with the evils of both of these extremes-with the excesses of democracy, and the degeneracy and corruptions of an exclusively aristocratic régime. For while the admission of the base and unworthy, both of our own and of all other countries, to the full enjoyment of all the rights of citizenship, has been the means of giving to the mere mob an undue power and preponderating influence in the government-it has, on the other hand, introduced among the higher, or propertied orders, the luxury, extravagance, and degeneracy, which this class so generally exhibit under aristocratic institutions. For the premature decline and corruption into which a free people are so apt to fall, is precisely analogous to and springs from the same source as the vices and degeneracy of an old nobility, or the descendants of illustrious ancestors. It would, therefore, be a wise reform, to reserve the higher privileges of freedom-as those of eligibility to military command, and to the more elevated trusts and honors of the Republic-to reserve these, we say, for those only who have undergone a five years' apprenticeship to arms, and passed through a system of political training and instruction, which we shall take another opportunity to describe, or who have distinguished themselves by specific acts of public spirit and patriotism, and by conspicuous civic virtues and deeds. The indiscriminate liberality with which those precious and sacred rights, which should be enjoyed and exercised only by the patriotic, the virtuous, and the brave, are imparted to the very refuse of society, and the most debased of mankind, not only deprives the privileges and immunities of all value in the eyes of the worthy and the high-minded, but are thrown away, like pearls to swine, upon those who are not only incapable of using them for any good purpose, but of comprehending or appreciating them, and are ever sure to degrade and abuse them. The above, we repeat, should be the principle upheld in relation to the rights, honors, and franchises, placed within the reach of the citizens of a free government; though we certainly are not so visionary as to expect to see it fully acted upon, or to insist on its enforcement, to the extent laid down here. We are yet satisfied that an approach may be made to such a reform as would embrace, not only a recognition of the principle above propounded, but would af ford such an illustration of it in practice, as would answer the most important political ends, and produce the most beneficial effects, both upon the national character and the public weal. It would require a volume, however, properly to illustrate this subject, and we shall therefore drop it for the present, but hope to return to it at another and more suitable time. ATHENION. XXIV. Ah me! that I have been so light, When I had such high fate. "Throughout this vast and goodly world, Oh, great the burden of a soul, In earth, and sea, and sky, There dwell a countless multitude Unseen by mortal eye. We are a fair creation, Far fairer than your race; The essence of all Harmonies, The embodiment of Grace ; Unutterably great." XXVIII. Then did the breath of Deity A high and conscious spirit, Deathless and strong and wise, Swifter than lightning to the view, Flew lightly through each avenue And glowed within her eyes. XXIX. And when forth from the fisher's cot So glad yet so mysterious, XXX. For though this august inmate She knew the world despise ; And sacred in her eyes; to us. THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF KEATS.* tions of themselves, but rather by something different from, and unattainable by them. It is a truth which our small writers of both sexes have yet to learn, that true appreciation may provoke rivalry, but must deter from imitation. THIS is a wished-for and welcome book. Keats, the poet, we well knew, and had many pleasant memories of, from the time when our boyhood was first enlightened as to the wealth that was in him by the sweet criticism of Leigh Hunt, to when, in our Love's young dream," we used to read But how came Milnes to single out him to fair women among canvasses that Keats from among the many unfortunate rivalled the pictures in his pages, and flow- and ill-used poets? What connection was ers that breathed as sweet an odor as his there between them that furnished the verse. But Keats, the man, was a blank requisite material? Monckton tells us That he was killed by the Quarter- | how it happened, in this wise. He was at ly and lamented by Shelley-such was all Landor's villa "on the beautiful hill-side we knew, or thought we knew about him of Fiesole "—that villa from which Savage, personally--just enough to make us wish in his wrath against Willis, savagely threatto know more. Truly gratifying was the ened to turn away any American traveller announcement that Monckton Milnes had who might come to visit him. There he collected his correspondence and written met Mr. Charles Brown, a friend of Keats, his life. Not that we should have pitched who had collected and was preparing to upon Milnes as the most natural or like- publish the poet's literary remains. But ly man to write a life of Keats. In- circumstances afterwards preventing this deed there is scarcely a point in which gentleman from carrying out his intention, the poet and biographer do not present a he placed his manuscripts in the hands of striking contrast. Keats, a poor surgeon's Milnes, rightly judging that he would do apprentice, sensitive and struggling, with them justice. As soon as it was known out resources of his own, or friends at who had the work in hand, every one was court to help him, ridiculed and proscribed ready to oblige him; assistance flowed in by the dominant party in the state from various quarters, and a goodly numMilnes, a wealthy M. P., confident and ber of letters, &c., were amassed; quite successful, the spoiled child of the literary enough to have been spun out into three aristocracy, petted alike by Tories and or four volumes, had the editor followed Whigs. Keats, a genius without art, dis- the usual plan of writing biography by playing marvellous beauties and glaring sandwiching every page of his subject befaults, and rubbish mingled-Milnes, tween two of his own reflections. gems an artist without genius, endowed with Milnes had a truer notion of what is rethat mediocrity of versification, which, un- quired from a poet's biographer. "If," happy in awakening no enthusiastic admi- says he, "I left the memorials of Keats to ration, is happy in avoiding all sweeping tell their own tale, they would in truth be censure. And yet, for all this, Milnes may the book, and my business would be albe the very best man to write about Keats; most limited to their collection and arfor dei rov duoiov is only half true after all. rangement; whereas, if I only regarded Literary admirations, like love-matches, them as the materials of my own work, spring from contrasts quite as often as the general effect would chiefly depend on from resemblances. Men, Anglo-Saxon my ability of construction, and the tempmen at least, are not charmed by repeti- tation to render the facts of the story sub But *Life, Letters, and Literary Remains of John Keats; edited by Richard Monckton Milnes. London, -; New York, G. P. Putnam. |