« 上一页继续 »
WORDS AND MUSICBX8PECTFVLLY DEDICATED TO "THAT MAN!"
That woman's heart is a prioelesa pearl, We all of us know fall well; Bat
ove - ry pearl in an oys - tor grows, And the oyster is cased in a shell.
THE THREAD OF LIFE.
Theer are those undoubtedly who may sincerely pray, with ancient Pistol,
"Abridge my doleful days,
let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds
Untwine the sisters three. Come, Atropos, I say;"
or think, with Casca,
"He that cuts off twenty years of life,
who are unwilling patiently to wait
"Till the Destinies do cut the thread of life;"
who might even say, with Cleopatra to the asp,
"Come, thou mortal wretch, With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicato Of life at once untie;"
some, yea how many, young and loving wives, who heart-broken and in despair over a husband wrecked on the quicksand of intemperance, are ready to cry out, with Amavia in the Legend of Sir Guyon,
"Come, then; come soon; come, sweetest Death to me, And take away this long lent loathed light;"
and yet, when
"The strings of life begin to crack,"
they find the web "is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together;" they shrink, and call on Atropos to withhold a while the dreadful shears. The fear of death is the common instinct of
our nature. What images of horror does not this instinct summon to its aid?
"To die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
Nor is it fear only that asks the withholding of the fatal shears. A nobler motive often prompts the cry for life. The dying mother, as she thinks of the little ones she is to leave behind, prays, pataionately prays, for their sake to be spared; with Mrs. Osgood in one of her sweetest lays, she may say,
"Ah, let me stay!—albeit my heart is weary.
My frank and frolic child, in whose blue eyes,
Pardon, kind reader, if the picture has made us sad. Look upon that mysterious thread, and count not the question inopportune, even at this festal season—for, of the many thousands for whose eyes this paragraph is written, there are certainly some of whom it may be said before this sheet meets the light,
E. M. Ward.—This talented and rapidly rising artist, the aathor of our embellishment in this number, of "Btnjaviin Waft First Effort in Art," is a nephew to Horace Smith, one of the authors of " Rejected Addresses." He was born in London in IRlfl, and when quite young, manifested a decided love for the fine arts. At the age of fourteen he received one of the premiums of the Society for the Encouragement of Arts in his native city, on account of the merit displayed in a pen-and-ink drawing submitted to the committee, in competition with other youthful aspirants. His original designs made about
this period in illustration of the works of Washington Irving and those of his uncle, excited great expectations. Accordingly, he was placed in a situation to commence seriously and in earnest, a formal series of studies suited to prepare him for the successful pursuit of art as a profession. He advanced rapidly, and received flattering encouragement from such men as Sir Francis Chantry and Sir David Wllkie, the latter furnishing him with a recommendatory letter as a probationary student in the Royal Academy, of which institution he is now an associate, and with tho prospect of an early admission into the ranks of its Academicians. At the age of twenty he visited Rome, whero he remained upwards of two years, availing himsclfof the excellent facilities afforded there, not merely for the study of tho finest works of past time, but in that most necessary branch of study, the lifemodel. From thenco he passed to Munich, and studied fresco painting under the celebrated Cornelius. In 1839 he arrived once more in London, and made his debut with the picture of "Cimabuo and Giotto," which at once drew attention to him, and raised expectations which since then have been fully realized, although ho is yet only in his upward course.
His works have been occasionally familiarised to the American public. Hia picture of "Dr. Johnson Reading the MS. of the Vicar of Wakefield in Goldsmith's Lodgings," was engraved for the Eclectic Magazine, and published in the number for January, 1848. The Art-Union of London issued a lithographic print of his picture of "La Flour's Departure,"and "Goldsmith on his Travels," has also been engraved. The late Mr. Vernon, famous for his munificent encouragement of modern art, purchased the picture of "Dr. Johnson In tho ante-room of Lord Chesterfield," and as the whole of that superb collection is now in course of publication in the Art-Journal (a work that is doing more for the diffusion of taste in art and art manufactures in the United States than perhaps all other causes together), it will soon be accessible to all on both sides of the Atlantic.
His subjects are generally chosen from those departments of literature less frequently adopted as furnishing materials for artistic illustration, and his method of treating them displays a thorough education in all the means of his art. Industry and application are no less apparent than inventive genius, and by this happy union in Mr. Ward, the highest anticipations exist as to his future eminence in the walk of "familiar domestic history," which ho has selected as his province.—J. S.
We acknowledge our indebtedness to Messrs. Gonpil, Vibert tt Co. for their courtesy in permitting the copies for this Magazine of one or two of the prints they published from pictures belonging to the French school of art. The engravings referred to were issued last spring, and it was an oversight thatdue thanks were not tendered at the time.
Shirlet. By the Author of "Jane Eyre." New York: Harper d& Brothers. Shirley is at once worse and better than its predecessor. It has not the faults—real or imputed—of Jane Eyre. That is to say, there is nothing in the book about which even a question as to its morality or propriety can be raised. On the other hand, as a work of the imagination, it has not the same power. The interest is divided between too many, and being divided it is of course weakened. At tho same time it contains many powerful passages. It has special scenes equal to anything in the former work. In clear and bold delineations of character—a species of writing in which the author excels —it is superior to the former. There are more characters introduced, giving the author a fuller opportunity to display in this respect his peculiar power. We refer not merely to the leading characters, such as Shirley, Caroline, Robert and Louis Moore, Yorke, and Helstone, which are conceived with a precision truly wonderful, but also to tho minor and subordinate characters, every one of which, no matter how casually introduced, has an individuality almost Shakespearian. Take, for example, the three curates, the two old maids, or the sketches of the six little Yorkes in the chapter entitled "Briarmains." Everyone of these sketches shows the hand of a master—not merely a keen observer of the externals of humanity, but a psychological chemist—a man (—or woman) capable of analyzing tho subtle workings of the human soul in its most occult processes. Still, rich as the work is in its details, and suggestive as it everywhere is of thoughts and feelings that spring up, like newly opened fountains, from the depths of one's own Internal consciousness, it does not as a whole produce that powerful impression which was left on the mind by its predecessor. The question of its authorship—or rather of the sex of
the author—seems to us no more settled than before. We read the first half of the volume with almost a conviction that the writer was a man. There was everywhere manifest a knowledge of affairs, an intimate acquaintance with the outdoor world, such as is certainly very rare among writers of the gentler sex. To this indeed there are exceptions. No man, for instance, who has ever handled pistols for real use, would have let Shirley keep her dread watch that "summer night" (p. 298) without ascertaining first of all whether the pistols in question were loaded or not. This is just one of those small things which, in weaving a work of fiction, a man who writes from knowledge always recollects, while a woman, who ea: officio knows nothing about it. is very apt to overlook. On the other hand, there are so many instances of this very kind, where the writer seems to be perfectly at home in manly affairs, that the doubt vanishes, and we feel for the moment that none but a man has written the book. Yet as we proceed towards the close of the volume, and see the familiar, the truly wonderful acquaintance which the author has with the female character, we are hnlf disposed to doubt the foregone conclusion, and to agree with Mary Howitt, who in her last letter says, in speaking of Shirley, "we suppose there can now be no doubt that the author of Jane Eyre is a woman!"
We are requested by the American publishers to say that Shirley is given by them in two forms—the Library edition, 12mo. in muslin, and the cheap popular style in paper covers.
Lipe Op Asubel Grken, D.D., LL.D. New York: Robert Carter a} Brothers. All who know anything of the character and habits of Dr. Green, and of the origin of the present publication, will be prepared even before examination to regard it as a most valuable contribution to the original and authentic materials of American history. No man living in the church of which ho was a member, except perhaps tho venerable Dr. Miller of Princeton, was more remarkable throughout his long lifo for his methodical habits. His mental and his physical machinery seemed to move with an exactitude, which we are wont to expect only in * material processes. In connexion with this, he is known to have commenced very early in life a daily register of his personal experiences and observations, which he continued till within a few days of his death. This register was mode in a cipher of his own invention, and known only to himself. A few years before his death, he commenced transcribing from this diary such passages as seemed to him worthy of commemoration. These passages form—they were intended by the author to form—his autobiography. Very few of them, however, are strictly private. The author, during much of his life, stood more intimately related than any other one man to American Presbyterianism. He was , for many years before his death, the only surviving member of the Synods by whom the General Assembly of that church was formed and its articles adopted. Besides this, he was to his latest day deeply tinctured with tho old-fashioned patriotism of the last generation. Under the iniluence of this spirit, while yet a boy, ho was impatient for the arrival of his sixteenth year, that he might be permitted to shoulder a real musket (in tho anticipation of this event he had learned the use of this instrument by drilling with a wooden one) and to march against the invaders of his native soil; he was intimately acquainted with Dr. Witherspoon, one of the signers of the Declaration; he was one of tho two chaplains to the Continental Congress during its sessions in Philadelphia, the other being the venerablo Bishop White; he saw in this capacity much of Washington aud the other great men of that period; he always felt a deep interest, he sometimes took an active part, in public affairs. Such having been his temper and his relative position in life, bis reminiscences assume the character of public documents, while, os being based upon a contemporaneous record, they have a special character for authenticity that will always make them valuable.
As a mere piece of biography, a book of more general and popular interest might have been made by adopting