We treaty to assist her in her hour of peril. In all maintain their ground against their northern aggressor, they will accomplish all that can be expected from them, and all that is desirable they should do. Like all mountaineers, they Like all mountaineers, they are brave; but they are best within their own limits. They are tetchy, and maintainers of If England can succeed in rekindling the fanatical feuds; fond of invading the lowlands, burning zeal of Islamism, now almost expiring,-in raising the villages, and driving off cattle. They have, standard of the Faith, in the person of Schamyl and the principles of Muridism,-in effecting the union also, a peculiarity which is without a parallel,of Sunnites and Shiites, Turks and Persians,—if a the supplying of the white slave-market of large English army were to advance from the East Constantinople with their own daughters. If Indies and cross the Persian Gulf, whilst a French army the mountainous provinces of the Caucasus are landing in Asia Minor were to appear simultaneously on the theatre of war, forming a nucleus for the military not able to effect more than what we have thus organization of the undisciplined Mohammedan masses, stated-and we believe that we have not exag- -Russia would unquestionably be placed in a very gerated their capability-we may dismiss all perilous position. But the question is beset with difficulties of extraordinary moment. It is not an easy expectation that Georgia by itself, or united matter to plant, to form, and to maintain a European with Armenia, could form a counterpoise against army there. invaders from any quarter, if even the inhabitants were to renounce their connexion with the Russian Church. These provinces are thus described at page 65: The western nations, Georgia and Armenia, are Christian, for the most part connected with the Russian Church. At no period, either in ancient or modern times, have they had any political, national, or religious connexion with the Eastern Caucasians. They have a profound aversion to the Persians and Turks, and will always support Russia against those Powers. The Armenians are decidedly attached to Russia; but, although this feeling may not universally prevail among the Georgian nobles, it is very questionable whether any influence or power from Western Europe could ever succeed in shaking their fidelity. Their old men still remember the events of 1800; how barbarously the Turks and Persians treated the Georgians, extorting a tribute of boys and girls from them, and forcibly compelling them to embrace Islamism. 66 This, we think, is conclusive against our author's own reasoning. That Russia has been pressing to the south steadily, and, for the last half century, rapidly, is notorious. M. Hax thausen recognises the fact, and explains the policy that she has pursued of maintaining friendly relations with one of the two Powers, Persia and Turkey, while she was at war with the other. This is also patent to the world. How is this advance to be checked? and who are the parties on whom this duty devolves? M. Haxthausen answers, England and the mountain races of the Caucasus." He admits that England, "of right and of necessity, must carry on war to the knife;" and for this reason"that the question at issue involves the security of her possessions in the East Indies." We rejoice to see the right of England to ward off impending danger thus fully admitted by a Prussian subject, not altogether unfavourably disposed to Russia. According to this admnission, we might have thrown down the gauntlet to Russia, and have entered on the war as principals, instead of assisting Turkey, who claimed our intervention as an ally, bound by England has no intention to rekindle the fanatical zeal of Islamism. "We are not setting up the Crescent against the Cross;" nor are we dreaming of reconciling the Sunnites and Shiites. All that we have to do is to protect Turkey against further spoliation, and to guarantee to her the quiet possession of her dominions. We are not advocates for the misrule of Turkey in times past, nor apologists for any of her shortcomings towards her subjects. No, we are simply rescuing the "sick man" from the grasp of one who would soon have converted this sickness into death. We cannot refrain from adding, that as we have been summoned to the conflict, and thus compelled to carry our arms into the Black Sea, so we ought carefully and jealously to scrutinize the whole proceedings of Russia. If this be done, we feel sure that the importance of our exerting our utmost strength to expel Russia from all her Asiatic conquests in the north-east of Anatolia will be admitted by all who know the amazing importance of those provinces. The late events at Kars show that our government is fully aware of the exigencies of the case. That these exigencies are great is shown by the following supposition: On the other hand, supposing the Russians to come off conquerors, and to compel the remains of the Eu. ropean armies to evacuate the country, what power could, in such a case, arrest their victorious advance? Unchecked, they would take possession of the entire countries as far as the Persian Gulf and the Mediterranean; and, for her own defence, and security against any renewed attack on that side, Russia would be compelled to annihilate the two great Mohammedan Powers; in which event, possibly, some temporary satrapies, as Khiva and Bokhara, might be formed. But Russia, once planted on the Mediterranean, would rule Egypt with an iron hand. This indeed would be the knell of England's power. Before we proceed to examine the account given of Schamyl and the Murids we must protest against the following assertion, in which, speaking of Russia, it is stated: She carried on the war very feebly in 1854, remain. ing on the defensive, and making little use even of the restricted the custom of blood revenge. The victories she obtained. This, we conceive, is utterly unfounded. We must not leave Schamyl unnoticed. He is the third chief in succession, having been a distinguished warrior under his predecessor. He is then described; and we give the description, because we think it will be new to the majority of our readers :— Imam Schamyl, like Kazi Moollah, was born in the village of Ghimry, in the country of the Koissubulins, in 1797. In stature he is not tall, but of very noble and handsome proportions. He is not by nature physically strong; but he has acquired remarkable power and vigour by every kind of bodily exercise. His head, of a beautiful and regular shape, his aquiline nose, small mouth, blue eyes, blond hair and beard, and delicate white skin, seem to point rather to a Germanic than an Eastern extraction. His hands and feet are formed with the most beautiful symmetry; his mien and every movement are proud and dignified. M. Haxthausen describes Schamyl's social and civil organization to be formed on a theocratic basis. He declares "openly and solemnly" "that he receives direct inspirations from Allah and the Prophet." He retires for three weeks into perfect seclusion before engaging in his great undertaking, praying, and studying the holy books. "On the last evening he summons the leaders and the Moollahs, and imparts to them the revelations and commands which Mohammed, under the form of a dove, has given him.' He has reconciled the Sunnites and Shiites in the Caucasus, and has greatly overcoming of two such important obstacles shows that he is one of the master spirits of the day in his own sphere. We hold still the opinion which we put forth in our notice of Duncan's " Campaign with the Turks" (New Quarterly Review, p. 441), that, notwithstanding all the eminent qualities of Schamyl, he is not one who can afford useful aid to the cause in which we are engaged, except in his own mountains; and our author strengthens our opinion in the following words : Whether Schamyl himself would consent to a cooperation with the Western Powers appears, from his character, very problematical: he desires to rule, but undoubtedly not to be subject to the Sultan. Whether one of the many emissaries sent to him through Circassia has really ever reached him is very doubtful: they have generally been taken prisoners, robbed, nay, murdered, by the Circassians. We had nearly forgotten to mention the Murids. They are not a religious sect; they do not differ from a politico-religious body following in their political organization the Persian Soofism, but acknowledging the Padishah of Turkey to be the lawful khalif. Such is the substance of M. Haxthausen's work. In conclusion, we must say that this work is much less practically useful than we hoped to find it. There is a hesitating tone about it, as if the author had relied on the information acquired from other sources, and not from personal observation. The Song of Hiawatha. By HENRY WADSWORTH WHATEVER stagnation in trade may have been occasioned by the present war, literature, at least, has not suffered from its baneful influence. Mr. Thackeray's great masterpiece, commenced ere "five and twenty thousand British homes were made desolate," and continued during eighteen months of the gigantic struggle, has been as eagerly read by the glare of our soldiers' watch-fires in Crim-Tartary, as by the mellow light of a London drawing-room. The echo of Colonel Newcome's last prayer is still ringing in our ears, when Mr. Dickens comes forward to promise us another of his wondrous tales. Nor do the poets cease to sing. Critics have hardly finished carping over "Maud," when Longfellow furnishes them another nut to crack in Hiawatha." Never do we remember to have witnessed such a sensation in what is called the literary world as these two poems have excited. Right or wrong, the universal voice of England and America has pronounced Tennyson and Longfellow to be our greatest modern poets. Heretics on each continent may LONGFELLOW. London: David Bogue. 1855. demur and protest, but the catholicity of public opinion tolerates no such dissenters. Though eminently a philosophical poet, Tennyson has become more truly popular than ever were the romantic versifiers of the beginning of our century. His philosophy is not didactically forced upon us after the manner of Cowper or Wordsworth, or strung to cold iambics, like the classic odes of Collins. It is less positive than suggestive, and is set to rich, sensuous music, reminding us of Shakspeare's sonnets and of Spenser, and revealing to us what Keats might have become, had not our elderly namesake crushed his too sensitive spirit with its cruel scoffing. But Tennyson is a consummate artist and a great poet. Longfellow is a great poet, who also comprehends the whole mystery of his art. the artistic effort is less evident in his writings than in those of the laureate. The one looks on nature with the eye of an artist; the other values art only as it enables him to glorify nature; and each has his reward. Tennyson will be admired, and studied, and honoured for ever, as one of the very greatest of his craft; Longfellow's songs, " from beginning to end," will be treasured in the inmost hearts of thousands, till the world grows old and doting. He is the true poct of the affections. His words are oftener remembered as counsellors and comforters in our daily joys and sorrows, hopes and despondencies, than those of any writer (we speak it with all reverence) since Shakspeare. How the whole English-speaking world welcomed the truthful teaching of the " Psalm of Life," and owned the stern moral of the "Goblet of Life," and of the "Light of Stars!" There is much more than mere pathos in Footsteps of Angels" and "Resignation." In his mournful songs, the exquisite tenderness of Mrs. Hemans is united to a manly reticence and masculine self-control, which form a peculiar characteristic of Longfellow's poetry. He never dwells on scenes of grief and sorrow merely to exhibit his power of drawing tears. He tells us a tale of sorrow; but, like the Grecian painter of old, he covers the faces of his sufferers with a veil, well knowing that the highest art of the poet or of the painter falls far short of the power in every human heart to represent such scenes to itself. He has no sympathy with sentimental sobbings and weak repinings. His lesson ever is, "Know how sublime a thing it is 64 Of course, it is in the nature of things that cach new production of a popular poet should excite great hopes and expectations; and loudly is the ungrateful disappointment of the public expressed if it does not equal, or even eclipse, the writings which first made him famous. Longfellow's "Golden Legend" is a beautiful poem, full of imagination, with a romantic story sung in several sweet metres; but it has never become as popular as "Evangeline," the "Voices of the Night," or the "Sea-side and Fire-side." What will be the verdict on Hiawatha?" From what we hear and read, it is nearly unanimous. Here and there a refractory juryman is as deaf to the voice of the charmer as the scriptural adder, or the boor in O'Neil's charming picture. We hail it as the most original of all the author's writings, and as his greatest work. "Evangeline" is a graceful poem true, touching, and beautiful; "Hiawatha" is something more, and something better. What our fathers called the "argument" of this poem would entitle it to be styled an epic; but, of course, Mr. Longfellow has had better taste than to treat it in such guise. In his notes he simply tells us that it is an Indian Edda, founded on a tradition current among many of the tribes, into which have been incorporated several curious Indian legends. From what we have read and seen of the North American Indians, we incline strongly to the opinion that this tradition and these legends furnished but the hard, cold outline of "Hiawatha." For the skilful grouping of the incidents, the chivalry of the hero, and the grace and beauty of Minnehaha, we fear we are less indebted to the pious traditions of the Ojibways than to Mr. Longfellow's vivid recollection of the wild but beautiful songs of the old Scandinavian Scalds. The more fanciful and graceful illustrations of this mythology of Hiawatha" could never have been invented in an Indian wigwam, but must have been dreamed out in the poet's model study at Cambridge-a room doubly classical, from its having been occupied by Washington and Longfellow-a room with which (may we be permitted to say?) are connected some of our dearest recollections of America. We fancy that we can detect which parts of the story are really Indian; which are the inventions of the poet. Hiawatha's combat with his father we should pronounce to be a genuine legend of the Red Men, as, also, his exploits with the Pearl Feather, and the hunting of Pau-Puk-Keewis; while, on the other hand, Hiawatha's wooing, his lamentation, and other chapters appear to us to be, if not altogether created, at any rate much embellished, by one who has witnessed more of Christian chivalry than the fathers of an Indian tribe could possibly have done. Hiawatha is a supernatural being, living on earth, but gifted with unearthly powers. He is not a god, to be unhurt by mortal afflictions, or to be exempt from human toil; on the contrary, he has a full share of the sorrows of the sons of men. He is rather a demi-god, endowed with extraordinary strength and strange wisdom, but subject to pain, hunger, cold, and wounds, like the classic Hercules, or the scarcely less classic Jack-the-Giant-killer. As the strength of Alcides did not exempt him from great labours, but only empowered him to overcome them; and as the sword of sharpness, shoes of swiftness, and invisible coat of the valiant Cornishman were not given that he might live unmolested by giants, but only that he might be victorious in his combats with them; so the strength, and courage, and wisdom of Hiawatha, though they enable him to bestow upon his people a thousand blessings, and to impart to them a knowledge of manifold arts, compel their leader himself to lead a life of painful activity and striving. There is a great and a noble moral in this. In "Hiawatha," as in "Evangeline," Longfellow writes in a strange metre; but this Indian poem, though rhymeless, like the tale of Acadie, is sung in a metre far more musical. Hexameters in English, even when Clough or Longfellow writes them, are very much "As though one should try To play the piano in thimbles." That the metre of "Hiawatha" is not ill chosen, we think this extract from the Introduction will triumphantly show : Ye who love the haunts of Nature, And the rain-shower and the snow-storm, Flap like eagles in their eyries;- Ye who love a nation's legends, Speak in tones so plain and childlike, Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple, There are longings, yearnings, strivings ; Ye who sometimes in your rambles Of the Here and the Hereafter :- We shall not attempt a detailed analysis of this poem, of the hero's childhood, his undutiful combat with his father, or of his inventions. We will leave the story to be read as a whole, and will only cite such passages as we conceive best calculated to give a true idea of the character of the poetry. One of the most beautiful passages in the book is this description of one of Hiawatha's two dearest friends : CHIBIABOS THE MUSICIAN. Most beloved by Hiawatha Beautiful and childlike was he, When he sang, the village listened; From the hollow reeds he fashioned Flutes so musical and mellow, That the brook, the Sebowisha, Ceased to murmur in the woodland, That the wood-birds ceased from singing, And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree, And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Sat upright to look and listen. Yes, the blue-bird, the Owaissa, Yes, the Opechee, the robin, Joyous, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as sweet and tender, Teach me songs as full of gladness!" And the whippoorwill, Wawoniassa, Sobbing, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as melancholy, Teach me songs as full of sadness!" All the many sounds of nature Borrowed sweetness from his singing; All the hearts of men were softened By the pathos of his music; For he sang of peace and freedom, Sang of beauty, love, and longing; Sang of death, and life undying In the island of the Blessed, In the kingdom of Ponemah, In the land of the Hereafter. Very dear to Hiawatha Was the gentle Chibiabos, He the best of all musicians, He the sweetest of all singers; For his gentleness he loved him, And the magic of his singing. From another tribe and country, She had heard her father praise him, Through their thoughts they heard a footstep, Heard a rustling in the branches, And with glowing cheek and forehead, Then uprose the Laughing Water, From the ground fair Minnehaha, Laid aside her mat unfinished, Brought forth food and set before them, Water brought them from the brooklet, Gave them food in earthen vessels, Gave them drink in bowls of bass-wood, Listened while the guest was speaking, Listened while her father answered, But not once her lips she opened, Nor a single word she uttered. Yes, as in a dream she listened To the words of Hiawatha, Who had nursed him in his childhood, And the very strong man, Kwasind, And the ancient Arrow-maker And the lovely Laughing Water While she said, and blushed to say it, This was Hiawatha's wooing! From the wigwam he departed, Hand in hand they went together, Pleasant was the journey homeward! All the birds sang loud and sweetly Songs of happiness and heart's-ease; Sang the blue-bird, the Owaissa, Happy are you, Hiawatha, Having such a wife to love you!" From the sky the sun benignant Looked upon them through the branches, From the sky the moon looked at them, Man imperious, woman feeble; Rule by patience, Laughing Water!" Thus it was they journeyed homeward; To the lodge of old Nokomis Brought the moonlight, starlight, firelight, In the land of the Dacotahs, In the land of handsome women. The Son of the Evening Star" is a pretty legend, from which we are sorely tempted to quote; but as it is only a tale told at Hiawatha's wedding-feast, and has no connexion with the main plot, we prefer passing at once to the melancholy story of Minnehaha's death. Bythe-by, had ever a heroine a sweeter name than Minnehaha, or Laughing Water? MINNEHAHA'S DEATH. Wrapped in furs and armed for hunting, With his mighty bow of ash-tree, With his quiver full of arrows, With his mittens, Minjekahwun, Into the vast and vacant forest On his snow-shoes strode he forward. |