THE EMPEROR OF ALL THE RUSSIAS. L'Empereur then, touching American affairs, from Eng

plete series of De Quincey, issued by Ticknor, Reed and Fields; and makes, if we mistake not, the fifteenth. The typography is, of course, excellent.

APHEILA; and other Poems. By Two Cousins of the
South, Miss JULIA PLEASANTS and THOMAS BIBB
BRADLEY. New York: Charles Scribner. [From G.
M. West, under Exchange Hotel.

Miss Pleasants and Mr. Bradley are both known to the readers of the Messenger as writers of tuneful verse, and the volume before us sufficiently establishes their claim to our gratitude for having uttered the inspiration within them. It were an invidious task to say which of the two deserves the greater share-the maxim of place aux dames does not hold in literature, and we are absolved in criticism from that deference to the sex which gallantry prescribes; yet we do not hesitate to express the opinion that Miss Pleasants is the more enchanting in song; her's is the voice of the charmer which compels us to listen. She reminds us of some tropical bird pouring out unpremeditated melodies which it were a sin not to drink in gratefully. The prevailing characteristic of her poetry is its music, and this music is so various-now like the murmurous flow of a mountain streamlet, and now like the tintinnabulation of Poe's wonderful bells, that it must strike some chord in every bosom,

Mr. Bradley's longest poem is the one which gives the name to the volume-APHEILA. It is constructed on the model of the Raven, which we think it is to be regretted,| since the author might have easily struck out a metre of his own more in harmony with the thoughts expressed. One who versifies with so much grace and elegance after a given form, need not have hesitated to invent a stanza

for himself.

That there are faults in these poems no observant reader can fail to discover; some of them are very glaring, and show the writers to be unpractised in the mere mechanicals of poetical composition. Indeed, if Mr. Bradley and Miss Pleasants were not placed far above mediocrity by the excellences they have manifested, these faults would consign their volume to the limbo of literary failures. The gentle songstress, for example, in a sweet lyric, entitled "The Three Pilgrims," is made to write as follows:

But Hope's golden tresses were steadfastly streaming
In planet-like glory, above the gilt helm;
While Youth at her side stood unconsciously dreaming,
And watching the waves curling back from the stern.

Surely Miss Pleasants does not need to be referred to Walker's Rhyming Dictionary for proof that "helm" and "stern" are impossible rhymes. Again, a few stanzas further on, speaking of the ship which bore these Pilgrims, she terminates a very mellifluous quatrain with an offence against good English which makes it a fine specimen of bathos

'Tis true it was stout, but alas! 'twas a stranger
To seas where the coral reef parted the wave;
And it heedlessly rushed in the bosom of danger,
Where none hovered near for to pity or save.

rode forth from his castle gate Strange countries for to see.

But to point out beauties is more to our taste than to indicate faults-we incline rather to admire the

brilliancy of the diamond than to examine the flaws in its crystallization. Let us therefore give a snatch of Miss Pleasants' song. We will introduce four stanzas from the "Three Pilgrims," the poem already referred to

For a brighter blue sky o'er a barque never bended,
A softer blue ocean a barque never bore,
And spirit-like zephyrs from heaven descended
And tenderly wafted her far from the shore.

And gaily the mariners sang as they glided-
Their keel, like a keen silver arrow divided
Their ship it was stout and their flag it was free;

The heart of the broad and the beautiful sea.

And it sank in the prime of a golden-hued morning
'Mid billows as soft as an infant's repose;
The bell-fashioned sky ringing never a warning,

To tell that the waters would over it close.

Straight down to the sea-monarch's chrystalline chamber
It silently sped, like the beam of a star.
Where sea-nymphs encrusted its cordage with amber,
And girdled with flowers each delicate spar.

This is very beautiful verse, and it would not be difficult to find more of as musical a character in these Poems, but our limits will not admit of further quotation. We dismiss the book, commending it to all who love to be beguiled by the muses, with the single remark that a more abominably printed volume, in respect of accuracy of text, we have never chanced to encounter.

THE U. S. GRINNELL EXPEDITION in Search of Sir
John Franklin. A Personal Narrative. By ELISHA
KENT KANE, M. D., U. S. N. New York: Harper &
Brothers. 1854. [From A. Morris, 97 Main Street.

The Messrs. Harper have re-commenced their labours, (interrupted by the great fire which laid their immense publishing establishment in ruins,) with a noble volume. Dr. Kane's narrative of the perils attending his first search after Sir John Franklin is one of the liveliest interest; and aided, as it is, by numerous and spirited engravings on steel and wood, presents by far the best picture of boreal desolation we have ever seen. The Grinnell Expedition was an enterprise so honorable to the country that its record ought to be worthy of preservation both from its literary and artistic attractions; and such it is, thanks to the accomplished author and his excellent publishers.

The Abbé Adrien Rouquette, of Louisiana, has laid us under obligations, by sending us several discourses and essays of his own, written in French. The most volu minous of these is a Treatise, entitled, La Thebaide en We take it for granted that "in" is a mis-print for "on" Amerique, on Apologie de la Vie Solitaire et Contempla in the third line; yet the "for to" was obviously inten- tive. It would be doing flagrant injustice to the Abbe to tional, and we do not recollect its occurrence in poetry dismiss such a disquisition in a single paragraph, so that anywhere else than in the pathetic ballad of Lord Lovell, we must defer to some future occasion any remarks who

upon it.

PUBLISHED MONTHLY AT THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM-JNO. R. THOMPSON, EDITOR.

VOL. XX.

RICHMOND, MAY, 1854.

BULWER'S MY NOVEL.'

A REVIEW.

NO. 5.

We state only that it is the fact now. We wish also to show why literature does and must take this form of expression, and how its friend, if he be a sound thinker, may so use the present state of things as to benefit his times and extend the influence of letters. The grand characteristic of this age is

Not

Many consider it evidence of sound judgment and good taste to decry the pretensions of the novel as a work of literature-com- equality of thought and condition. The noprehending all works of fiction under the vel describes the passions which have ever sweeping condemnation of light reading; agitated the mind of man, which can be they assert that their places should be filled comprehended by every class and which opby the scientific treatise or the dignified es- erate on every condition of our race. say. Nothing less than these, they exclaim, content with generalities, it comes nearer, should satisfy the literary wants of the think- and portrays every feeling and action which ing thousands of the nineteenth century. characterise and individualise the times. It Forgetting that the province of literature is becomes a most important part of our literato delight as well as to instruct, they dis- ture by operating on so large a mass of public card all novels on account of the vicious ten- intelligence. Its foundations being so extendencies of many that have been written, and sive, a higher and more durable edifice of not for any reason applying to the nature of thought can thereon be reared.

the novel in general.

The novel is more characteristic of the A work of fiction illustrating, by descrip- times than the Drama. At a former day, tions of men and things, the acts, scenes and when Shakspeare was on the stage, performpassions of the world as it is, is evidence of ing his own plays before his nation's queen, active intelligence, and is the product of an the drama was the great literary effort of the expanded civilization. Its object being to age. Now no author of genius will rest his portray nature, it is subject to all the modifi- reputation on dramatic performances alone. cations which the tendencies of the age im- Scenic representations are not now conductpose. Its author, if his genius be commen- ed by performers of talent and standing, but surate with his undertaking, will embody the constitute the employment for vagrant stock leading ideas of the times he describes, and actors who pander to the worst tastes of the personate them in living beings who shall community. Hence the elevated and litenot only show forth human nature in its uni- rary have ceased to frequent the theatre for versal aspect, but particularly as developed intellectual amusement, and would therefore under the circumstances of the era of his be unable to appreciate the merits of an story. Whatever department of letters or American Garrick were the present age to art most completely embodies the spirit of produce one. The literary drama which is age, will attract the most general atten- written to be read and not to be acted, only tion and produce the most permanent im- now entertains the man of taste. Having pression. furnished material for the thought and emThe novel is the characteristic literary ef-ployment for the pen of Shakspeare, Dryden fort of the present age. It is more. It is its creature and its impression.

the

and Byron, it will always command a high position among works of genius; but being We do not assert that the novel ought to now regarded as a species of poem, it will be be the highest effort of literature. We only judged by its rules and will therefore share say that the present age tends to make it so. its fate. While few attend the theatre, or We do not argue that this will always be so. are pleased with the touching scenes of the

VOL XX-33

Lady of Lyons, the novel is read by thou-[expression. Shallow critics and shallower sands in country seats and cottages, in lofty politicians lament the utilitarianism of the attics and in spacious halls. age. Another class more unwise than they, That poetry which has for its theme the glory in its advance and hope that it will innoble deeds of the past, will not flourish in crease in rapidity till it absorb all else. The this utilitarian age. The dignified epic and true conservators know that the circumthe imposing didactic have had their day. stances which bring this state of things about, This fast age can only take time while weary will cease of necessity, and will prepare the to gather strength for an active future, by foundations for future ages of progress based the excitement of the glowing lyric-or may upon another age of thought. Some future occupy the restless mind for a moment by humming the easy ballad.

historian standing on some lofty eminence of genius and originality, with the errors and The historian will find all his ground pre- the success of the present before him, may occupied; or if he should find some spot un- lay down principles upon which a future reclaimed by preceding industry, he will, generation of more active utilitarians than while slowly toiling there, be left far behind we, may carry the race to a higher point of by the restless spirit of the present. His progress. When the hurly burly of our fillilabours may arrest the attention of those of busterism is quiet, and when action being learning and leisure, but will cease to inter-exhausted, there will be more necessity for est further. Events pass by so rapidly now thought. Some greater than Shakspeare that we have not time to comment on them. may yet arise, who, not content with exhibiThe historian at the conclusion of the annals ting the man of one age, the creature of one of the past, fears to speak of the future, lest development, shall extend his picture to the fact may outstrip the sanguine anticipa- comprehend the whole family from Adam tion, and reality exceed the most glowing down-shall draw with graphic truth all the hope.

common points of character-shall portray History, the Drama, Poetry in most of its with dramatic power the feelings and pasforms, do not succeed now. The standard sions of the past and present, and shall preworks of this character may continue to hold dict with lyric chorus the glories of a grander their high position; but further examples of future. Such literary merit as this, howthem will cease to be produced, save by those ever, the present age will never develop, or, great minds who are willing to wait for fame if developed, will never appreciate. The till a succeeding generation may award it. flower, if it bloom on some Southern slope The age has new tastes as its employments or under the sun of noon, will be chilled by are new. Society is now ungergoing revo- the evening blast or nipped by the frost of lutions everywhere. Commerce and trade night. The style of writing most suitable to are progressing by new laws of action. Gov- the feelings of the present age, is that which ernments having the sanction of time and will tell most effectively on the greatest numexperience are stepping into the future with ber. The literature of the day should be of a stumbling and uncertain tread, and those a every-day practical character. It must apparently most popular are about to enter amuse. It should not astound. The thought upon new principles and untried experi- should not soar, but should remain on earth. ments. These things cannot always be so. Scientific truth even should not be declared The sober thoughts of our forefathers laid in algebraical formula. If its discoverer the foundations for the rapid developments should thus announce it, his fame will be around us. Ere long when these are con- pilfered by the second-hand scribbler, who summated, the necessity will occur that will adulterate his high proof, with water thought shall again supersede action. Ex- from the common fountain. Hence it is that perience assures us that ages of deep think- the works of Bacon and Locke are only read ers and great action are successive. The by him whom the world calls the learned age which produces the one is unfit to rear fool, while the Yankee abridgment-thoughtand develop the other. Hence great authors too large for an age compressed into one come in swarms, if we may be allowed the small duodecimo-is found in every circu

lating library. The great world sees nothing to keep sufficiently far from this all-engrossof and cares nothing about the papers of the ing topic. Our novels now are not only Philosophical Society, while all are ready to yielding to this prevailing bent, but we see commend the " Society for the diffusion of that the same tendency is at the North morUseful Knowledge." Literary genius now of bidly invading the pulpit and threatening to necessity declines to waste itself on works throw religion overboard to have the whole which the age will discard. It therefore has field for noisy political declamation. On this changed its form. The ponderous folio is point, the writer of taste and judgment will discarded for the paper-backed volume. The easily know how far to adapt himself to this light magazine, the newspaper and the re- spirit, so as to interest and instruct, without view occupy the genius of the present. merging all the efforts of his genius in the The novel of the day exhibits its charac-gulf of political corruption.

teristics; yet is not therefore the novel of a The novel of the present age differs from prior date. Amadis de Gaul and Don Quixote were both works of fiction; yet the latter was written to destroy the former. Its aim was accomplished; not so much by the book itself, but by the spirit which it excited.

that of the preceding more particularly in its plot. To illustrate this, compare the Vicar of Wakefield with one of the involved works of Dumas or Eugene Sue. Formerly, the writer's aim was to draw an ideal scene-people It is said that by the ballads of a people it with characters most suitable to his puryou may learn their feelings. A newspaper pose-imagine a chain of events which would found in the ruins of Herculaneum would develop his hero; and having carried out the enable us to know the Romans better than conception of his work, and illustrated his the decades of Livy or the satires of Juvenal. By the novel of the day you can discover its thoughts, aims and feelings, better than by learned descriptions and lengthy disquisitions.

Let us now see what the novel of the present day must do to suit its tastes and to meet its requirements; and to this extent how it must differ from its predecessors.

moral, he would terminate it either favorably or unfavorably as best suited the preceding events of his story. In ordinary works of this kind, the experienced novel-monger can see afar off the coming catastrophe, and can Conservative thinkers should not endea- predict with unerring certainty the fate of vour to deny it a place in the literature of the principal personages of the action. In the times. They should, on the contrary, times when the history of any man might endeavour to elevate its standard. If we do have been written out before his birth on not read the standard novels of the day, the knowing his circumstances, talents, acquireage will go on and leave us behind. ments and associations, by the unerring operations of social laws, these plots were true to nature, and should not have been departed from, even by the most erratic genius. Else he would have violated the laws of the In the first place, it must exhibit charac-development of his events and his characers in all the phases in which the times pre- ters. But now, when under the more inconsent them. To have all its heroes in good stant laws of a more rapid civilization, a man ociety, all gentlemen and ladies of rank and may be born a nobleman and die a beggar, ashion, would be as if Homer had only laid or be raised a peasant and fill a throne, when us scenes on the top of Olympus, and had his birth may be in Europe, his fortune made poken only of Jove, Saturn and Venus-not in Australia, lost in New York, and his latter eigning to depict the wisdom of Nestor and days spent in the effort to recuperate in the he wrath of Achilles. To have all the char- West Indies; the author's plot should be cters in low life, would be as if Milton had more complex and his catastrophe more startmitted the councils of heaven and the scenes ling. Not that he should neglect all else, f earth, and had made all his dramatis peronæ inhabitants of Pandemonium. The beau ideal novel should also be tinged ith a political caste. The tendency to potics is so strong now, that its aim should be

and like the French school of novels, present his readers with nothing but a plot of infinite complexity. He should after having exhibited well-drawn, life-like characters, and all the other paraphernalia of good novel