp()intment; if they are ·gratified; to. the 'misery .of satiety. .: His
principal heroes 'a~e then who have arrived. by different roads
at the same goal of despair, who are ·sick· of life; .who are at
war with society, .,who are suppotted ~in : their ang~ish only ,
by an unconquerable pride, resembling that: pf Prometheus
on the rock or of· Satan in the burning marl ; who can master their agonies by the force oftheir will; flnd , ~ho, to ~he
last, defy the whole power ofearthand ·Heaven: . ·. · ·l ·'
BYRON and MooRE are compared by_ llazlitt in the following terms· · : : -.-:·r_. t _..'in;>.·:··'.: ;_ ,;_. ,,_, ·, • · ., .. ,.' .. . : .. ~"
Mr. Mo~re 's·M~se' is' another· '.A.ti el; -~~ iighL 1 as tricksy, as
indefatig~ble_, and as ;~umane, ~ SP,iri~.'~ ; ~~ f~_ncy is fo~ev~r ·
on the wmg, flutters : 1rl. tl~e , gale,, _g htte,rs '}n.;the sun. His
th9ughts . are as restl~ss, as many, ll:nd as b!1ght,. as the insects that people the sunb~am ., . An .airy. voyager ori life's
stream, his. mind iphales the. fragrance :o.f a. ~Housan.d shores,
and drinks of endl~ss : pleasure_s . under, halcyd.n skies. : His
V(]riety cloys ; his . fapidity !].azzl.e s .arid , distract$ ..the sight.
He wants intensity, ·strength, and grap.deur. ':The sweetness
of his poetry evaporates like the effiuvialexhaled from heels
· of flowers ! His Irish ,Meloclies . ~re :not 1fre~: 'fron(affectation and .a certain sickliness' o(pretetision.' ',; His seriou's descriptions are .apt to run intd flo'w ery tehderness; · lli.s 'pathos
sometimes melts into a' inawkish··sensibility, or crystallizes
into all the prettinesses of allegorical languc,.ge. / But he has
wit at will, and of th.e 1firs.t qualityi '• Hi~ . satirical and .burlesque poe.try_is his .best . ." · He. resell)ble~ ·the , bee ·: ' he ·has
its honey and its ·sfing.:1·: .'.1.. \\ ' : · ''.· ' >} '.·,q ·:;"·:' r· .. , . ·: .'
Lord Byron, unlike Mo_qre,'· shut.s .hims~lf up 'iri th(impenetrable gloom of.his .own thoughts, -and !buries the natural
. light of things in "nook monastic.-,;· ;: Th!Ol Gi_aour, the Corsair, Childe Harold,' are all th_e same person, . and · they . are
apparently all himself: ; The everlasting repetition of, one :
subject-the samf :dark ground of fiction, ·with the tlar~er
colors of ,t he poet s mind spread overit__;the unceasing ac- :
cumulaticin ·' of horrors · on horror's ' head, steell'! the·' mind ·. ·
against the ..S~J)Se ..of'pain·,' a8 inevitably as ·.t he·, \In wearied
siren sounds and luXm:'ious monotony o( Mr. Modre,'s 'p.6etty
, make it i~accessible to pleasure. ; _. ·.' '. - _,,_::··. ~-, ..~,' ''.:. '!;:·;·~/,

,_.

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252

BRITISH POETS.

(PAltT Vt.

Lord Byron's poetry is as morbid as Mr. Moore'.s is care·
Jess and dissipated. He has more depth of passwn, more
force and impetuosity, but the passion is always of the same
unaccountable character, at once violent and sullen, fierce
and gloomy. · In vigor of style and force of conception, he,
in one sense, surpasses every writer of the present day.
He has beauty sometimes lurking beneath his stren&th, tenderness sometimes joined with the phrensy of despair. The
flowers that adorn his poetry bloom over charnel-houses
and the grave ! .
THE DYING GLADIATOR.

I see before me the Gladiator lie :
He leans upon his hand-his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his droop'd head sinks gradually low;
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow .
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
, Like the first of a thunder-shower ; and now
The arena swims around him-he is gone,
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
He heard it, but he heeded not-his eyes
Were with his hr.art, and that was far away;
He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize,
· But where his rude hut by the Danube lay,
There were his young barbarians all at play,
Therr. was their Dacian mother-he, their sire,
Butcher'd to make a Roman holyday.
All this rush'd with his blood-shall he expire,
.And .unrevenged? Arise, ye Goths! and glut your ire!
WATERLOO.

There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily, and when
'
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
.
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes ~hich spake again,
.
And all went merry as a marnage-bell ;
But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rismg knell ~
. Did ye not hear it? No: 'twas but the wind,
- Or the ,c ar rattling o'er the stony street ;
, On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure mee.t
To chase the glqwing hours with flying feetBut hark ! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clourls its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar!

BR tTISit.;. POETS• .

PART v1.J

' * '.· " :;*'·" _, , · .* ' ,;,· 1; .: ;-:(,'11i.·'·*rirq't>.~"
· • ·!dk,·
· Ah! then and them were hurrying fo and fro; ~c th,
f , -. :; ·<U
, . And gathering:tears1 and tremblings Of ,dis,t ress,',L·>'·:·:.,. '. -.'j.~...,!:. ~';.:;,· >. ·:,J.i :
And cheeks aH. paie;· which.b~t an .ho)i~ago ~if;.i~_:.;:; .
,. ..,
Blush'd at .t he praise of thei.r own , lC?yeline~s ; , ·vi ~ c . .
~.(i';1.1
. And t~ere were stiMen. pa~tmgsi such as p,re,s s. . ·..:, · ~ . ,:... 1_·, r:·;~
Th~ hfdrom o,u t young hearts,. and .~ho,kmg ~1~he. J,;·;.~ :;1.'../'
Which ne'er might. be repeated: who could guess ; ": 1 1 •,- 1 1~1f.
If ever more .should meet those mutual . eyes, , :; ·.~: ...; . ,.,_ ': ,\'l' "·
Since upon nights so sweet;, such aw;ful m9r1i coul~ 'r iseJ ;,'; ;) j.
•, I' <,'·
And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed, '
'I'he mustering squadron, and the clattering car,'
· ·. 'Y!: :'> .
Went pourmg forward with impetuous speed, ~ , .,
~ . ~ ,· : •
And swiftly forming in the ranks ofl war; i' t , i ~ ,., ''.
·,,., ._..,·.·;, :."
And the deep thunder, pea1on pea afar;
-. ,
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And near the beat of the alarming druIJ! ·. ; · '·. '' ·,':..
Roused up the soldier ere,the ¢orning .star; · · "., . •.·
,.. . . ,
While throng'd the .citizens with terror dumb; · , ·, '· -- , ~ · ·.: · • ,
On whispeti~?· ~it~ '.~hjt~ Ii~.sr-~: ?'~e; ~oe_: l' l.Th,~Y :.c?me, t~~1.

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A firie sp,~eim~n ~i Byr~n's ·Writing' htaybe ·~een)n- •
section xii., allotte_d,t o, ,Henry. K,it~e .White; ·.'.· : \; \:":( .
· . , " '. >: ,···: .:.., . ·~:~:~;:.i'.\:: ~:~X-? . : '. /i.>',0:\ ;

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SECTION XX\:··;~. '· • '· ''' · "· ". · ., ., ... ,,'. :,,)'

.Ro.ti E,R ~ . P. C\L- ~-~,t~Y.'...:.~;_;~ '-..:'~

_::,_· ~: :\:·.~:·

His chief work is "The Course · of Time;'' ,a:n :ad~
'.
mirable poem, di~playing m9re : than ordi11ary poetic ,·
ability, and great profundity of thought(> Unlike too,
much of the poetry of the age, it c·~nveys definite and .
. valuable ideas ..- -It is free fr6m that wordy, indefinite~ :· 1
ness· which is the fault of much or modern wriifog. ·
It presents just views of human character, history;.and'
condition, while the Divine govetnment'ovet.our world . ,
is correctly and strikit,gly portrayed. .~t abounds in
beautiful and impressive pictures. · .It is written in
blank verse; and 'c ail be read without wE:lariness. · '" --.
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· One of his biographers informs us ·that. his habits were
those of a close student ! his readiqg w.as~ ~fi:tensive ; he ,
could converse bn aln.i~st ~very subject : , he, had a great. fa~ . .:;
cility in 'cm;riposition : ~in confiTmation 'of"which, he is said
to have written nearly a thousand lines ·weekly', of the .Ias.t ., ,
four books Of the •i·Coutse of T~me." For so young ,a'man •.,. !.' ·_
this poem was a vast achievement. ··The book he loved l;lest · ,·'• . ··.' :: l
was the Dible, and- his style is often scriptural. Young, · ::{' · ., , .: ~

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254

BRITISH POETS.

[PART VI.

Milton, and Byron, were the poets which he chiefly studied.
He had much tb learn in composition; and, had he lived, he
wouldAhave looked almost with humiliation on much that
is at present eulogized by his devoted admirers. But the
soul of poetry is there, though often dimly enveloped, and
many passages there are, and Jong ones, too, that heave, and
hurry, and glow along in a divine enthusiasm.

The following description, by him, of a poet, is
thought to apply to S. T. Coleridge, whom we have
already noticed :
·
"Most fit was such a place for musing men;
Happiest sometimes when musing without aim.
It was, indeed, a wondrous sort of bliss
The lonely bard enjoy'd, when forth he walk'd
Unpurposed; stood, and knew not why; sat .down,
And knew not where; arose and knew not when;
Had eyes, and saw not; ears, and nothing heard;
And sought-sought neither heaven nor eai,-th-sought naught,
Nor meant to tlunk ; but ran, meantime, tlmmgh vast

or visfonary thin.gs.fairer than aught

That was; and saw the distant tops of thoughts
Which men of common stature never saw,
Greater than aught that largest worlds could hold,.
Or give idea of to those who read.
He enter'd into Nature's holy p1ace,
Her inner chamber, and beheld her face
Unveil'd; and heard unutterable things ,
And incommunicable visions saw."

The following extract exhibits a prophetic view of

the literature of the Course of Time, particularly descriptive of our own <lay of multitudinous publications;
too many of which are faithfully portrayed in the Ian-'
guage of the author, as being
. .
" Like swarms
Of locusts, which God sent to vex a land
Rebellious long."
· THE BOOKS OF TIME.

"One glance of wonder, as we pass, deserve
The books of Time. Productive was the world
In many things ; but most in books: like swarms
Of locusts, which God sent to vex a land
Rebellious long, admonish'd long in vain,
.Their numbers they pour'd annually on man.
From heads conceiving still: perpetnnl hirth !
. 'l'hou wontle'rest how the world contain'd them nll !

Th w~nder stay: Iik~ men, this .was t_heir doom: '"' · J·~ '11{;t ·
.. · Thit dust they were, and should to.dust return. : , 11 . ~: n :-1 •J
A 11d oft their fathers childless and ·b er,eav,ed, r., , : .' ·.. , , : :-i\
,
.
.'
h they.themselves were, greE!n,
Weptoertheirg~a~es,~ en
-. . ,, .. .;;· i ""1:·~1o1; ; ·> t
And on them fell, as fell on .e".ery ag_e, . ·-'!•: : ;'.., , , ·•·.,1\ \ .t
As on their authors fell; obhv1ous Night, . . " ~( . . .
I
i
Which o'er the past Jay darkling,·liea,yy,, ~~'~.' ?~ , r:u.i·; :• :~ ".'
Impenetrable, motionless, and sad, l',', " .i 'd )f: h.lil i ! ·, !{ \. · 1f·" l
,,.i.- ~ '.Z .-, ·" .! • t· ~- r
Havl.nghisdismalleadenplumage,stirr
,
' h
th ' tilell' •'"" · " · ' ' ' '- • 1
' By no remembrance~" ~o s ow el'd bert ahi >
• .'11 ; ;1 1-t:t. ; ,. .
. "Who after came·.wqat was concea '
~ . I : •• ,: ' • • -~ .- .:••,, ! .:
.
·'', "., "i · :, , ' N~v~L~.: ,;::,':'.'.~::-·. ".'..'.· }; . ·:{'., \r:;.~: ;;·
The story~telling tribe alone ?ut~~ \,
~
All calcuiation far, and left bebmd, ·
.
, , 1•
,
Lagging tile swiftest number: , drea~ful, even , ' -. f
To fancy was 'their fiever-ceas1r1~ ,b1.rthb; · ·
t .; 1
1 : "
And roo~ had lack'd,.had _no_t .~~~1t life ~-e? .~~or
Ex:cepting some~their deti,mhon take
.
. " , ,.
Thou thus, express'd in ·gent{e phr'.1~· k~i,c? ..1~~~~~ .

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Some truth behind. -.A nov.e ~~~~:d i~ cfamm'd full '
Three-volumed, and 9nce ?f'.3;d: . ,, ,
,/'f .;;' -"N · '.
Ofaoi.sonous error, blackenmg _~~Ji'Y, padge; ,, .. :... .,,.,
·n ft "fl'
ecorru han "'- ru l'" . . ·•
..
An oftener sh od. r1a1~t~uttid-thought~, ·:i1 i,, •J.. '.: : .-.
Remar~, andlol.d, 'd1se'ts t '~at " ·,:·.··'\\ ,,,_1;:, r"d i,,:.,,.1:.;. , , ..
And m1serab e mc1 eu , a
· .
, '
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~
With nature, with itself and truth at wa~.? H'.,·•1; i~i • ' ,: ·:··
Yet charming still the greedy. re,ad~r o!l, · 1'.- ·~l • ·l .·t ft ,, :: ~'
'fill nothing found; but dream1i:i_g emptn~~s,,(>1 ''~ •rr.t ·•,r, ::<·.: ,
These, like ephemera, spr~~g m ~day, , . ,,, J'~1fl •) 1 1w,7~ · ., 1 :.:.
From Jean and shallow-so1l d ~ram!! .o f,san 11 J; ;i I .:: ; : c · .
And iii. a day expired i yet wlt1le, they :lll'.ed,- "! I .w• j I
. .
Tremer~dous, of~-times 1 was the 1 popular. r?ar~; ''.' L·rl·. ·..· ··'
And cries of~L1,:e .fore11er-:-;-str~sk ~.h~; s~~~~; -1 '" ' : 1.- t 1
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: .. .' i MRS· FELICi,..l D. HEMANS, ·' ·:, ,,,

born in 1793, of

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Iris~ . a~d ~erma~ . orifl~; i~f~·~~ !~~

youth among , th~ mo~nt. ams a_n ·~ben~s 'd f which ·
.
Wales, the sublime . and beauhltH h. i ' ' .d ' l''., " The
-roduced their natural effects upon e~ mm. :
d
~
~arnest and continual study •of ~h~ksp~are imr.~r;~d 1 • ~
to he~ the pow'e r of , giving lan,guage to~. thou~? '.1 t d ..".....:-~
.
r
h had ·entered her thut~en~h -Y ~~r._ ~- pri~ e ,. · .- ~
bea(}fC ' $ e,
. I ' ••
··1 ' p 0 e"'s
''.•~•-'S
'" glven •) to-1.the.~ •""--.
"I r he~ Juvem e ·
lll
W ,a
~ • --«3
collection o ,, r . . · .·
· · · i· het'death 1· iifl. 1S35jshe --~ :~
world. I From . thJS · P.~mo_<l t~l , . '' · ,· ; .«1 c.'y !" .:· ' ·· ·. . ' £~
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BRITISH POETS.

[PART VI.

POETS. · ·
.
\
;·: 1 ,. , ·rR:h
, God shall be wit_h thee, my ~elo~~d !-;--Away!'
1
Bless bu~ my child, and lea~e; ~e~I . ~.llf. pray1\; , , 1 ,~ . . i .·.;i:;. ·
. He spni.ng up like a .-.yari'ior~yoµth, a.»'fiking . :. 1. t ., 1 :.· 11
. To clari1:m-sounds 'up9n the_ringing air• ' ." ·. "', '· , "' ~ ...
He caught her to his breast, while'proua tearfl5reakih(' l;,
· From hiii"datk eyes, fell o'er het braided hair..!.. 1"' ,, ; r · rr;~
And"' Worthy art .thou," was liisjoyous 1 cr)t;_ i1~• ) '.;.r,' ~ l1t·
. ~·That man .for thee should gird. hims~lf..t,o di~. ·'' i..i.t ~ 'f . .
"My bride, mY. wife, the mcith.er to tny; i;hild h 1, 1·1;·:1hd.Yt _
Now shall .thy name be.armor to my heart; ,· , ,(" ,,,,. .','...
. And this our land, by chains no more defiled, , i~·"i·si' · · H'i ,
< Be taught of thee to choose the betlet part! . · · ·; · ) · '
J go-thy spirit on my words shall dwell ; · · ' : ' .: • "
Thy gentle voice shall stir the Alps- Farew~1l !" ,· · ·.
And thus they parted, hy the quiet lake •; ( · · ,
In the clear ~tar light; .he; the str~gth to rouse .
Of the free hills;· sne; . though~ful for, his .sake,
To rock her child b!3neath 1tl1e -.vhisperirtg boughs, ,
Singing its blue, h,alf-curtain'd.~·yes t_o s~eep,
With a low._hymn; '.~~d t~~ . .~i.llg.'lss. ge~p!.
,
;
we should be .glad quote mcire ·1 1arg~lyofrom this gifted .

has sent forth volume after volume, each surpassing
the other in sweetness and power. A tone of gentle
unfor~ed? and persuasive goodness pervades her poe~
try; it displays no fiery passion and resorts to no vehement appeal: it is often sad, but never exhibits a
complaining spirit ; her diction is hannonious and
f~ee; her themes, though in~nit.ely varied, are all bap~:nly chosen, and treated with grace, originality, and
judgment. Her poetry i~ f~ll of images, but they are
always natural and true; 1t 1s studded with ornaments,
but they are never unbecoming."
THE SWITZER'S WIFE.

·i.
) ,. .

The bright blood left the youthful mother's cheek Dack on the linden .stem she lean'd her form· '
And. her lip ~rembled, as it strove to speak,
'
Like a frail harp-string, shaken by the storm.
'Twas but a moment, and the faintness pass'd
And the free Alp.ine spirit woke at last. ·
'
And ~he, that ever through her home had moved
With the meek thoughtfulness and quiet smile
Of wom::in! ci:ilmly loving and beloved,
And tumd m her happiness the while
Stood brightly forth and steadfastly, th~t hour
Her clear glance- kindling into sudden power.
Ay, pale she stood, but with an eye af light
An1 took her fair c~1ild to her holy breast,
And lifted her soft VOite, tha t gather'd w.ight
As it found la~guage-" Are we thus oppress'd?
Then must we live \llpon our mountain-sod.
And must arm, and woman call on God ! •
"I know what thou wouldst do-and be it done t
Thy soul is darken'd with its fears for me. ·
Tn!st mo to Heaven, 'my husband !-this, thy smi.
1 he babe whom I have borne thee, must be free
. And the SWE'et memory of our pleasant hearth
· May well give strength-if aught be strong on earth.
" Thou hast been brooding o'er the si lent dread
Of my desponding tears ; now lift once more
'
My hunter ofthe hills, thy stately head 1
And let thine eagle g lance my JOY res tore !
, I can bear all but seeing thee sul.Jtlucd1 Take to thee back thine own undaunted mood.
" Go forth beside the waters 1 and alonrr
' The chamois-paths, and through the forests go·
A~c~ tell, in burning wbrds, th y talc of wrong
"'
Io the. brave hearts that mid the hamlel glew,

BR~TISH.

PART Vlf]

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poetess, and from others.of,_GteM: r·n ritain/ :bpt. must limit . ·
ourselves to a criticism cif 1 Pfof~ssot'fWiison; of Edinburgh,
upon theni-as a· class . . 'fhe Bii1T1sH PoETEllsEs,
says,
seem a series "of exc-eedingly .sensible ,tnaids ahd matrpilsn?t "with eyes · in · _a .fine ph!~~Y i f?~\ngY~n.oi: :with h:air
d1sheyeled by the tossmgs. of ~~sv.1.rail()n,. p~t of1c.alm .conn- . ·
tenances and sedate demeanor; no~ very 41i;;tmgmshabte from
th.o se we love to look on by ...ip~rJor". ~~i.l\l?h~;;i i¥ a~y. hap~Y.,
household we . are in the habit of~; droppµ:i,g
)U.1)l;lPOll
bf an
, , "l
· ··;,• "'
J,.~
.·· ·1. "; 1
evening a familiar guest. '
, , ;. , ·: :. ~·1 .:,t 1~ '.;··~ I; .. ; ;, t •, 1,• ~ ~. ; ,.) '~
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s:EcTION' xxf[. ~ 1 .1 _:· ·; ·,, "'>: :lr:if':: .

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· ~ · .. t./t t ;·: ::' .\. ~ l ·~:·1n f~ $
. : , , ,HENRY Kll!tXE .WHITg. 1 •• • r, ?. , , .:.,
, 1 •. :
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No one c~n 'read.·the rriemoir of. this young bard.,
from the elegant
of. S@utlier.,tl.1e . poet," wjtJ:iout
·.·'·
'
deep· sensibility. "W·e.sh?li f,u~ni~h ~. ~ew ~k~t'?he~. fo ·
allure the young student,to. ap t,m,tt~;t1otl of ,the h~er~ry
. :, .,
indus~ry of Wl.1ite," though it w1ii,b.~ ~&essarr to. ~dd ., 1 .
a serious caution about that neglect .of physical culture, and of health, which brought him to, a premature " .
grave at the age Of, twehty.~Otle.;· 1 r :~ '.'.1° ' . ,": ', :~··: '1( ~ \'· . . , >, ' ..
When very young, his love of reading '_wa~ .de~ . · · · ·. .,
cidedly manifested. .· At/ eleven.years ,o( age.J1e,. 9ne;;
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[PAR~"

DRITISH POETS.

•.125.9';

YI.

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day, at the best school in Nottingham, wrote a separate composition for every hoy in his cl<iss, which consisted of about twelve
fourteen. The master said
he ~lad never known them write. so well upo.n any
s~bJect b~fore, and could not refram. from expressing
his astomshment at the excellence of Henry's.
At the age of thirteen, he wrote some verses, of
which the following are a part :

' ·: And ·must the harp of Judah>sle_erhigain.?t~,_?li :/( ·1 •' ~'·::-. i·1-i 'l
,,.: Shall '! ri9mor~ ~eanimate · th~; 1ay !i ·~i ·,JJ h .t;/IP) ..; n'/ f' n., 1
Oh! thqu wpo ,v1s1.t~stth~. sons ofn;i~.n, ·.,tr.:l "tli ·' i i ' ' ·r i .1_.r 11 ·
Thou who dost hsten wheh lhe humble pray, . · · ,·
· .
.. One little space prolong niyr ~nbJrnfql 'day '"t,'- }.~; tf ;. , ·~.J : 1!p l
One little laps~ su!)pentltliy lasl 'd ectee ! ~~1»>1 r'uf!_q 1 :· d .J h iu
I am a yonthfol:trav'lerir1the . way,,! l1ci:11· i.1 ' lt1 ".·~· :;;.,-;.. )::;
. And this 1slight boon ;would i;orise~.~a~e_ :t<i th~e, ! i; ' : , .,;;·~ 1 r
Ere I with death
shake hands and.
srl\ile. that I am free." .. 1
/
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,:

ON BEING CONFINED TO SCH()OL ONE PLEASANT .MORNING
. IN SPRING.

I

*"How *gladly would
*
*
*
tny soul forego
All that arithmeticians know,
Or s.t ilf grammariaris quaintly teach,
Or all that industry can reach,
To taste each morn the joys
' '!'hat with the laughing sun arise,
And unconstrain'd to rove along
The bushy brakes and glens among;;
And woo the muse's gentle power,
In unfrequented ruraL bower.!"

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Lo~ct . B~roit : n'ev.~f ' empl.oy~d, :hi~,i pe~ r.fu.ore· 'inri~~ . . ' \
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LINES ON .HENRY KIRKE . WIUTE~BY. BYRo~: : .. :-':
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Unhapp~ "\Vhite ! : (a) ~hile l~fe wa,~}1:1. ~~s. ~priI?g, '· ., .". ;,' ..
And t 1hy:young '11'\l~e JU~t way~d he.~ J~yo~s fmg,,, , , ·
The spoil.e r ~ame :. and all ~hy prqm1se fair"~ · · · 1 · <'.'
. Has sought th~ grave, to sleep fotevet there: ' I:--' _;' . .' ...
: Oh t wqat a 'noble heatt was here. undone, r i J; ; : .: :. ,.; ·:, ·1
. . When; Science ,')!~lfi~estr,oy'.d htjl'./!li\ro,ry~~. ~qn ;·rr · ' >·( ·.'(.: /d
·.. Yes ! she too much mdulged thy (ond pursuit, . . , , . . · ,
$beesow'd the' se~ds, ,b uf D~ii.Hi ltas' reajJ'd' th~ (ruit ;, !' t · 1 " • ·
. · ''r"vas thine own· genius gave .the final blqw/ ! ; 1.1: : )! i : i~rnrr
And lielp'd to plant the \vound · th~t faid· th~e;lo~i· ' r!/! i: ·fi:i.G·
· So the struck eagle, s.tretch'd up_o n t~e pla1~, n[)(1 ;, ~ 1 li f .:·'
. N? more.thr9ugh rolhng cl~u~s t? s?ar '~ ,mt ,l i. ' . 1 ;r~,: .~ ,
1•
V1ew'd his own feather on the f~tal dart; 1: l : 0 ; • • 1,- • - ,1
And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his :heatt;!' .:: I ; !.' ·~I{!' !
Keen were his pangs,.but k~ener . far to,feel, ,' .
·...,-.
He accused the pillicm which ,ii;npell'.d,.th,e st~_el ; . .
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While the same plumage that 1'a.d war~ d his liest, _·
, Drank the 1ast life-.drop of his bleeding preas_t , .·:, .
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(a) Henry Klrke White d·i ~d
'cambriilg1i'in O~t~b't!t;
in C~!I&quence of t,oo ri)uch exertioii in. the rmrsuit o\ studi,es t~at w.ould have ~atured a mmd ,which ' disease · arid · poverty. coul~ · not : 1p1pau, and. which
death itself deAtroyed rather .than subdued . . lits po.elns .a:bound m such
beauties as must impress the· reader with the Jivelie~t r~gret t.h at so short
a period °"'.as allotted to ta!ents which wou.1.d .h!'ve , dtg;iµ~e~ eren the la•
ered functions he wae _de~t!!'~d 1to. as~ume,. ·. , , J°. i ,. , ," 1 : ,, :· :

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cently: or judiciously th3:n m .. pr~patihg · t~e 1 following
lines and notes; in memory of i this" taleiited and la:mented' youth.': ,,. ,, . :. ~ ; '. :'.' ': · ' >',ii _1 : · ·: : 1 ; · 1:'·'>::·:1 '~•"t.
•

In a few years he entered on the study of law, and
pursued it with an application so unremitting that he
· scarce allowed himself time to eat his meals, or to
refresh his body by sleep. Even in his ,valks his
mind was intensely occupied. Tims his heal'th suffered and .soon gave way. His bi.ography by Dr.
Southey, his letters, and much of his poetry, are in
a high degree fascinating. We have not room for
long extracts from his poems, but will furnish one of
.the most affecting character, probably among the
·last that he ever penned-found in the close of his
C11a1si1Ao, an unfinished poem.
· uThns far hnve I pursued my solemn tl1erne
. With self· rewarding toil; thus far have sung:
: Of godlike deeds, far loftier than beseem
, . The lyre, which I in early days have strungt;:
And now my spirits faint, and I ha,,e himg;
The shell, that solaced me in.saddest hour,
· On the dark cypress! and the strings whicT1 rung·
With Jesus' praise, their harpings now are o'er,
Or when the bteez.e c.omes by, moan, and are heard 110 Inf

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as a poet, ' has..been .Ui~ : · ·~.ubj~ct ' of uhqualifi~d ad- ··~
miration by;· some,: and of severe · :'min,advers10n ~Y others. · To those who desire to examine .the merits ·
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of thi1:1 disputed . matter, ·the author would recommend

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BRITISH POETS.

[PAR'!' .VI.

PART VI.]

Professor Wilson's elaborate and extended criticism
on Wordsworth, in Blackwood's Edinburgh Mngazine
for 1829. He has therein proved, by appropriate extracts, that Wordsworth has displayed great powers
of description, in the first place, of external nature ;
secondly, of nature, as connected with some internal
passion or moral thought in the heart and mind of
man; thirdly, of human appearance, as indicative of .
human character, or varieties of feeling. He has also
shown that Wo.rdsworth has manifested an ability to
move the atfe?t10ns by m~ans of simple pathos-that
h~ ~as occasionally attarned a chaste and classical
d1gmty-that he has successfully illustrated religious
and moral truth: and, finally, that he has brought the
sonnet-that difficult vehicle of poetic inspiration-to
its highest possible pitch of excellence. Professor
Wilson has shown that Wordsworth has been overestimated by his too ardent admirers, and underrated
by ~hose ~ho haye ha? neither opportunity nor degire
to mvest1gate lus claims to public notice. To this
poet, he thinks, we are indebted for the most accurate
and noble embodying of Nature's grandest forms.
· The following descriptive passage is a triumphant
proof of the powers of language, when wielded by a
powerful miri.d:
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Upon the dark materials of the 13.to'rm" .' - .
.Now pacified ; on them and cin the coves, . , , . . · '
· _Arid mountain steeps and. sm~mits, w her~\.mto ·. · · . '. .. ~
. The vapors had. tecede~, taking there ;" ··; · : · . ·. ·
'l'heir. a,tation under a cerule.a n s~y."+Excursion. ' ! · :,.

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. . We might, perhaps, search in va~n I thrQughout the .
whole compass of English poefry.for'artotlier example
of" words tinged .with so many 'colors."/"1 Here' the
hues of nature are presented fo ;, the ·ey~ .'.~\ , In ,the following passage ,they are limited to ,th~ _ e!ll'. : <~,·
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•• Astounded in the mountain gap ,,_.,." !I• " 1 :, ... . r ·
By peals of thunder, clap on clap,·' "'.' .. .-..
· And many a terror~strikmg flash,
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. And somewhere, as it seems, ci era.Sh
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Among .the rocks j ivitli weight of rain; :' ' · And sulleri motion.~; long and stoi.ii,,:;/;., '. ·
That to a dreary distance go......!. ' 1 • , " : , • • · .

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Till l;Jreaking in tipori the dying strain( " ,. '
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· A rending ·o'e.r his'head:beg1!1s .the_fray again." : ,.,.
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agoner.

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1:he. lin,es, in tJ:ie italic ,chara~,te1: di~c!>~er_ th~ grace
of 1m1tative .har,mony 1 · ~fter God'~ o.w~ language, the Hebrew, ·a nd' 't he affluent 'Greek',' there' is 'probably _ ,
no tongue so rich 'iri imitative h'armb1iies"'as our own.
Observe the ditrererice bet\'.veeh:' th~ftWcf Words';silow ·· · · /..]
.a nd rain. The hushing"solirid . tbe-''sibilant;-in Ith~
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first, .followed by the soft liquid ktid by ihe' round;. frill
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\rowel, is .not less indicative of' 'the still' 'descent' of
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. snow than the harsher liquid arid v.o wei" in' the second,
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~re ofthe fcilli1ig shower.
'l': ) ~~rx "?,; 1:f;- ~.:· "''.:·: ~!( . , .
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feelings with beautiful .· imagery; in other 'w ords; as
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in conne~tion with ·.s ome int~rnal passion~ or . moral
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thought, , m the heart _and rtund of man. · · For ex... ,
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ample :
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" Has ~ot the &mil, ~he ~.~ing ofj·o~r life, · .~ ·.. ·. · · ·
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"A step,
A smgle step, that freed me from the skirts
Of the blind vapor, open'd to my view
Glory beyond all glory ever seen
By waking sense, or by the dreaming soul !

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The appearance, instantaneously disclosed,
. Was of a mighty city-boldly say
A wilderness of building, sinking far
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And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth
Far sinking into splendor, without end.
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Fa?ric it seem'd of diamond and of gold,
With ala?aster domes and silver spires,
Anc~ blazmg terrace upon terrace high
Uplifted ; he_re, serene µavilions bright
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Jn .avenues disposed; there, towns begirt
With battlements, that on their restless fronts
Bore ·stars-illumination of all gems ! · · · · ·
By earthly nature had the effect been wrought

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Rece1v¢d a shock.of awful <;onsc1ousness," · -,.
. In som.P. calm seasoQ, when the1Je lofty rocks, - · ·
At night's approach, bring down the unclouded 1ky
To rest upon,their circumambient walls : ,

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A temple framing of diinensions vast;
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A1id yet riot too enormous for the sound ·"
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Of hurµan anthems-choral song, or burst. , , ·-.. · .'.;,.: '. .: . '
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Sublime of instrumental harmony,
To glorify th' Eternal! What if these
Did never break the stillness that prevails
Here, if the solemn nightfogale be mute,
An<l the soft woodlark here did never chant
Her vespers, Nature fails not to provide
lrnpulse and utterance. . 1'lze whispering air

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o~ ruzzi1ng through: a;p~im~r1;H~.ej by lihe~~·. ,;1 1'~'' . ~J!i/S:
Td ~e,rfe~t ~astery, cw~_n J~E/Jl?~n~s,~~ }a~tJ•;:·:; ':~ >'r·i!')

There is,· in the ·above ·.lines;. a kind cif.. forcible hu·
mor which reminds cm,~:(ot, ·gq,)Yp~r's» marli~,~.r · in .The·
. . . - ~ f'"""'"l .!·''"~"
i ~ ~ t. >'tJ ·:•1: -~,
'!'ask
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Again, simple . pathos.· is ,,'l\h , ex~e _1e.,t:1it. ~ttt1 t,ite of
Wordsworth . . As · an example.of this i · Prof~ssor wu~,
son introduces · extracts from · ·~ 'th~ :~dorf1p1~,~~· ·of, a '
Forsaken Indian Woma1i._" ·, Frorrf eickQ£H! !J'/[(}i"failtire
of strength, she was "left behind ih "."ii~wiri{efy ; desert,
while her companions moved -on iri pu.rsuit 1of; their
business. The idea that · she could have :·lraveled a
1little farther with her ·companfons thus,sfaiid :,, - '
;_,A.las! ye migh'l_h.ave;dragg\l;,x!ie on.,'i: ;· :~. ::-::
· Another day1.a singie ._one _! :.·· --~x -..-i~ j·,;·i·'.· , ! · .. ·,

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Sends inspiration from the shadowy heights,

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And blind recesses of the cavern'd rocks;
The little rills and waters 1iumberless,
lnaiidible b_y daylight, blend their notes
\Vith the loud streams: and often, at the hour
lVhen issue forth the first pale stars, is heard,
Within the circuit of this fabric huge, .
One voice-one solitary raven, flying
Athwart the concave of the dark blue dome,
Unseen, perchance above the power of sight'An iron knell! With echoes from afar,
Faint, and still fainter."-E.xcursion .

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Too so?n I.y~eld~d to ~ei;ipalT.-' · ·< .:•;:,,;~·.,"~ .;irr · ,
: Whyd1dy~\1ste;itol?yprayer .! . \.- >.. , ·:- ·' . 1 ~\·
When 'ye were g(}tiE.my Jimba 'were a{r_onger: '!1· . '. · ·

We have marked by the italic character those portions which deserve special remark.

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This is b~~1iFful~y.~ru~ '. #? :~~ipr~·:·.~fj i~; 1~· Ao. i :(iq~~er1 ;.
own sake that sh'e chngs sp ltenac1ously.: ~~ l~f~ attd . to~:
hum~ii . f ello~sh~p'.;~-'; ~he ..is 1 ,a ·-i~P,q;ie.r~;"' ~n.q~
pf~iY~~Y;
fracl10n O~ hme Spett f WJth' her' ll~1ranv1s 1 ,?.: J.ie,ap\' <?r'.
gold, so every. least, di".isi~J1;. of fl-n 1 h_~)uj, P,~s~~d;.11*p~rt··. .
from it is a .weight' of l~ad.'/ Who. cah :.r~aa ·the cohv -: · , .. _ ,
tinuation of her complaint )\rithotll' be.fog
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WORDSWORTH'S PORTRAITS OF HUMAN BEINGS.

some

In executing these, not unfrequently he gives
masterly touches, which are to the character described
what the hands of a watch are to a dial-plate. They
tell the '' whereabout" of the whole man. The poet
and tlie poetaster dijfer in this; while the latter only
describes either from recollection or from a survey
of some object, the former, like the true painter, paints
from an image before his . rnental eye-an irnage in
this respect transcending Nature herself, inasmuch as
it combines the selectest. parts of Nature. Here follows a portrait of ~~ true English Ploug-/iboy:

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" My cl11ld ! they gave thee to aWJther1
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A woman wlzo wa.' not thy :mothef:: :' '' · . , .
'When from my arins my babe they; took' """. ·~ , ;

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Through_his.w~9le. bod;: sqmEJ~~u;ig: nm 1 ~ \;1•· · .. :;._,, ·zrl
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A m9~t strange.workmg did I s~~0 ) '.; f/, .:".i :' I "J"':'.i . ·.
. As1fhe· ~trovetobe, a111an, , , _: -: ,:· .· .. ;·,- ,· .: ,--., . 1.., 1
That he fmght pull the sledge for .me." 1 - • · • • ' - " ' ·

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· ;• His joints are stiff;
Beneath a cumbrous frock, that to the knees
Invests the thriving chml. his legs appear,
F ellows to those which lustily upheld
The wooden stools, for everlasting use,
On which our fathers sat. And mark his brow!
Under whose shaggy canOJJY are set
Two eyes, not dim, but of a healthy stare;
Wide, sluggish, blank, and ignorant, and strange;
Proclaiming boldly that they never drew
A look or motion of intelligence
.From infant conning of the Christ-cross row,

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The first couple·t is worth whole real:µi~ of,amplifi·;i - '_,.
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is a world of feeling in itself.. -\Thus ,does , a great11· ·
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master find the shortest J/assage .fo .the .beart, while i.. :· : r-·>~~~
a mere _descri~eri : wanderirlg jn ~ a labY,i'inth: ,neve!r1-. ·.: }~
reaches the .heart·at _all . .. · t"
::· .. _' · '··-1·1(11 ·: ''i''. ·1 H~1 · . · ·,;.,~
. Another characteristic
Wordsworth is: ai :certairi ~ · · . ·, ~-f1»
classical dignity. · His Laodamia is a:h illustration oft , , :. ;:t

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DRITISH POETS.

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this. The following sonnet is a good example of the
chaste sev~rity of Wordsworth's loftier style:
SONNET.
LONDON,

1801!.

thou shoulclst be living at this hour
England hath need of thee ; she is a fen
Of stagnant waters ; altar, swol'd, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are seltish men,
Oh ! raise us up, return to us agnin ;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
MILTON!

Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart ;
Thou hadst a voice whose Mund was like the sea ;
Pure as the naked heavens-majestic, free,

So didst thou travel on life's common way

Jn cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

This is great writing: no affectation, no babyism
here, whatever there may be in some of his writings.
'I'he portion marked by italics is, in particular, grand, .
from the very simplicity of its thought and diction.
Wordsworth knows that an inch of gold is belier titan a
yar:d of gold leaf
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Both as a moral and as a religious poet, Wordsworth may take a high station, not only by the side
of Young and of Cowper, hut even of .Milton. .
His sonnets are good, presenting specimens of the
descriptive, the pathetic, the playful, the .maj~stic, the
fanciful, the imaginative. Lord Byron, Ill hrs works,
has introduced mai'1y a contemptuous sarcasm on t~is
fine poet, and yet has unblushin~ly stolen from h~m
many a fine thought that adorns lus own page : as mstances, the third and fourth cantos of Childe Harold
have been cited.
On the whole, Professor "Wilson denies to Wordsworth a
place among the greatest of English.poets, and y~~ assigns
him a high place among true poets In general. I he want
of a fixed style, the inequality of his compositions, the exuberant verbosity of some, and the eccentric meanness of
others; the striking deficiency which his w_o rks usually
display in judgment~ are all so many barners hetween
W onlswort)1 and the summit of fame. Although Milton is

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(PART VI.

BRITISH POETS.
A REFLECTION AT SEA.

See how, beneath the moonbeam's smile.
Yon 'little billow heaves its breast,
And foams and sparkles for a while,
And murmuring then subsides to rest.
Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,
Rises on Time's eventful sea ;
· And, having i;well'd a moment there,
Thus melts into eternity!
MIRIAM'S SONG.

Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph 'd, his people are free.
' Sin~, for the pride of the tyrant is broken,
His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave, '
How vain was their boasting ! The Lord hath but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egy,it's dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph'd, his peop e are free.

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·, the ocean ; t~e o~her was : pro.duced;'~na_ P.~~re,~ted by .:,.'.
the same hand, in_equal ob$curity;-o?', tl,i~. ,ba~'.k~s of the
Ayre. Th~ , former was ..,suddei:ily};bi:o_ug~C to light, ·
and shone · for . a season on _theJ()r,e,h.e ad.;of; imperial I.
beauty; th.e latter, not less!1une.XP¢ctedly,,11 emerged,
from the shade, ahd -dazzled- and , delighted ·· ~hf admir- .·
ing nation, iri the keeping . of_i·a l Scottisn ~: peasa11i.
The fate of both was the '. same ( eacll was \vahtonly'
dissolved ' in the cup,
pleasure, ,and 'q,uaffed by its .
possessor at one intemperate draught." .,.;· ,:·" · · " . '
Mr. M. has beautifully 'delineated his 'poetic power.s-in 'verse. .
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Lallah Rook" is Moore's best poem.
Of all the song-writers (says Professor Wilson)
that ever warbled, or chanted, or sung, the best, in
our estimation, is verily none other than Thomas
Moore. True, that Robert. Burns has indited several
songs that slip into the heart, just like light, no . one
knows how, filling its chambers sweetly and silently,
and leaving it nothing more to desire for perfect contentment.

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What bird in beauty, flight, or.song, ', . ;' r '!.'.".',, '.;, '.
Can with this bird compare; ·. ·
· ' .'.· ', · " · '. ' ··,
Who sang as sweeJ, and soar'fl as strong ~ " · ;. · :. ';: .
As ever .child of air? ""' .! ; ·, ._, .- r. _', , · . :.• ,,_, •.' 1 ·.· ' · .
His plume 1 his note; his .form, coulq BukNs ·; '_:·, :
F'or whim or pleasure 'change ; '- ': ··-, \: ·, · :' · ;· · ·' -. · ,.
He "'.'as not one_, but1 all hY. .turns.'t"',1 ?':>(:'\~ -::'.; ·.-~ ; ' .·
.With transmigration strange. _,s · { ; -. ' · !.. 1 • ·~: . J.. · .
. . ' '
.
.·
.:. ' .! - ··. .
,lf./.· ... •;1 \., ~~j ....: • ."'" .) . ~~· . : \.
The black-bird, oracle of spring,~\ -': ·· (-,.:r:.<· . ,"' ·· .,
When flow'd his moral lay .i ·1 •\ '. · ~ :; ,:' .. , (,' { , ·••.
Tl.ie swa~low, wheeling' on ni,s wing,' .. _' · '...; ,:, . '. ~ , .
· Capriciously at play; ~'"'' ·''· -':'· :·· "·' 1.fi · . :·· :<...._U.
,
•
.
,
, ... .. '"ii · 'It "· 1 ~ r ;r
The humming-bird, from blootn tq bloom, ·
. · __,. · ·
·· Inhaling hea\Tenly balm;. · · '-'« 1;'.- . :•z·h.i-:' . . ._ :~•·•· .. ,
The raven, in the tempest's gloom.; ,_ ..~-; ~. •r ·
. The halcyon, in the calm: '.:./', . . ·\~·'. ": :·'u' - -; . ' . '·I '
In "auld Kirk Alloway," the qwl, -,;,.,·; ' t ..·
At witching time of night; - ·
;/ .~'
By ",bonnie Doon," the earliest fowl · · ..
That carol'dI to the
light.
'''
,.
.
,
He was the wren amid the grove, '. . ·
When in his homely vein ;
At Bannockburn the bitd of Jove, , · ·
With thunder in his train: , ; ' -. ,
The wood-lark, in his mpurnful hours; · : · ; .
The goldfinch, in his ,mirth; ·' :'
·
. ·.,
. '· . ,
· The thrush, a spendthnft of his powers, · · · . ~ ,
Eri~3:pturing heave.n .and e~rth ;,, : · · .,\ '-\' . " .. .· _..·•.
The swan, in !Il!iJesty and grace; .
{ ·' · -- .
. ,
Contemplative and still; · ·· · .
·. - " · ·1· ~ , -~
But, roused, no falcon in the chase · · · · ·1• . ': : .' •
Could like his:satire kill. · ' ·· , · ·"
~"' .
·,, /
·,
t

SECTION XXV.

He has written much of the sweetest poetry in the
·language ; much, also, that a just regard to his own
reputation would have suppressed and thrown into oblivion. According to the poet Montgomery, "Burns,
·as a writer, when worthily employing his talents, is
the poet of truth, of nature, and of Scotland. The
high praises hestowed upon this author must be confined to the best and the purest in morals and in taste.
The genius of Burns resemhled the pearl of Cleopatra, both in its worth and its fortune : the one was
moulded by nature in secret, beneath the depths of

v1.f.

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268

BRITISH POETS.

The linnet in simplicity,
In tenderness the dove;
But, more than all beside, was he
· The nightingale in love.
Oh ! had he never stoop'd to shame,
Nor lent a charm to vice,
How had devotion loved to name
That bird of paradi~e !
Peace to the dead ! In Scotia's choir
Of minstrels great and small,
He sprang from his spontaneous fire
The phcenix of.them
all.
,
'

The style of his patriotic poetry may be judged of
from the following stanza. It is taken from his "Cot.
ter's Saturday Night:"
"0 Scotia ! my dear~ my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to H eaven is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be bless'd with health, and peace, and sweet content;
And oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent
From luxury's contagion wea k and vile ;
Then how ever crowns and coronets be rent,
A virtuous populace may rise the while,
And stand, a wall Jf fire, around their much-loved isle."

The kindness of his heart may be seen in the follow.
mg selections :
ON SCARING SOME WATER-FOWL IN LOCH TURIT.

Why, ye tenants of the lake,
For me your watery haunt forsake?
Tell me, fellow-creatures, why
At my presence thus you fly?
Why disturb your social joys,
Parent, filial, kindred ties ?
Common friend to you and me,
Nature's gifts to all are free;
P eaceful keep your dimpling wave,
Busy fe ed, or wanton lave;
Or, beneath the sheltering rock,
Bide the surging billows' shock.
Conscious, blushing for our race,
Soon, too soon, your fears I trace.
Man; your proud, usurping foe,
Would be lord of all below;
. Plumes himself in free<lom's pride,
Tyrant stern to all beside.

*

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[PART VI.

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'.: ·, . ·. ,

BRITISH POETS. :

ON

·,.-~

. "" '.. ".'ti ••

SEElNG A WOUNDEO HAttE. LIM'P BY ME, ,WHICH ' A FE_
b -:.· ·.. :'.?"'.' ~.· . "
LOW HAD JUST SHOT,'.A,1\ , ~,, i·; \ :i'." ,- . -· ''·;.;;H 'J' "• • )·;·,~ !f~

. Inhumari m'~n ! cu~se 'on .thy barbarous atti ::i {'· ! " . J, ·u~'\ -:1 . - c \'.~,l.. And blasted be thy murder-aiming-eye !. , .p"·~.; ,.-. ; ,· : .·'
! , , . .' .; I
May never pity soothe thee with .a sifh, ':~, ~- ', ·~ .i. · " , , '; .· . • •
Nor ever pleasurt;l gla,d, thy' crtiel heart. ;·',!.F.W."\'. '!1 '~ "T< •
"r·· ' · ' t-f·" ;
Go. live, .poor "wanderer of t_he · woo~ .,an.d_ .fi
· .eId
., : ?;'!
_f,r,_','.-.> :_
The bitter little that of bfe remams; . j .. '.'"1( : •.! . .· , ': ' , 1
No more the thickening brakes a~d ver?11nt I?_lam~.-l~! h · " .
To thee shall home, or food, or pastime yiel? ,1.lt ~ .-- ;~ 1~t 1 }: · ·~1
=.....

J '',

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BT.ANZAS IN THE PROSPEC1' OF ,DEAfJi, ·"

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1.

~ ·.f · ;_· :"'~ ··. ·.

Fain would I say," Forgive my'.foui off~ns~ !'',.: r,:,;~,-~-;f; r.t
Fain promis·e never more to disobey ; · /
.,
But, should .!DY Author. hi:;alt~ ag~in dispens_e, · .. ,
Again I might desett.fau :virtue B :W~Y; '' " "r
.;
Agaiii'iJi folly's.vath might g~ astray; '. 1.; ::· , . · !1•
Again exalt the brute and smk the man; '" ·' · t ·; 'I
Then how should I for heavenly mercies :pray? , 1:: .-; '"
Who sin so oft have moµrri'd, yet, t() temptat!?n. ~a?_? , , : t
O thou great Governor of all helow !. ·,_;,,,._,.,., ;;;._ ;~"' ( :·· ·
If I U:ay dare a lifted eye to thee,-· ' . ' · \ .. _,: .• ·'" 1\-. : ; 1
. Thy nod can make the temp~s~. cease tq ,b~ow! : · 1-~ l~•, \:.t:
Or still the ~umult .~ th{\ragmg_ sea; .- , / . ''- · . :~ . ._ .: "
With what controlling: power a~s1s,t e'en me, \ ./ . ~ : ·~"~·;.
Those headlong, furious pass10ns to_eon.fine, - "- '· _ ,', ·.
For all unfit I foel my powers td ~e : . ~ ,· ; ~' · '"· ~~ ;!'
11. :
To rule their torrent in th' allowedhne :'< ";·':;; .<:=.:·"
O aid me with thy help, Omnipo~enca .D ivine!. .. !·, •~·i,,~: -~··
'f.; . , ~! ...f"J :'
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...

SECTION XXVI.:.r:/' :i) ",~/: __ :.: \
WALTER SCOTT. '

! :

:! ~ . .' ·

,' :• " "'; '. ' ' .!•· ' ·:. : •) , ·» '~

In his poetry he -imitated the ' style :' o( t?e ~arly '
minstrels of his own land, :;i.nd of some specimens of
German litorature: He has revived th~ manners? cus:.
toms incidents, and sentiine.nts of chivalrous times_,
. ·o n, " ar~ d
The '"Lay of the t ast . M'ms~re 1," . "M
-. armi
" Lady of the Lake'.' are co1mdered the · finest. o~ hrs ,
tales. The opinion has b~e11 e?'press~d- that if it ?e:
possible .for either. to be , forgotte.n, ~1s poems_ w1lL
outlive his prose, smce the latter posse~ses no v~lu- .
'able quality -. which - is ·not possessed · al~'?· by -·the;
former; these qualities being a denply exc1t111~ sto~y, '. ',
true pictures
scenery, fine and accurate portraits
2
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BRITISH POETS.

(PART VI.-

of character, clear and impressive accounts of ancient
customs, details ?f battles, satisfying to the fancy, yet
capable of enduring the sternest test of truth. In addition to all these, his poems are written in the most
ha~monious verse, and in a style adapted equally to
delight those who possess and those who are without
a refined poetical taste.
Here we may commend to ,the perusal of youth and
of others, the t_wo volumes of the "Select Works of
British Poet.s," by Professor Frost and S. C. Hall,
who have given also a more extended notice than
the limits of this work allow, of the poets we' have
named and of others.
· .
SCOTT AND WORDSWORTH.

Mr. Hazlitt pr~sents the following portrait of them :
Walter Scott describes that which is most easily and
generally understood With more vivacity and effect than
any body else. His style is clear, flowing, and transparent :
his ~entiments, of which his style is an easy and natural
medmm, are common to him with his readers. He differs
from his readers only in a greater range of knowledge and
facility of expression. His poetry belongs to the class of
improvis~.tor.i poetry. It has neither depth, height, nor
breadth m it; neither uncommon strength nor uncommon
refinement of thought, sentiment, or language. He selects
a sto~y that is sure to please, full of incidents, characters,
peculiar manners, costume, and scenery ; and he tells it in
a way that can offend no one. He never wearies or disappoints you. He is communicative, but not his own hero.
He never · obtrudes himself on your notice to prevent your
seeing the subject. He is .very inferior to Lord Byron in
intense passion, to Mo.ore in delightful fancy, to Mr. Wordsworth in profound sentiment ; but he has more picturesque
power than any of t~em ; that is, he places the objects
themselves, about which they might feel or think, in a much
more striking point of view, with greater variety of dress
and a.tti~ude, and with more local truth of coloring. Few
descnpt10ns ~a~e a more c~mplete reality, a more striking
appeatance of hfe and mot10n, than that of the warriors in
the Lady of the Lake, who start up at the command of
Roderic Dhti, from their concealment under the fern and
disappear again in an instant. The Lay of the Last l\1in·

PART
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strel and Marmio,n are .the: ~r_st; ~U,d ,p~~~flPS ~he _b est of his
works.
. . · · ··
1 .... ~\· ,
"
·:. :
· • • ·
. '
Mr. Wordsworth. "is the most: cirigina~ · poet,':nqw: living.
He is the reverse of Walter S,c;ott in his. ·i;1e~ects)md excellences. He has nearly all that the other..wants, and .wants
all that the othe! pos~esseit ·'His poetry_is n?t,~xier.n_al 1 bµt
internal ; it does not depend ·on tradition;.~ or s,tory; ~r old
song; he furnishes it from his own' mind,· ~ind . is liis own
subject. He is the poet of rtier,e aentitnent;· .\0( many of ·
the lyrical ballads and sonnets, it is not possibl~ 1 .t<?, speak in
terms of too high praise'j for their originality ' and, pathos.
The "Hart-Leap Well" is a favorite poem'witli':Mr• Hazlitt ..
We have not space for its insertion here.. ' · .': ·l . ,, .• : ·.
' The Lake School of poetry, to whiCh ,Mr: Woi"dswortli be- ·
longs, had its origin in the French R_ev.olutio;ri, about..the time of .
;.vh~c~1 English poetl't haq . degenerate~. ~r1tq" the,)rios~ ~rite,
ms1p1d, and mechai:ucal, o[ all things, ..m ) he : hands '.of the .
followers of Pope '· and ·the ,;-9ld ...French~ ...school .. q~ · poetry.
From the impulse of, that revolutfon,' poetry, ro$e"_at , Qnce
from the mcist servile )mitation ~nd ta~e.st ':commonplace
to the utmost pitch of singularity_and paradox. ·~The change ·
in the belles-Iettres was· as -complete, ' and. tq many p~rscins ·
as startling, as the ch~nge. ii!l politics, witll-which' it went
hand in hand; Accordihg to .the 'prev:ailiiig notiojis; 'all '":as to be natural and new. , Nothi11g ihat. i ~as estab\jshed was ,
to be tolerated. All the.' cQmmonplace: figutes: Qf _poetry,.
tropes, allegories, personificati<;>ns, with, the ,whole heathen
mythology, were instantly di~ca:rde~ l · a · classical _allusion
was considered as a piece of itQtiqu;:ited foppery; '·'thyme
.'
was looked upon as a relic of the feudal system{ and r'.egular ·
metre was abolished· along with ' regular ·goyerriment. A
singularly affected simplicity prevaile!l ih' dress and man. . .•
ners, in style and sentiment ... Sorneth.ing n~w. and 'original, ·
no matter whether good, ,bad,.ur indifferent; whe_thet,mean f·:. .·.... ":!?:
or lofty, extravagant Qr ~hildish, was ~11 that was aimed at, ,_=::. , ·. ')'.•~·
or considered as compatible · with sou_nd philosophy and an
: '.~·
age of reason. · The paradox they !i¢t· out with was, that all · ·"~; "':'' '
quallyfit subjects for poetry,; or that; . · ,[ j,;/1.,
things are by nature e_
if there is any preference ~?. be : give,n.1 .~hose th~t a~e t.he , 1,.-:iif
meanest and. most unpromHHng a.re the. best, as they have,
; . ·,:;:JJ.
the greatest scope for the unbounded . stores of thought and
· : ' ~~~
fan?Y in th.e writ~r'.s 6wn mind, and for a djsplay . <;>~-~rigi~ "· . ..:
nallty and mvent10rl: . : . " . .,,.; : ·
·. '. .'., .· . _, -. : ,.. ,~ -; · · "' · , : ~ .. \1:1
· '' .: '.- :: ~ ·
. :. .; ·. •1rr -~'. r .· . _1;· ' ...
1

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272

Xlll.

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",·.~
The minstrel ~ame o~ce more ·to vi(l~ <-~ I'_,.;;'· ' i .
The' easterh ri9ge of Ben-venu'e 1 :v ,;,;;:h f'i.:: .< "'·:
For, ere he parted, he "".ould saY:;, :~,, :: t~; . : :t.''' '~!' J;. ··
.·
Farewell to lovely Locli Achray:·"".:"-·"' .t '-"." r · ;i :c' :!'',
.. .
· Where shall he find, in foreign land1·{::r•·;y, . •,,.. :._{ ,:. ' i' :., . .: '
So lone a lake, so sweet a st.r;md ! ·'..~;: ,qv:·: "•.',·.' ;H 1 / / , .'::,: :. · ·.
There is no .breeze upoh tlie fern, , ;,1;1 , 1 1.~iii/\ " -,·? / ~ .~
..
No r,ipple on the lake, : ·'
· · ,';: :-.:.'/, ·' '" ·' · '
,1
Upon the eyrie nods the erne, __ .·.· ,; ~\ ; . .
·'
'
"
The deer has sought the brake! ' ''' " " ' ':'}:~ · ' •·
'.' ·. .~
.-·..~..
The small birds wil~ not sing aloud; . ' !• './'/:, : /· ~\ r" :. " ,, , ;\
_
The springing trout lies still ,· ; ;L·i'."',lf
•.:~ ~,:/,: ,
J .ii
1 1
So darklf'glooms yon thunder cthud, ; '• • "~ 1:,,·,,1,t~::!L .
., ~
That swath.es, ~s with .a puq~l~ ' shroud,,, ·,~:· ·\'.: 1hi1:'.r.. '1
, . ' .~
. Benled1's d1~tant,h1lL , .· "' ,•.' 1' · ·;, '" .',' ' · : · ·..' .. ' "~ 1:; . :"'
~
Is It the thunder's solemn soimd ,'' ; ,:·,,.;: •/ : i '
-'
-.~
That mutters tieep and dread ·· ~. ;,i 1;,.f -,' t: · : · t ' ' ·
Or echoes from the groarting grou~d :';1'. ';~-. ·, " •, i. ' ·'- "
The warrior's measured tread·r · hf-1' ""·< ~ 1" ' ", ' · ' ( 1
'
Is it the lightning's quivering glahc~ · .r<;\/<~~·: ,.; ~/ \:
, That on the thicket'St.reanis; ; v·n :.,1L• ' ~;.,.';' : ! . . .. - , ..
Or do they flash oil •'s peaf and lance! i, Y:': <JC' ' ,,..;, ·Nni.!. l
. The sun's retiring beams F :'" 11u.''. fd ljqi.,; / L :.·- , ;
' . ofM
'" ··''"""""•\,.
, '. .
see
. . ar;--·''"'"'.'. "'
::· .''.,:-" '.'..· ~·.~·....
'·>> , .i· :
th e. dagger•crest
I
1
1
' ..I see . ~he Moray s silver staf· 'l".' -' ;r'J .'.in-:t:: '.';t;:} 1:,.' \ '
Wave o'er the cloud of.Saxon war ,,,,..,!'!· ·~1~ f-•'1 J ..•
I
' . ' ' . That' up the la~e comes winding fa~f:~!:d t' ,".7
";
{•

XIY.

The chieftain rear'd his form on high,
And fever's fire was in his eye ;
llnt ghastly, pale, and livid streaks
Checker'd his swarthy brow and cheeks.
-" Hark, minstrel! I have heard thee play,
With measure bold, on festal day,
In yon lone isle-again where ne'er
Shall h:uper play, or warrior hear!
That stirring air that peals on high,
O'er Dermid's race our victory.
Strike it! and then (for well 'thou canst),
Free from thy minstrel sr1irit glanced,
. Fling me the picture of the fight,
When met my clan the Saxon might."

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~AN,: DUINE; :. ·: ·. '
I

BATTLE ,OF BE!L

As the tall ship, whose lofty prow
Shall never stem the billows more,
1
Deserted by her gallant band,
Amid the breakers lies astrand;
So, on his couch, lies Roderic Dhu !
And oft his fever'd limbs he threw
In toss abrutit, as when her sides
Lie rocking m th' advancing tides,
That shake her frame to ceaseless beat,
Yet can not heave her from her seat;
Oh ! how unlike her course at sea !
Or his free step on hill and lea!
Soon aR the mmstrel he could scan,
-"What of the lady'! of my clan?
My mother ?-Douglas ·1-tell me all!
Have they been ruin'd in my fall?
Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ?
Yet speak-speak boldly-do not fear."
(For Allan, who his mood well knew,
Was choked with grief and terror too.)
"Who fought? who 1led '! -Old man, be brief:
Some might. for they had lost their chief.
Who basely live ?-who bravely died '! "
"0, calm thee, chief!" the minstrel cried,
"Ellen is safe."-" For that, thank Heaven!'
"And hopes are for the Douglas given;
The Lady Margaret too is well,
And, for thy clan-on field or fell,
Has never harp of minstrel told
Of combat fought so true and bold ;
Thy stately pine is yet 11nbent,
Though many a goodly bough is rent."

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LADY OF THE LAKE.

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! -17, '

(PART VI.

BRITISH POETS.

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:-*::: ; - ~:·;·t>':~;',~;c;:~:?~:~/.:-.·Qtfr: .·

1XVI. ,, ~ ). , ,. r . ,. :i~·~«;"' .~ " i " l.
,
Their light-arm d archers far atid near{!· .-:,,~., : 1 !,-: : · •· ,, , ->
, Survey'd the tangled ground; I • " ::, ··, \', ..;h r·~i '!i
Thei~ centre ranks, with pikes and spear~ :·. · i:; ,.!' '., f} ,
: . A twilight forest frowri.'d;
· ·
·· · ··
T;!ieir barbyd horsymen, in the re#, '
· . ·' The stem battaria:crown'd. •'· " · .rL -:.•;;-';! , :.,
No cy~bal clash'di·no· c,larion. rahg; , :'., ;_ ·~ .: : I ! -·.
Still were, the pipe and drum; . ·, J: .+''. ·>n \:;:::" --:·:/ · ·
Sa.v.e heavy tread; and. ~rmor's clang,_.(, ~.'.; i '- ·!l "'r";; !l:: ·'c:
" :~
, Thesullenmarc~wasd,timb., , .. ,. ,• · ,, '.,i-.: "~ 1 ~;; r
fhere breathe,d no wmd .tpe1r, qe~ts, t9 ~qaf~t·;- ,.. · .· .. ,, 1 , ,
· • • ~
• ,' . ~ :· : •
Or wave t~eir flags abroa.d ; .: . ·' . ': i·,,;. ; 1 , .
_·: .• ,_• .~.••
Scarce the frail aspert seem'd. to quake~'' ..· · ·"· ::
· 1 ,,..
,,·~. • •: rr ::.J.;;!
· . · That 'shadow'do'ertheirroati. " • .·e r\~', · ·
1
Theif va'ward. scouts no tidings bnng1 . ';' ~ '
·i' -..i < >!;_!;(( . " "''ill
· '· Can rouse·rio lurking foe, ·\ · "·: . ;,.,. \'. .: , ,_,, .\ ,wn.: . '..'.:···.·.-.·.:_-:·,;..·.·.,~
Nor spy· a trace of living thing, ,. ' ·, :, . ..,: .;•r ~ 1' i•ii: •i',1i. ·
·.,.,,.
. Sav~ 1 ..yhept~~ystirr'd-q1e ,~o~;\· i 1~ - ~;r )'.~'oi .'iW' .· .~~ -~
..

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274

BRITISH POETS.

(PART VI.

XVII •

At once there rose so wild a yell
Within that dark and narrow dell
As all the fiends, froni heaven th~t fell
Had peal'd the banner cry of hell!
'
Forth from the pass in tuuiult driven
Like chaff before the wind of heaven'
~'he arch~ry appear;
,
For hfe ! for life! their fliO'ht they plyAnd shr~ek, and shout, and battle cry,
And plaids and bonnets waving high
And broadswords flashing to th~ sky
A re maddening in the rear.
'
Onward they drive in dreadful race,
Pursuers and pursued ;
Before that tide of flight and chase
How shall it keep its rooted place,'
The spearmen's twilight wood?
-:-"Down, down," cried Mar, "your lances down 1
· Bear back both friend and foe !"
·
Like reeds before the tempest's frown
That serried grove of lances brown '
At once lay Jevel'd low '
And cl?se\y shouldering, side by side,
The bnstlmg ranks the onset bide.

*

*

*

*

- ..

cf.

The hos~ moves like ~ deep sea-wave,
Where nse no rocks its pride to brave
High swelling, dark, and slow. '
The lake is pass'tl, and now they gain
A narrow and a broken plain,
Before the Trosach's rugged jaws;
And here the horse and speannan pause,
While, to explore the dangerous glen
Dive through the pass the archer me~.

•

' .'i ~·.;~·.fl

•

. .-275 · . : · ·~<!r'·
~~~·-:,~~ "'. :..: --~i-~'f;,,,
is pretty national, .and so are the subjects of all his noblest
. · :.¥<
. BRITISH. POE'J.'S,

*

Pro~essor ~ilson rank~ Scott far above Byron, in point
of genius. Hts remarks, m sut>stance, are as follows :
We shall never say that Scott is Shakspeare · but we
!'Jhall say_that he has conceived and created-y~u know
the m~anmg of t~e.se v,,·ords- a far greater number of characters-of real hvmg, flesh-and-blood human beings-and
that more natur~lly, truly, and consistently, than Sliakspeare,
who _was sometimes transcendently great in pictures of the
passwns; but out ?f their . range, which surely does not
comprehend all rational berng, was- nay, do not t.hrPatl:'n
t? murder us- a ctlufu sccl and irregular <lcliucator of human
hfe. The genius of Sir 'Valtcr Scott, it will nut be denied,

works, be they poems, or .·nqvels and ;romances by the au· :
thor of" Waverley." · Up. to .the era of Sir ·Walter, living
people had some vague, general, indist,t nct noticm about
dead people mouldering away to' nothing centuries ago, in
regular kirk-yards and' chance burial-places, "mang muii:,s ·
and mosses many 0," somewhere oriothei' in that difficultly
distinguished and very debate;ible' distriqt · ~all~d the Bor·
ders. All at' once. he touched theit totnbs w'ith a divining
rod, and the turf streamed out ghosts. '. Some in ,woodman's
dresses-most in warrior's mail-gteen archers leaped forth
with yew' bows . and quivers, ., and giants ' stalked, shaking
spears. The gray chronicler smiled,: and, . taking ,up · his
pen, wrote. in,lihes. of light the annals of the 'chivalrous and
heroic days of auld feudal Scotland. ·;., The nation. th~]i, for
the first time, knew the character C?f its ancesto.r s ; for those
· were not spectres:......'.not they,. indeed_:_nor phantoms o_f the
prain-"'.""but gaunt flesP, and blood, or glad and glorious; baseborn cottage:churls o( the olden time, because Scottish, became familiar to the loye of the nation's heart, and so to its
pride did the high-bo.i:il lineage of palace kings. 1 • His themes
. in prose or numerous verse . arl,'.l still !'knights, and lords,
and mighty earis." and their lady•loves-.'.chiefly Scohishof kings that fought for . fame or freedom-of fatal Flodden
. and bright Bannockburn-of the Deliv~rer. ;If that be not
national to the teeth,' Homer ,was no1cmian; ,Tyrtreus not
sprung from Sparta, and Christopher North a Cockney. 'Let
Abbotsford, then, be cognomened by those that choose it,
the Ariosto of the N orth-\ve shall continue to call him plain,
simple, immortal
Sir
Walter.
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There is a long catalogue of of.her poets; of more or less note,
for an account of whom we can, with great pleasure, only refer to
Chambers's" History of English Literature," from which we have ·
freely selected and copied, in making out these' sketches and selections. To the same work would we refer the student for a
satisfactory and able record of the Prose-writers of Great Britain,
tha.t have flourished since the beginning of English literature. : .
'·· .

· · :~.:~·,:~. ,.
· : .. ·~\
':· · : ,-:;-.
· •"'h;--:

·- · !

i:',
•.;.,

llltt

....
AME.ttlCAN·. 'tol:'is •.
Or ple~sed a nicet,~rt · d.fsplat ' 'i~(~j~ .J;':•r {· :f; ~· '" i i ",
To expound its doctrines llll a\itrat, .< f'"'' '· .\ · ' :~
Sttit it to modern taste!t and fashions11n .. .,. ·... ·.
, By various notes a~d 'eniettdations·,' ; /' 1~l"i 1 · " ~

PAll'r VII.

*

AMERICAN LITERATURE.

CHAPTER I.
A M E R i Cl AN

P 0 E 1' S.

.•,

SECTION I. '
POETS OF OUR REVOLUTIONARY rERIOD .

[It is !uggested to teachers, in the use of the Seventh as well a~ the ,
Sixth Part, to examine their pupils upon the characteristics of each author,
1md to require them to tend 1 before theit class, the specimens of each poet
with a vHnv to litera1y criticism.]

MR. GRISWOLD, in his Collection of American Poetry,
remarks that before the Revolution, before the time
when the spirit of freedom began to influence the na
tional character, very little verse worthy of preservation was produced in America, and that the POETRY oF
THE coLoNIEs was. without originality, energy, feeling,
or correctness of diction.
' (1.) Of the Revolutionary times PHILIP FrtENEAU was
the most distinguished poet-the room-mate, while in
Pi·inceton College, of James Madison .
(2.) JottN TRUMBULL, LL.D., born in Connecticut,
1750, died in 1831, having distinguished himself as the
author of Af'F'ingal, a burlesque poem, directed against
the enemies of American liberty. It is written in Hudibrastic strain, and is said to be the best imitation of
the great satire of'Butler· that was ever written. . He
was author of another poerri written in the same style,
. entitled the "Progress of Dullness," which was eagerly
read during the ·Revolution. 'From his description of
the fop of those days we extract the following lines :
4

"Then, lest religion he should need,
Of pious Hurrte he'll learn his creed;
By strongest demonstration shown,
Evince that nothing can be known;
Take argumenls convey'd by doubt,
On Voltaire's trust, or go without;
'Gainst Scripture rail in modern Jore,
As thousand fools have rail'd before;

.. *

. •· , ' ~ ; :·· ; it . •r ,r:o ..~.,~ 2:

J~·:

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;.

Calls piety the p~rsoti's tt:ide ~if<:''":: 'ft ~1 i<111·1J l.
.
Cries.out, 'tis shame{ past all 11.~ldjb$'1 · ,,' 1 f , ! ; ;- ,
· The world ,s hould s.t ll be so wiest; p?den ; " 1 ,:, '. ; ; , ,
Applauds free thought that ecorn~ C::Qii.lt ol, , . .. ~ , ,_·.
· 'And generous nobleness _bf ·soul( ', \ ·d , i _-" '': i ' "·." ?;
That acts its pleasure, gd"'d or evilj ~!f 111.J 1 ': ;, H ·'•:. 1·
. And fears nor ;Deity· ttor deyil>'~ ,;,..; ~·.!;.· .J·1 1, ,i, f 1· '

(3.) T1M0Tuv DwIGuT, ·LL.D.; DiD.',,borrt 1752; died
1817; has been pronounced the fathei«· ofrAmericary
poetry, of the higher. orde~; , though his i poeiry is' infe·
rior to the .· productions of: the' best ,English .writere,.
and also of the best ·American: poets that ·have · follow·ed him. The' ''Conguest · oCCanaan,i=r;ahd -" Greenfield Hil1," ~re his ' pl'incip'ar. pl'oductio1is4i .exhibiting .
splendor, gravity, and ai1 exu9erant fancy..- i '.' t; •·:·~,t. · 'i · ~t:· "
(4.) Dr. LElllUEL HoPKtNs,' Col(),n el HUMPHREY8, and /
.some · others, acqtiir'e d, c~lebi:ity · qy ' satirical1 pi_eces
composed during the '. war: ·' Jo.ii./ B~~tow~ 'also; is
known, but, rw~ very , tayqr~bly; 'af a~tpor 'o(; th~ ~: .¢f>·, ,
· Zumbiad." He was . tpol'~, h,app}.i,·Iji,;l~Js !)tl:lP,a.r~hon~qf '
the "Hasty Puddin_g,~' ;ind . ~ ~ome , 9th~r.. liumorp~s
pieces. It may gratify ~o~e . to, ~n.d~.r~t.~nq, t4e sm~1.n '
of the name·, · he thus gives it: ,. ,:·''~ ' . /'''\·~
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Thee the ,soft n.atioris iounc1 .t he Warm L~~.~t1L ; 1' r\,,
. Polah:ta call; t~e Fret!ch, of course, Fol~1t~~: 11 ; ' •• " , : ·:;',
E'eh m \thy native regions how I \:Hush ' · ._r.i. « ·: · I • • · 1
To hear the Pe'nnsylv!'tnians call ' thee Mwihl ·. ,. ... , ... ' "'T' ·
·. On Hu~spn's)anks, whil,e men of Belgic spav.r.11 . '.! ·, , : :
. Insult af!-d .e a\ ~hee. bythe , na!De • Suppa,~n~ : ~ ~ t - i :i .: , ' , 1 ./, ·
All spµnous appellat1ons'1 void oftrutli; ·. t. , ;- :, i ., ~~?· ·=
I've better kttowti thee from my _e atlie_st_youtnff : . •
Thy name .is' Hasty PUdding f .thus our1 !ilr~S '," ' 1 " ·, r ·l , ~ l~ '
. Were wont to greet thee fumittg from thetr!fires ; ·, 1 ·. '
And while they argue.d in th~ ji;ist defense )
' '.1 ;
!' •
With logic cle~~· they thus e~plain'~ the ~en~: ' I - :
"

1

1

>

Jn haste the bo1hng caldron, _o'er the blaze, .

•

:

I

·

,.,.

Receives and cooks the ready-powder'd maize \ 1 '. / i;i_J •
In haste 'tis served, and then, in equal haate, , '. 1. · ' .,,, , · rd;;;
With cooling milk we make the sweet repast • .,, . .,. ;:.1,, , ·
No carving to be done, no knife to grate
' . , .' •. ·; . ,
The tender enr and wound the etor,y plate ~ · · , , ., -~ .

.

A

A

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. .. , . :

.,

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'-,

1·

278

AMERICAN POETS.

,.-.. 2.79A: · '

[PART Vil• ·

I

- 1.,~'_ ;~ ··:~~ -~ ,_:

) ;._
.,... ...

I love to breathe where Gilead ~beds h:er ba~,; '. r. -' ,· · .. _"'. ··:.=..~ '
I love to walk on Jordan's bank' of palrn. ;-~J.,.1;i·A ,/1 t· ·,,- _...,- .~
I love to wet my foot in Hermon's
dews
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.
h/'.);2':.!.
1
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. h' s' tn use·
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_, I love the promptings of Isa1a
r •. ...,~·i:
..
,
,
,
,
.
,
.
.
.
In Carmel's holy gi:_ots I'll co.~rt r~po~e, ,· · 1 ' 1 *
· ,, ~ '•: ', :.-.:: _
: , And, de~_k ~! m~~s~ .c.ouc;h w. 1t~, ~h-~i:~~\~ ~~·~t_lt_\f.8:~{o~~~
~ _:.~
·::
1
·' ' ·
•' ·' NAPOL~ON AT:R:EST1 ~~1 : 1 ~ ·1 ::.1~·'<•:• "!."'.lf..' -•}
,-~-'""·
" ·
• •. -4 •
•• •• :cJ~1 in:• w o111j < >'• '{ \,rn..i i.J'
· ·' ""His falc,hion nash'd along the -~ile,
· · -_ ; .
, "·
-, ·,:,_
His hosts he led through Alpme snows;, ·,. .
" · ·
#
O'er M<;>scows tower's that blazed the wwe,
· ' . . . . · : ·: ~~
·. His eagle-flag unroll'd-.and froze !-X ,; i. <1~, 1)'>' ~l ,I . \ j . .
.- ' ~
:H:~re sleeps he now, alone! not one · : \"';o f''J;1 ~ -ri;~..l
~.
. Of all the ~ings whom cr?wns_he ~ave , "'. , '';'
.''~
Bends o'er his dust; nor wife nor. son .':, · ·'··'.. · " ·' V•l cj
.. ~
Has ever seen or.sought his grave.. _:
..' . , ·;·,. _1;,!,'.q
·. ~

But the smooth spoon just fitted to the hp,
And taught with art the yielding mass to dip,
By frequent journeys to the bowl well stored,
Performs the hasty honors of the board.
Such is thy name, significant and clear,
A name, a sound, to every Yankee dear."

!:, ;. :. : ·

(5 .) A few years later appeared WILLIAM Cr,1FFT0N,
of Pennsylvania;' RoBERT TREAT PAINE. of Massachusetts; and TuoMAS G. FESSENDEN, of New-Hampshire.
Their writings form what is called the transitive st.ate
of American poetry. Hitherto our poets had imitated too closely Dryden and Pope, but now began to
pursue a more original and independent course. Their
writings consist generally of short pieces, for the simple .reason that poetry was not their business, but their
recreation, their time being chiefly devoted to other
pursuits. The period is approaching, however, when
po~ms of a more elaborate and finished character may
be expected.
SECTION II.
(1.) JAMES K. PAULDING, better known as a novelist
than a poet, has, however, written some good pieces.
Among his prose works _the most popular have been
Salmagundi, which was .written by him in connection
with Washington Irving; John Bull and Brother Jonathan; The Dutchman's Fireside, and Westward Ho!
(2.) JoHN PIERPONT, of Boston, Massachusetts; a
charming writer. He has composed in almost every
metre, and many of his hymns, odes, and other brief
poems, are remarkable for melody and spirit. His earlier poems have generally been composed with more
care than the later. Many of them relate to moral
and 'religious enterprises of the present day, of which
he has shown himself a most eloquent and powerful
advocate. It would be gratifying to multiply extracts
from this generous poet; but we must restrict ourselves to a few. The first is from his" Airs of Palestine," the result of his observations while traveling
abroad in 1835·and 1836:

.ur·"' ·,-

':"'',;:-_·>, ,

*• ' * , ' *
*
1
. Alone he sleep~ j t,h e ·;noun~~hl cfou.dh'' ':b: '_,,: -~ ·h
: .1~ ::/;~')~;G\~;~

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Thatnighthangs _ rounClh~m;artd . t ~ . r~at 1 , , -, 1.. ,~ ·c- ·. . ·
. scatters, is
. th e .sh rou d ·:. ,., ·'·' , "•·,.1'. ·. ,,.· ;.1 · · '•' " .,,.. ~,·
Of mornmg

,

That wraps the conqueror's clay ' i~ deatli i;t"' i ' ~ ·' .:· 1f~~ ;,'i ' ]~i

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Pausehere! The _ far-offvvorldat . las~ ,- , . · . ' 't .! t /·\~: . , .- ~~
Breathes free i ' the ,h~nd that .sR-!JOk l.t.s t_h,r,tm~, 1, ,,. •• ~ i.. ,.~ ,
·. . .. •Iii
· r Andt o th e ·ear
.. th1"tsL , .•, .-.., •..t/~'ll'IJ.,,, ~ ...., .. ._.• ,"",,··'·· · ·
· --,=3
• ,_
.· , mitrescast
.
•'''''
! ··, ··. . .
-i .'i )1 ~ ·· ·; .t.k~:-~j'' , ~Lies powerless now beneath lhesti ,etones•.1. ~, ,,,1~ ~ . :··.~-,, ._.
. ._
~
..
Hark,! Co~~R tl~~re .fr·o~'li1i Py;afuicls. 1~~::.·;.):!,~ ,'.:;~~;;:;•~
,"' ~
. And from Siberia's was.t~s o~ sn?w:,- ~ . ': •: ~~:-~i/'. ::\, .~,··:~ . .. -~
' And Europe's hills •.a voice tha.t ~ids "~': ~t;.~ ;,.::',\ ,· ~: '-';~~'.:i.:~ · .-.. "~
. The world be awed to. mourn
him? :-' No 1. • '. : .·'.·. •· "'1\
i, - ;;,<"·'.
,
.~
,· , . ·"'y-! .. 1,. H 'fttf·
r1 ,r\1~.
The only, the p~rpet\lat dirge '_· : · '·! , ..:·. ,·. .·q ·
;;:::. \~·
1~
That's l1eard there, is the sea-bu~'s ,cry~:\' ; (·: ·,· · . ··~~~;:!:~ .. , J
' Themournfulmurmurofthesurge, 't"- ·tt .':, · ,' ,•: :, .. !!·o·
·- · - ~
Th~_rlou~·~ deer~?ice, the ,wintl) lo.w ~~~~"1 (_.;:'\~ ~ i\-~!~
"" ~1

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,

~. OBSEQUIES

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OF SPURZUEIM. , .,, • ·- . -.. \. '..~,,. .,,.,!·

~'.STRA~GER, there.. is bending ~;e~:th.~e,

'-'-1

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, . ~_: ~
·

, .: . .,. _'. ; ·.. :.:

Many an eye with sorrow wet I . • , I .
; ~i: ~- -· ..· c--~
_All our stricken hearts deplore th~e ~;-:.· :.: ,,;. . .;-T.tfr
.· }i:i
·Who that knew ,thee can forget· , , n i;, .1·. .,- ,, • ~:';
: -·~
Who forget that thou hast spoken 1. ,: .. " . .. _; .
·.?]
. Who, thine eye, th~~ noble fr~p,1~_?,::'r ;· ; . ~ ·, '..;
~.:.~
But that ,golden bowhs brok~n, : ', ";<~"; 1.' , ; ;.: ; · ( -- . . . i:11
) In the greatn~ss _of thy ·fame . . 1. :;,; •.l.i':• r·· ' ' •;1.-.• ,.,.'"'-''!. _..~. •:q
'
.
...,
. .
·,··· · -"~
~ Autumn's leav~s shall fall and wither.>i ·: ,
. 1 -,
.·
·"i
,
· :
On the spot where thou s~alt rest;, \:.. •
'Till in love we ?ear thee t~1ther,· · ·".!'1 ·. , ..
'· . ( ,"TT"
, To thy mounurtg mother~ _breast,, ·-··
. ·- .., ..~ -' ·-~- =_ /
.. -. · . .... ~

,
'.'

\.-.

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."4

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"Greece and her charms I foavc for Pal estine.
There purer streams through happier valleys flow,
And sweeter flowers on holier mountains blow.

' ·.·~
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,·

.

,

.

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280

AMERICAN POETS.

'

(PART VII, .

For the stores of science brought us,
For the charm thy goodness gave
To the lessons thou hast taught us,
Can we give thee but a grave ?"

*

*

*

*

The study of such an author by the young must
beget noble and virtuous sentiments, and tend to
purify the foun tains of American literature.
SECTION III.
(1.) R1cHARD H. DANA, of Massachusetts, has written poems that are justly pronounced to be characterized by high
religious purpose, simple sentiment, profound philosophy,
pure and vigorous diction. The Bucaneer is his principal
poem. The wretchedness. of a depraved heart, the growth
and operation of those harassing emotions which prey sometimes in the bosom of the,guilty, are portrayed in vivid colors
1
and with strong effect. The "Changes of Home" is of an
opposite character. It is a poem of great beauty. Says an
admirable critic, G . B. Cheever, "We are disposed to rank
Mr. Dana at the head of all the American poets, not excepting Bryant ; and we think this is the judgment which posterity will pass upon his writings. Not because he is superior to all others in the eloquence of his language, and in
the polishell beauty and finish of his compositions ; in these
respects, Bryant has, in this country, no equal; and Mr.
Dana is oflen careless in the dress of his thoughts. It will
be long ere any one breathes forth the soul of poetry in a
finer strain than that to the 'Evening Wind,' and Coleridge
himself could hardly have written a nobler 'Thanatopsis.'
But Mr. Dana has attempted and proved successful in a
higher and more difficult range of poetry. He exhibits
loftier po,vers, and his compositions agitate the soul with
a deeper emotion. His language, without being so beautiful and finished, is yet more vivid, concise, and alive, and
informed with meaning. His descriptions of natural objects
may not pass before the ' mind with such sweet harmony,
but they often present, in a single line, a whole picture before the imagination, with a vividness and power of compression which are astonishing. For instance :
' But ~hen the light winds lie at rest,
.And on the glassy, heaving sea
The black duck, viith her glossy breast,
Sits •winging silen!ly."

PAltT

vir.]

,, .. ,_ria,.

1AMERJCAN - ' PO~~s,

_,

~O..&_.

Ad ain·
· · ,- ·. · · ·• ·: .. .,,_,,,.;_,-,;;,,,,: :; .. J)~: i": -.: ·
n ag ; The ship,~orks .h ard;' th~ ·~;~;
~igh '. ' ; ;· ·
Theiri.v~ite topt1,fl<!-_11h!n!j ~~rcrilK\.~~~ ~igh~ ~-i i• i•: l

rhp

,: Give
~Y~A ,-f..-,
r. ::,11
·.lf.s
·.:~·r1'' 11;:··..:0 '"'~..·'' ·•·/
• til the eager,
ifi straminE
l' h ;.•.. ,.~,
' A wild -and·11hi tang 1g 1.. .,;· -L."' .;. "'r'--l.'i i .-,..-, ,; · •
0

·
Again, · as a more ge~eiai -:.ins.tari~e: ' ~nd ; a ·::inoi:e"., ~~blirrie
(me. ;peaking of the prdspect,.o( iinniortaJ,ity:::.J n . ; .. ,1.r
1
'
(../ I 'Tis in the gentle nfo~hlight :';,l~~· ""::!ii;~
1
'Tis floating mid day's setting' tories
l, ~ight1.''
: ' ,..1' 1
1
tA
il
Wrapp'd in her sablr rob e, wit .s _ent s "Pr., •r; · ; 1,, 1·.: 1.~ Comes to onr be1, and b!eathes it m our, ears , _. ~- ."'·: / · ·
Nig~t,, ahd the dawn, bri~ht.day and thougN£~~.:~~~~ ~ .,/
All time, all bounds. the Jim1tless expanse, ,: "" 1;, ·.(•·-:
As one vast mystic instrument._ .are t~uc~'d :·· ~ t::trf'
By .an un~ee~ liv.ing l~ahd, an~ c?nsc 10us_~hor~s : .. ; 11'>, '
·
Quiver with JOY m this great JUpilee.1· :·, ., . . . r, ·,.q ,
In these respects~ in the, po~e( t>{ giv~ng in, o~e I ;Word,
as it were, a whole . picture i H} . hi~ adml~~ble . skt1J ),0 the
perspective, arid -iri"' the /~cq}ty .of_':~ ~aih!n1,t_down t~~ vast
and the infinite to the mmd'i;1;.obser,v,at1on; , he . ~em~~d~ .us
both of Collins and of Milton.: :.,But, above ,llll, .:W~ ·:.admire
Mr: Dana; filOre tha~ ·a~y other ·.Arneri~~n "v,~et,_ ~ec_a:use ~e .
has aimed not ) nerely _t!_) please ' th~ __1m~g1_n~tlo~ <but to .
rouse up th.e ·soul. to. a solelilrl. coh.s1d_erl!;t!o..n. o( 1~~ · f~tu~~
1
~ destin1es." ,'." .. ·
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1841. His , best poem is "Hadad,"_., a . s,acr~d .:drama,
breathing the lofty thoughts and the majestic style. of
the ancient H eb1;ew prophets, to: the study of wh1~h
·he ·was ar~ently _devoted. ; ." :A.s _.a po~t,",. saya ' .~ns: _
w old, "he possessed._ quaht1~s seldom/ oUn_d un~te4 ..
a masculine strength of nund .a11d a most deh~.a~e
perceptio!l. of t~e bea.ut.i(uL' .'fhe grand :cparactenstic ·
of his wn tmgs is · their· c::lasswal beauty. E_very p~s­
sage is polished t9 th~ utmost j yet . thei:e '.lS llO ElXUberance, no sa~rifi c e to false taste.'~ .-,,i \ ~·, · : 1 · . :
Hi.s style · may be ·se~il in tg~fo.llo"'..m~. ~~~~~c~ fron.,i
Judgment:" - ~'·"'·,•.!!~ .. .,.', :.··.:\· _;· .1. ·
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'Nearer the mount stood MosES; ·in his hand ' . ; ' .
The rod ·which blasted with striinge plagues t~e realm ·
Of Misralm and from its time-worn channels ; · · ; " ~
,;
U'{>turn'd the Arabian sea: .Fair was his broad(' ·'\"; •. ·
High front; and forthfrom,his .soul-piercing ~ye : . , , , /
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282

AMEitICAN POETS.

[r ,\RT VU,

Did legislation look; which full he fix'd
Upon the blazing panoply, undazzled.
No terrors had the scene for him, who oft,
Upon the thunder-shaken hill-top, veil'd
With smoke and lightnings, with Jehovah talk'd,
And from his fiery hand received the law.
Beyond the Jewish ruler, banded close, I saw
The twelve apostles stand. 0, with what looks
Of ravishment and joy, what rapturous tears,
What hearts of ecstasy, they gazed again
f
On their beloved Master! What a tide
·
Of overwhelming thoughts press'd to their souls,
When now, as He so frequent promised, throned,
And circled by the hosts of heaven, they traced
The well-known lineaments of Him who shared
Their wants and sufferings here! Full many a day
Of fasting spent with Him, and night of prayer, ·
Rush'd on their swelling hearts.
·
Turn now, where stood the spotless Virgin: sweet
Her azure eye, and fair her golden ringlets ;
But chahgeful as the hues of infancy
Her face. As on her son, her Gon, she gazed,
Fix'd was her look-earnest and breathless ; now
Suffused her glowing cheek; now, changed to pale;
First, round her lip a smile celestial play'd,
Then, fast. fast ram'd the tears. Who can interpret?
Perhaps some thought maternal cross'cl her heart,
That mused on days long past, when on her breast
He helpless lay, and of His infant smile;
Or on those nights of terror. when, from worse
Than wolves, she hasted with her babe to Egypt."

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SECTION IV.

(I.) CHARLES SPRAGUE, of Boston, has displayed exquisite taste in some of his poems. Read the following account of a death and burial at sea.
·

"Return ! alas ! he shall return no more,
. ·To bless his own sweet home, his own proud shore.
• Look once again..,.:_cold in his cabin now,
Death's finger-mark is on his pallid brow ;
No wife stood by, her patient watch to keep,
To smile on him, then turn away to weep;
Kind woman's place rough mariners supplied,
And shared the wanderer's blessing when he died.
Wmpp'rl in the raiment that it long must wear,
His body to the deck they slowly bear;
Even there the spirit that I sing is true;
The crew look on with sad, hut curious viow;

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T~e set~ing sun

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fiings 'ro9n~ hi(~iirewe~.1-;&f.8.} lti ~j (: l' P.

per the. broad ocean. not .a .r~~pl_e ,pl~~s· wl'iu li~ .. ,f.r t 11. . ·:·~
How i:lo9uent, how awful m *~· p~w.~f..
·, ( .._ •
The silent lecture of deatli'!l 1sabbath·hout<P J. • ·" 1; I • } ' 1'
., On1i"~oi.ce that silence break~.!.Lthe prayer .is·said;!1; ~ ' ,, ·' ' r
'. And the last rite mah pays ;t(> man js paid!; (rrii:. ·t:li ~ 1 111.: t·;,
The. plashi!1g ~aiers, mark his. i:~~~ing;pJace,.1-; , ,; 1, . 11 .1 .,i.:d
And fold lum round m one long, cold embrace· · ,,
•.. ·
Bright bubbles for a moment .sparkle o'er,U. 11· I ·f:t::
,I i ".'
Then break; to be; like him, beheld·tio' ~nor6; "...· ··~ ' '' ·
Down, countless fathoms down, he sinks to sleep( ': ·; J · rj
.
With all th~ n,a meless shapes that ,hapn~. th~ di:~P:!'1 1 · ~ r11.

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· None but a tna!i of strong donte.sUc ·and 1 's ocial ·nf.
fections could hirve written thus: ··ofthese ·RffectioM
there may be seen clelightful evidence iii:'' The Broth- ·
ers," .and the'.' Fainilj/'Metiitig 1~ 1. also in 'his .~·· Cenie11.i - ·
n~l Ode~" and '''. Lines t<J 'ii ' J(ounlf:'Mother. ~~ :) 1; .. -, '• ,1.. it l{~
. (2.) C411i.os '':Y.~ii~.o~\i '<)C~ew/~I.1rit1pshii:'e;'_' dese~es
honorable · h1etihtmi '; 1 ' G !1 B P CheeverH>n~f .of : the · bMt' · ' ·
prose writers i. i1i ' this ' ~b'tintry ,~terttark~~,\hat!.11 ·.:w11eoX.. . .-- ~r
resemble~ Cowp~t' in . ~~~y ,f.e.s~~c.f,~,;
the -gentle- • _ . - 3~.
ness and tenderness o(ths sens16tlthes--m .the modest -.·
;:;"'1';
and retiring disposition of his lllitid..:..,in ~its flrte cult~re
· · .'
an<l its original· poetic~.~; c3:st, 3::n~ ~ n~t 1 ~· 1;h!e ~ ip'.' the
· :)~
character of his ppep·y . . 1t bas been s:ud with ttuth,
- ~'}
that if he had g~ve1i, himself tp•poetry a~ . h.is ,c,h ie(occupatiori, he pught .have .been the.·Cowper. .of New... ..i
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(1.) W1LLur.f ;CULLEN BRYANT, of Massachusetts, ·
bon! in 1794. ) -At tett years · of age lie began to write ·
poetry . for the pre_~s; , When . fourtee~1 yea~s old he
published a volume of poems, .w hich ·was ~o well 1,"e•
ceived as · to . attaitta second . edition in ·the .followfog
year. The North A meric.a n Review ,furnishes what
seems to be a .just criticism 'upotj. Bryant as a po<ft, a
part . of whi<,:h is her~ .subjoit1ed.-·.}.i '', .~is :poetry has
truth, delicacy,•an~ , correctness;' as ~~U ?-s uncomm«;>~
vigor and ·richness; he is a,l ways faithfu~ to ~a.t~.r¢ , ~, he
selects his groups ·and images with judgnieht.,;·,NOf.Ii....
ing is borrowed~ i1othing artiliciah hi,s . · picture& . bav~ :
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-AMERICAN P'OE'fS

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an air of freshness and originality wl11ch could come
from the student of nature alone. He is less the poet
?f artificia~ life than of nature and the feelings. 'J'lie're
1s som13thmg for the heart as well as for the understanding and fancy, i>n aH he writes; something which
touches our sensibility, and awakens deep-toned, sacred reflections."
"Again, he charms us by his simplicity. Hts pictures are never overcharged_ His strains, moreover,
are exquisitely finished. Besides, no sentiment or
expression ever drops from him which the most rigid
moralist would wish to blot."
. "Thanatopsis" bas be.en already referred to_ We
forbear to. quote . it, merely because it has been so
often copied, and may, perhaps, be familiar. Ilut we
hesitate n_ot to say that the language of poetry prese.nts not a sweeter page than that which is occupied
with Mr. Bryant's address to the "Evening Wind."
TO THE EVENING WIND.

that breathest through my lattice, thou
That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day,
Gratefully flows th.y freshness round my brow;
Thou hast been out upon the deep _at play,
Riding all day the wild bluevvaves till now,
Roughening their crests, and scattering high tiwir. spra:y:,
And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
. ·
To the scorch'd land, thou wanderer of the sea!" ·

"SPIRIT

"Nor I alone: a thousand bosoms round
Inhale thee in the fullness of delight ;
And languid forms 1ise.up. and pulses bound
Livelier, at coming of thP- wind of ni ght~
And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound, 1 ·.
Lies the vast inland stretch'd beyond the si ght.
Go" forth into the gathering shade ; go fortI1;
God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth."' .
Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,
· Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rou'se1The wide old wood from his majestic rest,
Summoning from the innumerable boughs .
The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast;
Pleasant shall be thy' way where meekly bows
The shntting flower, and darkling waters pass,
And 'twiitt the o'ersha<lowing branches und tlva gress..,.

~ART.::vn~]

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~, POETS.
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, .~', The faint old mari shall lean his silver head ·I,,'· i~._1 ;. );:T
· To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child.asleep, , ., 1'.c-' r111 ·r'(
And 'dry the tnoisten'd cuds 't hat oversptead ' " I ·. ·: .;,•
. .
His temples, while his breathing 'growe mon\·deep; ·1 ,' ,,- , .)
And the~ wl;io s_tand about t~e . sick man•s ·,~ed, \l 'r;r-,-J. ·;:'
r
Sh.all JOY to hs~en to t~y distant sw~eep, 1!:;; ·:,..~{·"c·\.l . _, , . ,
And soft_lJ: pa~t his curta1~s to a~low . ·".ui: ;,_ 11,.~1 lrl.r• t. · ·
Thy v1s1t, grateful to hLS bummg .bro\V~ .·:·)r:• if''> 1-"; ·? :-.:_ · '
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•• Go--bu~ the circle of eternal change, " ' ··1., i "·.»r:1 -_~ir. 1 t,'<-' :.<_ ,, ·
That is the life of Nature, shall restor~. ·1:; "'"'.!.' ",. · o " '11
;.
With sou_n ds an~ scents from all thy migttty ·range;! ; ·11. ! 11 1
Thee to th~ birthplace of the deep once more;· i " ·r<i: ~'. · '. 1
Sweet odors m the sea air, sweet and strange, • .'l. ' ·· ·r' "
Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore .:,_,. :1·': ''. 12:; "
And, listening to thy' murmur,' lie shall'deenl. .J ·· ·" ~,, 't. ...,. :
He hears ~he rusUing _leaf and running stream.~' 1 :\ ' :"'hi1f,

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We would be .glad _to quote Bry.antls pieces on '.t he
"Death of the Flowers't and ·'·' iAutiunn· Woods" but 6ur
pre$cribed lim~ts ~or~id.-_~ .w~ s~'alf be'_ <;>bli~ed, ·,also,
to be ~ore brief ~n ·.~h~ _notJCEl$ and : quo~at1on$ tltat
follow, rn. r~spec.t t() :.other ' ~utpors; :inly ~ adding' lhe _
·fine description given _o t Bryant.; 1hat' '~. he is lhe:translator of the silent langtiage1of.'Natu'r e to 't he . :world ''
and the remark th'at his ·poems lire· \ralu!ibiei' not"ciri(y ·
for their intrinsic· excellenc'e'; bti.tthe ptirifyiHgiin:..,
tltience their wide circulation .is calculated to exer-, · ~
cise on national feelings' and' manners.'
· , . · -, '
(2_.) F1Tz-GREENlii I-IAttEcR:; Cbnn:ectit ut,' bofn11~95. ·
H~ is author o( the beautiful l_in~~ : In ~e'm_o'ry o~ 1 lijfl '
friend. Dr. Dr~ke, the poet; begmnmg. \f.1th • .:.. .: '',.i " :

for'

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'· 1 ''Green1)~ the tJrfaho've' ih~~ ·~ 1 ; " '·· ~ ;,H l :·:~ ·~r'''.h> ti'~
" .. · ''· · Friendof riJy, be tier days/.:' 1fl~ 1 ''. w._' l r ~H : ~ ;· m;;
: None knew thee but to love thee, · · , : 1, ~:' -: 1•, ir,
. · None .(Jall}ec;i .thee but. to praise." .' '1 ", ., ft J., "1 "Fanny,~' ".:Alnwick· Oastle," " Marco ·Bozzaris '' aM

}

.:

the best known of:h[~ producti~ns><He 1 is dis~in·gulsh!i
~d ,by ~ talent tor satire 7 · {Says ·Bryant, '' He delights·

m ludicrous · contrasts. ,. H~ : venerates , the ~ past ' and
laughs at the present. l,'His poetty, :whether seriotis: . ,
or 8prightly; is,_ remarkable-for the ·melody' of the"nurn.:.i. ·· ·:.: . .'
bers; it.is llOt the melody of moriotonous' Rf.ld sttictl}'z , ":::'
regular measurement. . He understands that the :.rivuv · -'.'. '
let is.made musical -by obsttuctions ·in its chanhel.~*,l"1 ~ ~ '. <~
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. AMERICAN POETS.

The following sketch of the c; Yankees" is taken
from . an uupul>lished poem, entitled Connecticut:
"They love their land because ·it is their own,
And scorn to give.aught ot.her .reason why;
·r
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne
And think it ki11dness to his majesty:
'
A stubborn race, fearing ancl flattering none.
Such are th ey nurtured, such they live arnl die
All-but a few apostates, who are meddling
•
·
. With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, ;md peddling,
Or wandering through southern countries, teaching
The A Il U from Wehster's Spelling-book :
· Gallant and godly, making love and preaching,
And gaining, by what they call 'hook and crook,'
And what moralists call overreaching,
A decent living. The Virginians look
Upon them with as favorable eyes
, As Gabriel on the devil in Paradise.
But these are but their outcasts. View them hear
. At. home, where all their worth and !Hide are placed:
And there their hospitable fires hum c car,
And there the lowliest farm -house hearth is graced
·With manly hearts, in piety sincere,
Faithful m love, in honor stern and chaste1
In friendship warm and true, in danger brave,
Beloved in life, and sa~uted in the grave.''

SECTION V

(L) N. P. Wu,Lis, Maine, born 1807. In the opin?f Mr. G_risw?ld.' " t.he prose and .-poetry of Mr~
'W 1lhs are ahke d1st111gmshed for exquisite finish .and
melody. His language is pure, varied, and rich; his
imaginatio.n brillia.nt._ and his wit of the finest quality.
Many. of his descnpt10ns of natural scenery are written p1c~ure.s : and no olher author has represented with
equal v!uacity and truth the . manners o.f the aoe~ His
dramatic poems have been the most successh1l works
Qf their kind produced in America. They exnibit a
deep_ acquaintance with the common sympathies and
pass10ns; and are as remarkable as his other w1ritings
for affiuenc~ ?f l~nguage and imagery, and descriptive
po~ver.
W1lhs is more than any other of our . best
writers the poet oft.he world, familiar with the secret
springs of a.c tion in social life, and moved hi.ins.elf by
io~~

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the same it1fluenc.e s ·which· 'guide · his.. feH~w!i : His
pieces are .yari9us, ·presefitiri_g '.~tr,9:tig } optr.~sts, and
they are ahk¢ e*cellep~ ;'-'. .hut he.-r lps:·.,to.~: g:enerall.Y
employed his pen µpon light.and frlv_olqµs topics. His
" Scripture' Sketches" ..a'nd &I. U.l;i\\ifit~en :: Philo,~ophy'·
prove him capable of the loftiest .arid · stronge.s~ ef(orts
of gen~~s. Th!'l. fol~o~ing . is.-~ll}~~~~i~~~l~~'~.' ~~i~ . ":Air
salom.
.. .
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' Pi t•'t-;-,·J1 rtr:1 :~ 1. bf;·t\ . "
King tiavid•s l~mbs were ·wearr. " ' He'had fi~d i'.d '. \. ·_
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From far Jerusalem, and now he stood i·;: \11 .•,l·i d ~'
With his faint people for' a little r~st '" ·"'. · ·' ..!~)~· '.!' f.' -,_.:,
Upon the shore. o~ Jordan. · The hgh~ wmci , ,,~ ) \ \ ., · · ·
Of morn Was i;tirrm~, and he bared his brow -r.~ 1: · f
To its refreshing breath; for he had worn ~· ' '' '· ·: .
' The.mourner's co?er~ng, ~'!14 . he ~a.d. not f~.lt ..:, ; ;.- .. r\'
That he could see hts ~eopie \mhl now. ·· · ·' · i : \-, J
' 'l'hey gather'd ,fou!J.d htirl ·?h 'tj:J.e (resh 'gre~n bank.. • '": '. . ,
. And spoke their kip.dly words; : and a!l.the slm;·, {9 ·: ! . \
Rose up in heayen, h,e knel~ _among ·thetllt!J.~~~1;1;, t 1, •\l '·'
And bow'd his heaq µpqn his hands4tq ,prayi;.t / ;. , ·tt ·: .,
, Oh! when t~e hea!t is.fµll, w!1~n .b1tterth?~u.gJ;it~ " ·• • ,'.; .
Qome crowdmg thickly up for· µtter~nce; •.. ·":-••J'l.I' :! !;\ . ~ ... '
And the poor common words ;ofcourt~syr':::,j;'ff.:t tll, . d1c:~~ ·
· Are such ,a very mpckery; ho~ mu~~: :··~ , ):j, !·;,~ [< i i-l~·i~ .
Tht? bursting.he'.lrt m11;y; po~r 1ts~lLm P!~ye~ r·-i· ~;,,id •if- ·
.. He pray'd for Isra~l; ,a~d his, voice ~,ent , up,. . .; \ .. · ~ ~ .,v,
Strongly and fervenOy ;;_ he'J?ray'?/or t~~.se .,;,-: • · .J t. ~·· ·;
Whose love had been his shield l and hts deep .tone ·' ,f 1 i·1 .
Grew tremulous; but 1oh ! for A.bsalom ! :;<. '1•.:.Ti' ·! ,. ,,fi ·!1
For his estran.ged, m_isgilided Absalo~7-~ ,. :. :1'ti\ ; ,;: . : ;,1;1"!
. The proud, bright bemg who had burst away, · ·'. . ·
In all his princely beauty; to defy · '.. • '.'. ·>i ',:\:, . .{:· l, ,'
The bed.rt thl}t therish'd him-for him·he pour:d, ·
In agony that ~ould not be. ~ontron·~~ ·· ·1 . . ' ·: ~\i" , :,
Strong supglication, and forgave him there ..' ': 1"
Before his _Go4, for his deep sjnfµlness'." ~ ' ,~, r ' I : •
._
oN 'nli{i:>EATH. oF A YOUNG . GIR~1 i .:
diffic~lt' to feel that she is dead. ... ;;.-: ,1:· ,:<
Her presence, like the shadow of a wing ' 1; ; rl-~. i!
. That is just lessening in .the upper sky! . . ·. t 'ff·'. :,.:.~
Lingers upon us. W ~ can ,h,e ar her v01ce, .1 ·; ,,., :
And for her step we listen; and the eye
. · ,. ~., ,
Looks f6r her ·wonted coming with a strangei . · \~'
· Forgetful earnestness. :. We can not _feel · ' -:· ." . 1
That'she will no more corhe-.that from her cheek·
The..delic.a te 11ush .h,as . (ade~ 1
* · · ~ : · -~':'.'. ~ ~; . . .,
· • " n " ·'·*'' ·.: ··~- * · a~don_ her· lip, : ;; "-r'.0: .•( ;

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AMERICAN POETS.

(PART Vl..

That was so exquisitely pure, the dew
Of the damp grave has fallen! Who, so love
Is left among the living? Who hath walk'd
'the world with such a ,winning loveliness,
And on its bright hr_iP.f journey, gather'd up
Such treasures of affection? She was loved
Only as idols are. She was the pride '
Of her familiar sphere-the daily joy
Of all who on her gracefulness might gaze,
And in the light and music of her way,
Have a companion's portion. Who could feel,
While looking upon beauty such as hers,
That it would ever perish! It is like ·
The melting <?fa star into the sky
While you are gazing on it, or a dream

In its most ravishing sweetness rudely broken."

(2.) . Mas. L. H. S1GoURNEY, of Connecticut: born in
1797. Her, poetical productions am very numerous.
Her eontributions to periodical works are 1·ery frequent, and, in general, excellent; always so in respect
to their religious spirit and tendency. She deserves
the gratitude of her age for her numerous writings,
both in prose and poetry. Among the former stand
high in public favor her "Letters to Young Ladies."
In her elegant work, " Pleasant Memoirs of Pleasant Lands," published since her recent visit to England, we find th~ follow~ng notice of the poet Sout.liey,
whom she declmed gomg to see on account of his
mental derangement :

P~RT .V~!~~ i

A;~ERJ~A?f 7-P:tj·~!Jl:."

,~9~·

1835, bears t!ie f<;>Ho'ring, J~s,t., trt~~,~e ..to.}~~rs_.,, ~igou~~ ·
0
"

l ~he ex~ell~n6~' ~f ~~i ~h~~: : ·~;;~~~-i~ q~i~'t' ~ti'ci up- ;
1

assuming. , They a.r~ fulFof·the·tsW.eet· irriages and
bright associations of. domesiic ' iife·~ n ts !·unobtrusive
happiness, it.s trnchariging a.ff~cdonis, . and 'its cares ·and
sorrows ; of the feelings 'naturally inspited l>y life's . ·
vicissitudes 1 from the cradle to . th~ deat4b~d i; o,f t~e _
hopes that ,burn, like : the uriquencped a.ltar~fire, in. that .
chosen dwelling-place of virtue . arid ~reJigio~. ,.: The 1
light of a pure a1~d linostentatious faitq . ~~iri~s .a round
them, blending with her thoughts; and,g1vmg. a tender_,
coloring to h,e r· contemplations 1• like .t!le; .in,~lan?holy
beauty of our o~h autt.im~al scene~yi " : ·_. :i _\r' ·;:·,·'. t : \
We only ad.SI the.f ollo ~1i:ig):>~,au~1ful hn~s ..on .tl.i~ ". f .. :
1
i RRiAGE i i:nf TiIFFDEAF ''.A:N'i> DUMB..-.;1 :.: • ~: ', ;; ;, ; •
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No worcf! no s.o ~nd r ~· Buf yet ~ solemri rit~ f!)-'; .: '" ;<; ;::

Proceedeth. tbtough tlie festive \ lighted hall. 1;~~ . .~ ;. ~ ·: ·. 1r:- .....·..,: :
H earts are in t!eaty; 'and the soul;d.oth tak~ '. " 1 '. ~ · · ;':' ; , .'
.. T~at ?ath, 1Vh1ch, ,unabsolved,j ,m ust /lta!1d. ~~?~~th, .';;-!:'\ ·.
. With icy seal, doth .st11mp ~h~ scr.oll o(hfe'. : fr.,' , v.•, .:I ; .·
No word! no sdund !' But still yon holy man, IL .', .• 1- , • 'J."'
With strong ·and grace.fti1 gesture, dotJl impoSe"':''l'.:· · +•rl:f ~·T~ ·
· The irreyocable vov:, and :vith meek :p:ayer,.!.'- ;._· ·" ' .\ Fr:f/1 J
Present. it to b~ r~gister'd .n,1 _Heaven ... ,,.., ' f J: t{l _; ;_. «i<,;.;::_-,
Methmks .tt:Us s1lenc;e heavily doq1 ~~ood, , i 1 . , c , .-, : · r..: ··.1l ,; .
t,Jpon the spmt . . Say, thou flow1:<r~crown'd .b nd¢, · .':· _! ·.' /.'>~·I. .
What rhean!dhe sigh which froin thaf ruby lipi ,~,i~ 1!p11:0h ·
Doth' •scape, as if to seek spnie elerP.en.t ·~· ~·~: .. > ·.. · ·:r ·.;-= _· . ·
. h
l b th ?
..
... . , . . ' ' .. . ( " . ..
Wh ic
ange s.. rea e · .r ·. " •;J '!.!t;'. ~.i .:~;i' ../:·•: · "+, •. . · .- . · J •• ~ • •
.
.
. . · Muter! niute' !. !Us pa~smg str11nge ' · '· :· · :.-! .~:.
Like necroma11cy all. And yet, 'hs well; · . ' · ·.· ··.· ~.,. ' ::".,: ':.:!I.
· For the deep trust with.:which a m!).iden cast , •;:. :.· . .: · :t ! ' .
· •.:~ ·
Her all of eartn 1perchance her all of.heaven, . '. 1 , : . - ...·: ,, t··
· • ·' •
Into a mortal's hand,· the confidence · '
' , ·. . . · -. '. »·
With. which she turns in every thought' to him", ·:,..,". '. ' ;.· ~~ ·· ·
Her more thari brother, and her next to God, ;}:;
:\ ·;'',,: ·:.! ··;, .
Hath never yet been shadow'd out in word, . ". ·1: · ' ' ,. - .~ ·) . .
Or told in language .. ' · . : ~ .· : :.\.<.,:,:: , ;: ' ,1'
• ' · .
· '
,
· - So, ye voic.e iess ·pair,
Pass on in hope. For ye may build as firm > . l :
/ '~ · ,
Your silent altar in ~acti others', hearts, ·· ~ ,· 1 • · .· :·.': . · ·, '. ' '
And catch the ·sunshme through the clouds of tune . · ' > ':
As cheerily, as .t hough the pbmp of speeqh · :·- ~]\ · r .. ~ ; S
.. ·
Did .herald forth the deep. And when ye dw;ell K ' , -. ·' I Y, .. , : :-::r .
,l

I thought to see thee in thy lake-girt home,
Thou of creative soul! I thou ght with thee
Amid thy mountain solitudes to roam,
And bear the voice whose echoes, wild and free,
Had strangely thrill'd me, when my lire was new,
With old romantic tales of wondrous lore ;
But ah ! they told me that thy mind withdrew
Into thy mystic cell-nor evermore
Sat on the lip, in fond, familiar word,
Nor through the speaking eye her love repaid,
Whose heart for thee with ceaseless care is stirr'd;
Both night and day ; upon her willow shade
Her sweet harp hung. They told me, and I wept,
As on my pilgrim way o'er Euglaml'11 vales I kopt."

A fine critic in the "North American Ueview"

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AMERICAN POETS.

[PART 'VII."

PART

SECTION VII.
(1.) HANNAH F. GouLn, of Vermont, has acquired
considerable reputatiori by her numerous contributions to newspapers of the day.
The critic last quoted speaks of Miss Gould, as a
writer of poetry, in the following beautiful terms :
" One of the principal attractions of her writings
is their perfect freedom from pretension ; she com ...
poses without the slightest effort to do more than to
express her own thoughts in the most unaffected language ; in this way, however, she produces more effect than she could do by laborious effort.
"Miss Gould is uniformly faithful to nature. Like
Mrs. Sigourney, she gathers the wild flow ers of the
rock and dell ; and she does more ; she collects those
which many pass by unnoticed, as too common and
familiar to be entitled to a place in an ornamental
garland; but she looks upon them as the works of
God, and fitted to convey a striking moral. This,
doubtless, is the secret of her popularity."
THE SILVER-BIRD'S NEST.
BY MISS H . F· GOULD .

We were shown a beautiful specim en of the ingenuity of birds, a few
days since, by Dr. Cook of this borough. I t was a bird's nest made entirely
of silver wires , beautifully woven together. Th e nest was fou nd on a
sycamore-tree, by Dr. Francis ~eard , of Y ork Count)'· It wa~ th e n e~t of
a hanging-bird, a nd the maten al w as probably obtamed fr om a soldier's
epaulet which it h ad found.- Westchester Village R ecord, 1838.

A stranded soldier's epaulet,
The wa.t ers cast ashore,
A little winged rover met,
And eyed-it o'er and o'er.
The silver bright so pleased her sight,
On that lone, idle vest,
She knew not wh y she should deny
lforsr-M a silver 11P.st

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·Where flower fades not, and death no treasured link
Hath power to sever more, ye need not mourn
The ear sequestrate, and the tuneless tongue,
For there the eternal dialect of love
Is the free breath of every happy soul.

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· .The shining ~iri;i, she ·peck'Q.,and ~wirl'.d; . ... \ :: ..,'.::< '
1
Then bore it to her boturh; ·' ~ / · '."~ '' · .'· · '. "' ·.! ':· i
' Wh ere Ori ,a fl OV{ery
, ' twlg
. . , ·r,
.!
l
l'd ' ·
\I .
; tW11~
CU!" ; -;·-r ' .:·.> ·:'~.J
. The bird can. show :you· h<;>W l ti!: '-r1i \":5I.!' ._,.; ~,:.~:~ :
.But when e~ough of that _lmg~t. ~tuffs~~ '!i 'r; i.:•; { ·
. · The cunmng builder .bore,· .: ' '·. " ·· .e .. ·.
Her house to make, she would~ hot take; '
.
Nor did she' covet, xnor'e . . ·· . \. ·r. ._·. ~ ·
,A nd when ·the. little· artisan; ~ ';,~-;~ /,', f, ·~ p.. ,': ( ·
While neither pride nor guilt ;:.:,.·;~; 1>.-:':;. t ..
Had enter'd in her pretty plan; ::S'. ",.;'.,:.~}::i'i
H er resting-place had built; . ,..,.-. ' · :~· 1 r,: ; ~:: ,
With here and there a plume to spare ;..,:<";!
About her own light form, ·' · ' 1: 1 : .':.·, '. f 'i :
Of tlrnse, inlaid with skill, she made 1'0 .;~ 1l, .. . ,.
A lihing soft ahd warm. r · / · · r, : · •. · '
· But, do you think' the tender br~dd : . · ·; ·: : :,
$he fondled there, and fed, · ' ·. ' 1' ' · ~:
Were prouder ~hen they" understood t• ::-;•: '
The sheen about 'their bed? •.:: '.· .. '~~:1..; '': '.
· Do you suppose that ever rose, c:) _i.-.,, : ' · ..
,
Of higher powers p6ssess'dl ,, "-'.,_; r"; >f. ' •. ,; '
/- ' .
. Because they knew .they peep'd and grew ',
· · Within ·a silver
nest? · " -:.-.: ,:: ·: ·,.,,.,. . :· '.' ~'.'
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(2.) LucRETll

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'~nd MARGAR~T :Di~~ri~oi:t'/N:~,~~York,

are ~emarkabie J oi' the - e<irly .· d~,v el9pfij e ht 9f ~their
poetic capacities. ·Both qied l,iefore they had reached
seventeen y ears of age. ·· . The.i~,"'. :writings have been
-?ollecte_d by Was~ingto~ Ir_vh~g, ;~~~p~.g~~~~e~.w}tf~ ~n
,mtere~tmg memoir. .
, . . , -1/ >·/"; .... ,~- ~,., !
. (3.) J~ME.s G. PERCIVAL, of Coqn~ct1cuf; ,born - 179S. ,
'His first pJ.Iblished-volume c1;mtains 1nany,poem$ writ~
ten in hi~ ,sevent<;!,eilth ye~r. . His eafly 'publications
gave jti~t offehce , bY, ,t heir s,ceptiCal :sentiments, · but
~his ~ater writings are · said. to be.free 'frpm these. " It
,i s stated ;th~t none. 'of. .our poets surpass ,Dt. Perciv:al
in learning, scholar~hip, oi· universality .'of informa-.
tio1i. . According tO Mr. KeUell, h his poetry is more
imaginative than sentim ental; rather difftise 1' and often
negligent. But his languageis well s elected and picturesque, bold and idiomatjc ; his' verse is harmonious,
and contains many of those sweet and hallowed forms
of expression which tender poetry the repository of
the most ' striking truths, as well as the ve hicle of the
L

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AMERICAN POETS.

[rART VII.

finest emotions. His delineations of human feeling
and conduct are sometimes beyond life aud nature,
and bordering on the extravagant."
You are now presented with his affecting picture of
THE DESERTED WIFE .

*
*
*
*
*
" I had a husband once, who loved me: now

He ever wears a frown upon his brow,
And feeds his passion on a wanton's lip,
As bees, from laurel flowers, a poison sip;
nut yet I can not hate. Oh! there were hours
When I could hang forever on his eye, ·
And Time, who stole with swiftness by,
Strew'tl, as he hurried on, his path with flowers.
I loved him then-he loved me too. My heart
Still finds its fondness kindle, if he smile;
·The memory of our loves will ne'er depart;
And though he often sting me with a dart,
Venom'tl and barb'd, and wa~tP. upon the vile
Caresses whid1 his babe and mine should share ;
Though he should spurn me, T will calmly bear
His madness ; and should sickness come, ·and lay
Its paralyzing hand upon him, then
I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay,
Until the penitent should weep, and say
How injured, and how faithful I had been."

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THE INDIAN SUMMER.

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Tums into oeautfall O:ctoqef'.s ch~r~~· ;zii;< :~
When th~ dread :fevet·q?its·us:2whei1 the etotm.s.:.·<!.!1'.fd
Of the wild .Equmox, with all 1~s .w~t, " ··.:. :-a'' :..... . . •>.
. Has left t~.e I.and, _as the first ..d~luge _left }~, _...; '.: . ·. '.· .. ·
With a bngh~ bow of.tnany. color.s .~ung MY•"' · ..
Upo~ ~he forest. t?ps"":"he h~d n~t, ~1g.l!:'d.f;i, ·; 'I~. . . . ···
The moon stays longes~ for the -hunter.now;
.
The trees·cast down their fn1itage;.and the blithe - ·
And busy squirrel hoards his .winter. sior~ -; ,
·
While inan enjoys the bre~ze thafs..yeeps,along ,
The bright blue sky above him, and that ,bends
Magnificently all the forest's pride, · · . .; i , ,: .
1
·Or whi~pers th~ough t~e e_vergreens, and.asks,_ '. . · · " .'. !
• What is there saddenmg m the autumn l~l;\VM ?'" .1 · • ; . ,
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(2.) H. W. LoNGFE~Low-lifaine. · The North American '
Review for 1844, among other remarks, furnishes the fol· ·
lowing, upon his poems. ·. His great characteristic is that
of addressing the moral nature through the imagination, of 1
linking moral truth to intellectual beauty.' · .The be~t literary
artist is ·he ·who accommodates his diction to his subject. In ·
this Longfellow is an artist. By learning"' to labor and to ·
wait," by steadily brooding over the chaos in \vhich thought '
and emotion first appear to the mind, ·and giv~ng 'shape and
life to both before uttering them in- 'wm;ds, he has obtained
a singular · m~stery over ., expression. :' By this we do not :
mean that he has a large command ()f l~nguag~ . No fallr:cy ·
is greater than that which confounds fluency with expression.
·washerwomen, and boys. at debating clubs, . often display
more fluency than Webst~r; but his ..~?rds are .t? ~heirs as.
the rollirig thunder to the patter of rai.n; . Felicily, ,not flu-,
ency of language, is a merit. ·
··' ~ . · ' · '· · ·' '. . ' ·
.Longfel\ow has a perf~<;:~ comman~ of .t hat,_exp!essiort
which results from restranhng rather · than cultivatmg flu.
~ncy; and his maimer is adapted to µis the1tfe: : ' ~is words
are often pictures of his thought. He select~ with great
delicacy and precision the ex,a ct phrase which best ex·
presses oi suggests 'his idea. · He_colors his. style .w ith tM
skill of a painter. In that higher department of his art, that
Of SO combining
words and im~ges ,that they make Il,lUsic to the · ~oul as well as to .the ..eai:, ,and _cimv~y not onl~
his feelings and thoughts, l:Jut ~lso. the :V:e~y . tone and cond1·
ti on of the sou~ irt which the)'; have b,e i?g,'he l~k~wise .e~J .
eel~. Iri "Maidenhood" and "Endymion," this power 1s
admirably displayedi In one of his best poems, " The Sk~I#
eton in Armor,;' he manages a difficult ,verse with great sktll. 1
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SECTION VIII.
(1.) J. G. C. BRAINERD, of Connecticut, died 1828.
His collection of poems consists of articles written
hastily for a weekly n ewspape r edited by him; yet,
says Mr. Kettell, "these productions, so little elaborated, and written under various causes of enervation,
are stamped with an originality, boldness, force, ai1d
pathos, illustrative of genius, not, perhaps, inferior to
that of Burns, and certainly ' much resembling it in
kind. No man ever thought his own thoughts more
independently than he did."
.
Read his lines on
" What is there saddening in the autumn leaves ?
Have they that 'green and yellow melancholy'
That the sweet poet spake oP Had he seen
Oztr variegated woods, when first the frost

PART

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AMERICAN POETS.

(PART VII.

AMERICAN . POETSi ·

PAJ\T . \'.'II.],

.

His felicity in addressing the moral nature of man may
be discovered in the following lines :
" Lives of great men all remind us,
We .can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time.

Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er lifo's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwreck'd brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again."

This is very different ·from merely saying that, if we follow
the example of the great and good, we shall live a 110\Jle life,
and that the record of our deeds and struggles will strengthen the breasts of those who come after us, to <lo and to
suffer.
Longfellow's verse occupies a position half way between
the poetry of actual life and the poetry of transcendentalism. Like all neutrals, he is liable to attack from the zealots of both parties ; but it seems to us that he has hit the
exact point, beyond which no poet can at present go, without being neglected or ridiculed. An air of repose, of quiet
power, is around his compositions. In " The Spanish Student," the affluence of his imagination in images of grace,
grandeur, and beauty, is most strikingly manifested.
SECTION IX.
JoHN G. WHITTIER (says the North American Review) is
one of our most characteristic poets. Few excel him in
warmth of temperament. There is a rush of passion in his
verse, which sweeps every thing along with it. His fancy
and imagination can hardly keep pace with their fiery companion. His vehement sensibility will not allow the inventive facl!lties to complete what they may have commenced.
The stormy qualities of his mind, acting at the suggestions
of conscience, produce a kind of military morality, which
uses all the deadly arms of verbal warfare. His invective
is merciless and undistinguishing; he almost screams with
rage and indignation. Of late, he has somewhat pruned
the rank luxuriance of his style. He has the soul of a great
poet, and we should not be surprised if he attained the
height of excellence in his art.
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ALFRED B. STREET, of Alh,a ny, editor of the Northern
Light, is well entitled to a place among ~American po ..
ets, as
be apparent frOrii ' his . description of 1the
Gray F or~st E ag1e. < . . _'.... ,. _<l' ,u;,,(~ :., rii:~·}:: 1 ' ,~ 1 i : !

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THE .G~AY FOltES~ ,-~At?LE~,1L··1 ·;i· .··di ~<I·),

''

With storm-danng_pmio!l ai;d sun-gaimg eye~ t.~·· .:'., ·-<;_ • -1, \
The ~ray Forest. Eagle is ,kmg of the sky ! : ~:·• ··· _, ; • ' ... :1: : /~
Oh! little he .loves the green valley, of !lowetsi r,, -" ·.. ,: 5,·/ rt \_Where sunshme and song cheer the bright summer n,.,~</,• ·oA
For h.e hears in. those haunts only music, and seei:L \i(,J,) -;~iT ·
But rippling of waters and .w aving ofttees; .. !1·:; u \;~ ~.,;'.fi ,:;j ~:.: .· · . ·.
There the red-rcibiri warbles, the honey-fJee hums; '; ·""{ii".. .1 :. . -The !imid q,uailwhi~tl~s, the shy parttidgeAnims; ~ ~;!{f;;i - ~
And if those proud pm10ns, perchance; sweep·along1 ·,-.... ci :r) ~ . ' ·
There's a shrouding of plumage,, a hushing elf song ; •ti!i n•1-\\
·
The sunlight falls stilly on l.e af,and ori,moss;--:~·;\t' " ~"'/"i, :)!~ - ·
And there's naught but his shadow. black< ghd~g· across i 1 \~t :
But the dark, gloom~ gorge; where down, plunges the foatrl ~ '.· . ·
Of the fi~rce rock·Jash'd. torre,nt, h~: claims a~. ~is home ~ I 11-.to~ •
There he blends his keen shnek _w ith .the roar ·ofth_e floo,dil·J ~· _
And the many-voiced, sounds of th~ .p last•s_mitten woocl'i ! 0 1i,,~ ·, -~ ·
From the fir's lofty summit, where morn, hangs its 'w reath; !·. ,. ·
He views the mad w!iters white writhing beneath ·: ,l ~'lf' 1 ;;:..:·\ : · ~
On a limb of that moss-bearded hemlock far :downt l 1 ,.._.,;.,.: ,d I; -.'
With bright azure _mai:itle ·and gay' mottled crow·n1.1" ;.-i .: ' "' :'- ·
The kingfisher watches, while <fer him ~is foe; ;ch', "}-. !_..;;~ .
The fierce hawk,' sails circling;-each moment inore low;· ~ ,.i.l t i _.
Now poised are those pinions and p6int~d · that beak;-• ~::l "'j{ .· · :.
His dread swoop is ready, when hark !,,with ·a ehriek d J•if t¥:
H!s eyeball~ red blazing, high bristling his cri:st, • " ·"~,'. . ;·:: ! ~
.
His snake-hke neck arch'd, talons drawn to his lireast, , :cu · ·
With t~e rush o(the .w ind-gust, the g~arl~ing_oflight, , '. / i , .
The Gray Forest Eagle shoots down m hi~ flight ; · · . . . · ' . ·
One blo'.V of those talons one plunge of that neck,· . ·, . · · · '. · .
The strong hawk hangs fileless, a blood-dripping wreck' I " · ~-.
And as dives the free kingfisher; datt•like on high' - · · - ,.J....:.:
. With his prey soar!! th!il eagle, ·and m~lts in,tpi;: sky.~ ''· ·;_: r": i:

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The adfanced age to which, the ~agle is supposed ·
to attain is .thus beautifrtilf .des.cr_il,J~d} :, \,, ·: r _,_. / :~;- : .; __:_.

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Tirrie whirls round his tirdEi, his.-y~ar~ rqg . awa~, r •ir';.rt. ;.,~1 • ·.,:::.· -·But the Gray F0ri:st Eagle tninds httle his s'Ya.Y'; · . ,t ! .:.,..;,.'l - - _:·'"'?
The child spurns its buds for youth's thorn-hidden bloom1 ':Jr· - ! =-- · :.
Seeks manhood's bright phantoms 1 finds age a_nd a tOmb' ;' ?W·:f
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[PART VU,

PART
But the eagle's eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd,
Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud'
The green .tiny pine shrub points up from the moss,
The wren's foot would cover it, tripping across ;
The beechnut down dropping would crush it beneath
Bnt 'tis warm'd with heaven's sunshine and fann'd by its breath ·
The seasons fly past it, its head is on high,
'
Its thick branches challenge each mood of th e sky·
On its rough bark the moss a green mantle creates:
Ai:id the.deer f~om his a~tl~rs the ve)vet. down grates:
Tune withers its roots, 1t hfts sadly m air
·
A trunk dry and. wasted, a top jagged and bare,
Till it rocks in the soft breeze, and crashes to earth,
Its brown fragments strewing the place of its birth.
The eagle has seen it up-struggling to sight,
He has seen it defying the storm in its might,
Then prostrate, sOJl-blended, with plants sproutinrr0 o'er,
Dut the Gray Forest Eagle is still as of yore.
' His flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd,
Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud !
He has seen from his eyrie the forest below,
In bud and in leaf, robed with crimson and snow,
The thicket~, deep wolf-lairs, the high crag his throne,
And the shnek of the pant.her has nuswcr'd his own.
He has seen the wild red man the lord of I.he shades,
· And the smoke of his wigwams curl'd thick in th e glades ·
He has seen the proud forest melt breath-like away
'
And the breast of the earth lying bare to the day: '
He se~s the green meadow-grass hiding the lair,
4.nd his crag-throne spread naked to sun and to air;
And his shriek is now answer'd, while sweeping along,
By the low of the herd and the husbandman's song;
He has seen the wild red man swept off by his foes,
,
And he sees dome and roof where those smokes once arose ·
But his flaming eye dims not, his wing is unbow'd,
'
Still drinks he the sunshine, still scales he the cloud!
An emblem of Freedom, stern, haughty, and high,
Is the Gray Forest Eagle, that king of the sky !
It scorns the bright scenes, the gay places of earthBy the mountai~ and torrent it springs into birth;
There, rock'd by the whirlwind, baptized in the foam,
It's guarded and cherish'd, and there is its home !

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SECTION XI.
E. W. B. CANNING, of Stockbridge, Massachusetts,
has not yet published a volume of poems, but has
furnished many valuable contributions to American
poetry, in the weekly periodicals of our state, giving

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AMERICAN POETS.

future:(prodticttcin:~·,

297

t~r~\ '. ~i~~ll~nc~.

promise of
J)t,:
The following lines form part of a poem published .m
the New-Yprk: Tribune ;_:of ·· 'A:ugu~t •St)l; 1~44. . The
Sub,iect 1-s ··· · '· i . '· . : . · . . '-1'" ·:v;.·:"'..' ,-.. ,~·"i?. i.~ 1;;.; '•!fa.- r..,· ' · . .
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~day of splel!-dor. dawrieth _ory.'ltli;y to~.e;~!. :~·A·';~·j ·) i.:: .
Pnhcely Si,.~ana ! From Qome .to dome, ;:, 1 ~r f!;;.f, ! ~11."i .

,

,-

. Leaps the bnght flash,th~t .h enildeth the,._ s,un, . ,, 1 . q'I~ o l . 1 1 .
Thy w;;ills, whose frownmg battlement~ are st~_:n:; ;., /· · '
From tune and war; thy skyey turrets } ops;, · .~ 1 11 ,; ~ 11 • ·
Thy palaces, the pride of Isrnel .· . :., ; .. ,, , ,, ,.,\, ';·': 1 ,
And royal Ahab, and thy massy gates; ·. ; . · ' -.. / . ·, .:-.i.o .
Who.se lofty fronts a~e wrought ~ith storie~ ,b~~'~··,;;,,·l i ,:.
All hft a pompous.we~c?~e to,;the ~<?~l1· .. . 11 .~ : 1r 1 t•'t\~ 1 "" ~
The sun of Paleshhe is still below • ·. ·
'. '. ·:
rr~e unwaked moll:ntajns, ~~t .t~e gorge~~~ .~aSt;/, :,:~ · · \.·
L1~hteth _the curtams .o f 11~.r. glo1T ~P, '...:-~l.' ,_. _ ,. ..u~.· r: "; '·
With majesty uhutterable. ( f?ee. . ...... 1 •• , r •1 «;;·•"rw ·
The emulous landscape, from 'the far•seeh vale . '.~ ~
Of Jordan on tp Letbanon:hlif1hts"·up·'a·' "/.'h·":.l~~·~!·:", 'f~:;· :.1 j ";;
1 , o . ca~c t ego 1 en u~s :· .< '-l<~ t'...ii.,
Itsthousand'hlls
Of hea~en-born be,auty, as they .glow_ b~y~.1:~1 ; , a~~ ;, •lH t ; .,. .
There 1s a murmur as of breakmg rest . , , , , ,.', ·: , l'i ,~ t- 1 ,
In the proud capital, and straggling form~ · '.' '~ ';·,v; ; : ,._ . · ..
[nfrequent pace_ the, rampatts7-i.~ .~~y .~~ ..q ··<~ ...;'(~~?; ·:;(· :.
Of drowsy sentu~~ls ale~~. aga1q., . .._,; : · ..... _:-_.1 :.!'- ! i~ ·~_1 'f
As ,the thro~g stns be~ow th.~m, or a~te~_pts :' ' : ·~ ~:: ' I ' ~ ' .
Th unopen d portals. . . .'
, .:
._
, , · · 1:c. . "r- . . ·. !.
·
. . . , ~arl~.1 aJb~a~en 1 x~~c~i.'. y.,J.f r1'.f
Swells from the valley, h~e. thed,ar101.1 " , . ":- ·iii Jl! <i;; ~i:-:< . "
That calls to ?attle., . Sk1rt1ng:~1~ , tP, e ~11~, I 1.{·. ·.f~.tl ~ ,.~j~' · ·; · ·
' Speeds the blithe. to~e, al).d wakt;i,s an an~'Y~~ .~P,i ,''. ;J,
. !~_rock a!ld forest, till the.vale h;iJh t11;lk dr. 'i/~ >'.r'HX.1': '.l,. !"• With all 1t~ . tongues.1 ~~d m t~e f~stness~~.v·/,,. ~~1lr1.1t\r1.n
Of the far dmgle, famt and famter heard, .;: , 1.::
1
Dies the last sullen eqho. . 'Tis the trump, ·-:,; . ,, , .·- .i·~ ,
That brea.ks the bivouac, of an unfold .~pst7. . , ;., . , ., J
ThY: warrior sons, 0 I~r~e~ 1. . Lo . ~he1.r. t~n~~ , ); 1, .: l .11 : . ·;
Whiten the .gr~en. declmt~es that gird ·:i•i :;•,; : ··~;. 1:.': :• .\:.~
The royal city; and th.e gray of dawn · . ~ rJ.i: . :·:r_,."-:r .•~
Blends the vast group mto a boundless field ,, · .. . : , .. ,' ;
Of snowh canvas. Summo1iing_th~ bra~e, -, · ·,:; .,'. :; , ; :·
A voice ath pass'd from Dan to Beersheba; · , · :. ,; -, ·
T.l}e pri?e of Pales~ini:: .hathheard~the . princ.e, .1 .... ~\'.
, .
The valiant and the mighty, y~uth and strength; . ; '(ii. , .• ;
'And veteran age, h3;ve' burnish'd shield and _sp.e ar1 ;, c. ~;· . ..:·.. :.
And buckled on their armor at. the call! ' . . . ;,,,,. >I r · 1 ·
For AHAB waireth-the uncircumcised
;._: · '::. ·.. "
'- <
Have scolf'd the high-soul'd Hebrew-e'en the ' bless'd '

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AMERICAN I'OET 2 .

[rART VII.

Jehoshaphat hath sworn to help, antl lcaguctl
His people with idolaters to light
The haughty Syrian.
Morning's eye hath sped,
'And the sun seeks the zenith. Oh ! the sight
His splendor looks on in this favor'cl land,
Whereon, though grievous are its sins, the curse
Of the Almighty lingereth to fall !
Oh! who, to see the glory of its hills,
It!! streams, its pastures, and its plains, where now
A matchless verdure smiles ; its ancient groves;
Its cities wall'd, and towers of strength ; its sons,
Countless as flocks that sport in happiness
Mid the green beauty of the fields, could dream
The Gentile's sword should mar its gorgeousness,
And spread its ashes to the winds of heaven !

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Now goes the royal mandate forth-" To arms!"
Samaria's length and breadth, wall, streets, and gates,
Bustle with warriors. Iron-girded men
In fast-form'd ranks haste downward to the plain.
The palace swarms with officers who wait
The monarch's orders; while through the throng'll ways,
Steeds, with the speed of wind, awl breath of tire,
Hurl the dun chariot with thunder on.
The shouts of legion'd myriads, and the clang
Of thousand battle trumpets, rend the air;
For the leagued kings are to the hosts gone down.
Another bright day's sunset bathes the hills
That gird Samaria. Their green and gold
. Sleep in their soft, unsullied lustre still,
As though earth knew no grief for evermore.
Ah! that is not the voice of joy that comes
From the wall'd capital. It is the wail
Of lone bereavement ; for all Israel mourns.
See, straggling o'er the mountain's back, the wrecks
Of yestermorn's illustrious hosts of war,
,
Inglorious; fugitive, ashamed, alone,
And soil'd with battle, dust, defeat, and blood.
'Neath Ephraim's vines the voice of minstrelsy
And mirth is hush'd, and sorrowing maid ens lift
The loud lament-" How are the mighty fall en!
Husbands, and sires, and sons, and brothers went
To the leagued slaughter forth with pride and song ;
But ah ! there dawns no light on their return!
And the eye aches with weeping as it looks
Toward fatal Gilead's fields whereon they lie.
Weep, for the sword of the uncircumciged
Hath thinn'd the chosen people ! Trail'd antl torn

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AMERICAN 'POETS. -·.' . :

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Are Israel's banners, and the Syrian '. · / ":
" '
Hath trodden down her plutn'e s ! : ;\Veep, for the throne
Hath lost its monarch, and the king:less tribes·· · . ·.. · -, . . •
Mourn valiant Ahab, who shall war 'nc1 more- ..
Samaria's pool.hathdrunkhis royal , blood ,P';,~ w. ·
-1 .

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CONCI,UDING R_EMA~KS ON , A~ERIC,AN , roETS. '

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There are many other poetical writers of whom our .;.
country rirny b~ •allowed to boast,. whom . we have . not ~
room to notice. The books already .referred ., to , as,. ·
containing selec;:tions from their writings ~ust pe con- r
sulted and -read ' carefully :before -a just . idea can .,b~ r·
formed of the .variety · and. extent of poetical talen1i '
among us. ·_ Jt should . be co. n.sic;l~red, however;. that;:··
most of our·distinguished authors are engaged in pur-.t·
suits gener;i.lly. considered .unfavorable ·to ihe efforts f
Of genius. 'Ye·_have noticed only ,a few Of the.,mo$t I·
prominent, leaving manY, other honored names to · be.!
sought for in the books' from which we have had i ~.l:ie~r· -privilege of quoting bot~ speciinens an4 criticisms: ~ .(7 _
. Ther~ ~s one gratificati?~ (says.; t~~ N{ Y:•: E~ang.): ·:.
m readmg our best Amenqah poets-+ax,d ~l!ns is .em-;·(
phatically .true .of ,Bryant-we .Jriean .:,the ·purify.(of/ ·· .·
thought and sentiment whi~h ,t.h'ey maintai.~ (I ;~ow . 'differ::-f

ent from the poetry which emanat~~ ·. froip some (Ofr~
the most celebrated of the B,r itish· p6ets1, ,, From\, the ~ ..
days of Shakspeare, Dryden, and,Pope 1 ~o"W,n to tnos.e r
_of Byron and Shelley, much prof~nehess and vulgar, ;,
itv was intermingled. Milton; Cowper, Montgomery,•, .
and w ordsworth, with other names; .are e:xceptiohs,_.'
Look at the ·new no.vels and magazines which everyt steamer introduces. - How deeply and s~dly,pollute.d IC:
Beside these, place. the, volume!), ~f Bryaqt.· ·.What an_r
honor to our country 1· .What a 'noble·: test1mony io/ ·
the influence of our Puritan' religioh ! : :~ When - we con~
template ,the manner in which we are exposed to ·corrupt foreign literature; we beseech . our· countrymen~-­
not only to be careful wpat they. pui:~hase from a~roadj '·.
,..
but to encourage most ardently the efforts of our.«;>wn-:1 .,,:~=­
writers, who so well , <le1rnrve out~ ~onfide1~ce u~.~ Jp~t ; \i' '.. :~.
author of these poems (Bryant).
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AMERICAN LITERATURE.

[PART VII.

CHAPTER II.
SECTION I.
1815
Tmj reasons why American literature has, until within
~ETCH OF AMERICAN LITERATURE SINCE

the last twenty:five or thirty years, been comparatively so
scanty and generally inferior, are fully set forth by the
North America11 Review for 1840, in the following

I

manner : The period just referred to" has been one of
much greater activity than any that preceded it. It
was divided by only one generation from the time
when the American States were, as to productions of
the intellect, in the helpless and sluggish condition
almost inseparable from a condition of colonial dependence, and they had established their political existence at a cost which it required the undivided attention of at least one generation to repair. The first
business of the citizen, in his private walk, was to
contrive to get rid of his debts, and to make some provision for his family ; while his less selfish thoughts
were employed in watching, and helping the experime~1t of a n~w government. First ca~ne great prosperity; a umform currency; commercial confidence ;
profitable applications of inventive talent; vast demand for the products of an inexhaustible soil · the
. trade of the world. Then followed terrible
'
carrymg
reverses: embargo; non-intercourse; war. The wheel
of fortune was stopped with a crash, when its momentum was greate~t; and it was not till after the peace
of 1815 that thmgs settled down into such a state,
that a p~rtion ?f the community could be spared for
the labonous leisure of study, or even that individuals
· in active life, though of liberal tastes, could be expected to feel much inclination in themselves, or impulse
from others, to the tasks of authorship.
" Under ~uch circumstances, the question of our
learned Edmburgh brethren, Who reads an American '
book J was really no more reasonable than it was courteous. It was not a thing to be fairly expected that
America should have become a book-mart for the

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world. And .especially . w~s ~t . ~Wt:!~~ . l]e ",expecte~..e.o: ;' -~ ·~
soon, wh_en, if .~ff~c~ed . ~t,.a11, ,it:i'Yi<>Ul~.,i 11~<;:e13sarily, bd.~ ·:!
effected m the 1Jae,e of olher;: ser10:u~1' an9. permanent .~::;­
dis<l:dvantages., .::A 11~tion :w:hic:~ '. prqdq.g~~ :g~niu& _:and f".:.~.
excitements for it, .will ;sooner P,i' 1~~~f"J:i: P.O ' doubt,· pm•f "· _-:
duce a 1iterature. a1so. ·.- But ,thofjl.e e~r~y; : aQ~1ow~,1-:;_efe'.:~ ,.- ;..;.
forts, which l~~d 1, tO the higher, ml,lst ~uffe'r great dis~ ~ ..- , .1 •
couragements, when, in · consequen~e of, c9mtnu)lity: . :,
oflanguage, they ar~ brought a·~. once:into comparisQil,. · ~ "
wit~ the ·best productions ' of another h~ghly-culti".ated ' .
society; and when, from the same cause, ther.e_· ls an .
ample foreign supply, the excitements to literaryJa~ · "
hor (we speak J]ot qf those of a s'ordid .kind, but Qf,ey:0- :.
ery kind whatever) must be materially diminished( !ti-1
. "WithiIUhe la~tJew year~, , however, ther.e is grpat
difficulty found by' otif reviews, in' kee_ping up .with th~ .·.·
numerous issues .ofJhe, Am~rican p:i;~ss, .•:: ~ven, Eng; . :
land has become a great . niarke,t.~ for , our . f:io<;>k$i part:ic-:- -· .
ularly our school books, many-of which are rapidly· .
supplanting those of Engiish J1iatjufacture on tb.e same-·:,
subjects. With the exception of a few;book$ puNish'-, ,
ed in Englan~, ·children's , book~·; a~so', by4µie!ic~R. au~~ ·_
thors, must be consid,e r_ed to pos,$0S$·: sµpe'nQr, value." ~ ; ~
for iheir .moral , and intelleCtµ,al '. , adapt~ti9ns :itO Jh.€:,·~> ,, -~·~·­
young mind. In· this : depattment . the ) l\ies~rs ...A~b~~ -:-.. ·· "·
have gained a distinguished and just: r~ptitation: · • T~·rr i,"
1
, _ ' , Next to books of edqcationM~·~fotional; bibli¢ak~." .
and theological works of ·Am~rJcan ,,origin; · have .pert.• ·- _ ,.
haps, as , p. class, obtained , the ~jd.~st >~irc~l(l.tiop .,itf,.·~ .
England.· Prpfessor Stuart, D~; ,, ffpdge; ·Dr; . Rqb~nri::, . ·,
son, Professor Bush, Mr. Barries, 1\1;r.· Norton, Pro1:. " · , (:
Noyes, Dr .. Harris, Dr . .·Channiilg; and Dr,<W•r Bi, :, :.,
Sprague, have ,producied w_o rks t.h at sta~d. jti h.igh}e,·;.J
pute abroad, as \Vell .as at hpme~ · No' h:vmg Engli&h•
writer of philosophical · and critical essays enjoys · a .
popularity equal to the late D_r. Channing. As tb spec-- " ·
imens of forensic, deliberative, and demonstrative, elo- ·· _~
quence, there is no collection Of w.o rks of any contem-. , _
porary English orator which, for a combination of all! .
the attributes of high oratory, logic, fullness of facts..,, ,
richness of illustration, pathos, ,wit, and. chas~~n.~ss, ..

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AMERICAN LITERATURE.

lrART VII.

and force of language, can sustain comparison wi_th
those of Mr. Webster and Mr. Everett. Iii law, the
learned works of Judge Story and Chancellor Kent
are i_n high repute in England. , Our medical litei;ature,
particularly that of the school of Philadelphia is de~ervedly eminent. In the department of matbemat.1cs, the commentary_ on ~he "Mechanique Celeste;''
by the late Dr. Bow~1tch, is, by universal consent, one
·of the great productions of the age; while the valuable contributions to Natural Science, of Mr. Audubon,
·of Mr. Jay, of Professors Silliman, God man, and Hare,
of Dr. Bigelow1 of Massachusetts, of Dr. Holbrook, of
South Carolitrn, of Dr. Morton, author of the "Crania
-flrriericana," and of many others, show that in that
Import.ant d~part~ent th~ minds of our countrymen
are ne1_ther 111act1ve nor mcapable. In the arduous,
reco_nd1t_e,_and rather thankless task of philological invest1g~t1011! the labors of Webster, Du ponce au, Patten,
and P1ckermg, are to be ranked with those of the most
·distinguished scholars of the age."
" W ashin~ton Irving has, within the last thirty
~ears, acqmr~d a name, in his own elegant walk of
hter<1;ture,_wh1ch throws into dim eclipse that of every
English nval. The reptttation of Cooper of Miss
Sedgwick, and of the author of the ' Letters from Palmyra,' is European. Kennedy, Bird, Fay, Mrs. Child,
. and some other writers of fiction, who have not yet
gathered all their fame, have attracted favorable no~ice; and we get nothing better from across the water
m the way of n,ovelettc: _and delineation of society and
manners, th.an the spmted and delicious sketches of
Hawthorne and Mrs. Kirkland. Among books of
travels, few have been so well received, of late years
as those of Lieutenant Slidell and Mr. Stephens.'' '
SECTION II.

We shall take the liberty to draw from the Democratic Revie": for ~uly, 1844, remarks upon the present
state of American literature, and its relations to that of
.England at the present time.
I

"In some departments, we think American authors

·rART vii·] -- t~h~~~ci~:-'Li:rt·~~~JR'.~ 1' '

·~fat

,

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rairty:; 'c~~irp,\' a~. · 'eq~~l:i~~~{~;~,;

'of the p;esent
'may•;
with their English rivl;!lS. :,1 {n. poett:y, ex~lude ~he gre.~t . ·1
'name of Wordsworth, , as : qie_, P,O~.t . of' ,a former ier,a, ',,,'
and we challenge. compari.~on .B~~~een Dana, B,r.Yant,.-1• '.
Halleck, 'Holm~s;' Lowth, "'.'1ll~s! ~tre~t, and. ~ong- '. :~:..,.
fellow, and the remaining be,st hv1~g P<?e~s . . fhey
-~
are fairly met on their own gro~md, and 1.11 their own
j
vein of delicacy, taste, !fancy, speculat10n,_ humor,
~
pathos and descriptive power, to, say noth1_ng OJ. _a
-~
masle;y of style, rhythm, and the fines! poet1,c a1 .
~
lect. Then,' too, in huma,r, w~ ~ave re_ferted t? Irvm~ ~
, ·-~
there is Paulding, a' strong satirist; Wirt, a delicate wit,
, -1
'Willis, f411 of, sparkling f{ayety. ,' In all England, ~e
.- ~
know not the writers of late. ~ho could surpass th~se , - , ~
four writers in their .res:pect1\le styles (t? say not~mg
.~
of a host of clev'e r magazme s~~tc~es b_es1de_s)-I.~v111g, · . · '.,!
Dana, Willis, and Hawthorne. ' Rip y ,an ;w111k~e . 1s the
' I ')
best attempt of Irving; all of Dana ,s• ~omant1c ,t.alesj
-~
as Paul Fellon, Edward and MC!ry; &c., are, w~ beh~ve,
without an equal in Engli~h contemporary hte_rat_~re.
'.il
Willis as a lighter writer, 1s the clev~rest Engh~h and
'J
Ameri~an author i;tow ·living: · an~ ,Qur· pros~ : £oet,
? .~
Hawthorne, can be paralleled o~ly m .~ern~any. '~1 Y';l,-,e .• ii!
have three classic "writers o( history,; .we h(lye , pro-: _:;
duced the best popular mor~hsts of_ the day .. Ou~. o~-'~
ators have, in many cases, prronou,n ced ora~10ns pet- , ,,·""'
fectly admirable in their ~a}'."1 as. _,~hos~ ?f :v~r~, An_ies, . -:~
Webster the Everetts. Su1ce C~h.mng s ~1.me, - ~e . __,.
no elegant pieces of · poht1c~l .writ111g ;· no _--.:-4
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,
'k now 0
th t
d -' 11 ..., Our coun - · ' ..,-,,.,
English models in oratory a , r~<! we .. · .
.
;;:~
tr aboun,ds". wit.h Cle,y<:r writers m p~r.10d1cals of ~ " · ,_ ~
ki~ds. \Ve are beginmng to have <?unous scholarship .o--.:·~
and profound speculation. Front Jo!'.1athan E?wa~ds ~ ]
to the present race of transcendentalists_, w~ have m- . ~
·uirers of all classes. A singu~ar tra1~ marks the · ~
· ~ritings of _most of these.: an ar.t1fical,fimsh hardly to : , ~.,_,~
be expected in so n~w. a l~tep~tur~. · !~deed, there has ·'. ,,~~
been far too much 1m1tat10n and copymg. W~ ~ave -y--~
man 'writers who would have done well -any ~ _ere · . --~
by themselves; ·who have yet been at the p_a; nL
s.:.?f : ~- ~
modeling themselves on some great ,mas.ters. .
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AMERICAN LITERATURE.

[PART VII.

. "vVe argue the gradual decline of English and American
lzte:-ature, not only from the number of merely clever
writers and. the general prevalence of imitation, but
al~o from. the ?ov~ of pe~iodical criticism, and the success
with. wh1c~1 it is cultivated. Criticism has always
~ounshed rn the absence ?f other kinds of genius ; it
IS best when others are m decay or gone, and this
seems t.o us one of the most ~emarkable of the signs
o_f the tunes. From th~ great.increase, too, of periodical
hterr;zture, most of the mmor kmds of writing are more
cultivated than the longer and more imposing. We
hay~ few histories and long poems, but abundance of
critiques '?f ~11 kinds, political, literary, theological, and
characte:1~tw essays, on all subjects, of n'r nnners, morals, med1crne, and mercantile policy; sketches of life
and scenery; letters from abroad and at home tales
short biographies, au<l every possible variety 'of th~
lesser orders of poetry.
"We apprehend that literature of this rrrnde and charac~~r-s?ort, to the point, interesting, ~ill be the preya1lmg ~1terature for a long time to come. The chief
mstruct10n of the people, their main intellectuaf reso~rce of amusem~nt, 3;lso, will be found in the periodical press. · Th~ mfus10n of popular feeling into our
'Yorks ?f specul~t10n; the great aims of reforming, en~1ghte111~1g, and, !n a word, educating the people, and
impressrng the importance of the individual-this is
one of the great problems of the age, pe rhaps the probl~m.
rend~r man phys!cally comfortable, and to
give him sufficient occupat10n, of whatever sort circum~tahces. demand, .is the primary duty of society;
but, immediately next to that, to seek to elevate, and
r.efine, deepen and expand the characters of all men,
~Ill they com~ t'? know, .appreciate, and act upon the
imn~utabl e pl"mc1ples of .JUStice and humanity; to recognize One Father and Master above, and all brothers
and equ.als below~this is th e great lesson of life, the
very obJect m1d e~1d of being."

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PART

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AMERICAN '»tITERATURE/ .

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··.. ; ':.: ·· .. SECTIO!{ ·: IIfr ,;,·,N;h_;;,_.;
CONCµUDING
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The life of our native land~the .,ipMr . spir1t which
animates its institutions-o.the ' new:adeas and princi~ ·
ples of ·which it is the !eptesentative:these every
patriot must wish to be~old reflected "fr?m .t~e b~oad
mirror of a comprehensive and soul-ammatmg ·liter
ature. The trhe vitality of a nation is not' seen in ·the
triumphs of its industry, the extent of,:its conquests.
or the reach of its empire ; but in its intellectual do~
minion. Posterity passes over statistical tables · of ,
trade and population 1 to search ·fot.the:records of; ·th~
mind and heart. ; Jt . is · of little · moment .how many
millions of men wereiinclu<led at any time under .the
name of one p~ople~ i~ ! they have 1eft· no irtt~_llecti1al _
testimonials of their mode and manner , of ·existence;
no "footprin.ts on. the · sah.d s r.M1Hme.'.1µ<· .Greece 1yet.·
lives in her literature, ·mote rea~ . to our. :mmd_s, nearei;
to our · aireet,io11s, : than · many! · European · kmgdotn~ .' ·
The true monarchs:of a· country µfe :thos~ .:wlwse st.bay M
ove~ thouo-ht and ~motio~. 'u i ..... ,-.; "'n '1>f1:r;; f'c:d> ~ -:,i•1w<'.
Ameri~a abounds in the material of poetry. '. -' Its his~ .·
tory, its sceneryi the .. structure~ of its social · lifo1 . t~~ .
thoughts which pervade its' political forms1 the mean'." .
ing which tmderlies its hot contests,· are ~II capable of,
being exhibited in a poetical aspect. ''"If we ' have a
literature it should be a national ·literattirn; no:feeble ,
or sonor~us echo of Germany· or bf England, but es- ·
sentially American in its tonP and object . . No matter :"
how meritorious a composition may be, as long as ~ny foreign nation can say it has done th~ same th~ng ·
better, so long shall we be spoken of with cdnte.mpt, \
. _
or in a spirit of benevolent patronage: -::. vVe begm. to . -·..sicken of the custom, now so common, ofc presentmg - ' ·" .·· _
0ven our best poems to th~ att.entioi1. of f'?reigners, . -. .· :_~
with a deprecating, apo~oget1c air; as if th~1r accept-,
ance of the offering, with a few soft and silky com--.- .
pliments, would be an act of kindness demanding our
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306

AMERICAN LITERATURE.

[rART vn.

warm es t acknowledgments. If the Quarterly Review or Dlackwood's Magazine speaks well of an
American production, we think that we can praise it
ourselves, without incurring the re proach of bad taste.
The folly we yearly practice, of flying into a passion
with some inferior English writer, who caricatures
our faults, and tells dull jokes about his tour through
the land, has only the effect to exalt an insignificant
scribbler into notoriety, and give a nominal value to
his recorded impertinence.
In order that America may take its due rank in the
commonwealth of nations, a literature is needed which
shall be the exponent of its higher life. We want a
poetry which shall speak in clear, loud tones to the
people; a poetry which shall make us more in love
with our native land, by converting its ennobling
scenery into the images oflofty thoughts; which shall
give visible form and life to the abstract ideas of our
written constitutions; which shall confer upon virtue
all the strength of principle and all the energy of
passion ; which shall disentangle freedom from cant
arid senseless hyperbole, and rend er it a thing of such
loveliness and grandeur, as to just.ify all self-sacrifice;
which shall make us love man by the new consecrations it sheds on his life and destiny; which shall vindicate the majesty of reason; give new power to the
voice of conscience, and new vitality to human affection; soften and elevate passion; guide enthusiasm in
a right direction ; and speak out in the high language
of men to a nation of men.

THE END.

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