Various.

Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXVII, No. 1, July 1850 online

. (page 1 of 18)
Online LibraryVariousGraham's Magazine, Vol. XXXVII, No. 1, July 1850 → online text (page 1 of 18)
Font size
QR-code for this ebook


GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, JULY 1850 ***




Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed
Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net from
page images generously made available by Google Books





[Illustration: GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
1850.
GEO. R. GRAHAM, EDITOR.

_Devereux, del._ _Hogan and Thompson, pr._
_Lake of Como._]

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
Vol. XXXVII. July, 1850. No. 1.


Table of Contents

Fiction, Literature and Articles

The Vital and the Mechanical
For’ard and Aft
Jenny Lind
The Bride of the Battle
Stories from the Old Dramatists
Lucy Leyton
George R. Graham
The Genius of Burns
The Gambler’s Daughter
Woodcock and Woodcock Shooting
The Shark
Review of New Books
Editor’s Table

Poetry, Music, and Fashion

Sonnets
Dara
A Legend of Tyrol
The Lady of Castle Windeck
The Young Mother’s Lament
The Poet’s Prayer
Implora Pace:—A Version
The Fall of the Fairies
The Spirit Lovers and the Spirit Bridal
Lines Written at Night in Cave Hill Cemetery
A Song for a Down-Trodden Land
To Jenny Lind
A Requiem by the Sea
Jenny Lind’s American Polka
Details of the New Fashions in Sacques and
Mantelets
Le Follet

Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.




CONTENTS

OF THE

THIRTY-SEVENTH VOLUME.

JUNE, 1850, TO JANUARY, 1851.

A Romance of True Love. By Caroline H. Butler, 100
A Visit to Staten Island. By Mrs. Lydia H. 149
Sigourney,
Bridget Kerevan. By Enna Duval, 116
Bay Snipe Shooting. By Frank Forester, 126
Blanche of Bourbon. By Walter Brooke, 348
Coquet _versus_ Coquette. By Caroline H. Butler, 177
Chateaubriand and His Career. By Fayette Robinson, 356
Doctrine of Form. By E. 170
Edda Murray. By Enna Duval, 238
Early English Poets. By James W. Wall, 250
Enchanted Beauty. By E. 265
For’ard and Aft. By S. A Godman, 8
Familiar Quotations from Unfamiliar Sources. By A 312
Student,
George R. Graham. By C. J. Peterson, 43
Jenny Lind. By Henry T. Tuckerman, 15
Lucy Leighton. By Caroline H. Butler, 37
Music and Musical Composers. By R. J. De Cordova, 73
Mandan Indians, 195
Music. By Henry Giles, 223
Minnie De La Croix. By Angele De V. Hull, 294, 339
Nettles on the Grave. By R. Penn Smith, 311
Of and Concerning the Moon. By Calvin W. Philleo, 329
Pedro de Padilh. By J. M. Legare, 92, 144, 231,
305, 372
Quail and Quail Shooting. By Henry Wm. Herbert, 317
Rail and Rail Shooting. By H. W. Herbert, 190
Ruffed Grouse Shooting. By H. W. Herbert, 382
Stories from the Old Dramatists. By Enna Duval, 31
Shakspeare. By Henry C. Moorhead, 137
The Vital and the Mechanical. By P. 1
The Bride of the Battle. By Wm. Gilmore Simms, 23, 84, 163
The Genius of Burns. By Henry Giles, 45
The Gambler’s Daughter. By Henry C. Moorhead, 53
The Shark. By L. A. Wilmer, 64
The Chase. By Charles J. Peterson, 79
The Fine Arts, 132
The Genius of Byron. By Rev. J. N. Danforth, 185
The Fine Arts, 193
The Slave of the Pacha. From Santaine, 201
Thomas Johnson. By Thomas Wyatt, A. M. 245
Teal and Teal Shooting. By H. W. Herbert, 256
The Fine Arts, 259
The Vision of Mariotdale. By H. Hastings Weld, 273
Tamaque. By Henry C. Moorhead, 277
The Sunflower. By Major Richardson, 285
Two Crayon Sketches. By Enna Duval, 314
Thistle-Down. By Caroline Chesebro’, 361
The Comus of Milton. By Rev. J. N. Danforth, 367
Woodcock and Woodcock Shooting. By H. W. Herbert, 61
Wordsworth. By P. 106
What Katy Did. By Caroline Chesebro’, 121
Woodlawn. By F. E. F. 152
“What Can Woman Do?” By Alice B. Neal, 158


POETRY.

A Legend of Tyrol. By J. T. Fields, 7
A Song for a Down-Trodden Land. By Wm. P. 36
Mulchinock,
A Requiem by the Sea. By Helen Irving, 60
A Health to My Brother. By R. Penn Smith, 157
A Sea-Side Reverie. By Enna Duval, 162
Audubon’s Blindness. By Park Benjamin, 169
A Night at the Black Sign. By T. B. Read, 220
Alone—Alone! By Mrs. I. W. Mercur, 230
Charlotte Corday. By Mrs. E. J. Eames, 310
Dara. By James R. Lowell, 7
Hylas. By Bayard Taylor, 271
Implora Pace. By Elizabeth J. Eames, 20
Impulse and Principle. By A. B. Street, 105
Inspiration. By Wm. P. Brannan, 237
I Dreamed. By Wm. M. Briggs, 293
I Think of Thee. By Geo. D. Prentice, 381
Lines Written at Night in Cave Hill Cemetery.
By Geo. D. Prentice, 35
Lines in Memory of My Lost Child. By Geo. D. 143
Prentice,
Lines to a Bird. By T. Buchanan Read, 355
Manuella. By Bayard Taylor, 78
Memories. By Geo. D. Prentice, 83
Moral Strength. By Mrs. E. C. Kinney, 276
Ode. By R. H. Stoddard, 142
On a Portrait of Cromwell. By J. T. Fields, 162
On the Death of General Taylor. By Robert T. Conrad, 175
Outward Bound. By T. Buchanan Read, 189
On San Francisco’s Splendid Bay. By T. G. Spear, 370
“Psyche Loves Me.” By T. Dunn English, 176
Picture of Childhood. By Wm. Alexander, 338
Red Jacket. By W. H. C. Hosmer, 91
Riverside. By Geo. Canning Hill, 129
Sonnets. By Alfred B. Street, 6
Sonnets. By Mary Spenser Pease, 169
Sonnets. By Miss A. D. Woodbridge, 221
Spring Lilies. By Mrs. Mary G. Horsford, 229
Sonnet. By Wm. Alexander, 236
Sin No More. By R. T. Conrad, 237
Sonnets. By Mrs. E. J. Eames, 244
Sorrow. By Alfred B. Street, 276
Sonnet. By R. T. Conrad, 310
The Lady of Castle Windeck. By William Cullen 14
Bryant,
The Young Mother’s Lament. By Mrs. E. C. Kinney, 14
The Poet’s Prayer. By Emma C. Embury, 20
The Fall of the Fairies. By Henry B. Hirst, 21
The Spirit Lovers. By Miss L. V. Smith, 29
To Jenny Lind. By J. R. Fry, 42
The Mariner’s Tale, By R. Penn Smith, 97
The Wasted Heart. By L. Virginia Smith, 156
To the Lost One. By Duncan Moore, 176
The Bright New Moon of Love. By T. H. Chivres, M. D. 195
To a Friend. By Miss L. Virginia Smith, 222
The Earth. By R. H. Stoddard, 230
The Name of Wife. By Mrs. A. M. F. Annan, 236
Thinking of Minna. By Ellis Martyn, 244
The Maiden’s Lament for her Shipwrecked Lover. 249
By Wm. Albert Sutliffe,
The Gift of a Rose. By Geo. D. Prentice, 253
The Reconciliation. By L. Virginia Smith, 283
The Wife’s Last Gift. By Julia C. Dorr, 293
Theodora. By Geo. Canning Hill, 304
The Spectre Knight and His Ladye Bride. By Fanny 320
Fielding,
To L——. By Grace Greenwood, 321
To Miss Martha Griffith. By Grant Danby Polworth, 338
To a Celebrated Singer. By R. H. Stoddard, 347
To J. F. H. By J. R. Lowell, 360
To a Summer Haunt. By H. T. Tuckerman, 360
The Death of Wordsworth. By Wm. Sydney Thayer, 366
The Grave’s Pale Roses. By C. F. Orne, 370
The Quiet Arbor. By Wm. H. C. Hosmer, 371
Unhappy Love. By Geo. D. Prentice, 284
Wood Violets. By Alice B. Neal, 83
Wordsworth. By James T. Fields, 237
Wordsworth. By Wm. Alexander, 321


REVIEWS.

The Life and Correspondence of R. Southey.
Edited by his son, Rev. C. C. Southey, 65
Historic View of the Languages and Literature
of the Sclavic Nations. By Talvi, 66
Indiana. By George Sand, 67
Latter-Day Pamphlets. By Thomas Carlyle, 133
Webster’s Dictionary, 133
Eldorado. By Bayard Taylor, 134
In Memoriam, 198
Chronicles and Characters of the Stock Exchange.
By John Francis, 199
Evangeline. By Henry W. Longfellow, 199
Elementary Sketches of Moral Philosophy.
By Rev. Sidney Smith, A. M. 261
Confessions of an English Opium Eater. By
Thomas De Quincy, 262
Life and Letters of Thomas Campbell.
Edited by William Beattie, M. D. 263
The Prelude. By William Wordsworth, 322
Christian Thought on Life. By Henry Giles, 323
Specimens of Newspaper Literature. By J. T. 324
Buckingham,
Songs of Labor and Other Poems. By J. G. Whittier, 324
Memoirs of the Life of Anne Boleyn. By Miss Benger, 326
Lynch’s Dead Sea Expedition, 326
Astræa. By Oliver Wendall Holmes, 385
Five Years of a Hunter’s Life in the Far Interior
of South Africa. By R. G. Cumming, 387


MUSIC.

Jenny Lind’s American Polka, 68
Chant of the Nereides, 130
Barcarole, 196
Ah, Do Not Speak so Coldly, 254
Come Touch the Harp, My Gentle One, 388


ENGRAVINGS.

Portrait of Jenny Lind, engraved by Mote, London.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
Portrait of the Editor, engraved by Armstrong.
Lake of Como, executed in colors by Devereux.
Woodcock Shooting, engraved by Brightly.
Designs for Mantelets, engraved by Brightly, Thomas,
and Talfer.
The Shark, engraved by Brightly.
The Origin of Music, engraved by Tucker.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
The Sisters, engraved by Thomas B. Welch.
He Comes Not, engraved by Holl.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
Dance of the Mandan Indians, engraved by Rawdon,
Wright & Hatch.
Rail Shooting, engraved by Brightly.
The Slave of the Pacha, engraved by J. Brown.
The Way to Church, engraved by T. McGoffin.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
Portrait of Thomas Johnson, engraved by Brightly.
Teal Shooting, engraved by Brightly.
The Highland Chase, engraved by T. B. Welch.
The Angel’s Whisper, engraved by T. Illman & Son.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
American Quail, engraved by Brightly.
Catskill Mountain House, engraved by Smillie.
The Home of Milton, engraved by W. E. Tucker.
Mariner’s Beacon, engraved by H. Smith.
Paris Fashions, engraved by David.
Ruffed Grouse, engraved by Brightly.

* * * * *

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXXVII. PHILADELPHIA, JULY, 1850. No. 1.

* * * * *




THE VITAL AND THE MECHANICAL.


It may be universally affirmed that every thing having shape either
grows or is put together, is a living organism or a contrived machine;
and the radical distinction between minds in all the modes of their
operation, and between things in all the forms of their manifestation,
is expressed in the antithesis of vitality and mechanism. To suggest, in
a manner necessarily imperfect and rambling, some of the important
consequences involved in this distinction, is the object of the present
essay.

And first, in regard to minds, it may be asked, to what faculties and
operations of the intelligence do you apply the term vital, as
distinguished from other faculties and operations indicated as
mechanical? The answer to this question may be spiritually true without
being metaphysically exact, and we shall hazard a brief one. The soul of
man in its essential nature is a vital unit and person, capable of
growth through an assimilation of external objects; and its faculties
and acquirements are all related to its primitive personality, as the
leaves, branches, and trunk of a tree to its root. In the tree there are
sometimes dead branches and withered leaves, which constitute a part of
the tree’s external form without participating in the tree’s internal
life. The same thing occurs in the human mind. Faculties, originally
springing from the soul’s vital principle, become disconnected from it,
lose all the sap and juice of life, and dwindle from vital into
mechanical powers. The customary vocabulary of metaphysics evinces the
extent of this decay in its division of the mind into parts, each part
with a separate name and performing a different office. It is plain that
no organism, vegetable, animal, or human, admits of such a
classification of parts, for the fundamental principle of organisms is
unity in variety, each part implying the whole, growing out of a common
centre and source, and dying the moment it is separated. When,
therefore, we say that the mind has faculties which are not vitally
related to each other, that the whole mind is not present in every act,
that there are processes of thought in which a particular faculty
operates on its own account, we assert the existence of death in the
mind; what is worse, the assertion is true; and, what is still worse,
this mental death often passes for wisdom and common sense, and mental
life is stigmatized as fanaticism.

Now, this antithesis of life and death, vitality and mechanism, the
conception of the spirit of things, and the perception of the forms of
things, is a distinction available in every department of human thought
and action, and divides minds into two distinct classes, the living and
the lifeless. The test of the live mind is, that it communicates life.
The only sign here of possession is communication; and life it cannot
possess unless life it communicates. Spiritual life implies a
combination of force and insight, an indissoluble union of will and
intelligence, in which will sees and intelligence acts. A mental
operation, in the true meaning of the phrase, is a vital _movement_ of
the mind; and although this movement is called a conception or an act
according as it refers to meditation or practice, it cannot in either
case be a conception without being an act, or an act without being a
conception. Conception, in the last analysis, is as truly an act of the
mind as volition; both are expressions of one undivided unit and person;
and the only limit of conception, the limit which prevented Kepler from
conceiving the law of gravitation, and Ben Jonson from conceiving the
character of Falstaff, is a limitation of will, of personality, of
individual power, of that innate force which is always the condition and
the companion of insight. All the vital movements of the mind are acts
whether the product be a book or a battle; and that is a singular
philosophy of the will which calls Condé’s charge at Rocroi an act, and
withholds the name from Shakspeare’s conception of Othello.

As this spiritual force is ever the characteristic of vital thought,
such thought is both light and heat, kindles as well as informs, and
acts potently on other minds by imparting life as well as knowledge.
There are many books which contain more information than Paradise Lost,
but Paradise Lost stimulates, dilates and enriches our minds by
communicating to them the very substance of thought, while the other
books may leave us as poor and weak as they found us, with the addition
only of some names and forms of things which we did not know before. The
great difference, therefore, between a vital and mechanical mind is
this, that from one you obtain the realities of things, and from the
other the mere appearances; one influences, the other only informs; one
increases our power, the other does little more than increase our words.
The action of a live mind upon other minds is chiefly an influence, and
the true significance of influence is that it pierces through all the
formal frippery of opinion and speculation lying on the surface of
consciousness, and touches the tingling and throbbing nerve at its
centre and soul; rousing the mind’s dormant activity, breathing into it
a new motive and fresh vigor, and making it strong as well as wise. As
regards the common affairs of the world, this influence is as the blast
of an archangel’s trumpet, waking us from the death of sloth and custom.
In the fire of our newly kindled energies the mean and petty interests
in which our thoughts are ensnared wither and consume; and, discerning
vitalities where before we only perceived semblances, a strangeness
comes over the trite, a new meaning gleams through old appearances, and
the forms of common objects are transfigured, as viewed in the vivid
vision of that rapturous life. Then, and only then, do we realize how
awful and how bright is the consciousness of a living soul; then
immortality becomes a faith, and death a delusion; then magnanimous
resolves in the heart send generous blood mantling in the cheek, and
virtue, knowledge, genius, heroism, appear possibilities to the lazy
coward who, an hour before, whined about his destiny in the hopeless
imbecility of weakness. Although this still and deep ecstasy, this
feeling of power and awe, is to most minds only a transient elevation,
it is still a revelation of the vital within them, which should at least
keep alive a sublime discontent with the sluggish apathy of their common
existence. “Show me,” says Burke, “a contented slave and I will show you
a degraded man,”—a sentence right from the hot heart of an illustrious
man, whose own mind glowed with life and energy to the verge of the
tomb, and who never knew the slavery of that sleep of mental death,
which withers and dries up the very fountains of life in the soul.

The usual phrases by which criticism discriminates vital from mechanical
minds, are impassioned imagination and logical understanding. This
vocabulary, though open to objections, as not going to the root of the
matter, is still available for our purpose. It draws a definite line
between genius and talent. The man of impassioned imagination is vital
in every part. The primitive spiritual energy at the centre of his
personality permeates, as with warm life-blood, the whole of his being,
vivifying, connecting, fusing into unity, all his faculties, so that his
thought comes from him as an act, and is endowed with a penetrating and
animating as well as enlightening power. The thoughts of Plato, Dante,
Bacon, Shakspeare, Newton, Milton, Burke, not to mention others, are
actors in the world—communicating life, forming character, revealing
truth, generating energy in recipient minds. These men possess
understanding as far as that term expresses an operation of the mind,
but understanding with them is in living connection with imagination and
emotion; they never use it as an exclusive power in themselves, they
never address it as an exclusive power in others. To understand a thing
in its external qualities and internal spirit, requires the joint
operation of all the faculties; and no fact is ever thoroughly
understood by the understanding, for it is the person that understands
not the faculty, and the person understands only by the exercise of his
whole force and insight. The man of understanding, so called, simply
perceives the forms of things and their relations; the man of
impassioned imagination perceiving forms and divining spirit, conceives
the life of things and their relations. The antithesis runs through the
whole realm of thought and fact. The man of understanding, when he rises
out of sensations, simply reaches abstractions; and in the abstract
there is no life. Ideas and principles belong as much to the concrete,
to substantial existence, as the facts of sensation; the law of
gravitation is a reality no less than the planet Jupiter; but to the man
of mechanical understanding, ideas subside into mere opinions, and
principles into generalities; and as by the very process of his thinking
he disconnects, and deadens by disconnection, the powers by which he
thinks, he cannot exercise, conceive or communicate life, cannot invent,
discover, create, combine. This is evident from the nature of the mind,
and it is proved by history. In art, religion, science, philosophy,
politics, the minds that organize are organic minds, not mechanical
understandings.

The principle we have indicated, applies to all matters of human
concern, the simplest as well as the most complicated. Let us first take
a familiar instance from ordinary life. In the common intercourse of
society we are all painfully conscious of the dominion of the
mechanical, prescribing manner, proscribing nature. In the Siberian
atmosphere of most social assemblies the soul congeals. The tendency to
isolation of mind from mind, and heart from heart, is most apparent in
the contrivances by which society brings its members bodily
together—the formal politeness excluding the courtesy it mimics.
Hypocrisy, artifice, non-expression of the reality in persons—these are


1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Online LibraryVariousGraham's Magazine, Vol. XXXVII, No. 1, July 1850 → online text (page 1 of 18)