the habits of thought take their coloring. The images painted by nature on the fancy, and the combinations into which these are wrought by the mind, are extremely different in one country, from those of another; and to describe these truly and forcibly, there must be modes of expression and forms of language equally varied and peculiar.

Hence a diversity of tongues, as well written as spoken, is absolutely necessary for a full development and communication of thought. This is moreover obvious from the difficulty, nay the impossibility, which every scholar feels, of transfusing the spirit and meaning of the great works of genius into any other language, than that in which they were originally conceived and written; and the truth of Madam de Stäel's remark, that the literature of a foreign tongue cannot be fully comprehended, is established in the same principles. Why can it not be comprehended? Either because it contains descriptions of natural scenery and social habitudes, not common where any other language is spoken, or delicate shades of thought, beauty of imagery, and combinations of ideas, of which no other language is susceptible. Now, although it be admitted, that these cannot be so clearly understood and deeply felt by a foreigner as a native, it will not be denied, nevertheless, that they may be so far understood, as to unfold innumerable beauties, and elicit innumerable thoughts, which cannot be derived from any one tongue, whatever may be its copiousness, its versatility, or its strength. In the south of Asia, where nature is alternately clothed in a verdant and glowing vesture, and covered with arid deserts, and where the pleasures of life are sought in luxury and indolence, the train of thought and the revelries of the imagination will be totally different from those of the northern regions of Europe, where a cold climate and sterile soil stamp their stern features on the mental and physical constitution of man. What could have been more remote from the conceptions of the bards of Scandinavia, than the soft, voluptuous, and mellifluent strains of Hafez? Yet they were both true to nature. The songs that were sung in the halls of Odin could never have been chaunted in the groves of Persia ; no one language could be so formed, as to draw out with equal vividness the imagery, or call up the associations, peculiar to both these regions. How could an VOL. XX.-No. 47.

56

Icelandic poet describe the citron groves, the perfumed atmosphere, the bloom of flowers, the mid day heats, and cool evening breezes of Arabia the Happy? And how can he have a language to express, what he has not power to conceive?

Suppose it possible, that there could have been but one language in the world, and take for this example the Greek. What consequence would have followed? In the first place, had it spread over the earth, the necessity of new names of things in one country not found in others, and of new forms of expression to communicate new combinations of thought, would soon have brought to pass a multiplicity of dialects, that would virtually have become so many distinct languages. Again, let it be granted, that the language would have retained its purity, what effect must it have had on the literature of the world? This would never have risen above a successful imitation of the first great writers. Who would have attempted another epic in Greek after the Iliad, or ventured to compose a tragedy after Sophocles and Euripides? None but secondary minds, ignorant of their own resources, or whose highest ambition would be to imitate what they could never hope to equal. But let the muses be invoked in another tongue, let the contest be carried on in a language in which so close a comparison with the original models cannot be made, and you behold Virgils, and Dantes, and Miltons, and Shakspeares, eager to seize the harp, which even the great epic bard and the Athenian dramatists had laid down, and strike its chords with notes as bold, and loud, and strong, as they yielded to the hands by which they were first tuned to harmony and power.

A similar, or a worse result would ensue, if you assume any other language as the universal one. The brilliant successes of the first in the lists would discourage future efforts; the field of splendid action would become preoccupied, and the materials for genius to work upon exhausted. Greater obstacles still would be presented, in the incompatibleness of any given language to express the thoughts and delineate the manners of different nations. Who can imagine Shakspeare writing in French, or Cervantes in Italian, or Metastasio in German? Suppose the scholars of the twelfth century had possessed sufficient influence to carry their common tongue

the Latin of that day, into general use, and make it the vehicle of communication for all future writers; and let us imagine for one moment the Paradise Lost, Hamlet and Macbeth, Don Quixote, and the Divina Commedia, clothed in the dialect of the Angelic Doctor, and Duns Scotus. In referring to our own case, it is true, we need not go to this extreme, but the principle holds good in all cases. We have a language as copious and pliable, probably, as any one of the modern languages, and yet it wants the majesty of the Spanish, the vivacity of the French, the sweetness of the Italian, and the varied compounds of the German. Some things it expresses better than any other, and many things not so well. It is the product of a foreign soil, and notwithstanding it is transplanted into a region, where there is no danger, that its native vigor will decay, or beauty be marred, yet it cannot in the nature of things supply those strong motives to intellectual exertion, which it would, if it were growing up with our growth, and receiving on its very front the deep marks of our national character and peculiarities. The mind of America will never be idle; its highest powers will have full scope in the ample fields of knowledge here presented for inquiry, investigation, and discovery, and in witnessing and aiding the progress of free institutions, founded on a basis as firm as the pillars of reason and truth, and under auspices as propitious as the smiles of heaven. But we do fear, that our literature, the literature of the imagination and the heart, will be cramped by the language, which is prescribed as the measure of its stature and its strength, that it will creep too servilely in the track, which thousands have trod, and be too long a slave to foreign models and foreign caprice.

Professor Everett's recapitulatory remarks, and closing reflections, are uttered in a style of uncommon brilliancy and richness; they inculcate lofty and animating sentiments, and constitute altogether a rare specimen of eloquence and fine writing. We should be more free in adorning our pages with extracts from this, as well as from other parts of his performance, were not the whole already familiar to much the larger portion of our readers.

We have space left to say but a word on the Oration at Plymouth. In many respects we consider this a more fin

ished work than the other, and built on sounder principles; its political bearings are broad and comprehensive, and for the most part solid, judicious, and practical. The author traces with much felicity of narration, and with strictly philosophical views, the history of the pilgrims, and the impelling causes which drove them from their native island to the continent, and at length to the bleak and sterile shores of New England. He draws a lively picture of the obstacles they encountered and the hardships they endured, their early labors and gradual success, the stern virtues of their character, and the perils they braved to shake off the chains of persecution, and secure the blessings of freedom to themselves and their posterity forever.

The faults common to both these discourses are a too great tendency in the writer to generalise and speculate, and an occasional looseness of style. We grant that in performances of this nature, intended mainly for popular effect at the time of delivering them, great latitude is allowable in both these respects, but still there is a limit, which it is not wise to overleap. We can foretell an eclipse, and predict the return of a comet, but what will be the destiny of a great nation under any form of government, or what direction the human mind will take three centuries hence, are things of which we know very little, and can say very little with exactness. It is easy to speculate and build up beautiful theories on these subjects, because the imagination is left to play its own whimseys, without check or guidance. In the oration at Cambridge are several speculations, which seem to us fanciful, and too far pursued; several anticipations that we have no hope will be realised; several ingeniously and highly wrought pictures, of which we fear the archetypes will never exist.

But after all, these two discourses are a rich acquisition to the stock of American literature; they are imposing monuments of the author's genius and learning, and they prove him to have examined, with a scrutinising and philosophical mind, not only the history of past ages, but the spirit of the present, and particularly the structure and principles of our own free institutions.

ART. IX.-CRITICAL NOTICES.

1.-Colombia, its Present State, in Respect of Climate, Soil, Productions, Population, Government, Commerce, Revenue, Manufactures, Arts, Literature, Manners, Education, and Inducements to Emigration. By COLONEL FRANCIS HALL, Hydrographer in the Service of Colombia. 12mo. pp. 131. Philadelphia.

THE author of this volume is favorably known among us, by his book of travels in Canada and the United States, written some seven or eight years ago. He there showed himself a man of inquiry and observation, a writer of good taste and judgment, and a sprightly narrator of such events as came under his notice. The title to the present work promises more than is performed, but we nevertheless have much that is new and valuable concerning a country, which is every day gaining an honorable rank among the nations, and settling down under free, practical, and permanent institutions. The late successes in Peru, which, to be sure, were to have been anticipated, may be considered not less auspicious to Colombia, than to the liberties of Peru itself. The military operations, by which these successes have been gained, are among the strongest proofs that could be given of the stability of the Colombian government, the resources of the country, and the readiness of the people to make all due sacrifices to maintain the rights, and secure the freedom, which they have fought so bravely during the last fifteen years to establish. There is now much good hope, that all embarrassments, whether of a pecuniary nature, or resulting from the difficulty of organising a new government under many disadvantages, will speedily be overcome, and that the Republic will gradually acquire solidity and strength beyond the power of accident, or any combination of circumstances to move.

Colonel Hall begins his Sketch with a geographical outline of Colombia, and remarks briefly on the climate, soil, and productions. He speaks with freedom of the government, and points out its defects in theory and practice. The impressions he leaves are not very encouraging; many evils exist, which had become rooted in the character and manners of the people, during the long ages in which they were borne down by the yoke of Spanish tyranny; absurd laws and practices had grown into use, which it is difficult to abolish; the central system is not the best calculated to secure prompt obedience to the orders of the supreme ruling power, nor to impress on subordinate officers a sense of their re