Imágenes de páginas

The silken bands that heart to heart unite.

Arcas. Still so unhappy! Pardon my presumption ! I do not quarrel with the Gods. But ah!

Is it not rather that thou art ungrateful ? The lot of Woman is indeed most sad.

Iphigenia. Thanks you have always. In Peace man gorerns, and in War commands;


Aye, but not the thanks
In stranger lands, his hand still guards his head. That recompense the benefit ; the look
Possession gladdens him, and Victory crowns ;

That speaks a heart content in grateful love.
And glorious Death ends all. But faie binds Woman When, many years ago, mysterious fate
To make obedience to a Tyrant Husband

Placed thee a Priestess in this holy fane,
Her duty and her only consolation.

Thoas received thee, as a gift from Heaven,
And oh! How wretched should a hostile fate

With reverence and love. To thee this shore
To strangers in strange lands consign her. Here, Gave kindly welcome, tho' to all beside
Thus noble Tboas keeps me. Solemn-holy

So full of horror. For what stranger else
The bond that binds me; yet am I a slave,

Had entered our realm, who did not bleed And blush to own with what reluctant service

At Dian's altar, a devoted victim I wait on thee, oh Goddess! thee to whom

According to time-consecrated custom. I owe my life; to whom that life should be,

Iphigenia. Breath is not life; and what a life is this, With free unforced devotion dedicated.

Chained to this holy spot, as if a ghost Yet have I trusted, and I still do trust

Were doomed around its grave ever to wander. In thee, Diana, who, in thy soft arms,

Is this a lise conscious of life and joy, And to thy holy bosom didst embrace

Whose every hour dreamed fruitlessly away, The disowned daughter of the King of men.

Can but prepare the soul for that grey twilight, Daughter of Jove, if thou the illustrious man

Which, on the shores of Lethe, the sad host By thee afficted for his victim child,

of parted spirits celebrate in draughts If thou the God-like Agamemnon, who

of deep oblivion,-even of themselves ? The darling of his heart brought to thine altar,

A useless life is but an early death : Hast led in glory from Troy's prostrate walls

And such is Woman's fate-such most is mine. Back to his fatherland; his treasures there,

Arcas. The noble pride that sees not its own merit Wife-son--and daughter, all preserved by thee,

I pardon but lament it; for it robs thee Oh! give me too at last to those I love;

Of what thou prizest most, and well hast purchased. Me, whom from Death already thou hast saved,

Thou hast done nothing here, since thine arrival!!! Sare from the living Death I suffer here.

Who then has cheered the troubled soul of Thoas ?
Whose gentle influence has, from year to year,

The old and barbarous custom held in check,

Which cruelly fore-doomed the hapless stranger
Iphigenia. Arcas.

To bleed a victim on Diana's altar,

And often has sent back from certain death Arcas. Greeting and hail to great Diana's Priestess

The ransomed captives to their native land? The King by me hath sent. Tauris to-day

Whose winning prayer has soothed the injured Goddess, For new and wondrous victories gives thanks

That she, without displeasure, sees her Temple To her protecting Goddess; and the King,

Robbed of its victims, and still leads us on Followed by his triumphant host, approaches.

To victory and triumph ? Who but thou
Iphigenia. We are prepared to give them fit reception; Has softened the stern spirit of the King,
And great Diana now the welcome offering

Who, wise and brave, our councils and our arms
From Thoas' hand, with gracious smile, expects.
Arcas. And thine, much-honored Priestess! Were thy While he, rejoicing in thy presence, takes

Directs, that lightly sits the yoke of duty,

The infection of thy mildness? Is this nothing ? Oh! holy virgin, also clear and bright,

This to be useless? When thy very being How happy were the omen. Secret grief

Sheds balm on thousands ? When the Gods have made Still preys upon thy heart ; and still in vain

thee For years we've listened for one trustful word.

A source of comfort to the happy people That self-same look, 1 still, with shuddering awe,

To whom they kindly gave thee, and a refuge Have seen, since first I saw thee in this place,

To the lorn stranger on this deadly shore, And still, az if forged down with iron bands,

Where, but for thee, his doom were sealed. Deep in thy inmost breast, thy soul remains.


What's done
Iphigenia. As best beconies the Exile and the Orphan.
Arcas. Art thou an Exile and an Orphan here?

Dwindles to nothing, in the eye that looks
Iphigenia. Can a strange shore become our Fatherland? Forward, and sees how much is left to do.
Arcas. But now to thee thy Fatherland is foreign. Arcas. But is it just to undervalue merit,
Iplageria. Ah true! Most true! And hence my heart Though in ourselves ?
still bleeds.


"Twere surely better so In Life's first dawn, while yet the unpractised heart Than rate ourselves too highly. Is hardly conscious of the tie that binds


Both are wrong; To Father, Mother, Kindred;, while the scions,

The Proud, who scorns applause when justly due : That cluster round the root of the old stem,

The Vain, greedy of praise, who asks too much. First Heaven-ward begin to strive ; 'Oh! then

Believe and listen to the words of one A curse seized on me, and, with iron grasp,

Sincerely--faithfully devoted to thee. Sundering that tie, bore me from all I loved.

Should the King speak with thee to-day, take kindly Then perished Youth's best joys; then withering shrunk What he intends to say. The bud of promise. Rescued from the grave,


Your words tho' kind What am I, but a shadow to myself,

Distress me. Often and with pain have ! Whereia no flush of joy again can bloom.

Evaded his proposal.


Yet bethink thee
Of what thou dost, and what is best for thee.
Since his Son's death, the King no longer trusts
His followers as before. None-ahsolutely
Few he trusts at all. On every youth
Of noble birth he looks with jealousy,
As the successor to his vacant throne;
While, for himself, lonely and helpless age,
Or rude rebellion and untimely death
Seem to await him. In the arts of speech,
The Scythian takes no pride. He least of all.
Accustomed to command, and prompt to act,
The art, by devious and well-chosen phrase
To steal upon his object, is to him
Unknown. Make not his task more difficult
By coy refusal, or by wilsul dulness.
Meet hiin complacently. Meet his wish half way.

Iphigenia. Must I accelerate what threatens me?
Arcas. Callest thou then his suit a threat ?

Most dreadful.
Arcas. Then for his love at least give confidence.
Iphigenia. Let him first free my soul from fear.

But why Dost thou from him thy origin conceal ?

Iphigenia. It is, that secresy becomes a Priestess.

Arcas. Nothing should be a secret from the King;
And tho' he questions not, he deeply feels,
In his great soul, the studied cold reserve,
In which thou shroudest thyself.

Does he then cherish
Anger against me?

So it almost seems.
He speaks not of thee, but unguarded words,
At random uttered, show his steadfast purpose
To win thee. Do not leave him to himself,
Lest his displeasure change to that, which well
May make thee tremble, and too late remember,
With deep regrets, my faithful counsel.

Designs he then that which no noble man,
Who honors his own name, and in whose heart
Due reverence of the heavenly beings reigns,
Should ever meditate? Means he by force
To drag me from the altar to his bed ?
Then on the Gods I call, and chief on Diana,
Resolved and faithful: She will not deny-
A Goddess to her Priestess-her protection-
A Virgin to a Virgin.

Fear not that.
The heart of youthful blood drives not the King
To the audacious violence of Youth.
But-thinking as he does, I much do fear
A sterner purpose, which his thwarted will
Most surely will accomplish. Firm he is,
And fixed in his designs. I pray thee then
Be thankful--trustsul, if you be no more.

Iphigenia. Tell me what else thou knowest.

Learn it from him,
I see him coming. Thou dost honor him.
Ohey thy heart, and meet him as a friend.
Give him thy confidence. The noblest men
Most readily submit them to be guided
By a kind word from woman.

[Erit Arcas.)


Iphigenia. Thoas.
Iphigenia. With royal blessings may the Goddess bless

Victory and Glory, Wealth and Happiness
To thee and thine may she profusely grant,
With the fulfilment of each pious wish,
That, as the multitude o'er whom thy reign
Extends its blessings, be the rich abundance
or thy rare happiness.

Enough for ine
My People's praises. All that I have gained
Is more enjoyed by others than by me;
For he is happiest, whether King or Peasant,
Whose home is happy. Thou didst share my sorrow,
When from my side my Son, my last, my best,
The hostile sword lopped off. Then, while Revenge

Possessed my spirit, I felt not the void
Of my lone dwelling. Now-my rage appeased
The hostile realm laid waste-my Son avenged,

I look at home for bliss, and look in vain.
The glad obedience which I once beheld
Sparkling in every eye, is now exchanged
For dark-browed care, and dumb anxiety,
While each one, musing on the doubtful future,
Obeys his childless King because he must.
Now, to this temple, which so oft I've entered
To pray for Victory, or to render thanks
For Victories won, again I come to-day,
And in my bosom a long cherished wish,
To you not new, I bear; the wish--the hope
To bear thee to my dwelling as my bride,
A blessing to my People and myself.

Iphigenia. Too much thou offerest to one unknown,
Oh King! The exile stands abashed before thee,
Who, on this shore, sought nothing but repose,
And the protection thou hast kindly granted.

Thoas. And is it right, from me as from a Peasant,
The secret of thy origin to hide ?
In any country this would be ungratesul :
But here, where strangers tremble to encounter
What Law and stern Necessity denounce,
From thee, enjoying every pious right,
A guest received with favor, one who lives
According to her every wish and fancy,
From thee I hoped at least the confidence
Due to a faithful host.

If I concealed, Oh, King ! the name of Parents and of race, 'Twas in perplexity and not distrust.

Did'st thou bat know who stands before thee here,
Whose the accursed head thy pity shelters,

Horror, perchance, would seize thy noble heart,
And shuddering, thou wouldest drive me from thy realm,
Instead of asking me to share thy throne;
Thrusting me forth, ere yet occasion offers
To end my wanderings in a blest return
To all I love ;-forth to the inisery
Which, hovering round the exile, clings to him
Frighting his soul with its strange icy grasp.

Thoas. Whate'er the counsels of the Gods decree
Against thee or thy house, here every blessing
Their bounty can bestow has still attended
Thy cherished presence. I can never think
That I protect in thee a guilty head.

Iphigenia. Thy bounty wins the blessing, not thy guest.

Thoas. Bounty to crime is never thus requited. Then lay aside thy coy reserve, and give

Thy confidence to one too just to wrong it. Holy to me thou art, as unto her


I see not How I can follow this true friend's advice. But gladly I obey the voice of duty; And, for his many favors, to the King A kind word will I give. Oh! that I could Tell him with truth that which would please him best.

The Goddess, who to me delivered thee,

In joint authority the subject State. And to her nod I still submit my will.

But short their concord. For Thyestes soon Let but occasion offer to relurn

His brother's bed dishonors, and is driven
To home and friends, that moment thou art free. An exile from his throne. But long before,
But if the homeward path be barred forever,

Full of malignant purpose, he had stolen
Thy friends expelled, or crushed by huge misfortune, A Son from Atreus, and the petted boy
Then, by more laws than one, I claim thee mine. Had brought up as his own. He fills his mind
Speak then. Thou knowest me faithful to my word. With evil passions, frenzy and revenge,

Iphigenia. Unwillingly my tongue resumes its freedom and sends bim to the royal court to murder,
From long aceustomed bondage, to reveal

In him he deems his uncle, his own father.
The deep hid secret, which, when once disclosed,

His purpose is discovered; and the youth To the heart's sanctuary never more

Dies by his father's sentence, as the son Returns for refuge; but becomes henceforth

And murderous agent of a hated brother. The potent minister of good or ill,

Too late the truth is known, that his own Son, E'en as the Gods decree. Know then my lineage.

Before his drunken eyes, had died in torture. 'Tis from the race of Tantalus I spring.

Deep in his breast he locks the purposed vengeance Thoas. A word of Power! And yet thou speakest it And calmly meditates an unheard deed. calmly.

He seems composed-indifferent--reconciled,

And lures his brother back into his kingdom
Was he thy ancestor, whom all the world
Knew as the man much favored by the Gods?

With his two sons. The boys he seizes-murders,

And to the father's table serves them up,
That Tantalus, whom, of old, to his high councils
And to his table, Jove himself invited :

Disgustful, horrid food! Thyestes, gorged

With his own flesh, is seized with boding gloom; He, in whose time-earned wisdom and experience,

Asks for his children, listens for their step, Uttered in words oracular, the Gods

And thinks he hears their pratiling at the door, Took pleasure.

When to his shrinking eye Atreus displays Iphigenia. 'Tis the same. But Gods should not The visage grim in death, and severed limbs Converse with men, as with their equals hold.

Of either victim. Shuddering, thy face, The mortal race, too weak to bear such honor,

Oh King! thou tumest away. And so the Sun Grows dizzy with the unaccustomed height.

His countenance averted, and his chariot He was not base; and he was not a Traitor.

Turned from the eternal deep-worn track aside. Too great to be a servant, yet being Man,

Such are the Fathers of thy Priestess-such He was no fit companion for the thunderer.

Their doom. What else their wicked hearts have prompted His crime was human, but severe his doom, For Poets sing that indiscreet presumption

Night's heavy pinions hide, and but reveal

The dreadful twilight.
Down from Jove's table to the deep disgrace
Of Tartarus burled him; and alas ! bis race


Let them rest in silence. Still bears the hatred of the Gods.

Enough of horrors. Say now, by what wonder Thoas,

But bears it

Thou from this savage race hast sprung. Only ancestral guilt ? None of its own.


My Father
Iphigenia. Ab, True! The mighty mind and Titan strength Was Agamemnon, oldest son of Atreus.
Too sure descended both to Sons and Grandsons; In him, through life, I may presume to say it,
And their stern brows, girt with an iron band,

I've seen the model of a perfect man.
(Such was Jove's Will) repelled advice and prudence- The first born of his love for Clytemnestra
Wisełom and patience from their fierce dark glance Am I. Electra next. In peace he reigned,
By his decree concealed. In them each wish

And rest, so long denied the house of Tantalus,
Became a passion, boundless in its rage.

At length enjoyed. But to a father's wish Pelops, the strong of will, the much-loved Son

A son was wanting. Soon that wish was granted, Of Tantalas, the beauteous Hippodamia

And now between two sisters young Orestes Daughter of Enomaus to his bed

Grew up the joy of all; when new misfortune, By treacherous murder won. She to his love

Prepared already, burst upon our house. Two cbildren, Atreus and Thyestes, bore.

Fame to your ears has brought the sound of War, These saw with envy that their father's heart

Which, to avenge the wrong of one fair woman, Clung to an elder son, the first born fruit

With all the powers of the Kings of Greece or his first love. Hatred to him unites them.

The walls of Troy beleaguered. Whether they A brother's blood, in secret shed, first stains

The conquest have achieved, and their revenge Their hands. Suspicion on their mother falls.

Appeased I know not. All the host of Greece Pelops of her demands his son, and she

My Father led. Baffed by adverse winds Flies from his rage to self-inflicted death.

In Aulis long they waited; For Diana, Thoas. Silent! Speak on. Thou hast no cause to rue By their great chief oftended, thus detained Thy confidence. Proceed.

The eager host, and by the mouth of Kalchas Iphigenia.

Ah! Happy he

The first born daughter of the King demanded. Who can his fathers' memory recall

They lured me with my mother to the camp, With joyful pride. Who to the listening ear

And at the altar this devoted head Delights to tell their greatness, and exults

Was offered to the Goddess. She, appeased, To trace the bright links of a nobler lineage ;

Sought not my blood, but veiled me in a cloud Himself the last. No family at once

And bore me hither. In this temple first Breeds demigods or monsters. Good or bad,

From Death-trance I awoke to consciousness, There is a series, which ends at last,

'Tis I. 'Tis Iphigenia--the grand child In the delight or horror of the world.

Of Atreus; it is Agamemnon's daughter, Their father dead, Thyestes rules with Atreus

Diana's property, who speak to thee.

Thoas. Thou sprung from Kings, thou hast no strongerHer chosen Priestess. But may Dian Pardon claim

My fault, that I so long, against our Law Upon my favor or my confidence

And my own conscience, bave, withheld from her Than when unknown. My offer I renew.

Her ancient sacrifice. From oldest times Then go with me and share in all I have.

Death was the certain doom of every stranger, Iphigenia. My King, how can I hazard such a step?.

Who touched this shore; till thou with blandishments, The Goddess who preserved me, she alone

In which I thought I saw a daughter's fondness, Has claims on my devoted life. She chose

And hoped at length to see the silent love This as my place of refuge, and, perhaps,

Of a young bride, beguiled me from my duty, Reserves me for the solace and delight

Spell-bound, with magic bonds and rocked to sleep, Of the declining years of one whom she

That I heard not the murmurs of my People. Enough has punished. Who knows, even now,

But now they charge my Son's untimely death That my deliverance is not at hand,

But as a visitation on my guilt, If I, unmindful of her holy will,'

And I no more for thy sake will restrain Thwart not her plan. Devoutly have I asked

The crowd that clamors for the sacrifice. A sign by which her pleasure may be known.

Iphigenia. Not for my sake I asked it. He, who thinks Thoas. It is a sign that here thou still remainest.

The Gods delight in blood, mistakes them widely, Seek no excuses, for they speak in vain,

Charging on them his cruel purposes. Who would involve denial in smooth words.

Did not the Goddess save me from the Priest, The baffled suitor only hears the "No."

Preferring to my blood my service here?

Thoas. 'Tis not for us, with ready sophistry
Iphigenia. My trust is not in words that only dazzle.

To mould our holy usage to our will.
I have disclosed to thee my inmost heart:
And knows not thine own heart how mine must yearn

Do thou thy duty. Leave me to do mine.

Two strangers, in a cave near to the Sea, To see my Father-Mother-Brother--Sister-

Have just been found concealed. They bring no good. To see, in that old hall, where sorrow still

I hold them captive, and the injured Goddess May sometimes lisp my name, Joy's reign restored,

Shall take them as her due,-(the first that offer,) Twining its columns with fresh blooming wreathes,

For sacrifices now so long delayed. As for one newly born? Oh! send me thither,

I send them hither, and thou knowest the rest. And give new life to them, to me, to all.

[Exit.] Thoas. Go then. Obey thy wilful heart, and spurn The voice of Heaven and of friendly counsel.

Iphigenia. Thou hast clouds, my kind deliverer, Be quite a woman. Yield thee to the impulse

Clouds to screen afflicted Virtue, Which, unrestrained, hurries her where it will;

Winds to wast the victim, rescued For let but passion burn within her hosom,

From the iron hand of Fate, No holy tie can keep her from the arms

Aross the land-across the Ocean. Of him who lures her from the faithful care

Wise art thou to scan the future; Of Father or of Husband. Let that sleep,

Still to thee the past is present; And golden-tongued persuasion pleads in vain,

And thine eye upon thy servants Tho' urged sincerely, and enforced by reason.

Rests, as thy light, the life of night, Iphigenia. Oh! King, bethink thee of thy noble word,

Calmly rules the silent earth. Nor let my confidence be thus requited.

0! withhold my hand from blood ! I thought thee well prepared to hear the truth.

No Peace, no blessing can attend it. Thoas. I was; but not for this—so unexpected!

Though slain by chance, the victim's spectre But what else could I look for? Knew I not

Haunts the casual perpetrator
I had to deal with woman?

To dog and fright bis hour of wo.
Do not rail,

For good men to the Gods are dear,
O King! against our sex. It is indeed

Wherever such on earth are found; Not lordly, like your own, but not ignoble

And they this fleeting life vouchsafe Are Woman's weapons. Trust me that in this

To mortals, whom they freely suffer To thee I am superior, that I know,

To share with them the cheering aspect Better than thou, that which should make thee happy.

Of their own eternal Heaven.* Full of sond hope as well as good intentions,

(END OF Act 1.) Thou urgest me to yield: and I have cause To thank the Gods that they have given me firmnes

* The translator is aware that this hymn sounds strangely To shun a union not approved by them.

in English. Perhaps it will be as unacceptable to his Thoas. It is no God that speaks. 'Tis thy own heart. readers as to himself. It was his wish to have preserved Iphigenia. 'Tis only through the heart they speak to us. the measure,, giving a rhyming close to the lines, but he reThoas, , Should not I hear that voice as well as thou? linquished this purpose in compliance with the request of a Iphigenia. It speaks in whispers, and the storm out-German friend, at whose suggestion he undertook the transroarsit.

lation. It was the wish of thar gentleman to exhibit Goethe Thoas. Then 'tis the Priestess only that can hear it. io the American public in a dress resembling as nearly as Iphigenia. The Prince, above all else, is bound to listen. possible', his German costume. His metre, therefore, is

Thoas, Oh no! Thy holy office, and thy claim exactly copied throughout. Hence, too, the translation is Hereditary to the Thunderer's table

literal to a fault, as it sometimes happens that certain words Have placed thee nearer to the Gods than me,

are quite unpoetical in one language, while the correspondAn earth-born Savage.

ing word in another is consecrated by custom to the Poet's Iphigenia. Thus it is I suffer

use. The translator is not conscious of any greater liberty For confidence that thou hagt wrung from me.

than that of rendering“ grasp" for "faust" "fist," and "nod” Thoas. I'm but a man. "Twere better we stop here. for “ wink,” which means the same in German as in EnMy word is steadfast. Berve the Goddess still


INTERNATIONAL COPYRIGHT LAW. that it has honored the country abroad, and has Views in regard to an extension of the privileges of Copy.

been serving it at home; and that, to American right in the United States, to the citizens of other coun- authorship, not yet thirty years old, the nation tries, in a Letter to the Hon. Isaac E. Holmes, of South is largely indebted for much of its public morality, Carolina, member of Congress. By the author of “The its private virtues, its individual independence, and Yemassee,” « The Kinsmen,”" Richard Hurdis," “ Dam- that social tone which prevents the absolute and sel of Darien," &c.

general usurpation of opinion, in matters of taste, Hon. I. E. Holmes:

by foreign and inferior models ;-to the rank inHouse of Representatives, Washington. Auence of which we are particularly exposed by DEAR Sir :-You have done me the honor to the premature and excessive growth of our comrequest my views of the effect of the Copyright mercial tendencies. Law, as it exists at present, upon the interests of I trust that it will not be demanding too violent domestic authorship, and of such an extension of a concession from any citizen, when we assume, its privileges, as will enable the citizens of foreign that a Literature of some kind is absolutely necountries to partake of its securities, in common cessary to every nation that professes to be civiwith our own. Upon a subject of so much doubt lized. It is, perhaps, the highest, if not the only and disputation, I should have been better pleased definite proof of national civilization. It is conto refer you to more experienced writers than my-tended that a foreign Literature is not only not self, to those whose greater knowledge of the enough for the wants of such a people, but that, business of Literature, and higher distinction in its in all cases where it is suffered to supersede their walks, would entitle them to speak with more au- own, it must prove ultimately fatal to their moral, thority, and with less doubtful claims to the res- if not their political independence. It is contendpect and consideration of the country. But, re-ed, and on sufficient grounds, that a people, who garding the question as a vital one, and in the receive their Literature exclusively from a foreign silence of those whom I myself should much pre- land, are, in fact, if not in form, essentially gofer to hear, I do not feel altogether at liberty to verned from abroad ;-that their laws are furnished, decline the task to which I amn invited. Believing, if not prescribed, by a foreign and, frequently, a as I do, that the condition of the law as it now hostile power; and that, as it is only through our stands, endangers, and will long continue to jeo- own minds that we can be free, so, when these are pard, the best interests of the country, as regards surrendered to the tutelage of strangers, we are, its intellectual progress, not less than the minor, to all intents and purposes, a people in bondage. but still important interests of the American au- The proposition, however startling it may seem, thor, considered simply as an individual,- I feel, as is by no means too strongly put. Unhappily, our own an additional incentive to your application, the national experience furnishes us with an illustrasense of a pressing, not to say imperious duty, tion, which is beyond the denial of the most bigoted which obliges me to speak. I am not conscious, mind. It applies, with singular force and directhowever, that I can throw any new lights upon the ness to the actual relation, in which we have long subject. I do not know that I can furnish one ad- stood, and still measureably stand, to the controlditional argument to those which have been so fre- ling intellect of Great Britain. There is no disquently set before the American people, and, seem- guising the pernicious influence, which, to this day, ingly, in vain ;- but, I can, at least, in good faith, she maintains over our moral and mental character. present an additional witness in the cause, and ar- There is no concealing, as there is no defending, ray, in simple order, those suggestions of my rea- the odious servility with which a large portion of son and my experience, which have inclined me, our population, in the great cities, contemplate her after frequent deliberation, to place myself on the hanghty aristocracy; borrow their affectations, ape present side of the question.

their arrogances, adopt their prejudices, and shackle Perhaps, as a preliminary to this discussion, im- themselves, hand and foot, in the miserable folds portant, if not absolutely essential to a just percep- of their meretricious and highly artificial society. tion of all its bearings, it would be well to take a The disgusting meanness which hangs upon the hasty survey of the past history and present con- heels of her travellers,—which beslavers them with dition of American Literature. It is important to caresses, and, subsequently, requites their natural show, that something has been done by native au- scorn with blackguardism, is shocking to the nathorship, to justify what might else seem to be an tional pride and debasing to the national characimportunate and impertinent clamoring at the doorster. Unhappily,--though I am pleased to think of Congress, for a species of bounty and shows of that the great body of our people, particularly favor, for the benefit of those who can exhibit no the rural portions—revolt at such proceedings and proper title to consideration. We admit the ne- keep from participation in them,—the few who are cessity, on the threshold, of showing that Ameri- guilty of this servility find too facile a sanction for can Literature, is not a name merely, but a'thing ;- its exercise, in the readiness with which, as a whole, that it has been a thing of, works and triumphs ;-'we receire the opinions, adopt the laws, and bor

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