From the Reader. RECENT POETRY, AMERICAN AND ENGLISH. Lyra Americana: Hymns of Praise and Faith from American Poets. (The Religious Tract Society.) Versions and Verses. By Charles Dexter. (Cambridge, Massachusetts: Sever & Francis.) Claudia. By Mrs. Frederic Prideaux. Village Bells, Lady Gwendoline, and other IF America can claim no great poem, she possesses the materials for a most respectable anthology. In sweet and unpretending lyrics her literature is singularly rich, and the religious verse she has given us during the few years of her activity may rank with that which England has produced during a corresponding period. Reading the "Lyra Americana " we are struck with the very small portion of its contents, amounting to less than one-fifth of the whole, which is contributed by the few American poets who have made themselves a name in England. Mrs. Sigourney is most adequately represented, eight of her poems being given. Long fellow and Lowell contribute each three poems, and W. C. Bryant and Mrs. Stowe four. Whittier is responsible for five, and Oliver Wendell Holmes for one only. The rest of the volume is due to authors whose names, at least, as poets are unfamiliar to us, but many of whom are gifted with considerable powers. The versification is as a rule correct, and some force of poetic expression is at times discernible. Among the best of the more obscure contributors are J. W. Alexander, W. H. Burleigh, Sarah F. Adams, and Jones Very. The "Nearer my God, to thee" of Miss Adams is already popular in this country, though we were unaware of the name of its author. The following, by Mrs. Stowe, is very happy in expression, and may be deemed fairly representative of what is best in the volume: When winds are raging o'er the upper ocean, Far, far beneath, the noise of tempest dieth, So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest, Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth, And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully, And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er he flieth, Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee. O, rest of rests! O, peace serene, eternal! The following poem is more vigorous in ex- Fling out the Banner! let it float The wonder of the love divine. Fling out the Banner! Heathen lands Fling out the Banner! Let it float Our only hope the Crucified. Fling out the Banner! Wide and high, The volume is a pleasant addition to our With the modest title of "Versions and Verses " Mr. Dexter puts forth a volume of poetry of much more than average merit. sists of translations from the German lyrical The principal portion of its contents conpoets. A few original poems at the end are chiefly on subjects connected with angling. In no branch is our literature so deficient as in that which Mr. Dexter has cultivated. We have no instance we can deem success ful of translations into English of the lyrical treasures of another language. Here and there we meet with a single poem rendered with spirit and fidelity witness one or two versions from Goethe by Scott or Theodore Martin, and a few translations from Heine by Mr. George Macdonald; but all attempts at a series of translation must be deemed failures, and the volumes of Bulwer, Martin, and Aytoun are no exception to the rule. The attributes of the versions of Mr. Dexter which particularly arrest the attention are ease and delicacy. They have this excellent quality: they read like original poems, and not like translations. We cannot affirm that Mr. Dexter has not been successful in his effort, but he has failed only where failure seems inevitable. He can reproduce in English all except what is most precious in the lyrics he translates. Metre, music, humour, pathos, are all preserved, but the subtle and poetical spirit escapes. To take his versions of Heine. By the side of the only existing translations of the collected poems,* Mr. Dexter's verses show to great advantage, and it needs a reference to the original to see that what is most characteristic, weird, or fanciful in Heine's profoundly original poetry has evaporated: Knew the tender little flowers Of the wound deep in my heart, She has rent my heart in twain ! The version contained in the English translation referred to above runs as follows: O, if the tiny flowers But knew of my wounded heart, Their tears, like mine, in showers Would fall, to cure the smart. If knew the nightingales only That I'm so mournful and sad, "The Poems of Heine; Complete, Translated in the Original Metres." By Edgar Alfred Bowring. (Bolin's Standard Library.) In these two renderings the merit of poetry is on the side of Mr. Dexter, but that of fidelity must be ascribed to his predecessor. Turning to the original, we find the first stanza, literally translated, runs as follows: "And if the flowers, the good little flowers, knew how deeply my heart is wounded, they would shed in my wound the balm of their perfumes." In both versions the beauty of the idea is lost. In that of Mr. Dexter it is not easy to see how the flowers weeping would impart comfort; and in the other, the "tears falling to cure the smart" is weak, expressionless, and commonplace. Similarly, in the third stanza, Mr. Dexter misses the point in Heine, which is, if the stars ("golden," and not "meek-eyed ") knew of the bitterness of his grief, they would quit their places in heaven to come and minister comfort to him. In other attempts to render Heine in English the same imperfectness is noticeable. The translations from A. Grün and from Uhland are the best, and those from Bürger the least successful. Occasionally exceeding inelegant and incorrect words are introduced for the sake of forcing a rhyme. Witness the first stanza of Bürger's "Leonore : ” SIR, LYRA AMERICANA. To the Editor of THE READER. From The Examiner, NAPOLEON QUIESCENT. A GREAT change has certainly come over the political habits of Napoleon the Third. Some years back he evinced great eagerness to meet his brother sovereigns. He besought personal interviews, and went out of his way to find them. He was fond of congresses, conventions, diplomatic meetings, which used to set the world a talking. The Emperor seems by this time to have become blasé. He no longer seems to think that there is anything either to learn or to enjoy in personal converse with his brother sovereigns. He no longer seeks their concert, or cares for their visits. He goes to Arenenberg, and whilst they are not far off at Gastein disposing of provinces and empires, Napoleon is lost in forming reminiscences, and in the enjoyment of sentiment and solitude. In a review of the "Lyra Americana in THE READER for Oct. 21, the name of Sarah F. Adams is given among the contributors to that volume, and the reviewer adds: "The Nearer, my God, to Thee' of Miss Adams is already popular in this country, though we were unaware of the name of its author." Permit me, as a friend of the late Sarah Flower Adams, to explain who she really was. Although she bad American relations, she was herself an English woman, and, so far as I know, she never visited America in her life. She was the younger daughter of Mr. Benjamin Flower, of Harlow, in Essex, the editor of the Cambridge Intelligencer, a man well known in the days of Hardy and Horne Tooke for his sturdy republicanism. She was married to Mr. W. Bridges Adams in 1834, and died in 1848. Her hymn, "Nearer, my It may be that he has seen and judged God, to Thee," was one of twelve which his brother sovereigns, and does not require she contributed to the collection of Hymns to know any more about them. It is reportand Anthems" published in 1842 by C. Fox ed that the other day, at Biarritz, where (67 Paternoster Row), and edited by the von Bismark had gone for the purpose of late W. J. Fox, for the use of the congrega- either conciliating or tempting Napoleon the tion of South Place Chapel, Moorfields. Third, Napoleon observed that he thought She also wrote several tales and poems the King of Prussia was far too young for (signed S. Y.") in the Monthly Repository, him. during the years 1833-36; and, some years In a word, the prosperous Emperor has later, she contributed occasional poetical turned philosopher, and clearly expatiates notices and criticisms to the Westminster on the vanity of human wishes. He has Review. I remember one of these, on The gained a brilliant throne, subdued, as AlexPoems of Elizabeth Barrett," which was ander did Bucephalus, a most spirited peosigned "S. F. A.," and which must have ple, by turning their regard from the sun to appeared about 1844 or 1845. But her the shade. He has been a conqueror in the greatest literary effort was a dramatic poem, field. nay, in the classic fields of Lombardy, called "Vivia Perpetua," founded on the and has written a book, which nobody feels martyrdom of St. Perpetua. (This was bold enough to censure. He has had, in published in 1841, by C. Fox.) It mani- fact, prosperity enough to disenchant any fests all the religious fervour of her hymns, one. And his aim seems to be repose. His with the addition of dramatic genius and an policy is certainly a serious effort to withintellectual power rarely to be found in fe- draw from vast enterprises and perilous pomale poetry: sitions, to evacuate Rome, and leave Mexico to itself. What the Emperor strives is, as the French say, de tirer son épingle du jeu, to quit the great political gaming table, and no longer throw dice for crowns and provinces. 66 Nearly all Mrs. Adams's lyrics (including "Nearer, my God, to Thee") have been set to music by her sister, the late Eliza Flower, in her" Songs of the Seasons," Songs of the Months," " Hymns and Anthems," &c., &c. It may be worth while to correct an- Such at least is the appearance, with the other misapprehension which I have some- language. Is it time, is it time? We will times encountered, and which has arisen not swear that it is, nor undertake to say very naturally from the coincidence of names. I will therefore add that those two sisters were not the Eliza and Sarah Flower so well-known as English vocalists, some years ago. Yours respectfully, SOPHIA DOBSON COLLET. London, October 23, 1865. that it is not. The Emperor does not despair, indeed, of getting the frontier of the Rhine as far as Mayence. But his policy is to get it without war. Prussia, which has swallowed Slesvig, could certainly not say him nay. Austria has always shown itself reckless about trans-Rhenish provinces. England, who opposed only in word the transference of Savoy and of Slesvig, would not go to war for the Bavarian Palatinate. Even that, however, could only be annexed to France at the moment of a break up and a war in Germany. That this is on the cards who can doubt? Everything there looks like the prelude to a scramble. A morsel having fallen, Austria and Prussia struggled for it, and Prussia carried it off, Austria being determined to be more alert the next time. A short time must elapse in tha tesselated country before new frag. ments will fall out of that shaky old fabric, the Confederation. The scramble will begin again, and France may then condescend to pick up the prize on which she has long fixed her regards. It is thus we would interpret the conversation which has just taken place between the Prussian Minister and the French Emperor at Biarritz. France and England made their respective observations on the appropriation of Slesvig in identical language, which plainly impugns the right of Prussia to keep that province. Bismark does not come to England to expostulate. It would be idle. But he goes to France, and can have said, "You have taken Savoy, why should we not take Slesvig?" It would be easy to point out the difference between the two cases. But if such precedents are to be quoted, where is the security for any possession in Europe? The entire of it is at the mercy of the strong. Wherefore it is the interest of dynasties at the present moment to base their tenure of power and lands, if not on hereditary property, at least on the choice of the people. Other wise there is a double door open for destruction, that of military enterprise and that of popular insurrection. To obviate one or the other is not always possible. For armies levied from the people partake in some measure of the people's feelings, and the multitude of soldiers may one day be found to be nothing but an armed democracy. The King of Prussia may have no idea of this. Napoleon the Third must be fully aware of it. From the Saturday Review. THE EARLY QUAKERS. * *The Fells of Swarthmoor Hall and their Friends, with an Account of their Ancestor, Anne Askew the Martyr. A Portraiture of Religi ous and Family Life in the Seventeenth Century, compiled chiefly from Original Letters and other Documents, ever before published. By Maria Webb. London: A. W. Bennett. 1865. WE do not know what either the writer or the subjects of this volume would say to our confession that, before we opened it, we set it down as a novel. "The Fells of Swarthmoor Hall"-the only portion of the above long title-page which appears outside - had a romantic sound about it. The " Fells" might either be rocks or men, but in either case our carnal mind looked for a story. On opening the volume we saw our mistake. The Fells are a family of that name, and Swarthmoor Hall is no creation of romance, but a genuine English manor-house, in which the Fells dwelt. It is situated in the district of Furness, that detached part of Lancashire which looks as if it ought naturally to belong to Cumberland. Swarthmoor had been part of the possessions of Furness Abbey, but in the middle of the seventeenth century belonged to Thomas Fell, called Judge Fell. His principal judicial office (for he held several) was that of one of the Judges of North Wales and Chester. He married Margaret Askew, described as a descendant of Anne Askew the martyr. Margaret became a Quaker, and, after her husband's death, she married George Fox, the apostle of her sect. The history of the Fell family thus becomes closely connected, or rather identical, with the early history of the Society of Friends. To members of that Society the book must have all the charm of a martyrology. To the ordinary reader it is apt to get wearisome in parts, for of course no special interest is felt in the Fells as Fells, but only so far as their doings and sufferings throw any light on the history of the time. To the author the book is in every way creditable. She naturally writes as a partisan, and is anxious to make the best case she can for her own people. But she never falls into the least degree of cant or extravagance. Dealing, as she does, with the saints and heroes of her own persuasion, she has the good sense to keep her admiration within the bounds of discretion. Impartiality we do not look for in such a case, but it is something to find a book on such a subject which never becomes silly or offensive. It I would be well if ecclesiastical biography had always been written in as rational and moderate a style. Two or three recent books have called some degree of attention to the present state of "people called Quakers." It is not long since a prize was offered, we forget by whom, for the best essay on the causes of their religious decay. The Society then, we suppose, is, by the admission of its own most zealous members, confessedly fallen from its first 66 THE EARLY QUAKERS. 425 love. Such a fall is not to be wondered at. | she had reached the age of fifty-five. The Quakerism, as a theological system, consists elder and the younger Barclay, the soldier mainly in the refusal to conform to certain and the scholar, were proselytes still more practices which other sects of Christians look honourable, and the fame of William Penn on as always innocent, and in some cases is known to all men. A system which such obligatory. The Quaker sees deadly sins people adopted could not have been so in various legal and social usages which do irrational as it looks to us at first sight. To not trouble the conscience of anybody else. be sure, as Lord Macaulay says, Fox prophHe objects to all religious ceremonies, even esied nonsense, and Barclay translated it to those two Sacraments which Christians of into sense; but there must have been someall other ways of thinking hold to be of di- thing more than one sees at first to make vine appointment. But the very denial of such a man as Barclay undertake such an ceremony has itself become ceremonial. office. Were men so utterly sick of the Other people take off their hats and say disputes of Popes, Bishops, and Presbyters, you," as a matter of course, without think- of controversies about transubstantiation ing about it, and without any consciousness and consubstantiation, that they were ready that they are performing a ceremony. The to seek refuge in a system which relieved Quaker, who makes a conscience of wearing them from such questions even at the cost of his hat and saying "thou," is the real cere- giving up all priesthood and all sacraments mony-monger. If it really be true that a whatsoever? However this be, we have Quaker and his wife, when at a distance the fact that Quakerism, a system now purefrom any other of the faithful, hold a re- ly stagnant, did then make many proselytes, ligious meeting by sitting for a while in and many of them proselytes of whom no their own dining-room, hatted, bonnetted, religious communion need be ashamed. But and silent, we can only say that such a this proselytizing spirit made a wide difsystem does, in point of attachment to cere- ference between Quakers then and Quakers mony, fairly beat anything devised by now. The Quakers now are the most monks, Pharisees, or Brahmins. Quaker- harmless of sects. Their peculiarites hurt ism, no doubt, in its first estate, had other nobody, and they are now so familiar that elements in it besides these negative ones we hardly laugh at them. They are the But these negative usages are what most last sect whom anybody would wish to perforcibly strike the outsider, and it is hardly secute. When Mr. Froude has at last possible but that the ordinary Quaker must, made up his mind who are the right people to say the least, lie under a great temptation to burn, we feel sure that the inoffensive to prefer them to the weightier matters of wearers of broad brims and close bonnets the Law. A system of which doctrines of will still be quite safe. The law has long this kind form, at all events, a prominent looked on them with special tenderness, portion, is apt, when it becomes at all dead, and has rewarded their inflexible obstinacy to become very dead indeed. with exceptional privileges. lytizing Quakers must have been quite another sort of people. They were essentially men who turned the world upside down. Papists and Protestants, Churchmen and Dissenters, chose to break one another's heads about their several dogmas, but there was nothing that really need have hindered them from joining together in the ordinary business and intercourse of life. But the Quaker was like an early Christian among a nation of worshippers of Jupiter. Every action, every word, of daily life, public or private, contained something to offend him. A man who went over to such a sect cut himself off from the rest of mankind far more completely than if he simply went wrong about Justification by Faith or the jurisdiction of Bishops. And, in those days, the Quakers made it their duty not only to abstain from what they thought wrong, but to protest against those who thought otherwise. In such a record as the one before us, The early Quakers were no doubt widely different, and that their system had some thing attractive about it is plain from the fact that they made proselytes in abundance. Nowadays we hear of people turning Quakers about as often as we hear of their turning Jews. Indeed, we are not sure whether modern Quakerism has so much as a solitary Lord George Gordon to boast of. It was very different in the seventeenth century. Mad as George Fox seems to us, mad as he probably was, his teaching was acepted by people who certainly were not mad. It was accepted by several clergymen, both Episcopal and Presbyterian, who gave up their preferments to embrace a system which knocked every sort of priestly privilege on the head. It was accepted by men and women of good position and of otherwise rational behaviour. Margaret Fell herself gives no sign of lunacy, unless it be in marrying her prophet when But prose |