, レ establish the truthfulness of fiction, and to That modern fiction should incorporate a ever be his crimes and errors, if it be honestly written, nothing extenuate, and nothing overwrought, is always a religious history. It is the history of his training for another state; and, whether he makes proper progress or falters by the wayside, does not impair the value of the history in its influence on other men. In the one case, it were a lamp to guide; in the other, a beacon to forewarn. The hues of romance which it is made to wear, -the purple lights and the soft attractive colors which constitute its atmosphere, and commend it to the heart which might shrink from the touch of a truth unskilfully applied, -do not diminish the value of the moral which it brings; do not lessen its healing attributes, or take from what is wholesome in the sting and bitter which it employs, to goad the slumbering conscience into sensibility. Nor is this atmosphere of poetry unreal or unnatural. It is the very atmosphere which marks the progress of passionate youth, and serves in some degree to retard the violence of the passions, when a more rigid morality has failed of its effect. Nor should it be urged against the arts of fiction that, for so long a season after youth has passed for ever, they bring back glimpses of its better hopes-its summer fanties-its skies without a cloud, and its songs without a murmur. Romance, in fact, would seem to be the handmaid whose affections are won by youth, that they should find a solace for it when youth is gone. She is employed to bring warmth to his bosom in age, even as the physical nature of the monarch-minstrel was kept in life by fresh contact with innocent girlhood. She is the restorer to the fancy of all that delicious atmosphere which hung about the heart in youth. She brings back to us all our first glowing and most generous conceptions; when the soul was least selfish, when the affections were most fond; ere strife had made the one callous, or frequent defeat and disappointment had rendered the other sour and suspicions. Beheld through her medium, there is nothing in life which is vulgar and degrading. All its fancies are pure, and show as luxuriantly as they are bright and fresh. It is not, indeed, through the fancies and the tastes that sin assails the heart. It is through the passions only, and in the utter absence of the fancy, and those tastes which the fancy usually originates, that wild and vicious appetites inflame the lowlier nature, and give it an ascendency he rejects in verse, if his teach a more simple and less aml Fortunately for the susceptil. the Genius of Art, who addr exigencies, is of vast comp flexibility. She adapts tions, and contrives a s affection, in some degre ing can stale her infinit purpose and destiny so she is empowered to the condition of t! inner nature shall fe ence by which his It is no less with classical-in other and becomingexhibition which sure to the att This is the conc sided class of er of the classic scriptive, or t pression to wi most incline the catholi dates its le to its sev ate its w it finds: As ther should the S in the at. rough which Der-is elevated, ity, into a being Less with love than To the catholic aumble are but relative aal in position, though and aspect. The beauti- are, the bright and the dark, is of each other-in other system, in which variety is roof of the boundless resources ....but of his sense, also, of what the proper exercise, the relief ication of the soul. The phi⚫ch art teaches, is the faith with ta begins; a faith which youth apt to forget, in the more earthy manhood; but which it is the vocation of art, as tributary to still to re-inspire. It is in this way t is always young and original. Every -ration discovers in her a new aspect. forms, new guises, declare for her remacy over the monotonous and tamely curring aspects of ordinary time. It is cause heedless of this peculiar virtue in econstitution of this catholic Muse, that we find the critic of hackneyed judgment, grown too subservient to the customary to appreciate the fresh, resenting as a vice the er assumption of new phases in the very Genius which he has worshipped under another form. He seems unwilling to believe that there should be any longer a novelty in art, when there is no longer a freshness in his own des-nature. a rol um Gen teri wit ag th ( t. ( MULCHINOCK'S POEMS.* In the early days of criticism it was rare | pursuit; of facility-but a facility that dethat any book could pass through one edi- feats itself, and defrauds its own coinage of tion without being made the text of a com- its legible and current stamp. It is pre mentary or a philippic, and authors felt themselves insulted if their works, which the common people admired or censured after their own untaught fashion, were not at least noticed by the higher and more privileged oracles of letters. But as publishers' lists expanded, the mass of reviews became briefer and more superficial, passing from the ornate pages of quarterlies to the hurried columns of the newspaper, and dictated quite as often by personal favor or dislike as by literary taste, until now it is quite impossible to give a fair portion of impartial time and type to any but strongly-marked and representative specimens of current literature. From decisions thus arrived at, the public may extend their opinions as little or as widely as they please, and authors take their cue with a readiness proportioned to eminently representative of the largest and most unproductive school of imitative poetry of the present day. And if it claim to be of no extraordinary pretensions, and if in reality it is neither powerful nor durable, it may be well to pause over it for a moment, as a profitable lesson for our myriad versifiers, whose number is surely not warranted by any special increase of the poetic element amongst us. In common with most men, we have no very friendly feelings toward imitation of any kind in literature; but for that imitation of which Mr. Mulchinock's verses may be taken as an exponent, we have a peculiar distaste. We have little fault to find with a young and inexperienced writer, who, for the purpose of perfecting himself in the externals of poetry, gives his days and nights their acquiescence in critical judgment. And to that most melodious of versifiers, Pope, if an author once thought himself slighted if he was overlooked, he should now consider himself fortunate if sufficiently representative of good or bad to be marked out by reviewers, for surely that "bad eminence" which is ever made the object of attack is better than an unmolested because unnoticed mediocrity. There is always hope for men or books whose faults are so conspicuous that they are singled out for special animadversion. Mr. Mulchinock's poetry is representative, but not of originality. It is representative as were the verses of Hoole and other close since his is almost a necessary task, and one from which, in these days of incorrect rhythm, it were better no aspirant for poetic laurels should be exempt. But we question if the public, for whom we would be mouthpiece, have any such leniency for the writer who adopts the phrases which original and poetic minds have created and immortalized, and spreads them over his own pages, as easy and current subterfuges behind which to hide his own dearth of sentiment and poetical power. There is an affectation of poetical affinity about this, which is as specious as it is insincere, and which, in addition to imitators of the rhythmical beauty of Pope; its own unworthiness, is apt to detract from or as the towering fustian of Lee and Dryden the credit of the genuine poet, whose pecuwhen they essayed to overtop their masters, liar terms of expression are thus subjected the early English dramatists. It is repre- to the imputation of claptrap and unmeansentative of ambition-but of unwarranted ingness. Even beyond the absurdities of growth; of emulation-but emulation of such a nature that it uses imitated gesture and phrase to accomplish the object of its certain small philosophers, who have adopted the esoteric and mystical expressions of continental thinkers as a clothing for their own * The Ballads and Songs of William Pembroke Mulchinock. New-York: T. W. Strong & Co., No. 98 Nassau street. only can he rise into a better-is elevated, by his reverence and fidelity, into a being whom we reward not less with love than with food and raiment. To the catholic eye of art, high and humble are but relative dependencies, mutual in position, though differing in height and aspect. The beauti over the superior, which it is the peculiar | tined to an inferior condition, through which quality of all intellectual exercises to subdue and to correct. These find an aliment in the obvious nature which renders them indifferent to, and keeps them ignorant of, the prurient appetites of a morbid mood. The aspects of nature and man are equally grateful to the faith which looks confidingly to all things under the genial influence of a hopeful and the obscure, the bright and the dark, that takes its birth in the affections, and believes chiefly because it loves. And it is precisely such a confiding nature which is the soul and very secret of success in art. To its eye, nothing is absolutely unseemly, though all demands improvement, in the natural aspects of earth and man. The desert is no desert, spread out and sleeping beneath the broad, blue canopy of heaven. The sea is no terror, reposing in its delicious moonlight. The forest is no region of gloom and exile, but one rather of refuge and of shade, when the world threatens and the burning sun prevails. It is by an innate property that art is enabled to crown nature with an aspect of her own;-nor inanimate nature only. The wild beast is stilled by, and crouches beneath, a look; the reptile is spelled by a sound, and uncoils himself, unharming, from his victim. And man himself-the savage man! He is savage, it may be, but not necessarily foul or beastly. Wild, but why vicious, unless you make, or suffer him to remain so? It is in your own hands to subject him to holier and happier laws, if you will only so far sympathize with his inferior nature, as to show him the pathway to a better promise. The serf-des are but natural foils of each other-in other words, parts of a system, in which variety is not simply a proof of the boundless resources of the Creator, but of his sense, also, of what is essential to the proper exercise, the relief and the gratification of the soul. The philosophy which art teaches, is the faith with which youth begins; a faith which youth is but too apt to forget, in the more earthy cares of manhood; but which it is the becoming vocation of art, as tributary to religion, still to re-inspire. It is in this way that art is always young and original. Every generation discovers in her a new aspect. Novel forms, new guises, declare for her supremacy over the monotonous and tamely recurring aspects of ordinary time. It is because heedless of this peculiar virtue in the constitution of this catholic Muse, that we find the critic of hackneyed judgment, grown too subservient to the customary to appreciate the fresh, resenting as a vice the assumption of new phases in the very Genius which he has worshipped under another form. He seems unwilling to believe that there should be any longer a novelty in art, when there is no longer a freshness in his own nature. MULCHINOCK'S POEMS.* In the early days of criticism it was rare | pursuit; of facility-but a facility that dethat any book could pass through one edi- feats itself, and defrauds its own coinage of tion without being made the text of a commentary or a philippic, and authors felt themselves insulted if their works, which the common people admired or censured after their own untaught fashion, were not at least noticed by the higher and more privileged oracles of letters. But as publishers' lists expanded, the mass of reviews became briefer and more superficial, passing from the ornate pages of quarterlies to the hurried columns of the newspaper, and dictated quite as often by personal favor or dislike as by literary taste, until now it is quite impossible to give a fair portion of impartial time and type to any but strongly-marked and representative specimens of current literature. From decisions thus arrived at, the public may extend their opinions as little or as widely as they please, and authors take their cue with a readiness proportioned to its legible and current stamp. It is preeminently representative of the largest and most unproductive school of imitative poetry of the present day. And if it claim to be of no extraordinary pretensions, and if in reality it is neither powerful nor durable, it may be well to pause over it for a moment, as a profitable lesson for our myriad versifiers, whose number is surely not warranted by any special increase of the poetic element amongst us. In common with most men, we have no very friendly feelings toward imitation of any kind in literature; but for that imitation of which Mr. Mulchinock's verses may be taken as an exponent, we have a peculiar distaste. We have little fault to find with a young and inexperienced writer, who, for the purpose of perfecting himself in the externals of poetry, gives his days and nights their acquiescence in critical judgment. And to that most melodious of versifiers, Pope, if an author once thought himself slighted if he was overlooked, he should now consider himself fortunate if sufficiently representative of good or bad to be marked out by reviewers, for surely that "bad eminence" which is ever made the object of attack is better than an unmolested because unnoticed mediocrity. There is always hope for men or books whose faults are so conspicuous that they are singled out for special animadversion. Mr. Mulchinock's poetry is representative, but not of originality. It is representative as were the verses of Hoole and other close since his is almost a necessary task, and one from which, in these days of incorrect rhythm, it were better no aspirant for poetic laurels should be exempt. But we question if the public, for whom we would be mouthpiece, have any such leniency for the writer who adopts the phrases which original and poetic minds have created and immortalized, and spreads them over his own pages, as easy and current subterfuges behind which to hide his own dearth of sentiment and poetical power. There is an affectation of poetical affinity about this, which is as specious as it is insincere, and which, in addition to imitators of the rhythmical beauty of Pope; its own unworthiness, is apt to detract from or as the towering fustian of Lee and Dryden the credit of the genuine poet, whose pecuwhen they essayed to overtop their masters, liar terms of expression are thus subjected the early English dramatists. It is repre- to the imputation of claptrap and unmeansentative of ambition-but of unwarranted ingness. Even beyond the absurdities of growth; of emulation-but emulation of such a nature that it uses imitated gesture and phrase to accomplish the object of its certain small philosophers, who have adopted the esoteric and mystical expressions of continental thinkers as a clothing for their own * The Ballads and Songs of William Pembroke Mulchinock. New-York: T. W. Strong & Co., No. 98 Nassau street. |