Images de page
PDF
ePub

NOV. 2, 1863.

by the way-side, and some on the rock, so they is taken advantage of to metamorphose the clerks advertise largely that as many grains as may be of publishing houses into "commercial travellers." shall fall into good soil. There is Messrs. Hachette, They are sent out to review the shops where the who command a monopoly of the literary publicity firm have works as of deposit, and to introduce their of all the railway stations in France, whose weekly publications into new towns and villages where magazines have each of them a sale of 60,000 copies, they have as yet no correspondent. These tours and whose "Journal de l'Instruction Publique" is are looked upon as pleasure excursions by the to be found in almost every schoolmaster's hands; clerks, and the firm find it their interest to pay the they have eight pages of advertisements. Magnifi- railway fare and provincial inns' bills, rather than cent is the return made by the money they spend keep their young men listlessly behind their counin advertisements. Their warehouse now exhibits ters gaping at the dog-days' flies. Messrs. Hachette a singular scene. It is piled up to the ceiling with have given this system greater extension than any compact masses of school books, which extend firm here. They send out their standard publicahundreds of feet; in a month not one of those tions to England, Germany, Spain, Portugal, Italy, volumes will be left on their hands. They have Russia, Switzerland, Greece, Egypt, and Turkey. sold 600,000 copies of M. Duruy's works. They have This system is in part borrowed from the German recently built a stately block of buildings, which publishers, who have introduced a great many adextends from the Boulevard de Sebastopol to the mirable improvements in the methods of the book Rue Dupuytren, and fills almost all the space be- trade. I shall make the book trade in Germany tween the Rue Pierre Sarrazin and the Boulevard the subject of a future letter. Saint Germain. It cost them $600,000, and is said to be worth now nearly $1,000,000. These miracles were wrought by adroit advertising.

In making this week various inquiries respecting the book trade in France, I became acquainted with a custom which I think might be imported into America to the very great advantage of all persons concerned. To avoid repetition, let me explain the custom as applicable to America. It is well known that publishers of standard works, such, for instance, as Robertson, Gibbon, Hume, Macaulay, Bacon, Shakspeare, Milton, Pope, Byron, Scott, etc., lie out of the capital invested in the production of these works for a considerable length of time, and this cost of production is increased by other charges, for instance, storage, insurance, and their kindred. Petty booksellers in the smaller towns, and, more especially, those tradesmen who keep "general stores" in country villages, have not capital enough to enable them to furnish their shelves with anything like a complete stock of these standard authors. The great publisher should step in and place it in the power of these humble brethren of the trade to furnish forth their shelves without exposing their shallow purses to risk. The great publisher, instead of allowing his standard works to lie in sheets in his warehouse, or bound on his upstairs shelves, should place them as of deposit on the shelves of his humbler brethren, requiring from them only that they should pay the carriage on these works, and that they should take out a policy of insurance sufficient (which would be no great amount) to cover all these books so placed as of deposit in his hands. Accounts should be rendered semi-annually or annually. It is found that this method greatly diminishes bad debts, considerably increases the sale of works, and is to the common advantage of publishers and petty tradesmen. Books that might never have penetrated obscure, secluded towns now meet fair sale in them. "General storekeepers," who scarcely sold a book besides an almanac, or a song-book, or some key to the reading of dreams, now make tolerable sales of standard works, and find considerable advantages accrue to their other sales by the use of the money proceeding from the sale of books for six or twelve months. M. Guillaumin, the publisher of politicoeconomical works, tells the story that when he began, some fifteen years ago, to issue books of this class, the minor provincial booksellers refused to accept them, even as of deposit. "Nobody down here," was the reply frequently made him, "takes the least interest in publications of that sort." Now, few editors in Paris have a larger market. There are two or three months in the year when trade is excessively dull in Paris; this slack tide

I forgot to mention, while speaking of the extent to which advertising is carried in Europe, that the Messrs. Longmans do now actually publish periodically "Notes on Books," which are sent, gratis and postage free, to everybody who asks for them.

I find in a Paris newspaper the following interesting anecdote of poor Henry Murger, which I am determined to send you, although I am afraid that his name and his "La Vie de Bohême" are not quite as familiar to you as they are to us. Nevertheless these passages of authors' careers are never altogether devoid of interest :

"My relations with Théodore Barrière are now somewhere about fifteen years old. Henry Murger introduced me to him. I'll tell you how. One Sunday morning Henry Murger entered the tavern chamber I proudly occupied on the Place du Carrousel, opposite the Palace of the Tuileries, and looking towards the portal of the Pont des Saints Pères, I am almost tempted to say that, like the heroes of novels, he strode five or six times up and down my chamber before saying a word to me; but my reverence for truth compels me to say that it was utterly impossible to stride any way in my chamber. He sat on my bed, and, fixing his eye on me said: 'Are you not humiliated-as I confess I am-to see yourself less well clothed than any literary men?' I was so astonished by this question that I could only murmur, Hum! hum!' and then add, in a tone which tried to be free-and-easy, 'Get out!' Murger went on gravely to say: 'Do you wish to see us regain our rank? Believe me, it is really a matter of great importance that we should elevate young literature in our own persons. Let us have done with rusty, greasy hats, and with coats whose seams shine. Let us drop all connection with Neapolitan shoes. Let us at once become what we morally are-gentlemen. Let us be irreproachable!' I listened in a state of utter amazement, and, greatly interested, I asked him: 'What do you mean by being irreproachable?' He answered: To be irreproachable is to be dressed in bran new clothes.' I exclaimed, 'Ah! excellent!' Henry Murger became graver and graver: 'I give you and myself fifteen days to be irreproachable. There must be the deuce to pay if two intelligent beings cannot, in the course of fifteen days, manage to procure a coat, a waistcoat, and a pair of pantaloons.' I echoed, 'I should think so.' He continued: Very well, then, we meet next Sunday week, at twelve o'clock precisely, on the Pont Neuf, in front of the statue of Henry IV.' 'What are you going to do?' 'I have some glorious things to do. I shall introduce you to one of my friends, an eminent man.' Upon the appointed Sunday, while the clocks were still striking twelve, of a radiant spring

NOV. 2, 1863.

morning, two young men advanced towards each without flattery and without triviality, is the porother on the Pont Neuf. They came very near trait which Charles Marchal recently sketched. It passing without recognition. They were effulgent, exhibits her in the contrast, which age has heightthey were dazzling from head to heel. One care- ened, of her double nature. Her whole person lessly played with an eyeglass; the other whirled breathes something robust, rural, healthy. Her full a fashionable stick. Was it Beau Brummel? Was health and manly beauty appear on her countenance it Count d'Orsay? 'Twas Murger. 'Twas I. We and body with more energy than delicacy. Her had paid implicit obedience to the law we had im- person lacks grace-the flower lacks perfume. That posed on ourselves. We were irreproachable. Murger inexpressible something which plays around aristook my arm, saying, 'Now we can go everywhere; tocratic beauty-that evanescent mark of blood— we can enter the aristocratic drawing-rooms of the is completely absent from her. Gazing on her, you Faubourg Saint-Germain, and the financial drawing- think of those unfinished masterpieces which lack rooms of the Chaussée d'Antin, and the balls at the genius's last dream and last touch. You must Austrian embassy, and the official mansions of all the look before you can discover, under the deceptive ministers. Come, let's go to some cheap smoking- coarseness of the envelope, the hidden stamp of café.' At the cheap smoking-café he introduced Heaven. You must wait until the inner flame glow, me to the friend he had announced-'twas Théodore which makes the clay lamp transparent as the Barrière. The introduction over, we all three moved lamp of alabaster. You must mentally detach the towards Murger's rooms in the Rue Mazarin. There intelligent and expressive head from the robust, Théodore Barrière drew out of his bosom five copy- dull body, which burthens and darkens it. Look books, each of which contained one act of a comedy, now upon that open, smiling face, that broad and and he placed them upon the table. I turned pale.pensive brow, that magnificent head of black hair I had tumbled into a 'reading.' It is true the title imperceptibly powdered with autumn's first frosts, of the comedy was 'La Vie de Bohême." I need which, divided into two broad tresses which frame scarcely say anything of the emotion which insen- the visage, float upon the neck, twisting and knotsibly filled my breast while listening to this play, ting itself into a sheaf of ebony. Look at those giddy with wit and heart-rending with love. The beautiful eyes, those superb eyes, with fires now authors had not then determined upon the catas- dazzling, now soft; eyes whose flames, when they trophe. Murger, with his wonted gentleness, was become animated, shoot to the very depths of the in favor of restoring Mimi to health; he proposed a soul. The charm and nobility both decrease as you tour in Italy. Barrière would hear of nothing but descend. Her nose is long and full, her lips thick her death. I agreed with Barrière. It was deter- and purple, her chin stubby, her cheeks prominent, mined to murder Mimi. This day remains in my her complexion warm and palish (that color pecumemory as one of the best days of my youth. One liar to stormy and impassioned natures, and which or two years afterwards I in turn contemplated is, as it were, the reflection of the hidden volcano writing a play with Théodore Barrière. We had in their breast). The head is of heaven, and bears several rendezvous; but there was a serious ob- the divine seal. The rest of the body is of earth: stacle in the way. Barrière lived with his family, the goddess vanishes, only the woman remains. which was composed of a mother, a model of all Her attitude and mien do not contradict this first kinds of solicitude, and of a father, who had been impression. She is in ordinary life and conversation a distinguished dramatic author. There was in calm, concentrated, almost indifferent. Her countethis patriarchal home a parrot named Coco. Now nance is commonly placid, and seems living only in when a new literary copartner was introduced into the eyes. The body remains indolently stiff. The Barrière's house, it was much more important for arms are gestureless. George Sand absolutely lacks him to win the favor of Coco than to please Barrière's the talent of conversation such as it is understood in father or to charm his mother. Coco was a dramatic society, that is, the talent of agreeably saying comthermometer. His perch was placed in the dining- monplace things. There is nothing in her of that room during dinner, and the new literary copartner petulant ease and that frivolous grace of the fine was placed near him. If Coco became his friend, lady of the drawing-room. She prefers to listen if Coco perched on his shoulder, the new-comer rather than to talk. She is essentially contemplawas accepted by Barrière and his parents. If, on tive and taciturn. Her mind is naturally grave, I the other hand, Coco remained on his perch, sombre, had almost said ruminating. She replies always flapping his wings, with bristling feathers, and briefly and sensibly, but without brilliancy and refusing all advances, the new-comer was rejected. acuteness. She never even blunders into a mot. I dined twice with Barrière; on both occasions Coco She is never eloquent, except pen in hand. Is it remained on his perch. pride? is it coquetry? is it economy? Does she spare us, or does she spare herself by her silence? If she is silent by system, we may say without danger of error that temperament has no inconsiderable share in it. Silence is the health of some minds. Chateaubriand, Lamennais, and many other eminent men were not naturally, easily, constantly eloquent. Their eloquence is not an inspiration, but a reflection. This taciturnity is compensated by the unexpected attractions of simplicity, naturalness, absence of affectation and pride. There is a moment, however, when our satisfaction changes and our illusion vanishes by the very excess of this familiarity which should not, to remain amiable, degenerate in over-ease. By what name shall one call the careless freedom with which, drawing from The dramatic version of poor Henry Murger's first and most her pocket small Andalusian cigarettes, George popular novel. The play was quite as successful as the novel. Sand, without perceiving your astonishment, adroitly I need scarcely say that M. Theodore Barriere is the well-lights them with a live coal which she takes from known author of "Les Filles de Marbre" (familiar to American the hearth with the tongs, and gradually conceals play-goers as "Marble Hearts"), "Les Faux Bonhommes," herself in the midst of the azure cloud thickened

Here, too, is a sketch of George Sand, which I transcribed on my note-book some weeks ago; want of space has hitherto prevented me from sending it to you:

George Sand is both of aristocratic and plebeian lineage, and she bears in her life, upon her countenance, in her attitude, in her mien, the indelible mark of this double origin, of this clandestine nobility, of this hap-hazard mixture of heroic and common blood. George Sand is neither a virago nor an effeminate woman. She has neither the cold distinction of the somewhat idealized portrait engraved by Calamatta, nor the rusticity of Couture's sketch. The likeness which is nearest life,

and twenty other popular plays.

NOV. 2, 1863.

by the double column of smoke which she drives from each nostril with the automatic precision of a steam engine? Madame Sand lacks the aristocracy of her glory. I do not like Corinne on Cape Messina declaiming Mme. De Staël's measured prose. Neither do I like Necker's daughter, in tunic and turban, exhibiting, with all the appliances of a theatrical performance, her over-opulent charms. But I do still less like Corinne in a dressing-gown, carelessly lolling in an arm-chair, and smoking a cigarette. George Sand is morally of an energetic, obstinate, and, when contradicted, imperions character. There are times when her indomitable will irresistibly bursts and bounds forth. But in the ac customed tenor of life, and by a noble and constant empire over herself, as a volcano alternately hides itself beneath verdure and snow, she knows how to conceal the seething breast beneath good-natured phlegm and smiling patience. Among her intimate friends she is even-tempered, hospitable, jovial. The simple and cordial welcome of the hostess of Nohant is proverbial. Her seal is a simple initial or Rousseau's motto: Vitam impendere vero. Her handwriting is masculine, broad, and thick. Here is one of her letters; it is addressed to one of those enthusiastic young men trained in the school of her novels, who, from every portion of the provinces and of Paris by thousands, consult and question her upon the uncertainties of their vocation or the mysteries of their soul:

I thank you, sir, for the sympathy you express to me. You want me to give you some encouragement. I would not do so were you without talents. To flatter them who flatter us has always seemed to me something ignoble (I mean to deceive them who ingeniously caress our vanity). Consequently I do not often reply to letters like yours. I prefer silence to telling falsehoods, or to wounding by frankness. I think I discover a great many ideas and talents in your lines. I am not a very competent judge of poetry, let me tell you; and I am very often mistaken. Therefore do not place implicit confidence in my opinions. You are very young, and I think you have a great deal yet to do before you can feel confidence in yourself. . . Those are my criticisms; you see they are very brutal, but they do not prevent your poem from being remarkable, beautiful in many

places, and, in fine, giving promise of real talents, if you do not be in too great a hurry to produce works, and if you labor conscientiously. Bear in mind that, since the great successes of Hugo and Lamartine, so much poetry has been published that one must write sublime poetry to make his way through the immense crowd of them who write well, and the still thick crowd of them who write very well. Will you believe that not a single day passes without my receiving at least three packets of unpublished poetry? Reckon how many unknown poets that makes a year. I believe a hundred new poems are annually published

in

[blocks in formation]

I have lingered too long over anecdotes, for I have yet to copy the week's bills of mortality. I find among them Dr. Mitscherlich, one of the, if not the most eminent chemist and chemical writer of Germany; the University of Berlin finds his loss a heavy blow. And M. de Laffore, who expired in complete obscurity at La Plume (a small village near Agen), at the great age of eighty-five years, after having been famous for years as the inventor of La Statilegie, an ingenious method of reading, which was practised successfully during a long period of time. Do not challenge her right to a brief sentence if I insert in this paragraph mention of Madame Bonnet's departure from life! She was the wife of Scribe's guardian, and was the eminent dramatist's first cousin; her husband occupied for many years the front rank at the Paris bar, by whom his memory is still cherished for his defence of General Moreau, when it required a firm heart to appear as the defender of any man in disfavor with the master of the imperial legions. Madame Bonnet had reached her eighty-sixth year.

M. Renan's book continues to sell as rapidly as ever, and replies to it issue every hour from the press. The papers mention that a curate of the diocess of Laval wrote to his bishop for permission to read the work which was the theme of all conVersation in his parish, in order that he might be prepared to refute the pernicious sophistry. The bishop lost his temper upon reading this letter, and instantly replied in some such words and spirit as this: "You must be beside yourself! What! Read the blasphemous publication of a wretched apostate! No! No! No! Never!" The first copies sent to Venetia were seized by the authorities, but the Austrian government subsequently ordered them to be released, and they are now on sale everywhere. Two hundred copies have been sold at Constantinople. The German critics think it excessively

shallow.

The M. Topin who recently gained the prize offered by the French Academy for the best essay on Cardinal de Retz, is a nephew of M. Mignet, the well-known historian.

in the preparation of his great Dictionary, to bring M. Littré has found time, amid his arduous labors out his long promised work on Auguste Comte. The fourteenth volume of Napoleon's Correspondence is in the press, and may shortly be expected on sale. Dr. Fischel's work on the English Constitution (you may remember his untimely end in the streets of Paris) is to be translated by M. Charles Vogel, the author of "Portugal and its Colonies." M. Milne Edwards is pursuing with patience the publication of his great work, in nine or ten vol

at their expense Paris. All their works pass away unnoticed. Nobody busies himself about them, although there are among them some poems which would have been noticed twenty years ago. But, at present, France becomes like Italy, where everybody writes poetry, even people who cannot read. One must consequently excel these thousand battalions before it can become an honorable calling-itumes, on Comparative Physiology. I may mention, never can become a profession, or a means of livelihood. to instance how widely extended at the present Think of all these things, and do not become intoxicated time is the taste of theological literature, that the with family and local triumphs. Have the courage of sixteenth edition of M. Auguste Nicolas' "Études men of twenty years old, but have even more patience Philosophiques sur le Christianisme" (which is in than courage. Besides, allow yourself to live before no less than four volumes) was issued this week. saying, "I am a poet, that is enough!" No one is a I have observed that some of the Roman Catholic poet before he is a man. At your age people have only newspapers in America suppose this pious judge to images in their mind. The world is tired of poetical be the author of "Essais de Philosophie et de Hisimages; it has had too much of them. The poet who toire Religieuse." They are mistaken. M. Michel comes with solid knowledge, true ideas, and robust sentiments will prove at last a true poet. But all these Nicolas, a Protestant, is the author of this work and things are acquired, they are divined. If you have of "Des Doctrines Religieuses des Juifs pendant les divined more than you have experienced, it will be so deux siècles antérieurs à l'ère chrétienne," and of much the worse for you. This precocity will be at the Études Critiques sur la Bible." expense of the future. Courage, therefore, work hard,

[ocr errors]

Very truly yours,

J.

NOTES ON BOOKS AND BOOKSELLERS.

NOV. 2, 1863.

The text has been entirely reset in new type, and the illustrations have been added to by more than onehalf. This poem is itself an exquisite picture of American life and manners, of which Mr. Whitney, the artist, has caught the full spirit, and carried it out in some eighty superb woodcut illustrations, which will make the volume to be coveted by all who shall see it.

MR. VAN NOSTRAND, of New York, the energetic and intelligent publisher of Scientific and Military works, is about to add to the number of large paper books that have been brought out of late in this country, by printing one hundred copies of Capt. Boynton's History of West Point, in small quarto, on the very choicest of paper. The regular edition of this work will be exceedingly attractive, with its numerous maps and engravings, but for the purpose of illustrating, the large paper copies will

The MESSRS. APPLETON, of New York, have some attractive volumes about ready appropriate to the approaching season of festivities and gifts. The most important of these is "Lights and Shadows of New York Picture Galleries," being a collection of Photographs by Turner, from masterpieces found in the private galleries of New York City and vicinity. Thus Mr. Belmont's unrivalled collection constitutes no less than nine of the illustrations; Mr. Wright's, of Hoboken, five; with numerous others from the treasures held by Messrs. Sturges, Roberts, Webb, Hoey, Jaques, Cozzens, etc. etc. Each of these photographic copies, forty in number, is accompanied by descriptions supplied by William Young, Esq., of "The Albion," to whose good taste the public is indebted for the choice selection made. We need not say that the gentlemen who have thus generously thrown their galleries open for the bene-be invaluable. fit of others, merit, and will receive the earnest MASON BROTHERS, of New York, have in press, and thanks of all lovers of good pictures, a class that nearly ready for publication, "General Butler in has been rapidly on the increase in this country for New Orleans," by James Parton, author of the lives several years past. Another volume, to which we of Aaron Burr and Andrew Jackson: also the "Keyhave had occasion to allude before, is "Clear Crys-note, a new Collection of Sacred and Secular Music tals; a Snow Flake Album," in whose pages are set for Singing-schools, Choirs, Congregations, and Soforth with the united skill of pen and pencil, the cial Use," by Wm. B. Bradbury. marvellous beauties of the Season of Snow. The exquisite forms which can be assumed in this one of nature's moods, can here be seen and studied to the best advantage, in company too with the choicest literature of the subject as contained in the poetry and writings of Lowell, Longfellow, Mrs. Hemans, Ruskin, Henry Ward Beecher, Dr. Holland, Bryant, Burns, Whittier, and others. Nothing can be purer or more wholesome than such faithful delineations of nature, so fittingly and beautifully described. The "Wreath of Beauty" is a gift-book comprising sixteen choice steel-plate engravings of female characters with letter-press selections, prose and poetry. This work also is preparing by the Appletons.

The SERGEANT'S MEMORIAL, published by Rantions. At the request of the Christian Commission, dolph of New York, has passed through two ediDr. Thompson has prepared an abridgment of the "Memorial" for circulation in the army. This is in two parts-the first is the memorial proper, and retains it name; the second contains the patriotic letters from men eminent in Church and State, that were embodied in the original work, and which are thousand copies of each will at once be distributed now published as " A Tribute to the Soldier." Five in the army by the Christian Commission.

A. D. F. RANDOLPH will issue for the holidays an elegantly printed quarto volume with eighteen Floral G. P. PUTNAM, of New York, has had in prepara- Illustrations drawn from nature and colored by tion for several years an illustrated edition of Irv-hand. The edition is limited to two hundred and ing's "Sketch Book," which is now on the eve of fifty copies. completion, and which promises to leave nothing JOHN PENINGTON & SON, of Philadelphia, announce to be desired in the way of printing, engraving, or binding. It is appropriately termed "The Artist's Edition," and contains original designs from nearly

every American artist of distinction. These have been printed with the utmost care by Mr. Alvord, whose workmanship is of the best, and has received commendation as such from Mr. Burton, in his "Book Hunter." The binding, in Levant morocco, is by Mathews; the paper is of especial manufacture; and the whole work will be the embodiment of the taste, experience, and judgment of Irving's friend and publisher, Mr. Putnam. The sole drawback is that owing to the great embarrassments that beset publishers at this time in our country, from the scarcity of skilled labor, only a limited edition can be supplied this season, and those wishing the work should make their wants known as early as possible. The same publisher has prepared for subscribers a large paper edition of Irving's works, and of his Life and Letters by his nephew, of which but one hundred copies have been printed, and a small portion only remain unappropriated. The Hudson Legends, comprising "Sleepy Hollow" and "Rip Van Winkle," have been prepared in small quarto, and may be had, either separately in paper covers, or together in a neat volume, choicely illustrated.

THE new edition of "Bitter Sweet," by Dr. Holland, which Mr. Scribner has "just ready," comes properly among the illustrated works of the present season, as it differs materially from that prepared last year.

on sale "A Reprint of the Reed and Cadwalader Pamphlets, with an Appendix," a fac-simile of the

original pamphlets, printed on fine thick paper. subscription, for the benefit of those who collect This edition of only 199 copies has been printed by documents relating to our revolutionary history; a few copies have been placed for sale.

As an evidence of the expanding growth and intelligence of our country it may be stated that California, which was admitted into the Union only thirteen years since, is now, in proportion to its population, probably a larger consumer of books than any other State. Mr. Roman, head of the house of A. Roman & Co., of San Francisco, who left in the last steamer after a stay of some months in the States, is one of the most extensive single buyers of books in the United States. His firm occupies a store in San Francisco which, in its capaciousness and the admirable character of its arrangements, is second to none in New York, Philadelphia, or Boston.

A NEW FIRM.-Ashmead & Evans have purchased from W. P. Hazard his old-established bookstore on Chestnut Street, Philadelphia. Mr. Evans has had some twelve years' experience in the Trade, having been connected with Martien's, Cowperthwait's, and, more recently, has acted as Superintendent of the Presbyterian Publishing House. Mr. Ashmead has been for some years with Mr. Hazard, and is the son of Isaac Ashmead, one of the oldest

NOV. 2, 1863.

and most extensive printers of Philadelphia. Mr. | guished figures in the group of authors who adorned Hazard continues his publishing business as usual. the opening of the nineteenth century-Coleridge, REVENUE CUSTOMS.-Two very useful and impor- Byron, Lamb, Smith, Moore, Southey, Scott, Shelley, tant works, which may be had singly, or bound in Godwin, Wilson, Keats, Talfourd, and Hazlitt-but one handsome volume, have been recently issued in says, "There is one face that just now holds our attenNew York, which have met with a wide reception tion more than all the rest-the portrait of a small at the hands of the mercantile and commercial pub-man with a large brain, oppressive in brow, and peerlic, and the press of that city. They are by HAMIL-ing out of eyes that have seen much sorrow; the head TON BRUCE, Esq., a deputy collector of the port, shows a want of animal force behind; the mouth is and severally entitled "The Warehouse Manual" drawn down noticeably at the corners; the eyes look and "The Custom-House Guide." The first is a out of two rings of darkness; a spirit of singular complete "manual" of every thing which is requisite temper and strange experience! This is Thomas de for merchants, brokers, clerks, and others to know Quincey." Then follows a biographical and critical in connection with business, transacted at, or with, analysis of exceeding power, discrimination, and the Custom-House; embracing full directions for the beauty which will be relished by every man and preparation of papers, the payment of duties, and woman of the least taste and refinement. The sumthe warehousing of goods. The second gives us ex-mary of character at the close of the article is too long terior and interior engravings of the Custom-House, for quotation, but we thoroughly concur in these conand treats, at length, of the customs, laws, and all cluding sentences: "We are heartily sick of the the various departments of the service. One of its smell of Cockneydom; its slang and smartness; its marked features, and one not to be found in any knowingness and insincerity, and find it delightful kindred work, is a complete list of every port of en- to renew acquaintanceship with the style of a writer try in the world-upward of six hundred and twenty who is not smart nor fast, but always an English in number! There is an interesting chapter upon gentleman, with a stately touch of the school in the history of commerce, and another giving an ac- which manners are a sort of surface Christianity. count of "The First Custom-House." As custom, He can be playful without losing his own dignity, laws, and regulations are uniform, these works are and natural without forfeiting our respect. By his innate nobility of thought and chivalry of feeling, as well as by his wealth of learning, he is the very and great-poets and patriots; fit to exalt the deman to lead us into the lofty society of the good liverer Joan d'Arc, or abase the pretensions of a Parr. Accordingly we welcome him as one of the what he has not done, we rejoice in what he has great leaders in literature, and, instead of regretting bequeathed to us, and would have others share in our joy." The reviewer pays a well-merited compliment to the energy and skill which enabled Messrs. Ticknor & Fields to thread their devious way through the scattered periodical literature of half a century, and collect in a series of handsome seemed almost regardless of his own fame and of volumes the multifarious papers of a writer who the perpetuity of its memorials. The acknowledg"we owe the first edition of De Quincey's collected ment is frankly made by the "North British" that works to the perseverance and research of Mr. Fields, the Boston publisher."

calculated to be useful in all meridians.

THE BRADFORD CLUB of the city of New York contemplate printing in as elegant a style as American art allows, a "Life of William Bradford," the first printer of the Middle Colonies. A limited edition only will be issued. It is designed to illustrate the work by fac-similes of early title pages, autographs, arms, seals; a fac-simile of his original tomb-stone in Trinity Church Yard, &c., and to be as full and complete a memoir of this remarkable person as materials now remaining allow. Since the bicentenary honors paid his memory in New York, May 20th, 1863, letters and other memorials have come to light, and it is believed that many others remain in private collections here and in England. Persons possessing either copies of his publications, or written communications of any kind by him, will confer a favor on the club, and a service to early American Literary and Topographical History, by making known the same to William Menzies, Esq., No. 426 West 23d Street, New York, or in Philadel. phia to Horatio Gates Jones, Esq., Corresponding Secretary of the Pennsylvania Historical Society.

His am

AMERICAN LOYALISTS.-The lovers of American History will be glad to see among the announcements of Messrs. Little, Brown & Co., a new edition of the "American Loyalists," by Mr. Sabine. The intended only as a contribution to a part of history first edition of this work-long out of print-was hitherto untouched, and was given to the public in the "razure of oblivion" the hidden treasures of the hope that it might in some degree rescue from family records, and stimulate others to furnish new facts relating to this almost unexplored part of American history. It is now nearly twenty-five years since Mr. Sabine commenced his researches, and the hearty zeal with which he has pursued them is only equalled by his untiring perseverance. With free access to private letters and family reists in the British colonies and the United States, cords in possession of the descendants of the loyalhe has succeeded in collecting a vast amount of valuable material, both historical and biographical, not only of interest to the student of history, but to His work will be a valuable the general reader. contribution to the history of our Revolutionary period.

THE NORTH BRITISH REVIEW ON THOMAS DE QUINCEY.-Now that the full collected works of De Quincey are before the public, readers and thinkers on both sides of the Atlantic are beginning rightly to appreciate his astonishing acquirements. plitude of knowledge, the diversity of themes upon which he wrote, his mastery of language, the logical rigor with which he investigated some subjects, and the gorgeous blending of rhetoric and prose-poetry in which he draped others, combine to present an intellectual development which is perLaps without a parallel in English literature. His writings should form a part of every library however small, whether collected for family reading or for public use. The evidence of what we have just said is found in the fact that leading literary journals, both in England and America, are devoting themselves to a studious exposition of De Quincey's characteristics, and summoning us to an intelligent reading of his productions. As an instance of this tendency, we would especially advert to an article of admirable grace and sense in the last number of the "North British Review," entitled, Thomas de MRS. GREENHOW's Book.-Among the London anQuincey-Grave and Gay." The writer, by a few nouncements is a volume to be published by Bentmaster-strokes, sketches successively the distin- ley, entitled "My Imprisonment, and the First Year

« PrécédentContinuer »