Dr. Thornwell is familiar with Greek, Roman, French, German, and other languages and literature, and is as vigorous and unrelenting in the pursuit of new studies now, as when he left college. His popularity with the students, and his tact in the management of youth, connected with the high respect generally entertained for him in the state, must cause his withdrawal to be deeply felt. ORESTES A. BROWNSON. THIS eminent speculative inquirer, ingenious thinker, and exponent of various religious opinions in his writings, is a native of Vermont, where he was born about the beginning of the century. In his education he has been what is usually, though incorrectly, called a self-made man; and he must always have been an earnest one, for we find him early in life a diligent inquirer in the higher walks of religious philosophy. As the life of Mr. Brownson has been passed in the pursuits of the thinker and scholar, with little external incident beyond that involved in his several changes of opinion, which have carried him in succession through different associations and sets of companions, we may cite, as a portion of his biography, what he has himself chosen to say on the subject. "Much," he remarks in the preface to the collection of his Essays, in 1852, "has been said first and last in the newspapers as to the frequent changes I have undergone, and I am usually sneered at as a weathercock in religion and politics. This seldom disturbs me, for I happen to know that most of the changes alleged are purely imaginary. I was born in a Protestant community, of Protestant parents, and was brought up, so far as I was brought up at all, a Presbyterian. At the age of twenty-one I passed from Presbyterianism to what is sometimes called Liberal Christianity, to which I remained attached, at first under the forin of Universalism, afterwards under that of Unitarianism, till the age of forty-one, when I had the happiness of being received into the Catholic Church. Here is the sum total of my religious changes. I no doubt experienced difficulties in defending the doctrines I professed, and I shifted my ground of defence more than once, but not the doctrines themselves. "I was during many years, no doubt, a radical and a socialist, but both after a fashion of my own. I held two sets of principles, the one set the same that I hold now, the other the set I have rejected. I supposed the two sets could be held consistently together, that there must be some Art. 6. 8. The Elder Question. Vol. ii. No. 1. Art. 1. 4. Paul's Preaching at Athens. Vol. ii. No. 4. Art. 1. 5. Thoughts upon the Priesthood of Christ. Vol. iii. No. 4 Art. 2. 6. Philosophy of Religion (Review of Morell). Vol. iii. No. 2. Art. 5. 7. Philosophy of Religion (Review of Morell), Vol. iii. No. 3. Art. 6. 8. Slavery and the Religious Instruction of the Colored Population. Vol. iv. No. 1. Art. 6. The substance of this article was also published as a Sermon on the Rights and Duties of Masters. 9. Dissertation on Miracles (Matt. xxii. 9). Vol. iv. No. 4. Art. 2. 10. Validity of Popish Baptism; a series of articles commenced in Vol. v. No. 1, and continued in successive numbers. 11. Report on Slavery. Vol. v. No. 8. Art. 8. To these may be added a Sermon on the occasion of the Death of the Hon. J. C. Calhoun, preached in the College Chapel, April, 1850, a letter to Governor Manning, on Public Instruction in South Carolina, 1858, and a Sermon preached before the Legislature, December 1854, against demagogism, and on the duties of the legislator. way, though I never pretended to be able to discover it, of reconciling them with each other. Fifteen years' trial and experience convinced me to the contrary, and that I must choose which set I would retain and which cast off. My natural tendency was always to conservatism, and democracy, in the sense I now reject it, I never held. In politics, I always advocated, as I advocate now, a limited government indeed, but a strong and efficient government. Here is the sum total of my political changes. I never acknowledged allegiance to any party. From 1838 to 1843, I acted with the Democratic party, because during those years it contended for the public policy I approved; since then I have adhered to no party. No party, as such, ever had any right to count on me, and most likely none ever will have. I do not believe in the infallibility of political parties, and I always did and probably always shall hold myself free to support the men and measures of any party, or to oppose them, according to my own independent convictions of what is or is not for the common good of my country." To this comprehensive outline and self-justification of an active career, we may supply some of the details as furnished by Mr. Brownson's publications. His first work, published in 1836, entitled, New Views of Christian Society and the Church, was written while he was minister of an Independent congregation at Boston, which was called "The Society for Christian Union and Progress." It was marked by French and German opinions, which the writer put forward without particular reference to the religious body of Unitarians to which he was then attached. At this period Mr. Brownson was a contributor to the Christian Examiner. A novel which he published in 1840, Charles Elwood, or the Infidel Converted, is an autobiographic sketch, in which the writer shows minutely the mental struggle through which he had passed. The form of fiction is but a thin covering, and a slight impediment to, if it does not assist, a purely philosophical essay. It was about this time that Mr. Brownson commenced the course of independent periodical literature in which he has since been engaged. He published the Boston Quarterly Review, in five annual volumes, written from the commencement mostly by himself, from 1838 to 1842, when he merged the work in the Democratic Review at New York, to which he became a stated contributor. His articles "On the Origin and Ground of Government," Democracy," and "Liberty," and similar topics, proved, however, to be of an unaccommodating character to the supporters of that journal, and Mr. Brownson withdrew from its pages to resume his independent Review, in which he could freely unfold his own sentiments and opinions without seeking to conciliate or being controlled by other interests. He then, in 1844, began at Boston the publication of the journal entitled Brownson's Quarterly Review, which has since been continued without interruption, having, in 1855, reached a twelfth annual volume, or a third of the third series. In this, Mr. Brownson having become a devoted member of the Papal Church, maintains his new views of Catholicism, in the same fluent, commanding style, once so well adapted to the energy of Democracy and the schemes of Socialism. 99.66 CYCLOPÆDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE. A novel, The Spirit Rapper, treating of the subject of demoniac agency, published in 1854, is the last of Mr. Brownson's separate publications. The style of Mr. Brownson is a remarkably felicitous one for the discussion of abstract topics; full, fluent, easily intelligible, meeting the philosophic requirements of the subject, at the same time preserving a popular interest, it was well adapted to enlist the popular ear. When employed in appeals to the laboring classes, and enforced by the living energy of the orator, its triumph was certain. As a vehicle for the speculations of the scholar it still preserves its attraction to those who delight in mental gladiatorial exercises, or are curious to note the reconciliation of the "chartered libertine" in doctrine to the authoritative voice of the Church. NATHANAEL DEERING Is a native of Portland, Maine, and the son of the late Mr. James Deering, an esteemed merchant of the city. He was educated at the Academy at Exeter and at Cambridge, where he was graduated at Harvard in 1810. He then studied law in the office of Chief-justice Whitman at Portland, and pursued the profession in the northern counties of his native state. He is now a resident of Portland. Mr. Deering's literary productions are two five act tragedies-Carabasset, or the Last of the Norridgewocks, which was produced at the Portland Theatre in 1831, and Bozzaris. His miscellaneous writings, including numerous tales of humor of "Down East" life, have appeared from time to time in the journals of the day. THE WRECK OF THE TWO POLLIES. 'Twas a starless night, with drifting clouds, So they two reefs in the mainsail too!, The Skipper Bond was at the helm, The tobacco juice on his mouth and chin, The other hand was Isaac Small, But that one eye kept a sharp look-out For breakers under the lee. All unconcerned was Skipper Bond. But he buttoned his fearnaught higher up, "Odd's bloods! I must the main brace splice, "So, Isaac, let us quaff "And as the wind's a snorter, mind "And mix it half and half." The Skipper raised it to his lips, And soon the dipper drained: A second and a third he took, Nor of its strength complained. "Shake out the reefs! haul aft fore sheet! "I am not the man to flag, "With a breeze like this, in the 'Two Polleys — "So give her every rag.” Aghast poor Isaac heard the call, For he knew full well the Skipper was one Isaac, my lad, now go below, "I'll call you when off Portland Light, The Skipper was alone on deck- "A plague on all our Congress men! "Light-houses so thick I see "Odd's bloods! on such a darksome night "They bother exceedingly." 66 "Twas a sad mistake; he saw but one, And that was not Seguin ; But the Skipper's brain like the Light revolved And what of her, the "Two Polleys?" The sun shone out on Richmond's Isle- A broken mast and a tattered sail, And there were heaps of old dun fish, But nothing was seen of the old Skipper, Three days had gone when a "homeward bound" And Richmond's Isle bore Nor' Nor' West. Yet scarcely three knots did she make, But there leans one on the quarter rail, Then floating past—'tis a smack's pink stern, ALBERT G. GREENE, THE author of the popular ballad of "Old Grimes," a poet of cultivation, and an ardent prosecutor of the historical literature of Rhode Island, is a native of that state, where he was born at Providence, February 10, 1802. He is a graduate of Brown University, a lawyer by profession, and has for a number of years filled the offices of Clerk of the Municipal Court of the city of Providence, and Clerk of the Common Council. Mr. Greene's fugitive poems have never been collected, and a portion of them, of which the reputation has got abroad, are still in manuscript. ALBERT G. GREENE Among these is a quaint comic poem, entitled The Militia Muster, a remarkable thesaurus of the Yankee dialect, and of the vulgarisms of New England. One of the longest of Mr. Greene's serious poems, a ballad entitled Canonchet, is published in Updike's History of the Narraghansett Church. Mr. Greene has been a curious collector of American poetry, of which he has a large library; and it is understood, contemplates a publication on the subject. TO THE WEATHERCOCK ON OUR STEEPLE The dawn has broke, the morn is up, And there thy poised and gilded spear Where thou thy watch hast kept, While all around thee slept. For years upon thee there has poured And through the long, dark, starless night, By day and night the same, Still thou hast met and faced the storm, No chilling blast in wrath has swept But thou hast watched its onward course And when mid-summer's sultry beams Thou dost foretell each breeze that comes How oft I've seen, at early dawn, Or twilight's quiet hour, Or bid ye both-good night. And when, around thee or above, No breath of air has stirred, Thou seem'st to watch the circling flight Till after twittering round thy head Men slander thee, my honest friend, They have no right to make thy name : They change their friends, their principles, But when thou changest sides, canst give Thou, like some lofty soul, whose course Which they do never know, Who, 'round their earth-bound circles, plod Through one more dark and cheerless night And now in glory o'er thy head And unto Earth's true watcher, thus, Will come "the day-spring from on high," Bright symbol of fidelity, And May I be faithful to my trust was raging hot, I'll try his might-I'll brave his power; defy, and fear him not. Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin, Bid each retainer arm with speed,-call every vassal in, Up with my banner on the wall,—the banquet board prepare; Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there!" An hundred hands were busy then-the banquet forth was spread— And rung the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread, While from the rich, dark tracery along the vaulted wall, Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the proud old Gothic hall. Fast hurrying through the outer gate the mailed retainers poured, On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the board. While at its head, within his dark, carved oaken chair of state, Armed cap-a-pie, stern Rudiger, with girded falchion, sate. "Fill every beaker up, my men, pour forth the cheering wine, There's life and strength in every drop,-thanksgiving to the vine! Are ye all there, my vassals true?-mine eyes are waxing dim; Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim. "You're there, but yet I see ye not. Draw forth each trusty sword And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board: I hear it faintly:-Louder yet!-What clogs my heavy breath? Up all, and shout for Rudiger, Defiance unto Death!"" Bowl rang to bowl-steel clang to steel-and rose a deafening cry That made the torches fiare around, and shook the flags on high "Ho! cravens, do ye fear him?-Slaves, traitors! have ye flown? Ho! cowards, have ye left me to meet him here alone! But I defy him:-let him come!" Down rang the massy cup, While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half way up; And with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his head, There in his dark, carved oaken chair, Old Rudiger sat, dead. OLD GRIMES. Old Grimes is dead; that good old man His heart was open as the day, Whene'er he heard the voice of pain, Kind words he ever had for all; He knew no base design: His eyes were dark and rather small, He lived at peace with all mankind, His coat had pocket holes behind, Unharmed, the sin which earth pollutes But good old Grimes is now at rest, He modest merit sought to find, His neighbors he did not abuse, His knowledge, hid from public gaze, His worldly goods he never threw EDWARD COATE PINKNEY, THE lyric poet, was the son of the eminent lawyer and diplomatist of Maryland, William Pinkney, and was born in London, October, 1802, while his father was minister to the English Court. At the age of nine he was brought home with his parents to America, and was educated at the college at Baltimore. At fourteen he entered the navy as a midshipman, and remained nine years in the service, during which he became intimately acquainted with the classic scenes of the Mediterranean. After the death of his father in 1822, he resigned his appointment in the navy, married, and occupied himself with the law, which he pursued with some uncertainty. The small volume of poems, sufficiently large to preserve his memory with all generous appreciators of true poetry as a writer of exquisite taste and susceptibility, appeared in Baltimore in 1825. It contained Rodolph, a Fragment, which had previously been printed anonymously for the author's friends. It is a powerful sketch of a broken life of passion and remorse, of a husband slain by the lover of his wife, of her early death in a convent, and of the paramour's wanderings and wild mental anticipations. Though a fragment, wanting in fulness of design and the last polish of execution, it is a poem of power and mark. There is an occasional inner music in the lines, demonstrative of the true poet. The imagery is happy and original, evidently derived from objects which the writer had seen in the impressible youth of his voyages in the navy. We follow the poem in a few of these similes. This is the striking opening. The Summer's heir on land and sea His waste inheritance. The winds in stormy revelry Here are the lady and her lover. Like rarest porcelain were they, 'Tis pity that their loves were vices, The sequel. There was an age, they tell us, when No dial needed they to measure Where earth, a luminous sphere portrayed, Yes, although fleeting rapidly, It sometimes may be ours, And he was gladsome as the bee,t Might this endure -her husband came But ere his tongue pronounced her shame, 'Twas whispered by whose hand he fell, And Rodolph's prosperous loves were gone. The lady sought a convent-cell, And lived in penitence alone; Thrice blest, that she the waves among Happy, the monster of that Nile, We perish slowly-loss of breath She ceased to smile back on the sun, Their task the Destinies had done; And earth, which gave, resumed the charms, But never walked upon its face, Nor mouldered in its dull embrace, A creature fitter to prepare We grieve when morning puts to flight And benefactress of our sight?— A second part describes the visions of Rodolph's distempered mind. In it occurs this fine passage on the prophetic sense of fear. -Hearts are prophets still. Their voices-fear can still divine: The soul all hostile advents sees, Like shadows by a brilliant day And forthwith lose their own. The remaining poems were brief, consisting of a short poetical sketch, The Indian's Bride; a Reminiscence of Italy; an Occasional Prologue, delivered at the Greek Benefit in Baltimore in 1823, and a number of passionate, sensuous songs, dedicated to love and the fair. The author did not long survive the publication of this volume. He died in Baltimore in 1828. An appreciative biographical notice of him appeared the year previously, from the pen of the late William Leggett, in the "Old Mirror," which speaks warmly of his shorter poems as "rich in beauties of a peculiar nature, and not surpassed by productions of a similar character in the English language." The poem "On Italy," Leggett especially admired. He particularly notes the power of the four lines beginning * Vide Suetonius. |