stances which distinguish them. Memory relates to [ circumstances, never flags-it becomes the slave of the individuals, tradition to the aggregation of mankind possessor; let him will it any particular duty, and the into generations-there can be memory without tradi-performance easily follows the act of volition. With tion, but no tradition without memory. In nations such a mind, he can turn his thoughts inward, concendestitute of the means of preserving records, the memo-trate his ideas, shut out the external world, or, at least ry of one generation, handed down to the succeeding, be but little affected by its distractions, marshal his becomes tradition. powers for action, and bring them to bear like a Macedonian phalanx upon the positions of his adversary. There is no error more common or injurious than this of the young student, who supposes that when he has prepared the subject of a recitation or lecture, he has no farther interest in giving his attention to the instructor in his elucidation of it to others. Hence results the ina Memory assumes no less importance, considered in its connection with experience. Such is the high estimate placed upon this mental possession, that it has been called the mother of wisdom. We define experience to be the memory of past occurrences, mixed with that power of turning them to advantage, which arises from a careful observation and collation of them. This pow-bility in after life to accompany a close piece of reasoner of careful observation and comparison is wanting in many persons-from which it would appear that there may be memory without experience, but no experience without memory. ing through all its stages, and a wretched imbecility and servile dependence of mind. It follows from the rule just given, that all translations and nigh cuts to the lesson must be avoided, since these render close and If the young enthusiast after knowledge, has accom-long continued attention unnecessary. panied us thus far, we hope that, like ourselves, he has been impressed with a desire to improve this noble faculty. Obviously the best mode of improving the memory, is by properly exercising the attention, on which it mainly depends, and the strong or weak exertion of which accounts for the various degrees of memory which we observe in different individuals, rather than any difference of susceptibility at birth. When we hear that everlasting complaint of the young, "I have a bad memory-I have no inducement to study any thing, for I cannot remember it," we are apt to inquire into their habits of attention-which inquiry commonly results in the knowledge, that attention is considered as an affection of the mind, that is scarcely worthy of education. Alexander or Bonaparte ever knew, since the resulting happiness is extended through this life and renewed in eternity. It is true, another office of conscience is prospective in its operation, as when we say, "my conscience will not let me do so and so." But still this enlightenment of conscience, which enables us to decide correctly on the propriety or impropriety of a The connection of several of the states of the mind with memory, and their partial dependence upon it, have been traced. We will now close with a few observations upon the pleasures of memory, and, under this head, its connection with some of the moral emotions will be pointed out. The exercise of conscience implies a recollection of our past acts, with a feeling of approval or disapproval of them, in proportion as they are conformable or unconformable to the standard of right: how then could there be this review and judgment upon our past acts, if they found no abiding place in the memory? If they did not, we could not preserve the "mens conscia sibi recti,” which, as a good angel, enables a man to bear up under the abandonment of friends and fortune, the impeachment of his motives, We will now, after the fashion of nostrum venders, and the assault of his character. This is the only give a sovereign recipe for the formation of a good reward which thousands of the unappreciated and unmemory, and the cure of a bad one :-Direct the atten-requited virtuous ever obtain. The bad man considers tion upon the beginning, and continue it throughout the it a poor remuneration, but it is a richer possession than delivery of every sermon, speech, lecture, and recitation, made in your presence, however abstruse the subject, or dull and uninteresting its expounder. It is objected that a discourse of the nature supposed in the apodixis of the foregoing sentence, produces an insupportable irksomeness; well, we do from the bottom of our heart pity the luckless wight who is doomed to the merciless infliction of some articulate savage, who re-contemplated action, has been taught or at least imdeems his cruelty with no perspicuity of reasoning, no eloquence of diction, no flash of fancy, or sparkling of wit. But into such bloody hands every one is liable to fall, and is not compliance with the advice just given the best salve? For when the mind is closely engaged in the subject, it cannot suffer greatly, whatever may be the faults of him who handles it; besides, perseverance in the course recommended, gradually diminishes the neces-nothing more is discerned than a painful recollection of sity of painful effort, until it results into habit of atten- the first transaction acting on his virtuous sensibilities. tion; and it is to us one of the kindest arrangements of Gratitude, the least alloyed of human virtues, equally the benevolent Being, that our habits beguile much of with conscience, seems to have a dependant connection our toil and minister to our virtuous pleasures. Labor with memory. Indeed, gratitude has been beautifully ipse voluptas. Authorities, no less than reason, sustain | called the memory of the heart; but, in more correct the views taken of attention. Many of the luminaries language, it is a vivid recollection of past kindness, of the world have left it on record for the benefit of with an emotion of love to its author, as its consequent. youth, that much of the superiority which is attributed It is memory, then, which preserves this heavenly, to genius, belongs to a proper exercise of the power of | pure feeling—frequently the only requital which the attention. The mind of the man who has acquired the destitute can make to the clother of his nakedness, power of fixing it at all times and places, and under all the feeder of his hunger, and the enlightener of his proved by the feeling of condemnation or approbation consequent on our past acts: ex. gra, a money lender lends a sum for usury, without any conviction of impropriety at the time; but a sense of guilt subsequently arises; and when a proposition is again made to lend money on similar terms, his conscience, as men say, will not let him do it. In this restraining conscience, ignorance. But for this the recipient might be depressed by an overwhelming sense of the irrepayable weight of his obligation; but with this emotion gushing in perennial streams from the fountains of the heart, he feels that he is not altogether unworthy or destitute of every power of requital. A good man will never desire any other reward for his alms, and thus it is that charity blesseth him who gives and him who takes. The pleasures of hope have often been analyzed by the philosopher and sung by the poet, whilst the more chastened and unobtrusive pleasures of memory have seldom been a theme; but hope was not the only boon that remained behind in Pandora's box: the domain of memory-the past-is more emphatically ours, than that of hope the future. Who that is contending with a slanderous and envious world, does not feel that it is his purest pleasure to send his mind back along the track which he has thus far described in his pilgrimage? In this retrospective journey, each retraced step shows more lovely and bright than the position which has just been left; all along the path of retrogression arises some remembered and innocent joy, until the mental traveller arrives at the only elysium known on earth-the virtuous home of childhood. Here then the weary wrestler has arrived at a point, when love and hatred and ambition had never agitated his breast-nor selfishness and deception poisoned his philanthropy-when he scarcely suspected the existence of vice in the world, because he found none in his own home. Here he fondly but dimly calls up the beloved forms of the hoary sirethe care-worn mother-the laughing sister, and the fond brother. None but he who is incapable of such a retrospection dare say, that memory is not a friend to virtue, and, therefore, to happiness. Even the recollection of those sad events, which have been engraven on our mental tablets with the iron stylus of affliction, is softened and mellowed by the lapse of time, as distance of space takes away from objects their rugged points and revolting features. Of all our mental faculties, it is probable, that we shall carry memory with us in the greatest perfection into the eternal world. Hope will be swallowed up in fruition-for, how can there be any hope where such is the fulness of glory and happiness that nothing is left to be desired? We have imagined that, when this earth shall have been rendered once more without form and void, the beatified spirit will delight, by the help of memory, to revisit the scene of its probation, remembering each drop of water that it put to the parched lip, and each wanderer that it pointed to the road of bliss.-Haec olim meminisse juvabit. University of North Carolina. SOLITUDE. I know not why I often feel Into my heart, 'midst crowds and mirth, Then quick the unbidden tear-drops spring And bind them in their sad domain; I may not meet the truth and love, 1. N. THE EMIGRANT TO HIMSELF. I left my native land to toil for gold, In the faint murmurs of their dying breath; I Or with my presence soothe their bed of death. And years are lost to me, with those who live, Of sweet communion. Is the voice I heard Its music to my ear, even in one word? I had no feeling which thou didst not know; At fortune's shrine for bliss, but all in vain. Friends, brothers, sisters-every hallowed tie That life first knows, when the young heart and mind Are warm with hopes, the ardent and the high? It cannot-would it might! for I am gray, And time none may recall. My parents lie Where the green willows weep, far, far away; The tears of sorrow on my lonely tomb- The heart's best treasures-friendship, love and truth; It cannot soothe one grief that may be ours, Or give us back one blessing of our youth. Thus mused the emigrant, as twilight's shades E. A. S. LITERATURE OF VIRGINIA. TO PROFESSOR TUCKER OF THE UNIVERSITY. The caption of this letter has been assumed, not because the writer cherishes invidious feelings towards the northern or eastern section of the United States. He rejoices, that letters have been cultivated on the banks of the Hudson, and that Irving, Paulding, and Sands, have anticipated the southern people in elevating the mental character of their country, both at home and abroad. The works of Channing and Mrs. Sigourney, have met with some measure of approbation, even from English critics; and whilst writers in foreign countries have welcomed their productions, it is not probable that in any part of America, such productions would be received with disdain. Nor is it my intention to exclude from our warmest wishes, those portions of the country which may lie more to the south than Virginia. We are sensible of the fact, that Dr. Ramsay devoted his life not only to condensing information contained in voluminous writers, but partially to original works in historical literature. The intellectual character of Grimke was one which the writer esteemed, and the conductors of the Southern Review will not soon be surpassed in erudition. The parliamentary speakers of South Carolina have been equalled only by men of the first order, and her soldiers were early in the field when our independence was to be achieved. The question then can be promptly answered, why a title to this letter has been fixed on, so sectional in its nature. It has been chosen for no other purpose than to give distinctness to our views, to prevent needless details, and to keep steadily in sight the object at which we aim. With these preliminary remarks, permit me, respectfully, to engage your attention for a few minutes on the illustration of the following points: 1st. Has Virginia such a literature as she is under obligations to possess? 2d. Are the means within her reach, of improving her indigenous literature? 3d. Would the benefits of literature repay her for the time and expense which would be involved in its attainment? On the first question, the position is assumed that the State is under obligations to possess a literature of the highest grade; and upon this assumption the question must be answered in the negative. However mortifying the confession, truth declares that we have no such literature. When assaulted by foreign critics, we might be induced to soften the asperity of their representations by any circumstances that might serve to extenuate our negligence; but among ourselves it is noble to acknowledge our short-comings. It is not intended, however, to say-that mind has not been active in this State-that beneficent works and useful schemes have not been undertaken by its influencethat jurisprudence has not been studied-that the heights of political wisdom have not been scaled-that every department of professional life has not been reputably filled-that academies, colleges, and universities, have not been founded and endowed. These statements are capable of proof, and not one in the sisterhood of our confederacy has excelled Virginia in legal acquirement, in political tact, or in forensic or pulpit eloquence. We are evidently in the first stages of literary effort, and large calculations may be made, and sanguine hopes may be indulged, from the fact that we have begun to disperse widely the elements of education. But, at the present, nothing can be more easily demonstrated than the position assumed; for we assert, without the danger of being contradicted, that there is not in existence a history of Virginia worthy of the name. It is true that "Smith's History," is interesting to all who like to contemplate an infant colony, or courage, when brought into contact with savage hordes, or adventure and enterprise equal to any in the annals of chivalry. Its minute and topographical descriptions are valuable; but important events have transpired in two hundred years, to which justice has not yet been done. The same estimate in some respects will apply to Stith, Beverley, and Burk, each of whom undertook a record of events which had taken place in our State. The documents furnished by Marshall are truly valuable; but as the Chief Justice was without doubt the most eminent jurist in America, it could scarcely be expected that he should have been at the same time the most conspicuous historian. But it has been said, that the historians have done all that lay in their power with the events; and that when imposing events shall be furnished, they will be recorded in an imposing way. That august actions serve to inspire the writer who is employed in their contemplation, we hold to be selfevident; nor is it possible that events, diminutive in themselves, can become great by the manner in which they are represented. It is the province of the essay ist to play with those on-dits which so often ruffle a superficial society, to depict the caprices of fashion, and to catch the lights and shades which glide over the manners of the people. But the pencil of the historian encircles the commonwealth, and finds distant causes at work among diversified passions, whilst the causes and the consequences demand dignity of description. Is it then reduced to a certainty, that our commonwealth is totally destitute of materials suited to one of those glowing historical memorials, from the perusal of which our legislators, jurists, and planters, might rise with augmented wisdom? So far from this, we seriously doubt whether Livy, in describing the foundations of Rome, was possessed of materials better adapted to history, than those which have long been inviting the attention of our men of letters. Our origin is not obscure. We are not dependent on marvellous circumstances to excite the wonder of the multitude. It demands no credulity from the people; but, as the Indians believed that the Spaniards who first visited this continent, came from the sun, so our origin, historically speaking, is transparent as the light. Our settlement here is interwoven with the history of England; but no writer of Virginia has ever explored with minuteness the causes, which were at work in the parent country to produce the colonization of America. But though the connection between England and Virginia be so intimate, it is clear that no one but a native of our soil would be competent to write our annals. The face of the country is different. The modes of society-our domestic relations-our civic arrangements-our language, and our laws, though derived from England, have been modified by circumstances which have introduced a contrast. But especially in treating of those events in which we were brought into conflict with the mother country, we could not look for impartiality from any historian whose mind was biased by foreign political institutions. Ex-president Jefferson was of opinion that Botta's History of the Revolution was the best which had been written. Botta certainly adopted the classical writers in this department as his models, and he admired the Italian republics; but his style is remarkably irksome. But allowing this to be the best record yet given of the revolution, this by no means proves it to be the best which may be given, or which ought to be given. The field of competition is still open, and that Virginian will deserve the laurel crown who shall first celebrate the national deeds of which our State was the cradle, in that kind of melodious language which the muse of history is wont to inspire. He will deserve a plaudit as warm as patriotism has power to utter, who will display, in its true lights, the character of James I. of England, of Powhatan, of Opechancanough, and Pocahontas. That females have filled a large space in history, is evident from the bare mention of Zenobia, Boadicea, Cleopatra, Christina, Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, the Maid of Orleans, and Lady Jane Grey. Some of these individuals, however, have been stained with crimes at which the heart revolts. But a purer and more disinterested character does not exist in history, than our own Indian princess; and to her benignity are we indebted for those broad lands which we occupy-for those rivers on which are seated the marts of our commerce-and for those homes which are chained in serene captivity to mountains, which were once the barriers of her own imperial principality. But it is not my intention so much to descant on the variety of our materials, as to remark that those materials are at present in an immature state. In the same crude condition, precisely, were the facts and documents which relate to the discovery of America, until Irving collated and arranged them, and threw over them the fascination of his style. The author of the British Spy contemplated at one time the preparing of a Virginia Plutarch. This work, though biographical, would, from the lives of those entitled to a place in it, have partaken very much of the nature of a political history. And, indeed, from the present attitude of things in our State, it is to be feared that some time will elapse before politics and literature will be divorced. We mean to say that politicians may, to some partial extent, be men of letters; but that there is no necessity why men of letters should desecrate their calling by becoming politicians. The talent displayed in the "Letters of Curtius" might have been turned to an important account, in some other department than politics; but, in that department, the feelings of the author became absorbed in the ardor and exaggeration of the partisan. Politics are so much in vogue among us, that if an individual is to be chosen, on any occasion, to address our colleges or universities, the uniform inquiry is, has he been a member of congress, or a foreign ambassador, or a secretary of state? If so, he will answer our purpose exactly; when, at the same time, the retired scholar who makes academical learning an object of generous pursuit, might be much more apt to confer honor on the institution to which the appointing power appertains. We further take occasion to say, that in our colleges belleslettres chairs are either not founded, or, if founded, are considered as subordinate to those of political economy. The object of the belles-lettres, however, is not to reduce strong sense, but to give it the amount of polish which it may be able to sustain, and to adapt the style of mental execution to that field of intellect, in which we may be called to act, whether parliamentary, or forensic, or in ecclesiastical and popular assemblies. Goldsmith has remarked of himself, that his taste was literary rather than scientific; but this statement may be reversed in application to Virginia, for hitherto our taste has been utilitarian rather than ornamental. It is a question, however, whether we have thought sufficiently of the various uses to which elegant literature may be applied. We are aware, that many have spoken in disparaging terms of this species of attainment, and no one more contemptuously than the late Robert Hall of England. As a counterpoise, however, to such distinguished authority, permit me to say that the mind of Hall was decidedly classical and mathematical. He could not, therefore, be a competent judge, because he was a stranger to that luxuriant literature which arose out of the middle ages. In this department he was satisfied with gleanings, and cannot, for this reason, be ranked among sturdy reapers. His opinions, consequently, are of no more account than the opinions of any other would be, about the complex figures and the beautiful diagrams of the mathematics, who had never advanced beyond the knowledge of fractions. Polite literature is not at all inferior to science, in the point of its infinitude. It has a multitude of vales-the flowers of which wave in the inspiration of the muses-and a multitude of heights, on which imagination is burning at all times its fragrant and inexhaustible incense. It would be needless to prosecute inquiry into other departments of our literature. If history has not advanced beyond the simplest annals, it is not probable that other branches have been more extensively or success sal. It has arisen doubtless from a predilection for every thing appertaining to the country from which we have so legitimately derived our descent. Attempts have been made to introduce a preference for the authors of France; but they have pre-eminently failed. The fully pursued. It is nothing but justice, however, to |for more than two centuries. The influence of Hume say that several works have been written by Virginians, has been astonishing in forming the opinions of young which have no special connection with the State. "Lee's men, especially barristers, throughout this State; and Memoirs of the War in the Southern Department," can this is the more to be wondered at, when we recollect interest Virginia very little more than as she is a mem-that republican views of government have been univerber of our confederacy. Had it been left in a finished form, it is certain that "Lee's Life of Napoleon," would have been thest work of the kind ever written by a Virginian. Your views and mine coincide precisely in the estimate you have given of this history, in your treatise on "American Literature;" but the work is dis-English literature is easy of attainment; it is highly figured by attempts to seek points of unessential discrepancy with Sir Walter Scott. It would seem as if he thought that the baronet stood in his way, and that it was necessary to kill him, on the same principle that some Indian chief must be sacrificed, that his antagonist may become possessed of the ornaments which made his rival so conspicuous. But Henry Lee was not the man to fall heir to the mental wealth of Sir Walter Scott. In his controversy with ex-president Jefferson we can overlook acrimony, because it seems to be an ingredient in political excitement; but in literature it is important to keep clear of feuds. The feuds between Pope and Addison, Byron, Bowles, and Southey, have created a blemish in their lives. But in these remarks let no one indulge the suspicion that we intend to depreciate Virginia. She has been the parent of great men. The qualities of Lycurgus and Alfred were more than combined in the father of this country-and we have seen Sir Matthew Hale in the person of Chief Justice Marshall-and the sage of Montpelier may well be compared with any of the ancient lawgivers But it is in vain we inquire for our Miltons, and Bacons, and Spensers, and Johnsons, and Addisons, and Petrarchs, and Dantes. "We may call spirits from the vasty deep But will they come when you do call for them?" They will not-and the reason is obvious, because they have never been here; and illustrious shades are not accustomed to appear even under the spells of the imagination, unless they come to receive the award bestowed by posterity on their works. It must be conceded, however, that the people of Virginia have had a huge wilderness to reclaim, and men are not apt to be take themselves to refined pursuits, whilst engaged in executing works of utility. Two centuries ago, and that which is now Virginia was the land of Powhatan. Between our colonization and the present time has intervened the revolution, which agitated to an unusual degree the minds of men. This was a period in which philosophical and literary leisure yielded to that gigantic action which was necessary, before glades could be hewed out in the wilderness, to be filled by the large and brilliant forms of civil, political, and religious liberty. But in relation to our literature, the prospect may be more pleasing than the retrospect. We shall proceed to a few suggestions on the second interrogatory: Has Virginia the means within her reach of improving her indigenous literature? To this question we shall return an affirmative answer. The Virginians have hitherto been lovers of English literature, and it was perfectly natural that their taste should have taken this direction. English history, jurisprudence, politics and manners, have been subjects of study cornucopian in its nature, and blends itself naturally with all our mental associations. And if we must relinquish the hope of raising a literature of our own, we know of no country that could supply us with better models than England. There are gaps in the line of her kings, but there are none in the line of her poets; and the muses were more propitious when Cromwell ruled, than when Alfred reigned. Then Milton presided over the national lyre; and from the volume of melody which his hand dispersed among the nations, eventually descended the form of freedom to ransom in our deserts the captives of the English monarchy. As Virginians, we care but little for the vulgar greatness of any English king; but we cherish a filial reverence for England, because she has been the mother of arts, of law, of learning, of statesmen, philosophers, and poets. It would be superfluous to speak of her philosophers, and what they have accomplished-or of her statesmen, and of that wide arena on which they have so often contended; or of her artists, and those productions which they have suspended in the gallery of the world. The fountain of poetry excavated by Chaucer, and colored with Italian hues, has flowed among all her shires, gladdening her obscurest hamlets, and ennobling her imperial cities. But the perfection of English literature should not divert attention from the incipient state of our own, and to that point we will return. It has been made a question, whether men of letters ought to select subjects at home or subjects abroad. At first, Milton thought that his own country would have yielded him a theme for that song which he had promised to distant ages, but the muses overruled his determination. They saw, that even the best materials of English history could furnish no foundation broad enough to sustain the superstructure he designed to rear. For this reason they transferred his meditations to the vicinity of the Persian gulf, where they opened to his footsteps the leaved gates of Eden, and there he completed a picture, to the perfection of which the world contributed its multitude of rural sights. It is one of the fables of antiquity that the city of Thebes, from rude materials, was charmed into proportion by the lyre of Orpheus; but it is no fable, that from the leaves and herbs, the rills and minerals of Eden, Milton reared a temple in which innocence might worship. Among the elementary disclosures of the book of Genesis, his imagination planted its watchtower; and he drew around him the rarest objects to augment the beauty of Paradise. Every rural sound known to the ear of earth, murmured among the chords of his harp; whilst before the tide of its glowing eloquence, all trees and herbs became warm with animation. The plants that shiver in the Arctic zone were obedient to its call, as well as those gorgeous flowers |