In this childhood of the world, when the Greek myths came into existence, the sun was called a shepherd, and the clouds were his sheep; or an archer, and the sunbeams were his arrows. It was easier then to think of the sea as a husky-voiced and turbulent old man, whose true form none might clearly know, because he changed so often and was so secret in his ways, who shook the earth in his anger, and had the white-maned billows of the deep for his horses, than to form a theory of the tides. The spring of the year became a beautiful youth, beloved by the whole earth, or beloved, like Hyacinthus, by the sun, or, like Adonis, by the queen of beauty, over whom the fate of death was suspended, and for whose loss annual mourning was made. Such tales the Greeks told themselves in their youth; and it would be wrong to suppose that deliberate fiction played any part in their creation. To conceive of the world thus was natural to the whole race; and the tales that sprang up formed the substance of their intellectual activity. Here, then, if anywhere, we watch the process of a people in its entirety contributing to form a body of imaginative thought, projecting itself in a common and unconscious work of

art....

To discuss the bearings of the linguistic and solar theories of mythology may be reserved for another part of this essay. It is enough, at this point, to bear in mind that there was nothing in the consciousness of the Greeks which did not take the form of myth. Consequently their mythology, instead of being a compact system of polytheism, is really a whole mass of thought, belonging to a particular period of human history, when it was impossible to think except by pictures, or to record impressions of the world except in stories. That all these tales are religious or semi-religious-concerned,

that is to say, with deities-must be explained by the tendency of mankind at an early period of culture to conceive the powers of nature as persons, and to dignify them with superhuman attributes. To the apprehension of infantine humanity everything is a god. Viewed even as a Pantheon, reduced to rule and order by subsequent reflection, Greek mythology is, therefore, a mass of the most heterogeneous materials. Side by side with some of the sublimest and most beautiful conceptions which the mind has ever produced, we find in it much that is absurd and trivial and revolting. Different ages and conditions of thought have left their products imbedded in its strange conglomerate. While it contains fragments of fossilized stories, the meaning of which has either been misunderstood or can only be explained by reference to barbaric customs, also contains, emergent from the rest and towering above the rubbish, the serene forms of the Olympians. Those furnish the vital and important elements of Greek mythology. To perfect them was the work of poets and sculptors in the brief, bright, blooming time of Hellas.

After disposing of these preliminary questions, Professor Symonds begins his work proper with Homer, devoting a chapter to Achilles, whom he regards as "the central subject" of the "Iliad," and the "true type of the Hellenic genius," and another to the "Women of Homer." With regard to the much-debated and never-settled problem of criticism, whether Homer actually existed, or whether, as in the case of Mrs. Harris, "there never was no sich person," he entertains very decided opinions, and gives them vigorous expression. He says:

If of Homer we know nothing, we have heard too

much. Need we ask ourselves again the question whether he existed, or whether he sprang into the full possession of consummate art without a predecessor? That he had no predecessors, no scattered poems and ballads to build upon, no well-digested body of myths to synthesize, is an absurd hypothesis which the whole history of literature refutes. That, on the other hand, there never was a Homer-that is to say, that some diaskeuast, acting under the orders of Pisistratus, gave its immortal outline to the colossus of the "Iliad," and wove the magic web of the "Odyssey "--but that no supreme and conscious artist working toward a well-planned conclusion conceived and shaped these epics to the form they bear, appears to the spirit of sound criticism equally untenable. The very statement of this alternative involves a contradiction in terms; for such a diaskeuast must himself have been a supreme and conscious artist. Some Homer did exist. Some great single poet intervened between the lost chaos of legendary material and the cosmos of beauty which we now possess. His work may have been tampered with in a thousand ways, and religiously but inadequately restored. Of his age and date and country, we know nothing. But this we do know, that the fire of molding, fusing, and controlling genius in some one brain, has made the "Iliad" and "Odyssey" what they are.

By this, the author is not to be understood as meaning that one poet must have composed both epics, but that each bears upon it the mark of unity in conception and execution. Whether the same poet produced both is a different question, and he is inclined to regard the "Odyssey" as a later work.

Following the brilliant discussion of the Homeric poems, chapters on Hesiod, Parmenides, Empedocles, the Gnomic (or didactic) Poets, the Satirists, the Lyric Poets, and Pindar, lead up to what are perhaps the most interesting and suggestive chapters in the book-those on Eschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes. Greek poetry-it may fairly be said that Greek genius—culminated in the splendid productions of the Athenian dramatists; and no fewer than seven chapters (about a third) of Professor Symonds's work are devoted to a consideration of what remains to us of this stupendous legacy. Discussion of the kind furnished in these chapters is only too apt to be technical and dull; and it is perhaps the crowning testimony to the author's skill that there is scarcely a page in them which the ordinary reader would not peruse with pleasure, or an exposition of which the scholar would complain as inadequate.

on

on

There is a very instructive and valuable chapter "Ancient and Modern Tragedy "; and another "The Comic Fragments," in which the author traces the history of the later Greek drama, and discusses the points of similarity and difference between ancient and modern comedy. Theocritus, Bion, and Moschus are treated of in a most luminous and appreciative chapter on "The Idyllists," whose works gilded with a sunset radiance the decline of the ancient literature, and a little later ushered in the dawn of the modern. One chapter is devoted to the “Anthology"; another to the different versions of the tale of "Hero and Leander "; and two final chapters discuss the "Genius of Greek Art," the essential relation of all spiritual movement to Greek culture, and the contrast between the Greek, the me

We have not space even to summarize the contents of these chapters, much as there is in them to invite comment; but our notice would be incomplete without a cordial word of praise for Professor Symonds's spirited and elegant translations of select passages. It need not be said that these add incalculably to the value and interest of his work.

A BETTER proof of the widening interest in every department of the fine arts in this country could hardly be found than is afforded by the publication in sumptuous and greatly enlarged form of Mr. Maberly's "Print-Collector."* Ten years ago an edition of the Targum or of the Pandects would have been considered by publishers quite as likely to prove profitable; yet there can be little doubt that at the present time the book will be welcomed by a large and highly appreciative circle of readers. For one thing, it is both more valuable and more interesting than such treatises usually are. It is the work of a man who, though enthusiastic in his love for the special art of which he treats, did not make it a hobby; who collected prints because he really admired them, and not because collecting had be

come a mania; whose tastes were controlled by his judgment, not warped by his feelings or by commercial considerations; and who was enabled by his own experience to deal with just those difficulties which are most likely to beset the print-collector, and to impart the precise information which the print-collector is always in search of, and which it usually costs him much labor and pains to acquire.

In plan and scope Mr. Maberly's book was designed to meet the wants of amateurs rather than of connoisseurs and specialists. Presupposing on the part of the reader only a genuine feeling for art, it aimed to stimulate and cultivate that feeling, to fur nish good reasons for its gratification, to prove that engravings or "prints " combine greater advantages and opportunities for the average collector than do the products of any of the sister arts, and to show in detail how the collector must set about and prosecute his work. It possesses all the attractions which pertain to a record of personal experiences; it is

written in a thoroughly genial and graceful spirit;

and, besides describing the enjoyment which the au

thor had derived from the study and collection of etchings and engravings, it undertakes to "communicate such knowledge to others as might lead an appreciative reader through the same pleasant paths

of art he himself had trodden."

The general purpose and character of the book being thus defined, we can best convey an idea of its

*The Print-Collector: An Introduction to the Knowledge necessary for forming a Collection of Ancient Prints. By J. Maberly. With an Appendix containing Fielding's "Treatise on the Practice of Engraving." Edited by Robert Hoe, Jr. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co. 8vo, pp. 336.

66

of which it is composed. The first chapter treats of collecting in general and print-collecting in particular, discusses the "proper motive for collecting," and points out "the advantages of print-collecting as compared with other subjects, such as pictures, statues, coins and medals, gems, and drawings," and this with reference to the several points of "expense, space, preservation, portability, ascertainment of quality and of genuineness, price, and pleasure derivable and communicable." The second chapter treats of the classification of prints; defines the difference between wood-engraving and engraving on metal; and explains the modes of working by burin, etching, dry point, mezzotinto, dotting, stippling, aquatinta, lithography, etc. Chapter three gives minute instructions regarding the tests to apply in selecting specimens, explaining what is meant by 'states," proofs,' early impressions,” “good impressions," "burr," "shake," "copies," and other technicalities of the art. Chapter four gives ample information as to the prices of prints and the progress in value of ancient engravings; also regarding what may be called the customs and usages of the trade. Chapter five discusses the various considerations which should be kept in mind in deciding upon the extent or limit of a proposed collection; and chapter six contains some highly useful suggestions as to the care, keeping, mounting, handling, exhibitof "the mode of commencing collector," the “exing, and cleaning of prints. Chapter seven treats tent of expense," "chronology," and the "different acteristics of the various “schools manners and processes," and then explains the charwith notices of the principal engravers in each. of engravers, Chapter eight compares the old and new systems of engraving; and, finally, chapter nine discusses the

merits and deficiencies of the best-known books on engraving.

and while the greater part of the material which it Mr. Maberly's little book was published in 1844, contains is as fresh and as useful to-day as when it was first written, there are many details as to prices, etc., which are no longer correct, and which might viate this disadvantage, Mr. Robert Hoe, Jr., the mislead instead of assisting the beginner. To obAmerican editor, has added a series of notes which particulars; and which, for one thing, enable us to supplement Mr. Maberly's text in many important

present resting-place of nearly all the more importrace the history, prices, successive ownership, and tant and valuable prints-so that the collector will of his search, but just what he will probably have to learn not only where to look for the special objects pay for them. Still further to increase the adequacy Hoe has added an appendix which nearly doubles its of the book as a print-collector's vade mecum, Mr. size and quite doubles its value. In this appendix he has reproduced the substance of T. H. Fielding's excellent treatise on "The Art of Engraving, with the Various Modes of Operation," in which the theory and practice of the art are combined; he has written an account of the principal etchers and en

gravers who have risen to eminence since Mr. Maberly's book appeared; he has arranged tabular lists of the works of the leading artists of the past, with references to the descriptions of them in the catalogues raisonnés of Adam Bartsch, Wilson, Blanc, and others; and has compiled a bibliography of engraving which fills twenty-four pages, and includes notices of nearly three hundred separate works.

Among the illustrations, which are very interesting, are three plates of "Marks and Monograms," and one showing the "Tools used in Engraving and Etching." The style of the volume is substantial and elegant, and altogether this American edition of Mr. Maberly's work is far more valuable than the original English edition, which has become very scarce, and consequently expensive.

IN a thoroughly sensible article on “The Literary Calling and its Future," in one of the current English magazines, Mr. James Payn, the novelist, makes a vigorous attack upon the laus temporis acti as applied to literature, and asserts categorically of modern periodical literature that, "however small may be its merits, it is at all events ten times as good as ancient periodical literature (that of the early 'Edinburgh Review,' for example) used to be." In the matter of poetry, in particular, is the improvement very remarkable. "Of course," says Mr. Payn, "there is to-day a great deal of rant and twaddle published under the name of verse in magazines; yet I could point to scores of poems that have thus appeared during the last ten years which half a century ago would have made-and deservedly made a high reputation for their authors. . . . Those who are acquainted with such matters will, I am sure, corroborate my assertion that there was never so much good poetry in our general literature as at present. Persons of intelligence do not look for such things perhaps, while persons of culture are too much occupied with old china and high art; but to humble folks, who take an interest in their fellow creatures, it is very pleasant to observe what high thoughts, and how poetically expressed, are now to be found about our feet, and, as it were, in the literary gutter."

Some such reflections as these must occur to every critic who finds upon his table a number of volumes of recent verse. Unless the contents of these volumes are very much below the current average, each of them will contain verse which is quite as elevated in sentiment and finished in expression as that which finds its way into the ordinary collections of the British Poets; and now and then the reader comes upon a poem of which it is difficult to say why it does not entitle its author to a place in the choir of the immortals. In what we may call the art of versemaking, as distinguished from that profound application of ideas to life which Matthew Arnold declares to be the distinctive mark of true poetry, the general proficiency is very surprising; and this has long seemed to us perhaps the most conclusive evidence of the growing refinement of taste.

Skill of a very high order is displayed, for example, in Miss Nora Perry's "Her Lover's Friend, and Other Poems."* The verse is varied and musical; the sound is always happily wedded to the sense; the movement is flowing and graceful; and there are a certain precision of phrase and polish of style which show that the author has thought sufficiently of her own work to take pains with it. In theme, Miss Perry's poetry is less varied than in versification; it is always love, in some one of its Protean forms, that inspires and permeates her song. Moreover, she does not merely sing about love: she manages to express the very feeling itself, and there is a fervor and an intensity about her more impassioned pieces which accelerates the pulse of the reader and sets his blood to tingling. It is this emotional warmth, indeed, which constitutes the distinguishing merit of Miss Perry's work, and lifts her out of the rank of mere verse-makers. The feeling itself always dominates the expression of the feeling; and the author is seldom caught in the act of searching around for a ́ thought or a sentiment to fit into a preconceived arrangement of words. The following specimen of her work has been chosen, not because it illustrates the special characteristic of which we have been speaking, but because it exhibits the author's skill in vers de société-a department of poetry in which entire success is rarely achieved:

IF I WERE YOU, SIR.
If I were you, sir,

I would not sue, sir,
For any woman's love day after day:
I'd never stand, sir,

At her command, sir,
Year in and out in this fond, foolish way.

Across my face, sir,
I'd have the grace, sir,
Or mother-wit, to pull a gayer mask,
And wait to find, sir,
What was her mind, sir,
Before I'd grovel at her feet to ask.

All very well, sir,

For you to tell, sir,

Of that grand old poet in the olden time,
Whose fine advice, sir,
Was so concise, sir,

In that immortal strain of gallant rhyme.

It does not fit, sir,

Your case a bit, sir:

He never meant a man should pray and pray With such an air, sir,

Of poor despair, sir,

For any woman's love day after day.

If you will read, sir,

The verse with heed, sir,
You'll see it runs as clearly as it may,
That every man, sir,

Should take his answer,
With manly courage, be it yea or nay.

*Her Lover's Friend, and Other Poems. By Nora Perry. Boston: Houghton, Osgood & Co. 16mo. Pp. 183.

Then cease your sighs, sir:
No man's a prize, sir,

In any woman's sight, just let me say,
Who's not too high, sir,

To sigh and die, sir,

For any woman's love, day after day.

In Mrs. Dodge's "Along the Way "* the tone is graver and more reflective, the subjects are more varied, and the artistic skill is not inferior. Mrs. Dodge is known chiefly as a writer for children, and several of the most pleasing pieces in the present collection have childhood for their theme; but the tone of most of them is thoughtful, almost didactic, and her predominant mood appears to be somewhat pensive. With a keen susceptibility to the beauties of nature, and great skill in portraying them, she is seldom content to regard Nature objectively, but endeavors to associate it in some way with human life and human destiny. The subjoined is a fair specimen of her usual manner, though it contains no hint of those quaint conceits which she manages so skillfully:

FAITH.

The wind drove the moon

To a sky-built cave, And closed it up

As it were her grave. The cave threw wide

A silver portalAnd forth she came, Serene, immortal!

He piled black clouds
In angry might,

Till lost in gloom

Was all her light.

The clouds a moment Held her under;

Then, glorified,

They burst asunder!

The wind, that night,
Bemoaned and whistled
Till all the forest

Stirred and bristled;
While moonbeams stole
To tear-wet pillows,
And found their way

Through graveyard willows.

The "Idylls and Poems"† of Anna Maria Fay show respectable skill in versification, but they lack spontaneity, and have too much the air of deliberate and even laborious manufacture. Most of them, moreover, are written in a riddle-my-riddle style, which seems designed to baffle rather than to reveal, and a certain haziness or indefiniteness of thought is reflected in verse whose utterance is scarcely articulate and whose meaning can only be guessed. This is not so objectionable, perhaps, in avowed allegories, such as the first two and longest poems in the little

*Along the Way. By Mary Mapes Dodge. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. 16m0, pp. 136.

Idylls and Poems. By Anna Maria Fay. York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. 16m0, pp. 103.

New

volume; but one is puzzled to make out why a "rondeau or "rondel" should so closely resemble the oracles of a sibyl. The ballad of "King Sigmund's Woe," recast from an incident in William Morris's Sigurd the Volsung, is much the best piece in the collection. It is spirited, vigorous, and resonant; and several of the sonnets are neatly constructed.

IT has been truly said that, if there had been preserved to us even one novel describing Greek social life at say the period of the Athenian supremacy, with the graphic realism with which Mr. Anthony Trollope's novels depict the England of our day, we should have a better and more accurate idea of what the Greeks really were than can be obtained from all the existing relics of their literature and art. Regarded from this view-point, such stories as “Di Cary"* have a definite and high value, whatever may be their deficiencies in other respects. Miss Thornton's story is a picture of Southern plantation life at the period just following the close of the war, when society was painfully readjusting itself to the new order of things; when the incidents, at once grotesque and pathetic, connected with so complete a social catastrophe, were more pronounced than they now are; and when the passions and prejudices aroused by the conflict had not yet had time to subside. At some future time this period will possess a peculiar interest for the student of American history, and Miss Thornton's picture of it will have value on account of its minutely faithful delineation. As an example of rigid realism the story is almost as notable as "L'Assommoir "-not that it contains any of the horrors of that work, or exhibits the least tendency to deal with improper things, but the author's whole concern has been to depict men and women with photographic accuracy, and to relate with the utmost exactness the ordinary incidents that make up their daily life. It is evident that the author, in her desire to be wholly realistic, misses some of the finer aspects of the social life she paints so minutely.

It is a long step which Miss Fothergill has taken from "The First Violin" to "Probation," and one which, we fear, is not altogether in the right direction. The earlier story was a picture of the Bohemian phase of art-life in Germany, and was written with enthusiasm, sympathy, and knowledge; "Probation" has for its background the terrible "cotton famine" in Lancashire, produced by the closing of Southern ports during our civil war, and is written with sympathy and knowledge, but without that almost lyrical fervor and intensity which gave its most distinctive feature to its predecessor. The difference between the two stories appears to be that

* Di Cary. A Novel. By M. Jacqueline Thornton. Appletons' Library of American Fiction. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 8vo, pp. 231.

+ Probation. A Novel. By Jessie Fothergill. Leisure Hour Series. New York: Henry Holt & Co. 16m0, PP. 434.

"The First Violin" was the spontaneous record of an experience which had fired and inspired the author's whole nature; while “Probation” is the more prosaic product of a deliberate and conscious choice of an "effective subject" for a story, which might stimulate the author's imagination, indeed, but which could hardly touch her feelings very profoundly. And this difference tells throughout, to the disadvantage of the later story. Myles Heywood is but a pallid and impersonal sort of figure in comparison with the picturesque and fascinating Eugen Courvoisier, and none of the characters in "Probation" have that intense vitality which gives a sort of objective realism to those of the earlier story. Nor are the circumstances and incidents of the one story so pleasing as those of the other. The complications which in "The First Violin" exemplified the truth that the course of true love never runs smooth, only deepened the romantic charm of the work; but one feels that the agony of a starving people is too tremendous a fact to form part of the mere machinery of a love-story. We should observe, however, that such faults as we have pointed out are conspicuous only when we compare the story with "The First Violin," which we spoke of at the time of its appearance as a very remarkable beginning for an author. Compared with the average of current fic tion, "Probation" is deserving of very high praise, both for its interest as a story and for its skill as a composition.

There is nothing in the new volume of the "NoName Series" quite so clever as its title,* unless it be the quotation from Coleridge which forms its motto: "I once knew a man who had advanced to such a pitch of self-esteem that he never mentioned himself without taking off his hat." The story itself contains many striking passages and several effective "situations," but it bears about the same relation to a finished work of art that a corduroy road does to a macadamized highway. Of plot, or sequence, or consistency, there is next to nothing; and at the close of the book the story simply ends without coming to a conclusion. The author's idea of novelmaking appears to be that the prime necessity is a number of dramatic incidents or tableaux, which may be flashed upon the reader under the full glare of calcium lights. Whether these incidents are consecutive to each other, or are the natural outgrowth of what has gone before, is a matter of minor importance; and, in fact, they seem to be arranged upon the principle that the interesting is the unexpected. And so of the characters. Some extreme, unusual, abnormal type is chosen, and then, in order to set it off most effectively, it is contrasted with its exact antithesis, which is as extreme and abnormal in the other direction. But even this is not stimulating enough, and accordingly on every critical occasion these characters are represented as doing the precise thing which it could never be conjectured that they should do, and as changing roles with the fantastic

* His Majesty, Myself. No-Name Series. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 16mo, pp. 299.

facility of a transformation scene. The author would doubtless repudiate the suggestion, but we are compelled to think that his story is as exciting and unwholesome in its way as the sensational preaching which he so vigorously satirizes. To turn from it to a simple and realistic record of every-day life will affect the reader like sipping gruel after a draught of brandy-and-soda; and this not because the gruel is essentially insipid, but because the palate has been unnaturally and unhealthily stimulated. Yet it must be admitted that the book asserts itself and compels attention. There are several situations that are wonderfully dramatic and intense; the portrait of Thirlmore, the popular preacher, will inevitably set readers to searching for the original among several well-known men; and there are two or three farmhouse scenes which are as genuine and real as any other faithful transcript from nature.

In complete contrast with the preceding is Mrs. Mulock-Craik's “Young Mrs. Jardine,”* a love-story of the most correct and conventional type, with a good young man, a very good young lady, a cruel mamma and worldly sisters, much interpolated moralizing about "duty” and “right” and “patience' and "gentlemanliness," struggles against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and a most satisfactory fulfillment of all the requirements of poetic justice. The story itself descends perilously near the level of commonplace, and, if anything were needed to drag it down and anchor it there, it is amply supplied by the illustrations. Of the way in which pictures can fetter and vulgarize the imagination instead of aiding it, we have seldom seen a better example.

SOME of the most characteristic portions of the "Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat "* having already appeared in this "Journal," we are absolved from the duty of describing them in detail; but, in enjoying the entertainment which their piquant personalities afford, the reader might easily overlook the fact that these Memoirs are likely to be reckoned among the most important literary productions of our time. Hitherto the Memoirs of Saint-Simon have held a unique and special place in literature, and their interest will last as long as any curiosity is felt regarding the doings of the Grand Monarch and his court; but Madame de Rémusat's Memoirs are equally frank, equally graphic, and equally pungent, while they have the advantage of dealing with a personality and an epoch infinitely more picturesque and significant. Napoleon has been the subject of an entire literature, and there is probably no figure in history that has impressed itself so vividly upon the popular imagination; but, while we have been ren

Young Mrs. Jardine. A Novel. By the author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." New York: Harper & Brothers. 16mo, pp. 414.

+ Memoirs of Madame de Rémusat, 1802-1808. With a Preface and Notes by her Grandson, Paul de Rémusat. Translated from the French by Mrs. Cashel Hoey and John Lillie. In three volumes. Vol. I. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 8vo, pp. xlviii.-178.