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est applause of the world could scarcely have

flattered me so agreeably."

If I, although in a different field, have shown that I also belong to the salt of the earth, then

These unknown friends were at length discov- may you know my name; now it could avail ered to be, the poet Körner, his friend Huber, and | nothing.

the fair ladies to whom they were respectively betrothed, Minna and Dora Stock. The miniatures were executed by the latter, whilst the pocket-book was the work of the former: both ladies are mentioned by Goethe as among his life-long friends, and Dora is called an excellent artist.

II.

MANHEIM, 7th Dec., 1784.

Never can you forgive me, my most valued friends, that to your letters so full of friendship, In conclusion, may we express the hope that breathing so much enthusiasm towards myself, the friendly words and relation of these noble accompanied also by those precious tokens of and gifted beings may not be without effect upon your goodness,—I could remain seven months siour minds and hearts, leading us away from all lent. I confess to you, it is with blushing shame, unworthy aims and vain pursuits and conten- that abashes me even before myself, that I write tions, to a life of helpful goodness, and of true, earnest endeavor.

LETTER I.

S. E. B.

JUNE, 1784.

this letter, and that, like a culprit, I cast down my eyes before your portraits, which at this instant seem to be indued with life, and to accuse me. Certainly, my excellent and fair friends, the shame and embarrassment which I now suffer is punishment enough. Do not seek to inflict any other. But allow me a few words— order to render it, in some manner, conceivable. not to excuse this unheard of negligence, but in

At a time when art is daily becoming more and more the venal slave of a rich and powerful Your letters, which gave me unspeakable joy, sensualism, it is well that a great man steps forth and relieved in the most agreeable manner an and shows what man is still adequate to accom- hour in my life, found me in the saddest humor plish. The better portion of mankind, who have at heart, of which I can, by letter, give no aclong been disgusted with their age, who, in the count. The state of my mind at that time was crowd of degenerate productions, still longed for not that in which one gladly and for the first time something genuine and great, now quench their brings one's self before such persons as I conthirst, feeling within an emotion that raises them ceive you to be. Your flattering opinion of me above their contemporaries, and strength impartwas, indeed, only an agreeable illusion, yet I was ed on their toilsome path towards each worthy weak enough to wish that it might not all too aim. Gladly, therefore, would such press the hand of their benefactor, would permit him to ferred my answer till a happier hour, to a visit of soon pass away. Therefore, dear friends, I desee in their eyes the tears of joy and enthusimy better genius, when in a more genial mood asm-that they might strengthen and encourage my heart should be open to better feelings. Those him also, should he ever be in doubt whether his quiet hours have never yet arrived, and in the sad contemporaries are worthy that he should labor series of vexations and disappointments, my heart for them. It is for this reason that I, with three at length became dried up to friendship and joy. others, who are not altogether unworthy to read Unhappy distractions, the thought of which still your works, have united to express to you our wounds, by degrees obliterated the purpose from thanks and grateful homage. For proof whether my mind. An accident, a gloomy evening, sudI understand you, I have attempted to compose denly reminds me of you, and of my own mismusic to one of your songs.* Besides the meth- | conduct; I hasten to my writing-table to apolood I have chosen, two others were admissible: gize to you, dear friends, for this shameful negeach strophe might have been arranged differ- lect, which from my heart I know not how to exently, or at least with the melodies; for the first plain to myself. How painful must be to you and third, for the second and fourth, and for the the thought of having loved one who could make last. But neither seemed to me well suited to a song introduced for its own sake. Variations with respect to time, movement, strength and softness, belong naturally to each verse; and those introduced are merely such as were indispensable.

such a return for your generous goodness! How must you have allowed yourselves to repent of a kindness performed towards the most ungrateful of men! But no; that I have never been, and will never be. Could I believe that you still retained only a few sparks of that warmth which

*This is the song of AMELIA, in the first Scene of the you formerly cherished towards me, I would de

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verest test, and allow me by some means to retrieve my past neglect.

But enough of an affair in which I have played so sorry a part.

When I confess to you that your letters and presents were the most agreeable of aught that has happened to me either before or since in the whole period of my authorship, that their joyful appearance indemnified me for the many painful trials which attended me in youth, that, (I say not too much,) you may ascribe it to yourselves if I recall the curse upon my luckless calling of poet, extorted from my heart by the contradictions of my fate ;-when I say this to you, I know that you will not repent of your kindness towards me. If such men, such beautiful souls, reward not the poet, who then shall reward him. I had hoped, not without grounds, to see you this year face to face, whilst there was a prospect of my going to Berlin. The occurrence of certain circumstances must postpone this, at least for a year; yet it might come about that I shall visit Leipsic at the fair. What a joyful moment could I meet you there, and your real presence eclipse even the joyful recollection of your images!-Minna and Dora must let it pass should they surprise me amid my new poetic ideals, with a little theft upon their images.

I know not whether you, my most valued friends, will consider me, after my past conduct, as worthy of a continuation of your regards, and of a farther correspondence, yet I beg it of you with all warmth. Only a more intimate acquaintance with me and my peculiar manner of being, can restore to you some shadow of that idea which you once conceived of me. I have enjoyed few pleasures in life, but, (and this is the proudest I can say of myself,) I owe those few to my heart.

You here receive something new from my pen, the announcement of a Journal. It may surprise you that I should play also this part in the world, but perhaps it may yet be reconciled to your ideas. Besides, the German public compels its author to make his election not according to the aim of his genius, but the speculations of the trade. I shall bestow upon this Thalia all my powers; still I do not deny, could I have acted independently of pecuniary considerations, I should have employed them in another sphere.

Could I, by a few lines, be assured of your forgiveness, a second letter would follow this in quick succession. Ladies are sometimes less forgiving than men; therefore must I read the pardon subscribed also by their fair hands. With unfailing esteem, Yours,

SCHILLER.

CHARACTER OF "FESTUS."

"A POEM."

Who has not heard of "Festus ?" It has won
Its way into the Literary World,

Spite of its faults, by the sheer force of Genius;
Till it stands side by side with "The Excursion,"
Even in Gilfillan's judgment, and above it,
As the great Poem of this century,

In the esteem of others, who still dread
Its influence for Evil. While the world
Is thus divided on it, let me speak
My own opinion in your listening ear.

It is a book sacred in its Intention-
And should for this receive our just respect,
Whatever perilous errors it contains.
Few like its author under twenty years,
Endowed with Poetry's divinest gifts,
Have aimed so high and worthily as he,
To serve GOD sacredly as "Poet Priest."
And few thus aiming, have brought such rich fruits
Of three years' toil, and offered them to GOD.
Yet should he have more sacredly remembered
The Law and Testimony of GoD's word,
In entering on a labor so august,
Above the reach of Arch-Angelic reason;
Nor offered aught to GoD in sacrifice,

But Truth from Heaven descended, and declared
Alone accepted by the GoD of Truth.
The first-born son of Adam failed in this;
And his rich offering, on GoD's altar laid,
Fruit of his toil and sweat, young Nature's pride
And clustering glory, won not Heaven's regard.

It is a book of rare Imagination-
Vast, daring, strong, rich, tender, beautiful.
Like Dante or like Milton in its range
Exploring Heaven, Earth, Air, Sea, Centre, Hell,
All visible things, and all invisible;
Inspired, creative; brightening, beautifying;
Yet dazzling sometimes and bewildering
Like a mock sun upon the lofty tops
Of snow-clad mountains, to the traveller.
Yet when it stoops to paint the living world
Of Nature, in communion with the thoughts
And sentiments of pure and noble souls,
How true its touch, how free, and yet how firm!
How all the beauties of creation rise
Fresh as the morning, delicate as dew,
Gay as the flowers, and glorious as the streams,
Rich as the music of the birds and breeze,
Solemn as Night, with shadows and with stars,
And silent thoughts of worlds beyond the grave,
And Him who dwelleth in Eternity!
How nations rise with their peculiar traits!
How pass before us all the castes of men!
How every type of feeling and of creed,
Finds its fit time and tongue of utterance!
And Woman, lovely Woman! how she smiles
Upon us in her every phase of Beauty!
Now pure as Clara, true as Angela,
Tender as Marian, passionate as Elissa,
Witty and wise and musical as Helen:
But trustful, fond, and ever faithful still,
Exalted by religious sentiment,
And loving on, in hope of love forever!

A common destiny in endless bliss!

It is a book sublime in its Religion-
Treating of God's mysterious Providence,
In the probation of Immortal Mind;
The Ministry of Evil, and its End-
The high perfection of the Soul Elect.
In almost all its glowing sentiments
Most orthodox, most evangelical;

Yet through "philosophy and vain deceit,"
Erring with mighty Origen of old,
In love with "charitable heresies."
As if there could be aught of Charity,
In contradiction to the Truth of God,
And the pure Morals which his dying son
Sealed with the Sanctions of Eternity!

Yet there are bursts of eloquent love and pride,
Throughout, most true to the experience

Of saints who lived on earth the life of Heaven,
Mingling devoutly with the sweetest strains
Of Moses, David, Paul, Isaiah and John;
Broken only by a bold irreverence

At times, engendered from another source,
Of which no likeness can be found in them,
Which jars harsh discord on the Heaven-tuned heart.

It is a book of deep Philosophy-
Profound in insight, clear and luminous
In exposition. Pregnant passages
Appear on almost every page, condensed
Into a single line. Not much-tried Job,
Nor all experimenting Solomon,
Seem richer in proverbial wisdom, fit
For all the multifarious scenes of life,

Yet leading onward to eternity,

And radiant with the glory of the Lord.
And there are subtlest reasonings- first at war
With Guilty Passion in its Protean forms,
Then warmed and warped by Evils they assail,
And wrecked like some strong line of battle ship
By the explosion of a magazine,

On sudden thunder gust from day o'er hot.

It is a book whose high Dramatic power
At times approaches Shakspeare-on a theme
More sweet than Romeo and Juliet,
More spiritual than the Midsummer Dream,
Far more magnificent and tragical
Than haunted Hamlet, or forsaken Lear,
Or duped Othello, or blood-stained Macbeth.
Yet strangely turning Tragedy to Farce,
The solemn Tragedy of Human time,
The last great Judgment and its sure awards!
The highest aim of its delineations

Is not, like that of Shakspeare, to portray
Man as he is the evil and the good,

As they are found commingled in the world,
In all diversities of character
Distinct and individual-and their end
In harmony therewith, at least hereafter,
Under the moral government of God—
But to combine all characters in one,
A soul elect of God, exalted, pure,
By the All Holy sanctified; yet proud,
Tempted, deceived, and with perverted mind,
Still doing evil, hoping good may come!
To link the Christ of God with Belial!
Mould stubborn, unassimilating facts
To this fond theory-most perilous
In lofty souls-most certain to corrupt
The baser sort to ruin-yet promise all,
Both good and bad, including Lucifer,

What more could Satan promise, for his ends, When, to deceive, arrayed in robes of light?

The root of all its most imposing errors

Is a "God-fixed Necessity" of Sin.
From this false postulate, advanced in form
As if self-evident, or subtly argued
Not only from the lips of Lucifer,
Or tempted Festus, but, most horrible!
From his angelic mother in the skies-

Spring the rank weeds and poisonous flowers amid
The pure blooms of a Paradise of God,
Here planted by a master Poet's hand.
This once eradicated by the power
Of Christian Wisdom, all beside is pure,
And sweet as pure, like Eden at its birth.
The morning mists of Error cleared away,
Great truths appear in Earth and in the Heavens,
Shining in sunlight with a diamond brightness,
And pure bright Truth is, and must be, immortal!
Lexington, Va. Dec. 1, 1848.

HENRY ST. GEORGE TUCKER.

Henry St. George Tucker, who lately died at Winchester, in the 68th year of his age, was born at Matoax, in the county of Chesterfield, on the 29th of December 1780. His father, St. George Tucker, was a native of the Island of Bermuda; and having been educated at the College of William & Mary, he remained in Virginia where he, in the course of a long life, filled several high judicial offices, as that of Professor of Law, and where he married Mrs. Randolph, the mother of John Randolph, of Roanoke, as well as of the subject of the present notice. This lady, much celebrated for her beauty, wit and force of character, died at the early age of 36.

When Judge Henry Tucker was about nine years of age his father was appointed Professor of Law in William & Mary, and consequently became a resident of Williamsburg. His son there went through a thorough course of classical instruction, first in the Grammar school attached to the college, and then in the College itself, under the Rev. Mr. Bracken, the senior Professor of Humanity.

On obtaining a license to practise law in 1802, Mr. Tucker settled in Winchester, where, in 1806, he married Miss Hunter. He was very successful in his profession; and, in 1807, he was elected to the State Legislature. In two or three speeches on important subjects at the ensuing session, he acquired a high reputation for political independence as well as ability.

In the war with great Britain, a few years afterwards, he raised a volunteer troop of cav

situation he did not long enjoy health, and in four years, the progress of his disease compelled him to resign. He lingered three years longer, and terminated his busy, well-spent life on the 28th day of August last.

alry, and was at Baltimore when the British were sity of Virginia, which office he had previously there repulsed in 1814. It may be inferred that refused in the life time of Mr. Jefferson. In this his military career, though brief, was meritorious, from the facts that in the succeeding year he was elected to Congress, and in the year after was appointed by the Legislature Brigadier General. He continued four years in Congress, where, among his intimate associates, were his brother, To a very pleasing exterior, both in face and John Randolph, Mr. Lowndes, Mr. Calhoun, Mr. figure, Judge Tucker added an address and manClay and Mr. Bolling Robertson of Louisiana. ners that are rarely equalled; for besides being a As chairman of a committee he made an argu- strict observer of the conventional rules of good mentative report, in which he maintained that breeding, he possessed that higher order of poCongress possessed the power, under the Con- liteness which nothing but genuine benevolence stitution, to construct roads and canals, with the and great delicacy of tact can give. Perhaps consent of the States they pass through. He was his most striking characteristic was an affectionate also one of those republicans who voted in 1816 disposition; and it was his never-failing flow of in favor of a Bank of the United States, then kindness, and desire to see others happy, that so deemed indispensable by Mr. Dallas, to reestab-admirably fitted him for all the duties of fireside lish a sound currency throughout the union, and life. Certainly no one ever discharged those of to secure the collection of the national revenue. husband, parent, master, or friend, more cordially, These views of the Constitution, as frankly more faithfully, or with better grace. The love avowed as they were deliberately and conscien- he so fervently felt, was, as is usual, cordially retiously formed were in conflict with the opin- ciprocated, and in some instances amounted alions of the politicians then in the ascendant in most to idolatry. his native State, and they probably decided his subsequent destiny as a public man. There is good reason to believe that they more than once prevented his election to the Senate of the United States, and his appointment to the Federal Supreme Court.

Such was his very amiable temper as well as scrupulous propriety, that when a personal altercation arose in the House of Representatives between his brother, Mr. Randolph and Mr. Robertson, of Louisiana, he maintained his friendly relations with Mr. Robertson without giving offence to the very irritable and somewhat exacting disposition of his brother.

The memorable law by which members of Congress were to receive a fixed salary of $1,500 per annum, instead of a per diem allowance of six dollars, passed while he was a member. He not only voted against it, but after it passed, with a fastidious honor, he refused to receive the extra allowance which yet remains in the Treasury. In this course it is believed that he stood alone. In 1819 he quitted Congress to return to the practice of the law, and in 1823-4 he was appointed Chancellor for the Winchester District. In the following year he established a law school, to which his reputation soon attracted students from every part of the State, and even from other States. He had afterwards the pleasure His mind, while it was vigorous, discriminaof seeing among those who had been his pupils ting and comprehensive, was yet more distinseveral who took a leading part in the councils guished for its polish and its exquisite taste. His of their country. style was at once easy, natural and graceful. This school was continued until 1831, when Both in speaking and writing, perspicuity, elehe was appointed President of the Court of Ap-gance and good sense were the predominant peals. As he was now compelled to pass most qualities. While he conducted a law school he of his time in Richmond, he, after a while, be- published two volumes of commentaries on the came a resident of that city. In the year that laws of Virginia, which soon became a handhe received the last appointment, General Jack-book for the practitioner in that State, and still son offered him the place of Attorney General, so continues. This work, and a few of his lecwhich, on his refusal, was afterwards given to tures delivered at the University of Virginia, and Mr. Taney, now the Chief Justice of the United some fugitive essays, are the only monuments he States. Ten years afterwards he was induced has left of his professional or literary talent. He to accept the professorship of law in the Univer- had a very ready talent at versification, which VOL. XV-15

But with all this blandness of feeling-this love of conciliation and peace-he never hesitated to differ from his political associates when his judgment told him they were wrong. It was thus that he had maintained the federal power to make roads and canals; had voted for an United States Bank; and had opposed the doctrine of nullification, though he was one of Mr. Calhoun's most devoted friends. But while he thus fearlessly · differed from his party on particular occasions, agreeing with them in the main, he remained attached to them and voted with them through life.

was often exercised for the gratification of the A loud summons is borne like a blast o'er the sea, social circle he so adorned. His taste for classi-The tomb of the JUST from the Moslem to free, cal studies continued through life. His essays at O'er Jerusalem's walls where the crescent doth gleam, Latin composition, intended only for the eye of The flag of the "red cross" in triumph shall stream. his friends, were very respectable. In no pursuit of life did he succeed better than as a law lecturer; and while he instructed the minds of his pupils, his courtesy and almost paternal kindness, never failed to win their hearts.

Farewell to thee! maid of the tower! farewell!
There are pangs of the heart which the tongue cannot tell-
And such the deep grief of his bosom must be,
Who is torn in his spirit's devotion from thee.

P. H. H.

FROM OUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT.

PARIS, December, 1848.

Until Judge Tucker had passed the age of sixty, his life had been unusually prosperous and happy. But his last few years were overclouded by disease, and the anxieties attending a lawsuit of a peculiarly vexatious character. His malady was a species of epilepsy, of a mild description indeed, but evidently impairing his memory, and, in some degree, the vigor of his mind. Of this he was not unconscious, and the fear of the loss of his mental faculties, forever haunted his imagination, until life became a burden to him. Sen- In this letter I shall not trouble you with polisibly declining in body and mind, he earnestly tics. The prediction of woes yet to fall upon wished for death as the best of the alternatives France from the election of Louis Napoleon, the presented to him, and he met his end with a firm-account of the spread of democracy on the conness and resignation which never deserted him. He left a widow, two daughters and six sons, and it soothed his last moments to be surrounded by all those cherished objects of his affection.

66

Few men had as many warm personal friends; and, judging of others' charity by his own, he not long ago said to a friend, that he flattered himself he had not an enemy in the world." Certainly the memory of no one could be more venerated by those to whom he was best known; and to them, it is feared, that this small tribute from one who loved him, will appear altogether inadequate to his merits.

THE CRUSADER'S SERENADE.

The sweet star that is beaming on evening's still sky,
To my fancy appeareth less bright than thine eye,
And thy musical tones are more pleasant to me,
Than the warbling of songsters from thicket and tree.

On thy cheek are the tints of the beautiful flower,
That blooms o'er the vine-covered sides of thy bower,
And graceful and fair as a spirit of light,
Thy form ever riseth to gladden my sight.

Sweet maid of the tower, adieu to thy charms,
For the tumult of camps and the clangor of arms;
By the side of my loved-one forever I'd stay,
But a vision of glory has called me away.

tinent, its excesses, the flight of the Pope from Rome, the civil wars of Germany, the abdication of Ferdinand of Austria,-all these, I take it, will interest the generality of your readers less than a chapter from Chateaubriand's posthumous work, particularly concerning the United States. A few months after the death of Chateaubriand, which occurred 4th July last, the journal the Presse commenced the publication of his "Memoires d'outre-tombe," or "Memoirs from beyond the tomb." The reproduction of these Memoirs in any other form being forbidden by the company to which the copyright belongs, they have not yet appeared in regular volumes. The fleeting, but popular feuilleton of the Presse is eagerly resorted to by the enthusiastic admirers of the illustrious deceased. Four years ago the Presse purchased the right of first publishing these Memoirs, upon the condition that the publication should not be commenced till after the death of the author. The price then paid for this privilege is understood to have been 96,000 francs, (about $19,000.) Chateaubriand was never so highly thought of abroad as in France. Though for many years he has lived a perfectly retired life, taking no part, and apparently no interest, in the events transpiring around him, he was regarded with a veneration little short of worship. The Memoirs, if what has yet been published may be taken as a criterion for the whole, will hardly bring a great accession to his world-wide fame. A chapter devoted to the United States I am about to translate for the Messenger. It was written, as appears by the date, in 1822. It is curious as a critique upon the United States and their institutions. It is interesting as issuing from

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