truth of a position which we have long maintained, that censure— - aye, even unjust and bitter censure – is less cruel, less injurious, to a youthful and rising author, than indiscriminate and undue praise! The sense that his talents are underrated, his powers misjudged, has nerved many a weak youngling to stern and resolute exertion whereas the belief that his genius is supereminent, that he holds the voice of popular favor in the hollow of his hand, has caused many a strong and successful aspirant to sink into a slumber so lethargic, that the slow and cumbrous tortoise, whom he had left but now uncounted leagues behind, has reached the goal which, but for over-confidence, he must have won unchallenged! In the success of Simms, we are, in every possible way, interested as admirers of his upward flight, we cannot endure to see his strong wing flag or falter -as having prophesied the height which he should some time reach, we will not suffer him to make security his bane. He must hear the truth one day or other —let him hear it now, while he can profit by it—he must labor, must study, must revise. He must not write one half so much in bulk, one half so rapidly in time, as he has done lately-he must adhere to the established standards of the English language and of the English Grammar. He must not coin new words when there are old ones just as applicable, if not more so, to his meaning- he must not use old words in new and false senses -he must not use transitive verbs for intransitive, and vice versa — he must not adopt provincialisms when writing in his own person, however he may think it advisable to do so when speaking through the mouths of his dramatis personæ — in short, he must make his style what it is not now--perspicuous, pure, and, above all, correct English! Many an author has descended to posterity through the merits of his style, despite the paucity or poverty of his ideas but we know not one who can lay claims to immortality, despite inaccuracy, or vulgarity, or obscurity of manner, be his matter how forcible soever. We shall forbear to go into minutiae, or to point out words; suffice it to say, that there are scores of errors, which could no more have escaped the notice of this really brilliant author, on a careful revision, than the sun at noonday could have escaped the eye of an eagle. With regard to the narrative, the great fault is, want of connexion and of progressive interest! --with regard to the characters, vulgarity! This has always been rather a failing of Mr. Simms, so far as the introduction of an undue proportion of low personages into his writings. In Guy Rivers this fault was very observable, and, moreover, was observed, no less than the unsuitable and unnatural tones of expression and thought ascribed to them. In the Yemasse this error, save in the single instance of Doctor Constantine Maximilian Nichols, who is an insufferably wearisome blot on that clever novel, was avoided. In the Partisan, we regret to say that the defect is more glaring than ever. It is indeed strange to conceive the reasons which can induce a writer capable of striking out such bold and high-souled portraits as those of Colleton and the outlaw in Guy Rivers of Harrison, and Mary Granger, and Sanutee in the Yemasse -- and of De Kalb, and Marion, and Singleton in the work before us — to descend to such disagreeable and disgusting — nay, we are fain to believe, such unnatural — portraitures as those of many persons, to whom many almost unreadable pages have been devoted in the Partisan. The forte of Simms is stormy passion; high and strongly-marked character in his men, and beautiful delicacy in his females. His humor is not felicitous -- his badinage is not graceful—and, what is more, he does not require either the one or the other to set off his prominent and real beauties. - The subject which he has chosen in the Partisan, is, in many respects, the most happy he has yet attempted. The scene — - the time—the struggle, are all popular, all picturesque, all engrossing! There is a bright and holy halo around the events of the Revolution, which can hardly fail to gild whatever touches them! The actors too were men of mould. Tarlton and Marion, Sumpter and Cornwallis, the very heroes of that romance, which is indeed their history. The truth of this is rendered evident, by the force with which these characters gleam out, when the author affords us a glimpse of them; and such being the case, it is not a little strange that an ar dent adorer of liberty, and a keen observer of all her sweet, and high, and poetical associations-for such must the man be, who conceived the character of Sanutee should have omitted, save in the persons of his hero and the boy Frampton, to depict one ardent worshipper of freedom nay, more, should have chosen to compound his corps of partisans of a glutton, a disgusting half-breed, a pedantic doctor, and a sanguinary maniac. But we willingly change the topic. Censure is painful to us — more so, perhaps, than to its subject; nor should we have now resorted to it, save for the benefit of him to whom it is applied. To turn to a more pleasant prospect―we will say that for Simms to write a book without many strong conceptions, without many fine and eloquent passages, without much genuine and sterling merit, were impossible. The sketch of the boyish partisan, young Frampton, alone is full of fire, of poetry, and of truth--sufficiently full, indeed, to redeem a book, of which it were the sole redeeming feature; this, however, can by no means be predicated of a novel containing such characters as those of Singleton, himself the hero, and Katharine, his patriotic mistress; though to our own imagination the sweet, melancholy, and religious Emily, wasting away by ghastly consumption, is a more delightful and more congenial personification. The finest passage in the work, and that which we should unquestionably extract as a specimen of the author's noblest vein, did our limits permit, is the scene wherein the boy Frampton is described as mingling for the first time in the strife of men — his fear, not of the foe, but of himself -- not of that which he might suffer, but of that which he might fail to do -- his panting, trembling anxiety, doubting the strength of his own heart and hand -- his brilliant success, and its consequences on his young mind -- the certaminis gaudia of the Hun--the fierce flush of triumph-the feelings of the gladiator, shown in the corded brow and blood-shot eye, and suppressed by the judicious schooling of the officer-all this is superb-incomparably true and graphic! Had the whole work been such as this, and other similar, though detached, passages, we should not have been constrained to pronounce the Partisan, as a whole, inferior to Mr. Simms' past efforts, and unworthy of his high repute. But coragio! One swallow does not make a summer, nor one trip a fatal fall! We are sure of our man - we know the energies of his mind, and we will, aye, and we shall force them to shine out the brighter from this passing cloud. To conclude, we will address him with the stirring exhortation of Ulysses to the son of Thetis, and then quit him, in the confidence that censure and exhortation together will bring him out the next time a better man than ever. The present eye praises the present object : Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee! Published by Effing Tales from Chaucer. By James C. Clarke. MUCH attention seems to be waking up, immediately around us, to the old English Literature. One of our best writers* is engaged in leading the female portion Mr. Richard M. Dana. of the society of one of our largest cities to the study of the early English poets. And another fine scholar* is engaged by its "Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge," in urging the claims of the English literature, distinctively regarded, upon a more mixed audience of both sexes. These are cheering facts; and we trust that the ultimate influence will be of a still more important character than the immediate; that it is the stepping-stone, to the introduction of this same literature, to early education. We believe that the early literature of any nation has peculiar relations with the early stages of all minds. All children are what the ancestors of a nation are. There is an analogy between the life of a nation, considering it as an individual, and the life of each individual that composes the nation. The first history that should be given to children, is the history of those who first spoke their vernacular tongue. Even before this history is given to them, they should know what may be gathered of the first great men who have appeared in their language. For before the era of history, there are always authors who have put their individual souls into their productions. And it will be found on examination that the common proverbs, and figures of speech, that pervade language but half understood by many that constantly use them, are to be found in the earliest writers of the nation; the study of whom, therefore, sheds meaning on the medium of common intercourse, and of all the knowledge to be gained through books of a later date. Some peculiar difficulties have singularly co-operated, however, in leading Americans to neglect this most essential branch of education. One is, that the history of our country is not bound up with the history of the language which we speak ; and another is, that the literature which is connected with the history of the language, is very much out of our reach-being in an obsolete dialect, which has prevented our booksellers from reprinting the great originals in this country. But these difficulties are not insurmountable. It is true that the American part of English history is for grown up men ; for our nation was born, as it were, full grown. But we can inquire what "child was father of that man,"-the State of the United States? And then if we want to preserve that better portion of the English spirit, which soared away from the British lion upon the wings of the American eagle, we must carry back our children into communion with that child; who in this case lisped and laughed, and told merry tales in Chaucer; and fancied, mused, and deeply thought in Spenser's fairy legends. Nothing is more easy than to establish this communion; for this early English literature is composed of the favorite reading of the young, story-telling in prose and verse. The only obstable is the obsolete dialect; and this can be easily translated. There can be no modern English of a higher character than a good translation from the old English. It is almost impossible that the translator, in making the few alterations he is obliged to make, should lose the racy spirit of the original, or the natural style of its creative genius. We therefore hail with pleasure the "Tales from Chaucer." They are very beautifully executed. It is wonderful how well the spirit of the original is preserved in them. We are glad also that Mr. Clarke considers his work not so much as a substitute as an introduction to the original author. Chaucer ought also to be studied in his own pages, if for nothing else, for the sake of learning the history of English words. It is certainly true, however impossible it may be to account for the fact, that as we trace a word up to its original meaning, and to the first combinations in which it is found, we are conscious of realizing the life of the idea it conveys, in proportion. When we remember, for instance, that kind was the old English word for nature, what life it throws into all its derivations; KIN, akin, kindred, the substantive kind, the adjective kind; and so of other instances. Mr. Clarke's selection from Chaucer is a very good one; still there might be another, and we are glad to hear that an additional volume is to be prepared in this country. But we are still more glad to see Spenser brought before our juvenile public in the same way. Though he is comparatively free from absolutely obsolete words and phrases, yet there are enough of these, together with the old orthography, to make the Fairie Queene rather unintelligible to the young. Besides this, there are difficulties arising from the carelessness of Spenser's style, his free use of pronouns not sufficiently definite, and his complicated drama. The little book before us tells the story of St. George very clearly; and at the same time retains all the finest expressions of the original, and every poetical embellishment. It is in the original, however, much the simplest story of all the Legends. We hope that the others will follow in due time, as the Preface intimates. We should like to see the episode of fair Florimel, in the third Legend, drawn out into a prose narrative like this. As Spenser, in his progress, introduces more and more episodes, he sometimes almost loses himself among his beautiful fancies. To illustrate some one principle, he raises his magic wand- and lofty and noble forms appear, and arrange themselves in chivalric armour before him; and every antagonist principle finds a form among the enemies of the Order of the Cross. But this is the poet's graver work. No sooner do these appear, than the music-tongued magician, in all the ardor of exulting genius, waves his wand in aimless wild delight, and from every point where the enchanted weapon strikes, start forth unbidden beautiful groups of spirits, that seem to hide, both from the poet and his reader, the main personages of his story. A prose narrator, by interposing a sentence here and there, by way of explication, may save much wearisome examination, which interferes with the purely poetic pleasure of reading his page, whether the reader is a child or adult. We think the original author would be recurred to with all the more pleasure by any one who reads the story in prose first. But we must explain why we are still more glad to see Spenser drawn forth from the Halls of the Past, and presented to our juvenile public. It is mainly on account of the truth hidden in the allegoric meaning of his tales. It is not merely that there is a meaning hidden under these beautiful symbols, but on account of the character of that meaning. It is no ordinary moral philosophy which is to be found here; it is a moral philosophy founded on the deepest view of the soul. Thus, in the Legend of St. George, holiness is not attained except through mighty conflict! With the grave and strengthening influences of an early country life, of a high cultivation of the more external gifts of nature; a laudable love of true glory; an adoption of truth into the heart, in defence of which every thing is to be sacrificed; the high-spirited youth sets forth on the career of life. His very blessings and gifts aid his temptations and betray him into dangers, many of which he surmounts without assistance other than his own resources. But, at last, the assistance of the social principle, which has so often betrayed him into danger, becomes necessary for his redemption, and the Ideal which he loses in his spiritual wanderings, is brought to him in generous, disinterested friendship, and delivers him from evil. He is like to lose himself next in despair of himself; but Christian discipline of mind and life, in humility, obedience, reverence, repentance, faith, hope, charity, and contemplation, brings him up to a condition of health and strength beyond that of his original youth. Then, and not till then, he is prepared for great duty, and does it. This is a philosophy not founded on speculation or poetic fancy, but on a deeper acquaintance with human nature. Again; the Legend of Sir Guyon displays no less actual knowledge of the world around us, than does the first Legend, of the world within us. The genealogy, and kindred, and mutual dependencies of the passions, are drawn out and analysed, not as a metaphysician in the closet would have done it, but as only could have been done by a man who had himself acted in the midst of men; who had encountered fierce extremes of human character; who had been tempted by his own generosity to attack fury, in order to deliver others from it, and thus had learned its nature and its parentage; who had felt, by suffering, the discriminated evils of headlong rashness, and of the more accomplished malice that grows up in the voluptuous abandonment of an utterly reckless mirth; by which even the temperate may, in their simplicity, be allured for a time from reason, if met in an idle hour. It was a man who had looked on life, that could dare to time the temptation of avarice, just after the period of levity in idleness; while the poet of the soul is again recognized, in invoking heavenly grace, to watch over the exhausted man, who had so long parleyed with the passions in their subterranean region. But it is unjust to Spenser, to go on in this sketchy way to speak of the "pearls of price" he has buried in his "wilderness of sweets." As he goes on, the wilderness becomes more various and tropical in its luxuriant vegetation. The later Legends increase in the wildness and richness of the imaginative embellishments. But hints enough have been given to add the impulse of the duty of cultivating the highest within us, to all the other feelings which attract the young mind to the tales of Gloriana's Faerie Land. Class Poem; Delivered in the Chapel of the Harvard University, July 14, at the Valedictory Exercises of the Class of 1835. By B. D. Winslow. We have read this poem with no common pleasure. In these prosaic days, when verse-making has almost usurped the place of true poetry, it is delightful to fall in with a piece like this, breathing the fresh inspiration which the genius of Song has poured into the heart of its author. We recognize in this short Poem the indications of a rare genius- of a soul touched to the finest issues. We find that flow of language that delicacy of thought—that richness of imagery, which no art can attain, no labor bestow-which comes from the springs of Nature alone. Like most poems, prepared for speaking on public occasions, it is a mixture of serious and sportive thought; but like most of them, there is much in both which rises above the temporary topics of the passing occasion; and by the justness of the sentiments, stamps the author, at once, as a true poet. The fine moral spirit, which animates every line of it, is a striking feature. Mr. Winslow evidently understands the poetical elements of the English. The Saxon portion of our language is by far the richest, most picturesque, and every way most poetical. This element Mr. Winslow uses with freedom and force. In this way, he has formed a style which unites simplicity, freshness, and precision. In the grave and moralizing parts of the poem, there is sometimes a pointed and condensed turn of thought and expression, which shows a depth of reflection belonging to a riper age than the author's. Every one will be struck with the freedom of Mr. Winslow's style from the cant phrases and fashionable intensity of the day. We find in it nothing of the romantic, sentimental, satanic, or super-satanic school; no mimicry of Byron, or Wordsworth, or Coleridge; nothing but the genuine, simple expressions of a mind alive to the influence of nature, and a heart feelingly open to every sentiment of humanity. As Mr. W. advances in years, his power of thinking will strengthen — his style will be more compact-his pictures more severe. There are some trifling faults, which belong to the early manhood of genius, and which additional years, with grave studies, will correct. Poems: By Mrs. Ellet. 1 vol. 12mo. Carey & Lea, Philadelphia. If it were not for the fact, that we are prevented from expressing our opinions as freely and fully as we could wish of this elegant little volume, - by the circumstance |