Whatever Mr. Cooper writes is generally written well. Amid the grandeur(1) of the ocean storm, or the silence of the wilderness, surrounded by the raging billows, or enveloped by ruthless savages, he walks unequalled, ‘the thunderer of the scene’ (Cas., XVII, August, 1840).(2)

Having been favored with a sight of some of the proof-sheets of this new romance by Cooper, we cannot help expressing our admiration of the subject which the writer has chosen. The novel is laid in the time of Columbus, and that distinguished navigator forms one of the principal characters. The discovery of America has long struck us as affording a fit subject for the loftiest kind of romance, and we are pleased to see one of our best authors taking hold of it. But as the novel is not yet published, we shall reserve our remarks on its full merits to another month (Cas., XVII, December, 1840).

His historical novels have been of a questionable character-neither veritable history, nor endurable romance — neither ‘fish, flesh, nor good red herring’ (SLM, II, 730; H, II, 108).

But the very preponderance(1) given to the narration of this part of the story (Columbus’ voyage) injures the work as a novel irremediably. It makes it, in short, ‘neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor good red-herring’ (GM, XVIII, 47; H, X, 98).

As a history, this work, is invaluable; as a novel, it is well nigh worthless. The author deserves credit for presenting to the public, in a readable form, so such historical information, with which, otherwise, the great mass of the community would have never become acquainted; and he ought, also, to receive proper commendation for having woven that [page 305:] information in any way whatever, into the narrative of a novel; but at the same time, if called upon to speak of his work as a romance, and not as a history, we can neither disguise from ourselves, nor from our readers,(1) that it is, if possible, the worst novel ever penned by Mr. Cooper (GM, XVIII, 47; H, X, 96).

... the necessity of adhering closely to fact — is the true secret of its want of interest, for how could any hero, no matter whom, awaken our sympathy strongly, so long as Columbus figured in the same narrative:’ (GM, XVIII, 47; H, X, 99).

We did not look for character in it, for that is not Cooper's forte: nor did we expect that his heroine would be aught better than the inanimate thing she is ... (GM, XVIII, 47; H, X, 98).

Maud Meredith is still better. In fact, we know no female portraiture, even in Scott, which surpasses her; and yet the world has been given to understand, by the enemies of the novelist, that he is incapable of depicting a woman (GM, XXIII,262; H, XI, 213).

... with the exception of Natty Bumpo, there is no character worthy of the name(2) ... Mr. Cooper paints only the outside, he cannot reach the soul (GM, XIX, 191).

The word ‘plot’, as commonly accepted, conveys but an indefinite meaning. Mostt persons think of it as of complexity ... but the greatest involution of incident will not result in plot; which, properly defined, is that in which no part can be displaced without ruin to the whole (GM, XVIII, 197; H, X, 116-17). [page 307:]

It will be at once seen that there is nothing original in this story ... And as for plot, there has been no attempt at anythin4; of the kind. The tale is a mere succession of events ... (GM, XXIII, 262; H, XI, 209).

Some passages in it equal the finest ones in the Last of the Mohicans and others do not suffer in comparison with like ones in the Pilot or Red Rover (Cas.,XVI, March, 1840);

... the fiery pursuit of the young grandee through the Vega after the departing Columbus, and the scene where he overtakes the dejected navigator, are worthy of the best passages(1) of the Pioneers, the Water-Witch, or the Last of the Mohicans ... we have nothing even approaching to the grandeur of the Pilot and the Red Rover (GM, XVIII, 47; H, X, 97-8).

...thus sustaining the interest in a manner excelled in [page 308:] no other of his novels ... prolonged thrilling interest ... (Cas.,XVI, March, 1840);

the story is one or thrilling interest ... capable of whirling the reader away in the breathless interest of the story... the interest his story awakens ... (GM, XIX, 191);

There is, indeed, an attempt to redeem the interest of the story ... the true secret of its want of interest... The interest of a romance should continue, let it be remembered, throughout the whole story... (GM, XVIII, 47-8; H, X, 98-9).

She, however, accompanies Luis home to Spain, and is the cause of much jealousy on the part of his mistress, of much anger on the part of the queen, and of just sufficient clap-trap in the last few chapters, to satisfy the conscience of your inveterate novel readers, —(1) a class who think a novel is no good unless it has a pretty strong dose of jealousy, reconcilement, and marriage, as a finale, much as Tony Lumpkin thought that the inside of a letter was the cream of the correspondence (GM, XVIII,47; H, X,98);

The title of the work nas been the subject of much captious criticisms by the herd who are constantly detecting spots in the sun, and who lack the calibre of intellect necessary to a manly and liberal criticism of a literary performance. (GM, XVIII, 48).

This compilation for it is nothing more —(1) has the merit of presenting well-known Encyclopaedia biographies of French authors, to the general public, in a cheap and portable form ... We would guard(2) our readers, however, from fancying that Mrs. Shelley was the principal author of these sketches, as it would neither be truth, nor, in fact, add to her reputation (GM, XVIII, 48).

Indeed while there is indication of genius in almost everything he writes, he has yet written very little worth reading ... we can call to mind none of his compositions which, as a whole, are even tolerable (GM, XVIII, 252).

... ‘The Antediluvians‘, an epic poem which has been the victim of a most shameful canal in this country, and the subject of a very disgraceful pasquinade on the part of Professor Wilson. Whatever may be the demerits, in some regard, of this poem, there can be no question of the utter want of fairness and even of common decency which distinguished the Phillipic in question. The writer of a just review of the ‘Antediluvians‘ — the only tolerable American epic ...would render an important service to the literature of his country (GM, XX, 48; H, XV, 258);

As a post and author in general, Dr. M‘Henry was underrated. He fell a victim to the arts of a clique which proceeded, in the most systematic manner, to write him down ... not scrupling, either, to avow the detestable purpose ... His ‘Antediluvians’ was heavy, and certainly gave no indication of genius — but it was by no means the despicable trash which it has been represented. It is polished, well versified, and abounding in noble sentiments. Altogether, it is the best epic which the country has produced (BJ, II, 110).

There are two species of poetry known to mankind; that which the gods of love, and that which men abhor. The poetry of the Dr. belongs to the latter class, though he seems lamentably ignorant of this ... (GM, XVIII, 92; H, X, 105). [page 312:]

... his elaborated plot is worse than nine men out of ten would construct. We have gleaned little from it except a few facts, which would be strange were they not ridiculous.. an innumerable catalogue of minor incidents, in short, the materials of a half a dozen bad novels, woven into a worse poem (GM, XVIII, 92; H, X, 106-07).

We advise him, once for all, to give up poetry, which he disgraces, for physic, which he may adorn, God never intended him for an immortal fame. We are satisfied that, if he should be arraigned for writing poetry, no sane jury would ever convict him; and if, as most likely, he should plead guilty at once, it would be quickly disallowed, of that rule of law, which forbids the judges to decide against the plain evidence of their senses (GM, XVIII, 93; H, X, 109).

Without fear of contradiction, we may say that she has left no living female poet to compete with her in fame, unless Mrs. Norton may be said to be her rival; and even with Mrs. Norton, so different are the two writers, no parallel can be drawn. Let us be content with placing Hemans, Landon, and Norton together in one glorious trio — the sweetest, brightest, loftiest of the female poets of the present generation. (GM, XIX, 95; H, X, 196).

Hemans, Baille, Landon, and loveliest of all, Norton! —(1) what a glorious constellation for one language (GM, XVIII, 93; H, X, 100). [page 314:]

Mrs. Norton is unquestionably, —(1) since the death of Mrs. Hemans, the queen of English song... If Mrs. Norton had written nothing before, this volume would have established her claim to be the first of living poetesses... But Mrs. Norton, like her gifted sister (Mrs. Hemans), possesses one quality which distinguishes her above all other writers, in this or in any tongue — we mean in giving utterance to, what is emphatically, the poetry of woman. In this they resemble no contemporary, unless it is bliss Landon (GM, XVIII, 93-4; H, X, 100-02).

...who that is familiar with the world of song can forget the many gems — rich, and beautiful, and rare — with which she has spangled before time her starry crown?(2) The world has taken more care of her glory than she has herself, and the random pieces she has poured forth so divinely at intervals, and which hitherto 'she has made no effort to preserve, have found their way into the hearts of all who can be touched by the mournful or the beautiful, until her name is cherished alike in the humble cottage and the princely hall...rie shall consider it only as a string; of pearls, loosely joined together by the simplest contrivance ... That its merit is unequal, is, in our eyes no objection to its beauty —(3) for have not all poets skimmed the ground as well as soared to heaven? Yes! “The bream” is unequal, but so is Lallah Roosh, so is Marmion,“so are all the tales of Byron, and so — to ascend a step higher — is Comus, or Hamlet, or even Iliad ... Few authors can boast such a varied power ... What force: whet passion! (GM, XVIII, 94-5; H, X, 101-103).

Without the elegance of Mrs. Hemans, she had considerable grace; with a fine ear, she was often careless in her rhythm; possessing a fancy exuberant and glowing, she showered her metaphors too indiscriminately around her ... Perhaps there was a mannerists, certainly an affectation ... never-ceasing variety ... the sweetness, and richness, and enthusiasm of her song. Her great faults were a want of method, and a careless habit of composition. From first to last, she was emphatically an improvisatrice! She wrote from whim rather than from plan, and consequently was often trite, and always careless (GM, XIX, 95; H, X, 195-6).

And this glory, too, belongs wholly to the present century, for though the harp of England has often been struck by female hands, it has ‘heretofore (sic) only given forth a rare and fitful cadence, instead of the rich, deep, prolonged harmony which rolls from its chords (GM, XVIII, 93; H, X, 100);

Malibran —(1) the name thrills on the heart of every lover of music like the chords of a remembered harp (Cas, XVI, May, 1840); Those who love ... to hear the deep tones of the spirit's harp, as they echo in the privacy of the study ... (Cas.,XV, 192).

Scarcely a page, moreover, occurs in the writings of either, which does not bear testimony to woman's suffering and worth. Yes:: While it is the fashion to sneer at the purity of woman's heart, and while a pack of literary debeuchees are libelling our mothers and our sisters unopposed, from the ranks of that insulted sex have risen up defenders of its innocence, to shame the heartless slanderers to silence. Hear in what eloquent numbers Mrs. Norton vindicates her sex... God bless her who has written thus. The wretches who would rob the sex of their purity of heart, and their uncomplaining endurance of suffering, deserve to die, uncheered by woman's nuture, unwept by woman's tenderness. Such beings are not .::en; they are scarcely even brutes: they are aliquid monstri, monsters in part (GM, XVIII, 96; H, X, 102-03),

... but Wild, callous to the last, out-fiends the very prince of darkness. He is ‘aliquid monstri’. He is worse: he is neither man, brute, nor devil (Cas, XVI, 47).

The arrow has entered deep into her soul. Like Mrs. Hems, unfortunate is her domestic life — for the miscreant who would still believe her guilty is an insult to humanity — she seeks ss the stricken deer, to weep in silence and loneliness’. Hers is a hard lot; deserted by the one who has sworn to love her, and maligned by the unfeeling world, she has not the consolation of weeping with her children, and finding some relief in their caresses for her broken wart. Hear her once more — we have almost wept as we read — hear her, when gazing in the twilight at the pictures of her absent children (GM, XVIII, 95; H, X, 104).

A woman's feelings are nothing, if they stand in the way of the selfishness of man. Nor is any rank exempt [page 317:] from this. From the Queen to the Peasant it is all the same. Victoria has been libelled, the purest ladies of the realm traduced, and the most innocent and gentle proscribed, insulted, and absolutely written down. Nor is there any escape; —(1) for to whom shall they appeal? Will manhood step forth to their defence? Alas‘? the days of chivalry have gone, and the glory of Europe departed forever. If the pack of libellers is once unkennelled on a woman's reputation ... she is left alone, unfriended, and defenseless ... How have Miss Martineau, Lady Hastings, and Mrs. Norton been treated?... But how different is man ... It is rather a recommendation than a stigma for a gentleman to be known as the destroyer of virtue. Ha may be a bad father, a faithless husband, a gay, worthless debauches, and yet instead of being; shunned by all who care for virtue, he is greeted with smiles and hailed with applause, in every ballroom, —(1) while perhaps, the very one whom he has marked out for his next victim is among the foremost to welcome his approach ... May such a state of society never lay its blight upon our happy land! (Cas, XIV, 287).

Bancroft is a philosophical historian; but no amount of philosophy has yet taught him to despise a minute accuracy in point of fact (GM, XXXIV, 363; H, XIV, 180). [page 318:]

The characteristics of Mr. Bancroft are a rigid scrutiny of facts, a general impartiality, and a style, usually nervous, but sometimes savoring; of transcendental obscurity... There is a philosophy in Bancroft which other historians might well emulate. No man has traced so clearly the causes of the American Revolution ... The pictures which Mr. Bancroft drawn in pursuing the thread of his narrative, are often highly graphic(1) ... In short, the history is something more than a mere chronicle; it is a continuous essay on the philosophy of the American revolution (GM, XVIII, 96).

Here,(2) for the present, he drops the curtain. A fitter point, for such a pause could not Lave been chosen. Behind, is the long succession of trials, sad dangers, through which the infant colonies had just passed; before is the wild, shadowy future, soon to become vivid with its startling phenomena. Such a reflection might well fill the mind of the historian with a kind of solemn awe; and it is while such. feelings overpower his readers, that he introduces Washington, the future hero of the scene (GM, XVIII, 96).

However, a compilation like this can never be made to suit all. The true question is, who can do better? (GM, XVIII, 96). [page 319:]

The grounds for doubting Poe's authorship of this item are these: that Poe in reviewing Ainsworth's Guy Fawkes for November, 1841, asserts that he had hithero [[hitherto]] read nothing of The Tower of London save 'some detached passages‘; that he expresses in his notice of Guy Fawkes a view of Ainsworth's Jack Sheppard at variance with that expressed by the reviewer of The Tower of London; and that the reviewer of The Tower of London mentioned a notice by himself of Jack Sheppard, whereas there is no evidence that Poe ever published such a review.(1)

We once in reviewing Jack Sheppard, expressed our admiration of the author's talents, although are condemned their perversion in the novel before This duplicate of that worthless romance, and scandalously demoralizing novel,(2) proves either that the author is incorrigible, or that the public taste is vitiated. We rather think the former. We almost recant our eulogy on Mr. Ainsworth's talents (GM, XIII, 142; H, X, 111).

... in his former works he has displayed some talent. That [page 320:] he is capable of good writing, no one will pretend to deny ... Mr. Ainsworth has talents; but he should turn them to better account ... The powers of Mr. Ainsworth are in description — he wants the genius to handle the immortal mind ... his great fault in the present case was his vanity in attempting to rival Boz ... But even were they true to nature, why should such characters be pictured? The robber-heroes of the day are ruining our children, —(1) shall worse than these be brought in on them? Humanity is bad enough without making it worse; and by throwing the charm of romance around the felon, lifting him in the eyes of the young into an object of wonder and imitation... (Cas., XVI, 46-7).

A novelist, unless a good one, is the most useless thing that cumbers creation, — 1 and he who spends his life in raking human nature worse, is a traitor to his race. As such, all good men ought to reprobate him. He is a curse to his land; a blot on its literature; a stigma to his name and line (Cas., XVI, 47);

Such libels on humanity; such provocations to crime; such worthless, inane, disgraceful romances as Jack Sheppard and its successors, are a blot on our literature, and a curse to our land (GM, XVIII, 142; H, X, 111).

But with all these faults there are beauties in ‘Fair Rosamond’. which in part redeem it, and without which it would cave fallen still-born from the press (Cas., XV, 109);

Were it not for the tragic interest attached to Lady Jane Grey, and the pride that every Englishman feels in the oldest surviving palace of his kings, this novel would have fallen still-born from the press... (GM, XVIII, 142; H, X, 111).

Next after Professor Wilson comes Howitt. The same genial spirit, the same soul-breathing(1) poetry ... whether found under [page 322:] the gipsy's (sic) hedge, in the peasant's cottage, or amid the parks and. lordly castles or the aristocracy.. a soul all-glowing with poetry... into the quiet details and maid the time-worn, cities-The old castle of King Arthur seems once more to‘-lift its massy battlements, above the thundering surf below, and from its portals go forth the heroes of the Round Table, with hound and hawk, and many a fair demoiselle (GM, XVIII, 142-3; H, X, 112-3).

A good novel is always welcome; and a good one from an American pen is doubly so. Since the publication of the Pathfinder, we have seen nothing equal to the Kinsmen (GM, XVIII, 143).

Many of the characters are well drawn, and the interest is kept up throughout ... the interest is worked up to a pitch of the most intense excitement (GM, XVIII, 143).

We do not belong to the admirers of Miss Martineau, though barring her ear-trumpet, and a few foolish notions, she is a very respectable and inoffensive old lady ... The good old spinster ... (GM, XVIII, 143).

But it fails, totally fails in its main object; and though as men, we sympathize with a persecuted man, we cannot, as critics, overlook the glaring faults of the novel, or, as a partisan of truth, forgive the historical inaccuracies of the narrative (GM, XVIII, 143).

I like your criticism on ‘Night and Morning’ though I have not read the book — yet your remarks upon, Bulwer strike me as correct.(1)

We have observed in some previous review, that original characters, so called, can only be critically praised as such, either when presenting qualities which, although unknown, or even known to be hypothetical, are so skillfully adapted to the circumstances :round them, that our sense of fitness is not offended, and we find ourselves seeking a reason why these things might not have been which we are still satisfied are not. Fanny appertains to this latter class of originality — which in itself belongs to the loftier regions of the Ideal (GM, XVIII, 200; H, X, 125-26).

All of this is very well as anecdote; but we cannot understand the extraordinary penetration required in the matter ... The difficulty of decyphering nay well be supposed much greater had the key been in a foreign tongue; yet any one who will take the trouble to address us a note, in the same manner as here proposed, and the keyphrase may be either in French, Italian, Spanish, German, Latin, or creek, (or in any of the dialects of these languages), and we pledge ourselves to the solution of the riddle. The experiment may afford our readers some amusement — let them try it (GM, XVIII,203; H, X, 136).

In our notice of the book in question (published in the April number of this Magazine) we alluded to his subject thus — (GM, XIX, 35; H, XIV, 124)

Lest the tenor of our observation on Cryptography should be misunderstood, and especially lest the nature of our challenge should be misconceived, we take occasion to refer to our Review of Mr. Walsh's ’Sketches of Conspicuous Living Characters of France‘, published in the April number [page 327:] of the Magazine ... We remarked, however, that we would engage to read any one of the kind; and to this limit our correspondents must confine themselves (GM, XIX, 96; H, XIV, 134-5).

The design of this book is among, the number of those which are obviously good — and the book itself is, upon the whole, an amusing one. It might be better, no doubt ... Not that some of the names here found are not among; the best — but we should have the Dil majorum gentium exclusively — one paper from each ... The preface seems to have been written by some one who had a proper sense of what the volume should be, but affords no indication of want it really is ... Others are equally caricatures, but so vivid and truth-preserving an exaggeration, that we admire them without scruple ... Some are full of natural truth ... combining the extreme of the ludicrous with absolute fidelity ... The same variety of value is observable in the text ... in general the articles are not very creditable ... (GM, XVIII, 203-4).

Indeed we have rarely read a less creditable novel than this. The characters are strange; the incidents unnatural;(1) and the descriptions of the mighty deep surpassed by nine [page 328:] out of ten of our ordinary sea writers (GM, XVIII, 204).

The desertion of Ramsay on the Island;(1) his miraculous meeting with the very one he wished to meet, Angela; the whole farcical story, of the deception...; the singular preservation of Capt. Livingston from drowning, when cast overboard unseen at night; and the clap-trap(2) of the trial scene, when the aforesaid captain and the corporal appear so unexpectedly, furnish a series of improbilities [[improbabilities]] only to be endured by a no-rel-reader of sufficient voracity to gorge, shark-like, any and everything, no matter what (GM, XVIII, 204).

Captain Hall is one of the most agreeable of writers. We like him for the same reasons that we like a good drawing-room conversationalist — there is such a pleasure in listening to his elegant nothings(3) ... one of the, pleasantest books for after-dinner perusal, especially on a sunny April day, when reposed at length upon a sofa, beside an open casement, with. the birds carrolling (sic) without, and the balmy spring breathing across us, we forget, for a while, the dull business of life (GM, XVIII, 204).

This is a praiseworthy work, and reflects high credit on all concerned in it. The views are selected with taste, and give us a high opinion of the scenery of Georgia ... Such works cannot be too extensively patronized. They encourage the arts; foster a love for the beautiful; and acquaint the public with some of the loveliest gems of our native scenery (GM, XVIII, 204).

Was it not a disgrace to our country that both ‘Hinton's Topography’ and still later ‘American Scenery’ emanated wholly from England — the capital embarked, the stretchers and engravers employed, and (sic) even the place of publication being English? (GM, XVIII, 204).

There are some facts in the physical world which have a really wonderful analogy with others in the world of thought, and seem thus to give some color of truth to the (false)(1) rhetorical dogma, that metaphor or simile may be made to strengthen an argument, as well as to embellish a description. The principle of the via inertiae, for example, with the amount of momentum proportionate with it and consequent upon it, seems to be identical in physics and metaphysics. It is not more true, in the former, that a large body is with more difficulty set in motion than a smaller one, and that its subsequent Lapetus is commensurate with this difficulty, (etc). ... One half the pleasure experienced at a theatre arises from the spectator's sympathy with the rest of the audience, and, especially, from his belief in their sympathy with him ... ‘No critical principle [page 330:] is more firmly based in reason than that a certain amount of exaggeration is essential to the proper depicting of truth ... caricature seldom exists (unless in so dross a firm as to disgust at once)(1) where the component parts are in keeping ... the laugh excited by it, in any case, is radically distinct from that induced by a properly artistical incongruity ... the source of all mirth ... In truth, the great feature of the ‘Curiosity Shop’ is its chaste, vigorous, and glorious imagination ... In conclusion, we must enter solemn protest against Poe final page full of little angels in smock frocks, or dimity chemises (GM, XVIII, 248-51; H, X, 142-53).

That incongruity is the principle of all nonconvulsive laughter, is to my mind as clearly demonstrated as any problem in the ‘Principia Mathematica ... (DR, XV, 584; H, XVI, 40).

The brilliancies on any one page of Lalla Roohk (sic) would have sufficed. to establish that very reputation which has been a great measure self-dimmed by the galaxies‘, lustre of the entire book (GM, XVIII, 249; H, X, l47).

...the brilliant Fancy with which it perpetually scintillates or glows — a fancy possessed not, as in the case of Moore, to the exclusion of qualities more noble ... (BJ, I, 38; H, XII, 40);

at which novelty becomes nothing novel; and here the artist, to preserve his originality, will subside into the common place ... merely through inattention to this matter, “Moore has completely failed in his ‘Lalla Rookh’ ...the hapiest. .... originalities ..... are so excessive, as, in the end, to deaden in the reader all capacity [page 331:] for their appreciation (GLB, XXXV, 253; H, XIII, 145).

The latter (Bulwer), by excessive care and patient reflection, aided by much rhetorical knowledge, and general information, has arrived at the capacity of producing books which might be mistakened by ninety-nine readers out of a hundred for the genuine inspirations of genius. The former (Dickens), by the promptings of the truest genius itself, has been broufght to compose, end evidently without effect, works which have effected a long-sought consummation — which rave rendered him the idol of the people, while defying and enchanting the critics. Mr. Bulwer, through art, has almost created genius. Mr. Dickens, through genius, has perfected a standard from which Art itself will derive its essence, in rules (GM, XVIII, 250; H, X, 150).

Dickens is a man of higher genius than Bulwer. The latter is thoughtful, industrious, patient, pains-taking, educated, analytic, artistical ... and therefore will write the better book upon the whole: but the former rises, at times, to an unpremeditated elevation altogether beyond the flight, and even beyond the appreciation of his contemporary. Dickens, with care and culture, might have reduced ‘The Last of the Barons‘, but nothing short of mortal voltaism could have spirited Bulwer into the conception of the concluding passages of the “Curiosity Shop” (DR, XV, 592-93; H, XV, 61).(1) [page 332:]

The ‘Writings of Charles Sprague’ were first collected and published about nine months ago, by Mr. Charles S. Francis, of New York. At the time of the issue of the book, expressed our opinion frannly, in respect to the general merits of the author — an opinion with which one of two members of the Boston press did not see fit to agree — but which, as yet, we have pound no reason for modifying. What we say now is, in spirit, merely a repetition of want we said then (GM, XX, 44; H, XV, 248).

(it includes finer iiaes and even finer entire paragraphs than are to be found elsewhere)(1) ... they ... evince little ideality ... we say nothing of the imitation of Collins’ Ode to the Passions‘ — this is too obvious to need a word of comment ... the mawkish allegory ... (GM, XVIII, 252; H, 141-42);

... there are to be found finer passages in his poems than any elsewhere. ...he gives no evidence of the loftier ideality...Its imitation of ‘Collinis’ Ode to the Passions’ is obvious ... Its allegorical conduct is mawkish ... (GM, XX, 44; H, XV, 248).

... we may still assert that even Macaulay’ nearest approach to criticism in its legitimate sense, is to be found in his article upon Ranker's ‘History of the Popes‘ — an article in which the whole strength of the reviewer is put forth to account for a single fact — the progress of Romanism — which the book under discussion has established (GM, XX, 68).

In fact it is nothing more than a beautifully written treatise on the main theme of Ranke himself; the whole matter of the treatise being deduced from the History. In the way of criticism there is nothing worth the name. The strength of the essayist is put forth to account for the progress of Romanism (GM, XVIII, 294; H, X, 158).

... when a man of talent persists in writing such commonplace affairs as Corse de Leon and the Ancient Regime, we feel bound to caution the public against reading them.(1) In reviewing the last novel of tais author, we took occasion to cocmaent on nis repetition of himself; and had not but a bare six months elapsed since the publication of that article, we should have thought, that he had commenced this -work with our criticism before him; for the whole conception of the Ancient Regime — according to the preface — is essentially different from that of Mr. James’ former romances (GM, XIX, 190).

Mr. James is trifling with a well earner reputation, by putlishin works like the present. Neither in plot, in character, nor style, is it worthy of the first historical [page 335:] novelist of the day ... The only relief to the picture is the lovely Laura; but she is far inferior to his former heroines. There is besides — to use a common phrase — too much clap-trap(1) ... (Cas.,June, 1840);

Another novel from the prolific pen of Mr. James! It bears, as most of his latter works do, evident marks of haste, and though still a pleasing work, is disfigured by a common place plot, too many characters, a general looseness of style (Cas., October, 1840).

This is the outline of the plot — well enough in its way; but partaking largely of the common-place, and marred by the conclusion, which we have omitted, and which was introduced only for the purpose of introducing the famous death of Henry the Second at a tournament. The characters, however, are still more common-place ...They make no impression on you, and you almost forget their names (GM, XVIII, 295; H, X, 161-62);

We have just flung down the book, wondering how any man could ‘sana mente’, in a sane mind, publish two volumes so cocoon-place. Yet Mr. James has done it, once and again, end yet again, and — God help us — seems determined to do it so long as he can find a publisher. ... His heroine seems to be put up like a ten-pin, only to be bowled at...A plot so loosely contrived, wants interest; and if you go through the book at all, it is with labor (GM, XVIII, 190).

Mr. Arthur is not without a,rich talent for description of scenes in low life, but is uneducated, and too fond of mere vulgarities to please a refined taste. He has published ‘The Subordinate’, and ‘Insubordination’, two tales distinguished by the peculiarities above mentioned (GM, XIX, 284; H, XV, 240).

It is all well enough to justify works of this class by hyper-democratic allusions to the ‘moral dignity’ of low life, &c, &c. — but we cannot understand why a gentleman should feel or affect a penchant for vulgarity; nor can we comprehend the ‘moral dignity’ of a dissertation upon bed-bugs: for the opening part of ‘Insubordination’ is, if anything, a treatise on these peculiar animalculae. Some portions of the book are worthy of the author's ability,(1) which it would rejoice us to see more profitably occupied...His pathos is exquisite ... The style of the narrative is easy and truthful. We dare say the work will prove popular in a certain sense; but, upon the whole, we do not like it (GM, XVIII, 246).

Dr. Pliny Earle, of Frankford, Pa., has not only distinguished himself by several works of medical and general science, but has become well known to the literary world, of late, by a volume of very fine poems, the longest, but by no means the best, of which was entitled ‘Marathan’. This latter is not [page 337:] greatly inferior to the ‘Marco Bozzaris’ of Halleck; while some of the minor pieces equal any American poems (GM, XIX, 280-81; H, XV, 230).

The publication will place him at once in the front rank of our bards ... His general manner, puts us much in mind of Halleck. ‘Marathon’, the longest poem in the volume before us, is fully equal to the ‘Bozzaris’ of that writer; although we confess that between the two poems there exist a similarity in tone and construction which we would rather have not observed (GM, XVIII, 296).

Have you seen ‘Specimens of Western Literature’? The work is edited by G. (sic) Gallagher — He puts all his pieces in it — and seven of your humble servants (sic) poorest — He's a modest man now aint he by the ‘foot of Pharoh’ (sic) as Captain Bobadil says.(2)

Have you seen ’Specimens of Western Poetry‘? (Selections from the Poetical Literature of the West’. Cin‘ti, U.P. James, 264 pp)(4) I am told the work is edited by W. D. Gallagher, who has put Mr. Gallagher's poems first and longest.(5) [page 338:]

Nothing that we could say — had we even the disposition to say it — would convince any sensible man that ‘The Quadroone’ is not a very bad book — such a book as Professor Ingraham (for whom we have a high personal respect) ought to be ashamed of. We are ashamed of it (GM, XVIII, 296).