Part 15

In availing himself of the assistance afforded by these letters, Mr. Maxwell has never anticipated their contents--thus avoiding much useless repetition, and suffering the subject of the Memoir to tell, in a great measure, his own story in his own words. The work is well--indeed even beautifully _gotten up_--is embellished with an admirably finished head of Mr. Rice, engraved by J. Sartain, from a painting by W. J. Hubard--and is, in every respect, an acceptable and valuable publication. Among the letters in the volume is one from John Randolph of Roanoke, and several from Wm. Wirt. We select one of these latter, being well assured that it will be read with that deep interest which is attached to every thing emanating from the same pen.

TO THE REV. JOHN H. RICE.

_Washington, February 1, 1822_.

MY DEAR SIR,--Your letter of the 31st ult. is just received at 5 P.M. for I have just returned from the President's. I feel the blush of genuine shame at the apparent presumption of adding my name in favor of the magazine to that of the eminent gentlemen at Princeton. This is real and unaffected--but you desire it--and I dare follow your beck in any direction. Would that I could in one still more important.

Holingshead's History of Duncan of Scotland, is under copy by my Elizabeth (my daughter, once your pet) for the purpose of showing the full basis of Shakspeare's Macbeth. I think you will be pleased with it--and the readers of Shakspeare must differ much from me, if they do not find it very interesting.

If you suppose from what I said of nine o'clock that that is my hour of going to bed on _week-day nights_, you are mistaken by several hours. For some time past, I have been obliged to be in my office before breakfast, and till nine or ten o'clock at night, when I have to come home, take my tea, talk over family affairs, and get to bed between eleven and twelve; but it is killing me also. And as death would be most extremely inconvenient to me in more respects than one, at this time, I shall quit that course of operations, and look a little to my health, if I can survive the approaching Supreme Court--_sed quære de hoc_.

My troubles not being already enough, in the estimation of the honorable body now assembled in the Capitol, they are beginning to institute inquiries, for my better amusement, into the circumstances of three fees paid me by the government, in the course of the four years that I have been here, for professional services foreign to my official duties--a thing which has been continually done at all times, under this government, but which they affect to think a new affair entirely, and only an additional proof among ten thousand others of the waste of public money, by the rapacity, if not peculation, of those in office. I am sick of public life; my skin is too thin for the business; a politician should have the hide of a rhinoceros, to bear the thrusts of the folly, ignorance, and meanness of those who are disposed to mount into momentary consequence by questioning _their betters_, if I may be excused the expression after professing my modesty. "There's nought but care on every hand;" all, all is vanity and vexation of spirit, save religion, friendship, and literature.

I agree that your story of the _Oysterman_ is the best, but I {52} suspect that the Orange story is the true original. I knew old Bletcher: _he_ was a _Baptist_ preacher; and although I did not hear the words, they are so much in his character that I verily believe them to have been uttered by him; and it would have been quite in his character too to have gone on with the amplification you suggest.

I do sincerely wish it were in my power to mount the aforesaid gay streamer, and long Tom, on your gallant little barque. I will try in the spring and summer to contribute a stripe or two, and a blank cartridge or so; but I shall not tell you when I do, that it is I, for it is proper you should have it in your power to say truly, "I do not know who it is." I have already got credit for much that I never wrote, and much that I never said. The guessers have an uncommon propensity to attribute all galling personalities to me, all sketches of character that touch the quick, and make some readers wince. I have, in truth, in times gone by, been a little wanton and imprudent in this particular, and I deserve to smart a little in my turn. But I never wrote a line wickedly or maliciously. There is nothing in the Spy that deserves this imputation, and nothing in the Old Bachelor, which, give me leave to tell you, "_venia deter verbo_," you and your magazine, and your writer, ** have underrated. There is a juster criticism of it in the Analectic Magazine--but this writer, too, has not true taste nor sensibility. He accuses me of extravagance only because he never felt himself, the rapture of inspiration. And you accuse me of redundant figure, because you are not much troubled yourself with the throes of imagination--just as G-- H-- abuses eloquence because there is no chord in his heart that responds to its notes. So take that. And if you abuse me any more, I will belabor your magazine as one of the heaviest, dullest, most drab-colored periodicals extant in these degenerate days. What! shall a Conestoga wagon-horse find fault with a courser of the sun, because he sometimes runs away with the chariot of day, and sets the world on fire? So take that again, and put it in your pocket. But enough of this _badinage_, for if I pursue it much farther you will think me serious--besides it is verging to eleven, and the fire has gone down. I began this scrawl a little after five--walked for health till dark--came in and found company who remained till near ten--and could not go to bed without a little more talk with you. But I shall tire you and catch cold--so with our united love to Mrs. Rice, my dear Harriet, and yourself, good night.

Your friend, in truth, WM. WIRT.

LIFE OF DR. CALDWELL.

_Oration on the Life and Character of the Rev. Joseph Caldwell, D.D. late President of the University of North Carolina, by Walker Anderson, A.M._

It was only within the last few days that we met with the above oration, in a pamphlet form--and we cannot refrain from expressing the very great pleasure its perusal has afforded us. Dr. Caldwell was unquestionably a great and good man--and certain are we that the task of paying tribute to his manifold qualifications and virtues, now that he is gone, could not have been committed to abler hands, than those of Professor Anderson. The tone of feeling pervading the oration is quite characteristic of its author--ardent--affectionate--consistent.

"We come," says he, near the beginning, "we come as a band of brothers, to do homage to that parental love, of which all of us, the old as well as the young, have been the objects; and by communing with the spirit of our departed father, to enkindle those hallowed emotions which are the fittest offering to his memory. But why needs the living speaker recall to your remembrance the venerated and beloved being whose loss is fresh in the memories of all who hear me? We stand not, it is true, over his grave, as the Spartan over the sepulchre of his king, but his memorials present themselves to the eye on every side and are felt in every throbbing bosom. The shady retreats of this consecrated grove--the oft frequented halls of this seat of learning--the sacred edifice in which we are assembled--and the very spot on which I stand, are memorials to awaken the busy and thronging recollections of many a full heart! _Quocumque ingredimur in aliquam historiam vestigium ponimus._ I look around this assembly and see monuments of his love and of his labors, such as can never grace the memory of the warrior, and which throw contempt on all the sculptured memorials of kings. I look at the eyes beaming with intelligence; I contemplate the refined intellects; I see their rich fruits in public and honorable employment; I recall the memory of others who are far distant, but whose thoughts are mingling with ours upon this occasion; who have carried with them the seeds of virtue and wisdom which they gathered here, and in other lands, have brought forth the noblest results of usefulness and honorable consideration. I revert, too, to those whose bright career is ended, and who preceded their guide and instructor to the abodes of the blessed. I think of all this, and feel that you need not the voice of the speaker to arouse your grateful recollections." p. 4.

Mr. Anderson shortly after this, goes into a very interesting sketch of the family history of the deceased, portraying with great tenderness and delicacy, the maternal solicitude to which young Caldwell was so deeply indebted for his well doing in after life--and evincing as we humbly conceive, in this part of his oration, fine powers as a biographical writer. There is much force in his development of the Doctor's character throughout, but especial beauty, we think, in the way in which he treats of his religious principles. One extract more from the pamphlet, in proof of what we have just said, must close this hasty and imperfect notice of it.

"The religious character of Dr. Caldwell, was not the formation of a day, nor the hasty and imperfect work of a dying bed. His trust was anchored on the rock of ages, and he was therefore well furnished for the terrible conflict that awaited him. We have seen that he had made Religion the guide of his youth; it beautified and sanctified the labors of his well spent life; nor did it fail him in the trying hour, which an allwise but inscrutable Providence permitted to be to him peculiarly dark and fearful. The rich consolations of his faith became brighter and stronger, amidst the wreck of the decaying tabernacle of flesh; and if the dying testimony of a pure and humble spirit may be received, death had for him no sting--the grave achieved no triumph. In any frequent and detailed account of his religious feelings he was not inclined to indulge--the spirit that walks most closely with its God, needs not the sustaining influence of such excitements--yet a few weeks previous to his death, a friend from a distant part of the State calling to see him, made inquiries as to the state of his mind, and had the privilege of hearing from him the calm assurance of his perfect resignation and submission to the will of God. His hope of a happy immortality beyond the grave, was such as belongs only to the Christian, and by him was modestly but humbly entertained. It was to him a principle of strength that sustained him amidst the conflicts of the dark valley; and to us who witnessed the agonies of his parting hour, a bright radiance illuming the gloom which memory throws around the trying scene." pp. 38, 39.

WASHINGTONII VITA.

_A Life of George Washington, in Latin Prose: By Francis Glass, A.M. of Ohio. Edited by J. N. Reynolds. New York: Published by Harper and Brothers._

We may truly say that not for years have we taken up a volume with which we have been so highly gratified, as with the one now before us. A Life of Washington, succinct in form, yet in matter sufficiently comprehensive, has been long a desideratum: but a Life of Washington precisely such as a compendious Life of that great man should be--written by a native of Ohio--and written too, in Latin, which is not one jot inferior to the Latin of Erasmus, is, to say the least of it,--a novelty.

We confess that we regarded the first announcement {53} of this _rara avis_ with an evil and suspicious eye. The thing was improbable, we thought. Mr. Reynolds was quizzing us--the brothers Harper were hoaxed--and Messieurs Anthon and Co. were mistaken. At all events we had made up our minds to be especially severe upon Mr. Glass, and to put no faith in that species of classical Latin which should emanate from the back woods of Ohio. We now solemnly make a recantation of our preconceived opinions, and so proceed immediately to do penance for our unbelief.

Mr. Reynolds is entitled to the thanks of his countrymen for his instrumentality in bringing this book before the public. It has already done wonders in the cause of the classics; and we are false prophets if it do not ultimately prove the means of stirring up to a new life and a regenerated energy that love of the learned tongues which is the surest protection of our own vernacular language from impurity, but which, we are grieved to see, is in a languishing and dying condition in the land.

We have read Mr. R's preface with great attention; and meeting with it, as we have done, among a multiplicity of worldly concerns, and every-day matters and occurrences, it will long remain impressed upon our minds as an episode of the purest romance. We have no difficulty in entering fully with Mr. Reynolds into his kindly feelings towards Mr. Glass. We perceive at once that we could have loved and reverenced the man. His image is engraven upon our fancy. Indeed we behold him _now_--at this very moment--with all his oddities and appurtenances about him. We behold the low log-cabin of a school-house--the clap-board roof but indifferently tight--the holes, ycleped windows, covered with oiled paper to keep out the air--the benches of hewn timber stuck fast in the ground--the stove, the desk, the urchins, and the Professor. We can hear the worthy pedagogue's classical '_Salves_,' and our ears are still tingling with his hyperclassical exhortations. In truth he was a man after our own heart, and, were we not Alexander, we should have luxuriated in being Glass.

A word or two respecting the Latinity of the book. We sincerely think that it has been underrated. While we agree with Mr. Reynolds, for whose opinions, generally, we have a high respect, that the work can boast of none of those elegancies of diction, no rich display of those beauties and graces which adorn the pages of some modern Latinists, we think he has forgotten, in his search after the mere flowers of Latinity, the peculiar nature of that labor in which Mr. Glass has been employed. Simplicity _here_ was the most reasonable, and indeed the only admissible elegance. And if this be taken into consideration, we really can call to mind, at this moment, no modern Latin composition whatever much superior to the _Washingtonii Vita_ of Mr. Glass.

The clothing of modern ideas in a language dead for centuries, is a task whose difficulty can never be fully appreciated by those who have never undertaken it. The various changes and modifications, which, since the Augustan age, have come to pass in the sciences of war and legislation especially, must render any attempt similar to that which we are now criticising, one of the most hazardous and awkward imaginable. But we cannot help thinking that our author has succeeded _à merveille_. His ingenuity is not less remarkable than his grammatical skill. Indeed he is never at a loss. It is nonsense to laugh at his calling Quakers _Tremebundi_. _Tremebundi_ is as good Latin as _Trementes_, and more euphonical Latin than _Quackeri_--for both which latter expressions we have the authority of Schroeckh: and _glandes plumbeæ_, for bullets, is something better, we imagine, than Wyttenbach's _bombarda_, for a cannon; Milton's _globulus_, for a button; or Grotius' _capilamentum_, for a wig. As a specimen of Mr. G's Latinity, we subjoin an extract from the work. It is Judge Marshall's announcement in Congress of the death of Washington.

"Nuncius tristis, quem heri accepimus, hodierno die nimium certus advenit. Fuit Washingtonius; heros, dux, et philosophus; ille, denique, quem, imminente periculo, omnes intuebantur, factorum clarorum memoriâ duntaxat vixit. Quamvis enim, eos honore afficere solenne non esset, quorum vita in generis humani commodis promovendis insumpta fuit, Washingtonii, tamen, res gestoe tantoe extiterunt, ut populus universus Americanus, doloris indicium, qui tam latè patet, deposcere suo jure debet."

"Rempublicam hancce nostram, tam longè latèque divisam, unus ferè Washingtonius ordinandi et condendi laudem meret. Rebus omnibus, tandem confectis, quarum causâ exercitibus Americanis proepositus fuerat, gladium in vomerem convertit, bellumque pace lætissimè commutavit. Cum civitatum foederatarum Americanarum infirmitas omnibus manifesta videretur, et vincula, quibus Columbi terra latissima continebatur, solverentur, Washingtonium omnium, qui hancce nostram proeclaram rempublicam stabiliverant, principem vidimus. Cum patria charissima eum ad sedandos tumultus, bellumque sibi imminens ad propulsandum et avertendum, vocaret; Washingtonium, otium domesticum, quod ei semper charum fuit, relinquentem, et undis civilibus, civium commoda et libertatem servandi causâ, mersum, haud semel conspeximus; et consilia, quibus libertatem Americanam stabilem effecerat, perpetua, ut spero, semper, erunt."

"Cum populi liberi magistratus summus bis constitutus esset, cumque tertiò præses fieri facillimè potuisset, ad villam, tamen, suam, secessit, seque ab omni munere civili in posterum procul amoveri, ex animo cupiebat. Utcunque vulgi opinio, quoad alios homines, mutetur, Washingtonii, certè, fama sempiterna et eadem permanebit. Honoremus, igitur, patres conscripti, hunc tantum virum mortuum: civitatum foederatarum Americanarum consilium publicum civium omnium sententias, hác una in re, declaret."

"Quamobrem, chartas quasdam hîc manu teneo, de quibus Congressûs sententiam rogare velim: ut, nempe, civitatum foederatarum Americanarum consilium publicum proesidem visat, simul cum eo, gravi de hoc casu, condoliturum: ut Congressûs principis sella vestibus pullis ornetur; utque Congressus pars reliqua vestibus pullis induatur: utque, denique, idonea à Congressu parentur, quibus planè manifestum fiat, Congressum, virum bello, pace, civiumque animis primum, honore summo afficere velle."[1]

[Footnote 1: The sad tidings which yesterday brought us, this day has but too surely confirmed. Washington is no more. The hero, the general, the philosopher--he, upon whom, in the hour of danger, all eyes were turned, now lives in the remembrance, only, of his illustrious actions. And although, even, it were not customary to render honor unto those who have spent their lives in promoting the welfare of their fellow men, still, so great are the deeds of Washington, that the whole American nation is bound to give a public manifestation of that grief which is so extensively prevalent.

Washington, we had nearly said Washington _alone_, deserves the credit of regulating and building up, as it were, the widely extended territory of this our Republic. Having finally achieved all for which he had accepted the command of the American forces, he converted his sword into a ploughshare, and joyfully exchanged war for peace. When the weakness of the United States of America appeared manifest to all, and the bands by which the very extensive land of Columbus was held together, were in danger of being loosened, we have seen Washington the first among those who re-invigorated this our glorious Republic. When his beloved country called him to quiet tumults, and to avert the war with which she was menaced, we have once more seen Washington abandon that domestic tranquillity so dear to him, and plunge into the waters of civil life to preserve the liberties and happiness of his countrymen: and the counsels with which he re-established American liberty will be, as I hope, perpetual.

When he had been twice appointed the Chief Magistrate of a free people, and when, for the third time, he might easily have been President, he nevertheless retired to his farm, and really desired to be freed from all civil offices forever. However vulgar opinion may vary in respect to other men, the fame of Washington will, surely, be the same to all eternity. Therefore, let us show our reverence for this so great man who is departed, and let this public counsel of the United States of America declare upon this one subject the opinion of all our citizens.

For this end I hold these resolutions in my hand, concerning which I would wish the opinion of Congress, viz: that this public counsel of the United States of America should visit the President to condole with him upon this heavy calamity--that the speaker's chair be arrayed in black--that the members of Congress wear mourning--and lastly, that arrangements be entered into by this assembly, in which it may be made manifest that Congress wish to do every honor to the man first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.]

The 'barbarisms' of Mr. Glass are always so well in accordance with the genius of Latin declension, as {54} never to appear at variance with the spirit of the language, or out of place in their respective situations. His 'equivalents,' too, are, in all cases, ingeniously managed: and we are mistaken if the same can be said of the 'equivalents' of Erasmus--certainly not of those used by Grotius, or Addison, or Schroeckh, or Buchanan, neither of whom are scrupulous in introducing words, from which a modern one is deduced, in the exact sense of the English analogous term--although that term may have been greatly perverted from its original meaning.

Having said thus much in favor of the _Washingtonii Vita_, we may now be permitted to differ in opinion with Professor Wylie and others who believe that this book will be a valuable acquisition to our classical schools, as initiatory to Cæsar or Nepos. We are quite as fully impressed with the excellences of Mr. Glass' work as the warmest of his admirers; and perhaps, even more than any of them, are we anxious to do it justice. Still the book is--as it professes to be--a Life of Washington; and it treats, consequently, of events and incidents occurring _in a manner_ utterly unknown to the Romans, and _at a period_ many centuries after their ceasing to exist as a nation. If, therefore, by Latin we mean the Language spoken by the Latins, a large proportion of the work--disguise the fact as we may--is necessarily _not Latin at all_. Did we indeed design to instruct our youth in a language of possibilities--did we wish to make them proficient in the tongue which _might have been spoken_ in ancient Rome, had ancient Rome existed in the nineteenth century, we could scarcely have a better book for the purpose than the Washington of Mr. Glass. But we do not perceive that, in teaching Latin, we have any similar view. And we have given over all hope of making this language the medium of universal communication--that day-dream, with a thousand others, is over. Our object then, at present, is simply to imbue the mind of the student with the idiom, the manner, the thought, and above all, with _the words_ of antiquity. If this is not our object, what is it? But this object cannot be effected by any such work as the _Washingtonii Vita_.

NORMAN LESLIE.

_Norman Leslie. A Tale of the Present Times. New York: Published by Harper and Brothers._

Well!--here we have it! This is _the_ book--_the_ book _par excellence_--the book bepuffed, beplastered, and be-_Mirrored_: the book "attributed to" Mr. Blank, and "said to be from the pen" of Mr. Asterisk: the book which has been "about to appear"--"in press"--"in progress"--"in preparation"--and "forthcoming:" the book "graphic" in anticipation--"talented" _a priori_--and God knows what _in prospectu_. For the sake of every thing puffed, puffing, and puffable, let us take a peep at its contents!