PROPTER AMNES BABYLONIS. PROPTER amnes Babylonis 'Et ad salices propinquas, Et clamabant, Delectentur 'Dextra moveri negato, Lingua hæreat palato, DEUS, Arabum et minas "Ut fremebant,' Devastate Nata, curis jam vexata, Qui rependet nostra fata. 6 On the whole, we can mention no department of the Arundines' where the labor of the editor has been expended in vain, and we regard the whole work as honorable to English scholarship as it is a luxurious monument of the press. Perhaps the present may afford us a seasonable occasion to say of our own country what may be more in accordance with truth and justice than flattering to the national ear. We never look over a publication of the kind just mentioned, without questioning when, if ever, we shall be blessed with those excellent systems which shall be productive of like fruits; when the learned professor shall not be the last source of appeal to the ignorant many, but the charmed circle being widened which cannot admit within it the ignorant or profane, the good scholar may be found in every walk of life, while a tone of feeling and exalted aim is given to all educated ranks, which shall be itself the best vindication of letters. That the standard of classical education is lamentably low in this country, is a truth which will hardly be questioned, notwithstanding intelligence on common topics is universal, under the fostering influence of our institutions and laws. Science, in its application to the useful arts, is pursued with unfailing energy, perhaps to a hasty development of our resources, but for the rest, cui bono? Let us not be understood as chiming in with the remarks of certain insolent querists, or as depreciating American scholarship, when we know for a certainty that there are individuals among us whose own love of letters would carry with it a sufficient reward and inducement; that their laborious works in classical criticism and research are reprinted and circulated with every mark of approbation as school-books in England; that there is scarce a department of science, learning, or literature, in which one or more are not found distinguished; and that in nearly all of our many colleges there are men whose attainments are of the highest respectability, although, as things are now managed, it is impossible for them to perfect the education of scholars, partially trained, and under modes as different from one another as the states and territories whence they come. So far, we shall deny the imputation of knowing 'little Latin and less Greek,' and shall protest against relinquishing any of the respect or merit which is justly due. Some years ago a stranger, delighting in the euphonious name of FIDLER, 6 published a superficial and trashy book, purporting to be his 'Observations' in the United States of America, wherein he states that there are not only no scholars in the land, but if all the books in the land should be collected together there are not the materials out of which a scholar could be made. This man came hither to seek his own ends, which, it seems, had never been enough promoted at home, although, as he modestly observes, I was possessed of more than ordinary acquirements.' How profound his acquirements really were, would be evident to the most casual reader from the very wretched composition of his book. His darling project appeared to be, after gaining some preferment, to effect the publication of what is alluded to on almost every page of his volume as MY SANSCRIT WORK. In the way of this there were, according to his account, several small obstacles: first, the necessary type; secondly, a publisher willing to bestow on him the princely reward of his pains; and lastly, a learned body of men fit to appreciate his learning. Pity that he should have brought his oriental merchandise to so bad a market, after bearing it on his asinine back so long! In Boston, which he states to be the hot-bed of Americ in letters, he represents himself as magisterially examining the Professors in Sanscrit, and the result was, that not one could say boo to this goose of a pedant, so that he soon found out that he had little to fear," and he despaired to find any able to cope with him. Perhaps if he had continued the search, he had succeeded better. We could point him, without having to seek long, to men, modest, retiring, well appreciated in their own seats of learning, who could come even to an alternate contention in Sanscrit with this very impudent and conceited pedagogue. The truth is, without going back into our history, we can record at present some of the noblest examples of enthusiasm in the pursuit of classical learning to be found in any country. We remember to have seen, some years ago, a life of WASHINGTON, written in very good Latin, by a backwoodsman, under circumstances of peculiar want and discouragement. The editor states, that while residing in the far west, being desirous of pursuing classical studies, he had the good fortune to fall in with the author, Mr. Francis Glass, who was at that time the presiding genius of a district school. The account which he gives of his introduction to him is interesting, and worthy to be transcribed: 'I FOUND him in a remote part of the country, in a good neighborhood of thrifty farmers who had employed him to instruct their children, who in general were then acquiring the simplest rudiments of an English education. The school-house now rises fresh on my memory. It stood on the banks of a small stream, in a thick grove of native oaks, resembling more a den for druidical rites than a temple of learning. The building was a low log-cabin, with a clap-board roof, but indifferently tight. All the light of heaven found in this cabin came through apertures made on each side in the logs, and these were covered with oiled paper, to keep out the cold air, while they admitted the dim rays. The seats or benches were of hewn timbers, resting on upright posts placed in the ground to keep them from being overturned by the mischievous urchins who sat on them. In the centre was a large stove, between which and the back part of the building stood a small desk, without lock or key, made of rough plank, over which a plane had never passed; and behind this desk sat Professor GLASS when I entered his school. The moment he learned that any intention was to pursue the study of the languages with him, his whole soul appeared to beam from his countenance. He commenced in a strain which in another would have seemed pedantic, but which in fact was far from being so in him. The following imperfect sketch, drawn entirely from memory, may serve to give some idea of his peculiar manner: Welcome to the shrine of the Muses, my young friend, salve! Xaipe! The temple of the Delphian god was originally a laurel hut, and the Muses deign to dwell, accordiggly, even in my rustic abode. * Non humicem domum fastidiunt, umbrosamre ripam. Here, too, the winds hold converse. EURUS, and CAURUS, and ARGESTES loud; and the goddesses of the Castalian fountain, the daughters of the golden-haired MNEMOSYNE, are sometimes silent with the lyre, 'cithara tacentes,' that they may catch the sweet murmurs of the harp of EOLUS. Here, too, I, the priest of the Muses, Musarem sacerdos, sing to the young of either sex strains before unheard: Virginibus puerisque canto. PLUTUs, indeed, that blind old deity, is far away; and far away let him be, for well has the prince of comic poets styled him a filthy, crooked, miserable, wrinkled, bald, and toothless creature, ρυπῶντα κυφὸν, ἄθλιον, ρυσὸν μαδῶντα, νωδον. Such was my first interview. It was a display perfectly natural, and without the least apparent effort on his part. GLASS knew nothing of the world, more than a child. He was delicately formed in mind and body, and shrunk from all coarseness, as a sensitive plant from the rude touch. A cold or unfeeling word seemed to palsy every current of his soul, and every power of his mind; but when addressed in gentle, confiding tones, he was easy, communicative, full of light and life. At such hours, he poured out a stream of classical knowledge, as clear, sparkling, and copious as ever flowed from the fountains of inspiration in the early days of the Muses. I had been with him about three months, when he communicated to me his long-cherished intention of writing the life of WASHINGTON in Latin, for the use of schools. He, after this time, often adverted to the subject, with an earnestness I shall never forget. By parcels I got something of his history. He was educated in Philadelphia. While acting as an instructor, in the interior of Pennsylvania, he contracted an unfortunate marriage, in a state, as he said, of partial insanity: no wonder he thought so, when he found himself surrounded by evils which his imprudence had brought upon him. He did all he could for his wife and rapidlyincreasing family, but his efforts procured for them but a scanty subsistence. With all ambition prostrated, and with a deadly sickness at the heart, he somewhere in the year 1817 or '18 left Pennsylvania for the west, and settled in Miami county. From that time to the period I became acquainted with him, he had pursued the business of school-keeping, subject to the whims of children and the caprices of their parents, enough alone to disturb the greatest philosopher. Every new change of school-district gave GLASS some new cause of suffering, which had an effect on his health and temper. During all the time he had been in the western country he made little or no progress in his contemplated work. In the drudgery of a daily school he could not think of sitting down to such a labor. He would often discover the deepest sensibility when any allusion was made to the deeds or fame of WASHINGTON, and his own contemplations on the wishes of his heart seemed to break down all the energies of his mind, and unfit him for the common duties of life. Every day his misfortunes were making inroads upon his slender form, and hurrying him to the grave. He viewed his situation without dismay, only fearing that he should die before he had written the Life of WASHINGTON. The winter had now drawn nearly to a close; still nothing had been definitely arranged in reference to the subject. He renewed it again and again. From the moment he learned my determination to meet his requirements in the prosecution of his work, his gloom and low spirits forsook him, and he appeared like a new being. 'I now visited his house for the first time. I shall not attempt a description, nor do I exagge rate when I say that his worldly goods and chattels of all descriptions could not have been sold for the sum of thirty dollars. Clothing for himself and family was now ordered, and at the end of his term arrangements were made for the removal of himself and family to Dayton, on the Miami, sixty miles from Cincinnati, where he immediately set about his work; and ere the close of the following winter the whole was completed. At this period I paid him a visit, and received from him the manuscript. His request was most earnest that the result of his labors might be published. I promised him it should, and have never seen him since; and though years have rolled around, I have never, until the present moment, had leisure to attend to its publication or to redeem the promise I had made to its author.' We think that the heart of the editor who writes thus must visit him with some reproaches, for when he had tardily fulfilled his word to the poor scholar, it was but raising a monument to the dead. We have in our mind several examples equally sad, and could record some hard-won noble triumphs in the same field; but individual cases of good scholarship and zeal in the pursuit of learning stand only in stronger relief amid the general deficiency. We have many colleges, but they fail to keep up a succession of ripe scholars. It would be better if all their resources should be concentred on a few renowned seats of learning, which are all the country requires. Honors and degrees would then cease to be 'as plenty as blackberries,' instead of being given at the mere asking to men notoriously unworthy of them. Even those who are trained for the learned professions are urged on by a precipitate haste very consistent with the genius of the people, but incompatible with a finished education. A year or two at the grammar-school prepares them for the college, from which they are discharged, in three or four years at the most, with its highest honors, although many are unable to read their own diplomas. Whatever courses of study yet remain, are disposed of in the same summary way. How can it be wondered at, then, that when the foundations are so slightly laid, a structure should fail to be raised which is either dura * ble or imposing? Our primary schools are numerous, each professing to have its own system, but we have no uniformity, no one standard, no aim in our education. A system of drilling, such as prevails at Harrow, in England, is not practised in this country. How many of our graduated youths could compose Latin verses such as are found in the 'Arundines?' On the score of quantity of words, we imagine that work will bear a pretty rigid scrutiny. Yet this particular, to transgress in which is considered a grievous sin among English scholars, is almost wholly disregarded among us. There are scarcely any scholars at our universities, who, as regards quantity, could read a single passage in an ancient author without outrage to the most unscrupulous ears. We believe that we are stating nothing more than the truth on this subject. We know it from personal observation, and regret that it is so, only hoping that the time may not be far distant when candor may be enabled to render a better verdict. There are too few among us who pursue learning for its own sake. But perhaps the cause for this is to be sought in the peculiar stage of advancement to which we are arrived. The nation, as such, is poor, and the whole energy of the people is naturally bent on the development of the great resources of the country, and, true to their English origin, on the promotion of individual weal. Arts and the refinement of letters are secondary, and riches and all luxury but the representatives of so much mortal toil. Wealth is accumulated first, and then, overflowing, it summons to its aid the resources of genius, and delights in the treasures of art. But until it waves its magical wand, the Muses are found in a sacred privacy. Men live in their unadorned dwellings. There are few among them to give the language of Fancy utterance, to embody in enduring forms the delicate creations of an old mythology, whose essence was a passion for the Beautiful, the very religion of the Greeks. Where shall we look for the three forms of Art, which are, in fact, one, and may be comprised under the name of Poet? For the marble and the canvas are creative, and eloquent as 'thoughts that breathe,' or 'words that burn.' But as yet few worship art. There is no Claude to diffuse his delicious tints over the canvas; no artist to sculpture the lovely Venus from the stone; no genius to upheave the dome which makes infinity comprehensible; no Angelo to hang the Pantheon in air. A few ages pass away, and sordid gain has amassed its treasures, when, sinking into its despised grave, it leaves the legacy of tears and toil to others. But a new race has arisen, not born to labor. Witness then the transfusion of the gold. Wealth speaks the word, and whatever we choose to imagine is accomplished. Nature and Art submit to the allegiance of Taste. The very fields are regulated in their wild luxuriance, and the landscape is neat with culture. Painting, sculpture, architecture, embellish the splendid cities. Music breathes voluptuously. The theatre reflects the manners of the age, which a higher education polishes. The lofty mansion bespeaks pride. Lines of ancestors are on the walls. It may be a very museum, where Art has collected her most precious gems; every nook contains some triumph, and every niche a master-piece. The humane letters indeed may flourish under every discouragement. Penury *COLUMBIA COLLEGE, in New-York, forms, as we believe, a solitary exception to the above remarks. and cold neglect cannot make the genius dim which struggles to shine. But every congenial element must be brought to bear to raise up a body of learned men, and to make the seats of learning rival those of old renown. In the mean time let us as far as possible correct what is deficient, and plant the seeds at least of good systems, in hopes that time shall develop their fruits, and that the treasures which are now attainable by a few, may be diffused among the many. THE WISSA HICON. A REMINISCENO E: FROM THE PORT FOLIO OF A VOYAGER. SWEET WISSAHICON! dear romantic stream! Thy sight recalls my boyhood's happy dream, 'Twas then, with springy step and laughing brow, Dear to my heart was then the varied scene And as sweet Memory weaves her silken chain, When from thy stream, with thrill of pure delight, In genial Spring I early sought thy shades, Roam'd o'er thy hills, and wander'd through thy glades; That oped its bosom to the orb of day, And paused to hear the merry songster's lays, That welcomed back once more the sunny days: |