Vol. V.

For The Port Folio. TRAVELS.

No. 13,

tion. The country which now offered itself to our admiration was in gen tle waves, such as you might suppose from a continuation of the inequalities between the dwelling house at B- and the overseer's cottage; of this every part appeared in high cultivation as far as the eye could reach, except where villages and gentlemen's houses intervened, or some rural church, or a clump of trees diversified the scene: it seemed the bosom of all-bounteous-nature swelling with delight and plenty: behind us, on turning, we beheld the river we had left; its banks were crowned with all that human art with industry could collect; there were houses, and cottages, and ancient castles, and cultivated fields, and a navigable river, and beyond all these various objects, there were the Pyrenees. To me they appeared like the Slate River mountain, as it is seen from B, but extending a great way farther to the east and west, and with the additional importance of being the barrier between two great nations. I can conceive how the very name of these celebrated mountains excites your imagina tion, and that you are already think

Z

ing of Blanche and her sweetheart, and of the Banditti, and of Lodovico. Our six horses had for the last two or three posts been diminished to four, and we were allowed to keep that number afterwards on paying for five. Our mode of travelling was to set off after an early breakfast, to dine on bread and cheese, grapes and peaches in the carriage, and to make our principal meal at night, relying always on finding a good supper in consequence of our courier preceding us by about an hour: towards evening we descended from the high grounds and entered Moissac, an ancient town on the Tarn, a few miles above its junction with the Garonne ; the river was about as broad as the branch of James's river,which is crosson the road to Charlottesville, but deep enough for large boats, and with extensive low grounds; half way across stretches what remains of a bridge built by the English, or by the Romans, the people were not certain which, with a brick causeway leading to it, and a little higher up is a building which of all the houses I have yet seen in France would be the most agreeable residence to a friend of ours in Albemarle who likes his mill the most of all things in the world, after his family. Itis a handsome stone house with very comfortable apart ments, united with a large mill, which is carried out upon arches into the river, and having the wheels directly under so that the gentleman to whom it belonged, and who lived in it had the satisfaction of being at home, the pleasure of receiving his friends, and the delight of being all day in his mill. From an elegant parlour which was at the extremity of the building, the door opened into a gallery where worked twenty pairs of mill-stones in their several recesses, and the contrast must in former times have been great from the one scene to the other, at present it is less so. The proprietor having emigrated, his family were turned out, and the properly confiscated, and to allure the peasantry by an expedient very fre

quently had recourse to in these revolutionary times, it was sold out in shares so small as even to extend to the sixteenth part of a pair of millstones. I asked what was become of the Marquis, whose spirit of enterprise had enriched the neighbourhood, whose hospitality had descended even to the poor servants and horses that frequented his mill, and whose charity had long relieved the poor of his neighbourhood? He died, they told me, in exile. And his widow? She subsisted on the charity of a formerfemme de chambre. And his son? He had been there lately, but the proprietors of the mill, had formed a mob against him, and had driven him out of the town." From this new scene, and with mingled sentiments of admiration and of compassion, we returned to our inn and supped with a better appetite, than in sensibility we ought to have done. In the neighbourhood of Moissack,on the Tarn,and in several places on the Garonne, we saw floating mills;

a

mode of construction, which might very advantageously be adopted on many of our rapid streams in America. We were now soon again in the valley of the Garonne, and traversed the same fertile fields, as before; the peasantry were preparing to sow their wheat; hemp, tobacco, or artificial grass, occupied every spot, which was flat and moist, but when ever it swelled into somewhat of a hill, it was cultivated in vines, which were loaded with grapes, and these were as much at the discretion of travellers, as the cherries and peaches of an orchard by the road side, are in Virginia.

The houses, in general, were good, and the oxen the largest I had ever seen, but the persons at work in the fields, were principally women and old men; the young men had either been drawn away into the army, or were otherwise employed. We met with few travellers in carriages, or on horseback, but such was the succession of labourers, of soldiers and of other travellers on foot, that for the space of several hundred miles we

I will not run the risk of tiring you by any further description of fine fields and fine prospects, but will hur ry you along, although the vintage had begun, and might well deserve a few lines, up to the gates of the venerable city of Thoulouse; where you will be astonished to learn that notwithstanding the most diligent search I could not find a single person, who knew anything or indeed had ever heard of madame Cheron,who was afterwards madame Montoni. We passed on our way, not far from the town of Albi; which once gave ǹamė to a set of industrious and quiet people, whose religious opinions were so cruelly misrepresented, in the thirteenth century, and whose ruin brought on that of their sovereign, the Count of Thoulouse. It is, fortunately for the repose of mankind, of very little consequence, whether or not they believed in the tenets they were accused of holding: the probability is, that their interpretation of the Bible, was extremely similar to that of the protestants of a subsequent period; but it was their misfortune, as it was that of Marcel, Prevot des Marchands in Paris, in the fourteenth century, whose ideas of vernment and whose party-coloured hood have since been so successfully, revived, to have made their appear

go

ance in the world some centuries too soon.

For The Port Folio.

POLITE LITERATURE. Jacob Wagner, Esquire, formerly the chief clerk in the Department of State, and who discharged his Bureau duties with great advantage to his

himself has lately set up a valuable paper at Baltimore, which he edits with much ability. Its contents are principally political and commercial, but we are happy to perceive that the Belles Lettres are not wantonly neglected: Literature should always find some place in every miscellany, designed for general instruction. Some anonymous critick, who appears to be fortified by the skill of the scholar and adorned with the manners of a gentleman has recently commenced some liberal strictures upon the Me moirs of Anacreon, a work in expectancy and which we have more than once mentioned with the warmth of commendation. The ingenious authour has very adroitly defended himself against the random blows of an invisible adversary, and we think that the record of this literary warfare, will not be uninteresting to those who feel generous pride with respect to the literature of their own country. We cannot forbear adding that although we find much to admire in the urbanity of the unknown critick, we differ with him toto celo in his opi nion of the genius of Mr. Moore's po etry.

For the North American. MR. EDITOR,

I cannot agree with the writer of some remarks prefatory to a work he of his observations on the merits of has lately announced, in one or two Moore's translation of Anacreon. I should have pronounced it the ablest am surprised that any Greek scholar work of the kind, or find in Mr. Moore the most adequate représentative of Grecian poetry that our language affords. Rich he certainly is in poetick diction-nor is he deficient in ardour or fancy yet his translation no more exhibits the poetry of Anacreon than the high-wrought copy by some mo dern artist resembles the chaste co louring and delicate touches of a mas ter painter. The characters of Gre cian poetry are simplicity and fire: Anacreon, though he consecrates his

be to compare the variegated flower of the parterre with the majestick and towering poplar of the forest. Much can be alleged in apology for Pope, where little can be said in extenuation of Moore. It appears to me, that in place of the simplicity of Anacreon his translator has substituted his own luxuriant conceptions, adorned at the same time with the highest finish of language. If Anacreon, in his own artless dress, is thought to be too engaging, how much more dangerous to morals must be his voluptuous strains when heightened and adorned by all the refinement of expression I need not say how much literature is likely to suffer from this mode of translation. In many late versions which have been given to the publick, we may already discern the influence of the example, and the probability of its defeating in time the end and design of translation. For my part, having read Anacreon in Greek, I can find little of his manner in Mr. Moore. In expression, he is more simple; in thought, more chaste and dignified. Even Anacreon, were be alive, would blush at the licentious ardour of his translator. I make these observations because every thing that invites to literary discussion has a tendency to enlighten and invigorate the fublick taste. And in this country it is of no small importance to maintain the honour and integrity of learning. Far from thinking myself adequate to this task, nevertheless I would strive, with that small portion of energy which I possess, to preserve the pu

rity and lustre of our literature. † know no works that have been more undeservedly popular than those of Mr. Moore. Every school-miss glows with unhallowed raptures as she peruses his version of the Teian bard, and graver criticks, forgetting the dignity of their office, have pronounced their approbation in the pompous strain of eulogy. His original pieces have had an unexampled circulation

A proof that in this country we have not yet learned to distinguish between the inspiration of true poetry and the dictates of a loose and sensual fancy. It is the province of criticism to preside over the springs of Helicon, to guard their crystal waters from the stains of impurity and lust, and to proscribe, with exemplary severity, the poet who administers to the polluted affections, or pandars to the vitiated taste. I now return to the authour of the elegant preface, that gave occasion to these remarks. To him I deem it superfluous to mention the motives that led to these observations, and I declare to him, with the most undissembled sincerity, that I feel the highest regard for his taste and ge nius. The grace and energy of his style bespeak a long and intimate acquaintance with the most finished models of our language; and a work executed by his hand is likely to do no small honour to American literature.

For my part I look forward with anxious expectation to the publication of the Memoirs of Anacreon; a work by which curiosity and taste will at once be gratified, and to the support of which I trust every votary of liberal science will lend his appro bation and zeal.

J. N.

MEMOIRS OF ANACREON. To the Editor of the North American: SIR,

Since my return to this city I have scen certain remarks in your paper on the preface to the Memoirs of Ana

treon. The jacobin Journalists with their wonted ignorance and impudence have published some strictures on this essay which were only calcu lated to excite the contempt of its authour. Your correspondent adopts the style of a scholar, and though his vis or be down, yet the gentleman is plainly discernible. He, therefore, is entitled to a reply; and he shall have it in the same spirit of candour which has dictated his remarks: The fol

the melodious cadence of the Grecian lyre: but he whose language is pure whose imagination is luxuriant, and whose versification is copious, need not despair of producing a lively exhibition of its sweetness.

We should always distrust our judgment where the partialities of an intimate friendship may create a bias, and a long habit of reading a particu lar book, with the intention of display

to which he alludes.

"To the genius and industry of Thomas Moore, Esquire, we are indebted for one of the best translations that English literature possesses, and the liveliest exhibition of Grecian poetry that English literature can boast." Upon this sentence your correspondent expresses his surprise" that any Greek scholar should have pro

nounced it the ablest work of the kind, or find in Mr. Moore the most adequate representative of Grecian poetry that our language affords."

Without making any claim to the character of a Greek scholar, I am willing to defend my assertion. I have quoted the above passages, because, by contrasting them it will appear that your correspondent has rather misapprehended my meaning. When he says "the ablest work of the kind" I presume he means the ablest translation, because that is the subject of his essay. My language is not so strong. Nor can the praise, that it is "the liveliest exhibition of Grecian poetry," be fairly changed into "the most adequate representation," &c. Adequate signifies equality, or, correspondence to, so as to bear an exact resemblance. Lively, means brisk.Dryden's Dufresnoy will show the idea which I meant to convey by this use of the word. "Since a true knowledge of nature gives us pleasurė; a lively imitation of it in poetry or paint ing must produce a much greater."

The rugged consonants by which our tongue is clogged must always prevent an English writer from giving us an adequate representation of

ous light,, may have some influence upon opinion. When the grey hairs of age have silvered our locks we are apt to recount the days that are gone with partial prolixity, and the scenes of our earlier years are drawn in the most glowing colours. So it is with an authour, especially if he be a youthful one. When he has come pleted his task; vanity and ambition conspire to magnify his labours and he is apt to call upon the world in no very modest terms to admire his work. If the canons of criticism should decide that I have spoken in exaggerated terms of the merits of Mr. Moore, I may claim some indulgence.

Anacreon was a voluptuary who liv ed but in the joys of friendship, of love and of wine. He flourished at one of the most polished periods of Grecian history. At the court of Polycrates, whom the courtesey of history,has sa luted as the happy tyrant of Samosi he enjoyed distinction, ease and pleas sure to an extravagant degree. At Athens he was equally caressed and equally happy. His poetry therefore bespeaks the gayety and the careless tenour of his way.

Anacreon did not write for posteri ty, but he delighted in the smiles of his associates.

When we read his odes we fancy that we see him reclining on a bed of fragrant flowers, and the trembling notes of the lyre vibrate on our ears. The roses bloom around him and ev

ery line breathes their perfume. We behold a train of jocund Bacchanals partaking of the generous goblet;