LITERARY NOTICES.

A LIFE OF WASHINGTON IN LATIN PROSE: by FRANCIS GLASS, A. M., of Ohio. Edited by J. N. REYNOLDS, Esq. Third Edition. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

We are glad to find, that our anticipations respecting the success of this work have been fully realized, and that it has become already a favorite text-book in most of our classical schools. The present edition makes its appearance with the additional advantage of a copious vocabulary, in which particular care has been taken, among other things, to designate such terms as are of modern origin, and such as, though employed by the ancient writers, are here used in a modern sense. We do not know that any thing can now be done to render the work more valuable and complete, or better calculated to answer the object, and do honor to the memory, of its erudite author. Our intention, however, in writing the present article is, not to praise the book itself, for that were now a superfluous task, but to undertake its defence against a very superficial and illiberal critique, which appeared in the last number of the North American Review. Longinus thought, in his day, that the faculty of passing a sound judgment upon writings was the final result of extensive experience; but Longinus was a fool to think so, and the young gentleman who perpetrates the classical articles in the numbers of the North American could teach him a far different lesson. It was commonly supposed, among the earlier race of scholars, that, in order to become a critic, a man must read and think, and have a little stock of his own with which to enter upon this line of business; but in these days of fictitious capital, you can do just as well by borrowing, and can save in the bargain a vast deal of valuable time. A person would be a very great simpleton, now-a-days, to sit down and study to be a critic.

Poor Glass's work has been subjected to the ordeal of this modern school of criticism; and, as may be expected, has received but little quarter from the Aristarchus of New-England. None of its beauties- and they are not few in number - are even so much as hinted at. No merit whatever is ascribed to the fact of the author's having written his work at a distance from all those aids to composition with which others are so abundantly supplied. A few paltry attempts are made, in the very worst spirit of criticism that can disgrace a pedagogue, to pick out some half a dozen verbal errors, and in every instance these attempts have proved completely abortive. A reviewer, who handles in this way the work of another, ought, from motives of common prudence, to look carefully to his own doctrines, lest, from want of sufficient acquaintance with his subject, he be led into greater errors than those which he undertakes to condemn. Let us see, for a moment, how the case stands, in this respect, with our critic. He regrets that the voluminous writings of Cato, Varro, and Lucceius, have not been preserved. Would poor Glass have ever been guilty of such a tissue of blunders? In the first place, the only one of the three that deserves the name of a voluminous writer, is Varro, and no one at all acquainted with literary history would ever think of ranking Cato, much less Lucceius, in the same class with him, as regarded the number of their productions. In the next place, the reviewer VOL. VIII.

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appears to be actually ignorant that Cato's work on Husbandry, and Varro's treatise on the same subject, together with a portion of the one which he wrote on the Latin language, have come down to our times, and been commented upon by modern scholars. There can be no escape from this inference; for, in the very next sentence, the critic speaks of the lost works of Cicero, Livy, and others; thus manifestly distinguishing between Cicero, Livy, and the rest, whose productions have come down to us in part, and Cato and Varro, whose writings, according to him, have not reached us at all. Does our remark require any additional confirmation? Let it be found in the fact, that Cato, Varro, and Lucceius, are classed together, whereas no writings whatever of the last mentioned individual have ever come down to our times. Does not this show most conclusively, that our learned friend supposed the works of Cato and Varro to be all in a similar predicament? Besides, who would ever think of calling Lucceius a voluminous writer, when he composed only two histories? — and who but our critic would place him by the side of Varro, who, according to Aulus Gellius, had written, as he himself stated, four hundred and ninety works by the time he had reached his eighty-fourth year?

The reviewer makes mention also of the lost comedies of Plautus, and thinks that, if we had them, not only the vocabulary' of the Latin language, but its 'compass of expression,' would be greatly enlarged. Here again our friend the critic lays himself open to the same charge which he has been kind enough to prefer against the author of the Life of Washington—a want of sufficient reading on the subject. Every scholar knows (we use the term 'scholar' here in the old-fashioned sense of the word) that the genuine comedies of Plautus, as fixed by the Varronian canon, were only twenty-one in number, and that of these we have twenty remaining. Consequently but one is lost. What a wonderful play this lost one must have been, when the mere thoughts of it so bewilder with admiration the mind of our erudite countryman, that he actually magnifies it into a dozen or more! It will not do to say, that Plautus probably re-touched the plays of other dramatists, and therefore that these also should be regarded as his productions. We are talking of the plays of Plautus, not of those of other people. Neither will it do to point to the fragments of Plautus, as they are called, that are appended to some of the editions of his works. Prove, if you can, that Plautus wrote the dramas from which they are said to have been taken. Just so, again, with regard to Terence. Our critic talks of the lost comedies of this dramatist, with the utmost composure, without being in the least aware, as it would seem, that the six plays, which we have at present under his name, are in all probability the only ones that he ever composed, or that, if there were any others, the number of these must have been small indeed. Who, at the present day, gives credit to the ridiculous story, quoted by Suetonius from an obscure writer, that Terence, who spent hardly one year in Greece, wrote or translated, during that period, as many as one hundred and eight comedies? Why, it would be impossible, during so short an interval, to write even one hundred and eight reviews, notwithstanding the little expenditure of intellect which these interesting lucubrations require. If, however, Terence did actually perform the feat that is here ascribed to him, then the loss of these same productions is certainly not much to be regretted. Did our critic never spare himself a moment's leisure, amid his profound researches into modern Latinity, to read the lives of the Roman poets by Crusius? He would have found that able writer advocating the opinion, that in all likelihood we have only lost above one or two of the dramas of Terence.

We come now to the main question, whether this critic, whose own blunders are so palpable, and whose own want of reading is so deplorably apparent, was exactly the right person to sit in judgment on the work of another. We think we can show

conclusively that he was not qualified for the task, if we have not already accomplished this by our preliminary remarks. The first objection which the critic raises is, that names are Latinized in the Life of Washington with little uniformity; that we have at one time, for example, Randolphius, and then again plain Randolph. A most profound observation! It shivers the Latinity of Glass into a thousand fragments. The only consolation the poor man has, and it is small indeed, is to fall to the ground in very good company, for Cambden has O'Neale and O'Nealus, Medcalf and Medcalfus, Hawkwood and Hawkwoodus; and Wyttenbach has Luzac and Luzacus, Sluiter and Sluiterus, Creuzer and Creuzerus. What shockingly bad Latin Cambden, Glass, and Wyttenbach wrote! The second objection of our friend the reviewer is, that Glass does not use correct phraseology when he speaks of Dux Gage, Dux Howe, etc. Mr. Reynolds, to be sure, had already taken notice of this form of expression in the preface to Glass's work; but we would not for the world countenance the belief that our friend the critic borrowed the hint from that gentleman. In a review which contains so many original ideas, this discovery about 'dux' must have been, of course, original also. Let us look at it for a moment. You can say Rex Gulielmus, in Latin, remarks the reviewer, (the English had better take a hint from this, and not blunder away, as they have been accustomed to do, with their Gulielmus Rex,) but you cannot say Dux Gage. Why? Listen to the critic. 'The appellation 'king' belongs so naturally to the individual in question, that it partakes of the use of a proper name.' The remark shows much critical acumen, and makes us quite proud of our countryman. Its meaning is this: you can say, in Latin, Rex Gulielmus, because you say, in English, King William;' but you cannot say Dux Gage,' because no one ever thinks of saying 'General Gage,' but always' Mr. Gage, the general,' and consequently Dux Gage' is very bad Latin indeed. It ought to be Gage Dux.' We are sorry, however, for one thing. The learned reviewer assures us that the expressions' Dux Cæsar,' and 'Dux Pompeius,' do not once occur in Cæsar's Commentaries. We regret that he wasted his valuable time in looking over Cæsar for this purpose, and we can assure him on positive authority, that the Romans never said 'General Cæsar' and 'General Pompey,' but always' Cæsar general,'' Pompey general.' He will find the point fully discussed in Slawkenbergius, lib. 1, c. 3., Harper's edition.

Well, Glass, what do you say to this? The poor fellow shrugs up his shoulders, points to other parts of his book, where he has Wayne, dux Americanus,' and Cornwallis, comes Anglicus,' and 'Howe, imperator Britannus,' and mutters something about fair and honest criticism. But who ever heard that a critic troubled himself about fairness and honesty? If you find fault with an expression in a man's book, and suggest what you consider a better one, and if this better one be actually used by the person whom you censure, in other parts of his work, that is no concern of yours. Why, if this rule were not adopted, we would have no quarterly reviews at all! And then only think of the worse than Cimmerian darkness that must pervade all the regions of literature, especially classical!

After this handsome display of learning and candor, the reviewer proceeds to make an attack on Glass's Latin forts. The names of fortifications, he tells us, ought either to be adjectives, or nouns in the genitive case, and straightway he levels his critical battering-ram at 'propugnaculum Washingtonium.' Out comes poor Glass, and assures his assailants that Washingtonium is actually an adjective, agreeing with propugnaculum. No such thing,' exclaims his opponent, it is a noun, second declension, neuter gender, nominative case, singular number,' accompanying each clause with a blow, and behold, 'propugnaculum Washingtonium' is a heap of ruins. What a warning to all forts constructed in a similar manner! A court-mar

tial is now summoned to try the unfortunate term velitatio, as being an intruder and low fellow. Why, your worship,' exclaims the luckless velitatio, 'I am not, I assur you, quite so bad a person as you take me to be. I am employed by Gessner in his version of Lucian, which version, you know, was revised by the great Tib. Hemsterhuys; I am employed by Bergler in his version of Herodian; by Reiske in his edition of Plutarch; by Schweighaueser in his Polybius; by Schneider in his Xenophon; and by Stewecchius in his Commentary on Vegetius. Besides, I am found in Plautus; and, as you yourself think that, if we had the lost comedies of this dramatic writer, the vocabulary of the Latin, and its compass of expression, would be greatly enlarged, how do you know but what I may be snugly ensconced in one of those same lost plays of the honest old Umbrian? Velitatio, notwithstanding this eloquent and touching appeal, is driven off in disgrace.

The reviewer then turns about and scolds Glass for using reportare in the passive voice, with' ab,' as indicating the agent. Our western Erasmus is indignant at this. 'Why, my friend,' he exclaims, 'you have found all your examples about reporto, in Ainsworth's Dictionary, where I found them years ago. Do have a little charity, and consider whether ab,' in my sentence, has not the meaning, 'on the side of,' and before you again expose your ignorance about passive verbs, and 'ab' denoting the agent, do read what Perizonius has written on the subject in his edition of Sanctius. All learning, believe me, is not contained in Ainsworth. So, again, you find fault with my phraseology,' commeatus a civitatibus eois intercludere,' where the luckless preposition is again employed in the same sense as I have just now mentioned. And when I talk of Westchester, and use the term exponere, with an ellipsis, to denote a disembarkation, you tell me the geography of the passage is not clear. Perhaps it is not clear to you, but every school-boy certainly understands it. You tell me, also, that Cæsar could not understand my use of recipiendi, with an ellipsis of the reflexive pronoun. Why, my learned sir, Cæsar uses it himself.' We rather think that Glass has the better of his critic here, and will only add, that the faults found with his book are about as puerile, and as unworthy of true scholarship, as any thing that can well be imagined.

But the best part of the story remains to be told. It seems, that when Glass's Life of Washington was passing through the press, the editor being in want of a motto for the title-page, applied to a gentleman in New-York, Professor Anthon, of Columbia College, who promised to furnish him with one. The professor, not being able to find a quotation to his liking, manufactured the following, in imitation of Cicero's style, in which mention is made of an old Sibylline prediction, darkly shadowing forth the discovery of America, the foundation of the United States' government, and other events of modern times!

'Longè trans Oceanum, si Libris Sybillinis credamus, patebit post multa sæcula tellus ingens atque opulenta, et in eâ exorietur vir fortis ac sapiens, qui patriam servitute oppressam consilio et armis liberabit, remque public amnostræ et origine cæterâque historiâ simillimam, felicibus auspiciis condet, Bruto et Camillo, Di boni! multum et merito anteferendus. Quod nostrum illum non fugit Accium, qui, in Nyctegresiâ suâ, vetus hoc oraculum numeris poeticis adornavit.'-Ciceronis fragm. xv. ed. Maii, p. 52.

Will it be believed, that this learned reviewer has certainly swallowed the whole for a genuine quotation from Cicero, and that he who is so profoundly versed in modern Latin as to detect the least error, and to have his finely-attuned feelings shocked by the least deviation from the melody of pure and elegant Latin, actually mistook a piece of modern Latin for a passage from Cicero? And yet this critic professes to sit in judgment on a modern Latin work!

THE ADVANTAGES AND DANGERS OF THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR. A Discourse delivered on the day preceding the Annual Commencement of Union College, July 26, 1836. By GULIAN C. VERPLANCK, one of the Regents of the University of the State of NewYork. New-York: WILEY AND LONG.

We have had occasion heretofore to speak of one or two public performances of Mr. VERPLANCK, similar to the one before us; but the present has impressed us as superior, in many respects, to any previous effort of the writer's mind. This Address is, indeed, an admirable specimen of what such collegiate performances should be direct, eloquent, and profound, and in its tendency most salutary. We trespass upon space that we regret is so limited, for a few extracts which, better than any comments we could make, will show the character of the discourse under notice.

A comparison between our advantages as a nation, and the situation of those countries where talent is chilled and withered by penury, and profound learning wasted on the drudgery of elementary instruction, or else 'lost in a convent's solitary gloom,' affords occasion for the following just and felicitous passage:

Excepting those melancholy cases, where some unavoidable calamity has weighed down the spirits and extinguished joy and hope for ever, knowledge and ability cannot well run here to waste without their voluntary degradation by gross vice or the maddest imprudence. But I do not now speak of the varied opportunities for the successful exertion of matured, cultivated talent, or the substantial rewards that its exercise may win, so much as of the still greater advantage which that talent may derive to itself from the prevailing activity and energy that animate the whole community. Under that strong and contagious stimulus, the faculties are awakened, the capacity enlarged, the genins roused, excited, inspired. The mind is not suffered to brood undisturbed over its own little stock of favorite thoughts, treading the same unceasing round of habitual associations, until it becomes quite incapable of fixing its attention upon any new object, and its whole existence is but a dull, drowsy dream. On the contrary, it is forced to sympathize with the living world around, to enter into the concerns of others and of the public, and to partake, more or less, of the cares and the hopes of men. Thus every hour it imbibes, unconsciously, new and strange knowledge, quite out of the sphere of its own personal experience. Thus it receives, and in its turn spontaneously communicates, that bright electric current that darts its rapid course throughout our whole body politic, removing every sluggish obstruction, and bracing every languid muscle to vigorous toil. As compared with the more torpid state of society exhibited elsewhere, to live in one such as this, is like emerging from the fogs of the lowland fens, heavy with chilling pestilence,

'the dull pacific air

Where mountain zephyr never blew,
The marshy level dank and bare,

That Pan, that Ceres never knew'

and ascending to inhale the exhilarating mountain atmosphere, where the breeze is keen and pure, and the springs gush bright from their native rock, bestowing on the children of the hills the bounding step, the strong arm, the far-seeing eye, and the stout heart. It is much then to breathe such a mental air from earliest youth. It is much to be educated and formed under such potent and perpetual stimulants to intellectual development. But for a mind thus formed and framed for vigorous and effective action, it is not less necessary that fitting occupations may be found for its nobler qualities and powers. This is much for worldly success. It is every thing for honor, for conscience, for content, for beneficence. Let genius, however brilliant, however gifted with rare, or copious, or varied acquirements, be but doomed to labor for selfish objects, for personal necessities and sensual gratifications, and for those only. and its aspirations too will become low, its desires sordid, and its powers, (adroit doubtless, and very effective as to their accustomed occupations,) will dwindle and become enfeebled, until they are quite incapable of any generous and magnanimous undertaking.

"But with us, the man of intellectual endowment is not so 'cabined, cribbed, bound in' to his own puny cares. Far otherwise; his generous ambition, his large philanthropy, his zeal for the service of his God or his country, may spread themselves abroad as wide and general as the casing air,' without finding any check or barrier to their farthest range.

"In the eternal order of Providence, minds act and react, and become the transcripts and reflections of each other, thus multiplying and perpetuating the evils or the excellence of our short being upon this globe. It is not the exclusive prerogative of the