lars annually to the people. In moments of party strife, these sources of information, it must be confessed, are often tinged with party rancour, and in some instances polluted by slander and falsehood; but in general they diffuse information of all sorts to the community, and make up a considerable share in that general knowledge which our busy people possess, after having obtained the general elements in the common schools of the country. Until lately, periodical journals were not so successful as newspapers among the good people of this country. The first published in the provinces, was in the year 1741, by Benjamin Franklin, then of Philadelphia, just ten years after Edward Cave, of London, commenced the Gentleman's Magazine. The English publication has continued until this time; but the American was soon discontinued. Franklin knew that such a work was wanted in the country, and he thought that he would try it, at that early date; but it was in advance of the age. After the peace of 1783, there were several magazines started in different sections of the country, in New-York, Boston, and Philadelphia, and flourished for some time with considerable success. Some of them are read with great pleasure at the present day. Matthew Carey, and his associates, published the Museum, a repository of literature, which flourished until the whole amounted to several large volumes. This was commenced in 1787, and contained the productions of Trumbull, Humphrey, and Dr. Ladd, with many other solutions of prose and verse. This work did not expire for want of patronage, but ceased because the publishers found better business. New-York and Boston have supported a review in some shape or other ever since 1790. There were many well written pieces in these works; but the business of reviewing had not then assumed its shape, and form, and power, which it has since. The writers touched with a faltering hand upon the errours of others; but their general course was to pass in silence those they did not like in sentiment or manner. A bolder hand was soon tried, and the publick supported freedom and vivacity in discussing the merits of authors; but this privilege has, since that period, often degenerated into dogmatism and censoriousness. About the year 1801, the Port Folio was commenced by Joseph Dennie, in the city of Philadelphia. He had been known as the editor of a piquant and tasteful paper in the interiour of New-England, on the banks of the Connecticut river. He was then in a circle of wits, who threw their productions on the winds with careless profusion. Royal Tyler, long known as the Bonnel Thornton of America, who wrote that which the muses sometimes inspired in the shades of the evening, and blushed to acknowledge at the light kindling up. of the morning sun, was one of the number. Dennie was free, easy, and readily excited to a stretch of thought, and latitude of expression, pardonable only, if ever, at the "noctes cœnæque Deum ;" but his feelings were naturally pure and sincere; and if, for a moment, his mind, like the cloth made of the asbestos, received a stain by contiguity with impurity, the blaze of his genius, like the operation of fire upon the imperishable texture of the web, burnt it all pure again at its first If Dennie had not that intellectual vigour which crushes to obtain an essence, or dissolves to develope a principle; he had judgement and taste to arrange a sentence and to polish a period. His imagination was rich and excursive; it knew no thraldom, and spurned at all narrow bounds. He had that which the country wanted more than any thing else, a refined taste. The Port Folio was then in full circulation; and this, more than any other work in the country, had an influence on the style of writing. in our seminaries of learning. The young aspirants for fame saw how much the writings of Dennie were read, and they imitated him in their productions. This was fortunate. It is better for youths to emulate the flexible motions of the dancing master, to give grace and ease to their movements, than to practise the measured steps and stately demeanour of the knight in armour, before they have bone and muscle for the fight. Modern education, it may be said, has found a happy mean, or rather, has taught us how to unite both. Dennie did not live many years to continue his work. Since that period the Port Folio has fallen into other hands; and although it has frequently exhibited talent, yet it has lost its relative standing in the republick of letters. In 1802, the Anthology was established at Boston. It had a very considerable character from its commencement. It was often interesting, and sometimes learned; at times it assumed a consequential air and manner; but it cannot be said that it had as much weight as a leading journal ought to have had in the country at that time. It took another shape, and a milder character, in the North American Review, and has since been a well conducted journal; many times rivaling the first works of European fame; and if an imitation, in some degree, of the Edinburgh, it has no servility of thought or tone. The Edinburgh was the first of this class of works which are now so popular; and without which the literary world would be at a loss to fix on a course of reading to keep up with the literature of the day. The Edinburgh Review began its course as Hercules did his labours, not exactly when he was most wanted, but when his prowess could be most distinctly seen, and noted. The Edinburgh Reviewers course every field of literature, ancient or modern, often-times merely to show their speed and bottom. They come upon the literati as their conquerors and protec 22 tors; and if they deny the divine right of kings in political governments, they assume the office of perpetual dictators in the community of letters. When they commenced their labours, the literary world was indeed overrun with monsters; and they laid aside the sword and the spear, and pursued their prey with club and blunderbuss, from jungle to crag, regardless of trespassing on riceground or cane-patch; but it must be acknowledged that they did more good than mischief in their sport. The Quarterly followed with as much ferocity, but not with more power, and our country became the object of their direst vengeance. They saw us rising rapidly in the scale of nations, and thought it wise, prudent, and, probably, fair in politicks, to check our growth. They had no control over the progress of population, none over the increase of wealth, which was greater than they could imagine, or understand. Nothing was left but to attack our institutions, or manners and habits; and this was done with rancour and profligacy, and without regard to truth. They seized upon worthless tales of travellers, who wrote solely for the purpose of furnishing food for the cormorant appetites of these haters of America; the writers knowing that by such means they would be favourably noticed by the Reviewers, and of course their trash would find a ready market. Part of the people of England were with them from ancient prejudices, a part opposed to them from information and principle; but a still greater part were ignorant of the true state of facts. This evil was only for a season; and instead of disgracing our country, as the Reviewers intended, they raised up a host of able vindicators of American mind and literature, which they little expected. Dwight, sensitive upon this subject, came out in our defence with spirit and effect. And Walsh, a name identified with our literature, appealed to the common sense of the nations who knew us, and manfully repelled the coarse and wicked assaults which had been made upon us. Others, too, were engaged to repel these vile slanders. Much was felt, much was said and written upon the subject at home, and a reaction took place abroad; and in no place was this reaction greater than in England. Our novels, which had not gone farther than a second edition here, there passed through several editions with great eclat. Brown, whose grave could hardly be traced by us, was there ranked among the finest writers of fiction that any age or nation had produced. There are still a few traces of this malignity left, as may be seen in the miserable libel of De Roos, and a slight disposition to keep it alive, as seen in the patronage given him by the British admiralty; but no matter for that, this prejudice is, we pronounce, nearly over and gone. The literature of our country is increasing with a most astonishing rapidity; and knowledge is pouring upon us in its lesser and greater streams from all parts of the land; besides weekly and monthly magazines, which are profusely scattered throughout all our territories, we have several journals in medicine and law; and six established quarterly reviews, extensively read, and well supported. The editors of these quarterly works are pursuing a wise course, in repelling the attacks which have been made upon our literature, rather by exhibiting fine specimens of thought and taste in composition, than by retort and vituperation. LECTURE IX. 'Tis not the chime and flow of words, that move In measured file, and metrical array; That meet him in the charm of grace and power. PERCIVAL. In order to have a fair view of American poetry, we must go up to the springs from whence it flowed. Poetry is natural to man. It is a sympathy of the human mind with the invisible world, in which the spirit is active in expanding, exalting, and reforming the realities it witnesses to something which belongs to upper natures, or divine essences. Most things around the primitive poet were above his comprehension, for he had but little philosophy to assist him in analyzing appearances, and he therefore mingled the known with the doubtful, and the real with the imaginary. He was a poet of sensibility long before he had learnt to express any of his emotions, or combinations in language. When he had proceeded so far as to give his thoughts utterance in words, he selected the best and most favourable he could find as a medium of his thoughts, and probably for ages his words rather designated than expressed his feelings and conceptions. As he grew more and more intelligent, he became dissatisfied with his first expressions, and sought new ones more comprehensive and more pleasing to his ear; and verbal beauties became as necessary to please himself and his hearers as impassioned conceptions; and measure, cadence, and tone, were studied. The passions taught him their languages; joy had his sprightly note, and sorrow her melancholy one; pity, as she melted the mind, softened her words; and rage and revenge were regardless of the harshness of theirs. Even in early days the consonancy of words was sought, and rhyme was added to the other properties of verse; but not much used until after the christian era, though, probably, more than is generally believed. Every nation has found the advantages of poetry. It enlarged the compass of language; it selected words of greater beauty and energy than were in common use; it was the medium of heroick sentiments and devotional feelings; it multiplied appropriate phrases, and melodious sentences; and was constantly improving the language with synonymes, new combinations, and niceties of expression. It would be a delightful task to trace the progress of the mind, through the history of poetry, from the earliest times to the classical ages, and from them down to this of philosophy and criticism; but this would lead us into a wide field, too wide for our present purposes; I shall, therefore, only give a brief account of English poetry, to show its rise and progress, in order to have a fuller view of our own. Poetry generally exhibits the best state of the language of the day in which it was written. One set of poets pass off after another, and the succeeding generation is indebted to the preceding for much of the excellence it possesses, as the fine and rich mould of the earth is formed from the successive productions of a prior age. By examining the works of English poets, we can trace, very satisfactorily, the several stages of our vernacular tongue. It is agreed, on all hands, that the English language had its origin in the first century after the Norman conquest, in 1066. In the reign of William, and his immediate successors, the poetry of the country, which was nothing more than ballads, was in Norman. The Saxon legends were preserved in Norman rhyme; but the Anglo-Saxon mind was superiour in strength and invention to that of the conquerors, and the English vernacular grew up with a few Norman features; but in body and spirit it was Saxon. This fact is proved by the earliest English poets. Layamon wrote somewhere between 1135 and 1180. He was the author of the work called "Arthur's Account of his Dream." After the time of Layamon, there is a poem consisting of a dialogue between an owl and a nightingale, disputing for superiority; this, more distinctly than the works of Layamon, makes the change which had taken place |