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should have him to dine with them; but moss from Venice, a sigh from the heart what need of such blatant publicity? what of Italy, a word of hope and happiness justification for such interminable and from the domestic life of France. He has such miserable speeches as were made at seen the cloud rising in Italy, and ven. him in Gotham ? Why did not one com- tures to hope, almost against possibility. pliment in each town suffice ? and why He has seen the firesides and homes of must he be persecuted with watches and France, and assures us that in Paris, too, run down by crowds? Why, except be- exist honest and warm and pure hearts, cause some people are allowed to pam- and generous and holy souls, and that all per their silly vanity by means of other France is not a den in which liars and people's silly curiosity ? Good sense and charlatans only struggle and tear one angood taste revolted at these exhibitions; other. Mr. Field looks at things with but good sense and good taste are unde- somewhat of a professional eye, and draws monstrative, while folly and vulgarity are what encouragement he can for the future bold and carry the day. In all such mat- of the Protestant religion. His facts and ters, we of this country allow ourselves to speculations will thus interest a large and be misrepresented by a comparatively few valuable class of readers, while to some impudent people, with their own ends to few of another class a certain suspicion of serve. This book is somewhat open to prosiness will be distasteful. The volume like objections. Its title is too preten- is well prepared, and we are sure that the tious; its style is braggart, and tainted manly, generous sentiments of the writer with the vulgarity of an English flash re- will be welcomed by a large number of porter; and yet this is tempered by a cer- personal friends, and by a discriminating tain constraint, as if the writer could not public. but occasionally think how ill such a style was suited to his subject. The portrait is wretched, and a certain likeness to Mr. Adam Bede. By GEORGE ELLIOT, Author Morphy adds to its offensiveness.

of “Scenes of Clerical Life.” New York: Harper & Brothers. 12mo. pp. 496.

Summer Pictures. From Copenhagen to

Venice. By HENRY M. FIELD, Author of " The Irish Confederates and the Rebellion of 1798." New York : Sheldon, Blakeman & Co. Boston: Gould & Lincoln. 1859.

The unpretending title to this neat vol. ume expresses the modest purpose of the writer. Escaping from care and responsibility, he has made a rapid tour through parts of Europe, some of which are rarely frequented ; - from London to Norman dy; thence to Paris, Holland, Denmark; through the Baltic to Berlin, Dresden, Prague, and Vienna; thence to the Adriatic, Venice, Milan, and so round again to Paris.

To see all this with new eyes, and to present the world with a perfectly fresh book of “Travels in Europe,” requires a rare man and a rare audacity; and we congratulate Mr. Field that he has not at. tempted the doubtful task. But, in his rapid run, he has gathered a flower here, a specimen there, a bit of history, a sight of a man, a pebble from the Baltic, a

As Nature will have it, Great Unknowns are out of the question in any other branch of the world's business than the writing of books. If, through sponsorial neglect or cruelty, the name of our butcher or baker or candlestick-maker happens to be John, with the further and congenial addition of Smith, John Smith it is on sign-board, pass-book, and at the top, and sometimes at the bottom, of the monthly bills, in liv. ing and familiar characters. But in the matter of authorship, the world is yet far short of the Scriptural standard; in a vari. ety of instances it has found itself unable to know men by their works; and, in deference to this short-sightedness of their fellows, merchants and lawyers and doctors have their cards, and clergymen, at least once in every twelvemonth, make the personal circuit of their congregations, so that no sheep shall wander into darkness through ignorance of the shepherd. We believe that no pursuit should be marked by greater frankness and fairness than the literary. It is a question, at least, of kindness; and it is not kind to set good people on an uneasy edge of curiosity ; it is not kind to bring down upon The Poetical Works of Edgar A. Poe. With the care-bowed heads of editors storms of an Original Memoir. Redfield, New communications, couched in terms of an- York. gry disputation; it is not kind to establish a perennial root of bitterness, to give an This pocket edition of the Poetical Works unhealthy flavor to the literary waters of of Edgar A. Poe is illustrated with a very unborn generations, as “Junius" did, and much idealized portrait of the author. The Scott would have done, had he been able. poems are introduced by an original me

“Adam Bede” is remarkable, not less moir, which, without eulogy or anathema, for the unaffected Saxon style which up- gives a clear and succinct account of that holds the graceful fabric of the narrative, singular and wayward genius. The copand for the naturalness of its scenes and ies of verses are many in number, and characters, so that the reader at once feels most of them are chiefly remarkable for happy and at home among them, than for their art, rather than for their power of the general perception of those universal awakening either pleasing or profound springs of action which control all society, emotion. It is one poem alone which the patient unfolding of those traits of hu- makes an edition of these works emphatimanity with which commonplace writers cally called for. That poem, it is nearly get out of temper and rudely dispense. superfluous to mention, is “ The Raven," The place and the people are of the sim- and truly it is unforgetable. In this weird plest, and the language is of the simplest; and wonderful creation, art holds equal and what happens from day to day, and dominion with feeling. The form not from year to year, in the period of the ac- only never yields to the sweep of the tion, might happen in any little village thought, but that thought, touching and where the sun shines.

fearful as is its tone, is made to turn and We do not know where to look, in the double fantastically, almost playfully, in whole range of contemporary fictitious lit- many of the lines. The croak of the ra. erature, for pictures in which the sober and ven is taken up and moulded into rhyme the brilliant tones of Nature blend with by a nimble, if not a mocking spirit; and, more exquisite harmony than in those fascinating as is the rhythmic movement which are set in every chapter of “Adam of the verse, it appears like the dancing of Bede." Still life — the harvest-field, the the daughter of Herodias. This looks inpolished kitchens, the dairies with a con- congruous; and so do the words of the fool centrated cool smell of all that is nourish- which Shakspeare has intermingled with ing and sweet, the green, the porches that the agonies and imprecations of Lear. In have vines about them and are pleasant the tragedy, this is held to be a consumlate in the afternoon, and deep woods thrill- mate stroke of art, and certainly the reading with birds — all these were never more er is grateful for the relief. Had Poe a vividly, and yet tenderly depicted. The similar design ? Closely analyzed, this characters are drawn with a free and im- song seems the very ecstasy of fancy; as partial hand, and one of them is a creation if the haunting apparition inspired the pofor immortality. Mrs. Poyser is a woman et more than it appalled the man. We can with an incorrigible tongue, set firmly in call to mind no one who has ever played opposition to the mandates of a heart the with an inexplicable horror more daintily overflows of whose sympathy and love or more impressively; and, whether prekeep the circle of her influence in a state meditated or spontaneous, it is an epitome of continual irrigation. Her epigrams are of the life of the writer, for the marked aromatic, and she is strong in simile, but traits of his character are there, and alnever ventures beyond her own depth into most the prevailing expression of his counthat of her author.



It becomes the sad duty of the editors of the “ATLANTIC” to record the death of its founder, MR. M. D. PHILLIPS. It indicates no ordinary force of character, that a man, dying at the age of forty-six, should have worked himself, solely by his own talents and integrity, to the head of one of the largest publishing-houses of the country. But it was not merely by strength and tenacity of purpose, and by clearness of judgment, that Mr. Phillips was distinguished. He had also a generous ambition, and aims which transcended the sphere of self and the limits of merely commercial success. Showing, as he did, a rare courage (and that of the best kind, for it was a courage based upon experience and qualified by discretion) in beginning the publication of the “ Atlantic” during the very storm and stress of the financial revulsion of 1857, it was by no means as a mere business speculation that he undertook what seemed a doubtful enterprise. His wish and hope were, that the “Atlantic” should represent what was best in American thought and letters ; and while he had no doubt of ultimate pecuniary profit,, his chief motive was the praiseworthy ambition to associate his name with an undertaking which should result in some good to letters and some progress in ideas and principles which were dear to him.

We speak of him as we saw him. He would not have wished a garrulous eulogy or a cumbrous epitaph. A character whose outline was simple and bold, and which was marked by certain leading and high qualities, demands few words, if only they be sincere. It is less painful to say that good word for the dead, which it is the instinct of human nature to offer, when we can say, as of Mr. Phillips, that his mind was strong and clear, that it was tenacious of experience, and therefore both rapid and safe in decision, that he was courageous and constant, and acted under the inspiration of desires and motives which he can carry with him into the new sphere to which he has passed.


lemoirs of Vidocq, the Principal Agent of the French Police. Written by Himself, and Translated from the Original French expressly for this Edition. With Illustrative Engravings from Original Designs by Cruikshank. Philadelphia. T. B. Peterson & Brothers. 12mo. pp. 580. $1.25.

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LATE in the autumn of 1836, an Aus- piration; manhood resumed its erect trian brig-of-war cast anchor in the har- port, mind its spontaneous vigor; nor bor of New York; and seldom have voy- did many moments pass ere friendly agers disembarked with such exhilarat hands were extended, and kindly voices ing emotions as thrilled the hearts of heard, and domestic retreats thrown open. some of the passengers who then and Their welfare had been commended to there exchanged ship for shore. Yet generous hearts; and the simple facts of their delight was not the joy of reunion their previous history won them respectwith home and friends, nor the cheer- ful sympathy and cordial greeting. ful expectancy of the adventurous upon Prominent amid the excited group was reaching a long-sought land of promise, a tall, well-knit figure, whose high, square nor the fresh sensation of the inexperi- brow, benign smile, and frank earnestenced when first beholding a new coun- ness bespoke a man of moral energy, vigtry; it was the relief of enfranchised orous intellect, and warm, candid, tenmen, the rapture of devotees of freedom, der soul. Traces of suffering, of thought, loosened from a thrall, escaped from sur- of stern purpose were, indeed, apparent; veillance, and breathing, after years of but with and above them, the ingenuouscaptivity, the air where liberty is law, ness and the glow of a brave and ardent and self-government the basis of civic man. This was ELEUTARIO FELICE life. These were exiles; but the bitter- FORESTI, – subsequently, and for years, ness of that lot was forgotten, at the mo- the favorite professor of his beautiful ment, in the proud consciousness of hav- native language and literature in New ing incurred it through allegiance to York,—the favorite guest and the cherfreedom, and being destined to endure ished friend in her most cultivated homes it in a consecrated asylun, In that air, and among her best citizens,—the Italian when first respired, on that soil, when patriot, which title he vindicated by confirst trod, they were unconscious of the sistency, self-respect, and the most genial lot of strangers: for there the vigilant qualities. The vocation he adopted, beeye of despotism ceased to watch their cause of its availability, only served to steps ; prudence checked no more the make apparent comprehensive endowexpression of honest thought or high as- ments and an independent spirit; the VOL. IV.


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