For the Southern Literary Messenger.
LETTERS FROM NEW ENGLAND—NO. 5.
BY A VIRGINIAN.
Scholars in Virginia are not generally aware, that the classical Greek pronunciation is thought to exist still in Greece; and that (connecting this fact with the close resemblance of the ancient, to some of the modern dialects as written) that rich and elegant language is no longer to be regarded as dead. Thus confidently think two intelligent and accomplished natives of Greece, now in Connecticut, who are reputed (no doubt deservedly) to be thorough masters of both the ancient and the modern tongue. In a gratifying interview with one of them (Mr. Perdicaris at New Haven), being curious to hear Homer in his native melody, I prevailed on Mr. P. to read me a few lines of the Illiad. They were by no means musical to my ear—vitiated, doubtless, by the faulty pronunciation to which I had been accustomed, and destitute of those associated ideas, which conduce so largely to the beauty of poetry. He sounds oi dipthong, like e; d like TH soft; g like a mere aspiration, as our h. The word poluphloisboio ([Greek: poluphloisboio]) so expressively sonorous to our ears when pronounced with the full, swelling roll of the dipthong, he would attenuate into poluphleesbeeo—to me much more like the whistling of the wind through a key-hole, than the hoarse, multitudinous roar of an agitated ocean. I spare you, here, a speculation that is passing in my mind, as to how far this diversity between different ears, proves the notion of the sound's echoing to the sense to be merely fanciful; and as to the influence of previous association upon our relish of poetical, and of other beauty—how much, for example, of the native Greek's rapture at Homer, is owing to love of country, and how much of an American's ecstacies to classical enthusiasm, the pride of learning, or the influence of names. Yes, I spare you—partly, because I have not much that is new to say upon the subject; and partly because, if I had, it would be wholly out of season.
By special invitation, I attended a lecture (one of a series) delivered by Mr. Perdicaris, upon the literary and political history of modern Greece. It was marked by a rich yet chaste imagination, a generous glow of patriotic enthusiasm, and the eloquence which they naturally inspire. You may feel a curiosity, as I did, to know somewhat of the outer man of a modern Greek. Mr. P. is about the middle height, or five feet nine; shoulders broad, and a stout frame; black hair, disposed to curl; large black whiskers, flanking a broad oval face, the complexion whereof is a darkish olive—as dark, at least, as Mr. Webster's. Having been eleven years in this country, he speaks our language fluently and intelligibly: indeed, as is usual with those who learn a foreign tongue from books, and from enlightened native speakers, his English is remarkably pure. A few rhetorical and grammatical faults there were—for instance, "he left Athens" was curtailed (a la Yankee) to "he left." This is a New England-ism not confined to the vulgar: neither is the phrase "he conducted well," for "he conducts himself well;" nor "considerable of a place," for "a considerable place." We hear Yankees of respectable literary pretensions, too, saying shall, where the English idiom certainly requires will; as, "shall you visit Boston during your tour?"1—and clipping the infinitive mood, in a way equally contrary to the good customs of the realm—thus—"I have not written yet, but to-day I intend to." But I am chasing game that is hardly worth the powder.
1 If I mistake not, I have heard Mr. Webster himself use shall in this manner. It is an innovation, sustained by no eminent authority or precedent in England; and is confined, in America, to the north side of the Potomac, if not to the east of the Hudson. With that still grosser affectation, "the house is being built," "a war is being waged," it should be promptly arrested, before it shall have become inseparably mingled in the "well of English undefiled." By the way, this latter refinement prevails more in the south than in the north.
I owe to Mr. P. another intellectual treat: the inspection of an Illiad, edited by Mr. Felton, Professor of Greek at Harvard. Of all the editions that I have examined, this is by far the best adapted to schools; and the most likely to gratify the taste, or to aid the study, of a retired scholar. The character is a fac simile of Porson's M.S. Greek—surpassingly neat, simple, and distinct. The text seems to be given with exemplary fidelity. And it is interspersed with Flaxman's Illustrations; engraved cuts, of all the principal scenes: which, though mere hints of incidents, and too meager outlines of persons, greatly heighten the interest of the work. But its crowning merits, are the Editor's English Preface and Notes. I read the former, and most of the latter—much more, I dare say, than is usually deemed needful for a reviewer. They do Mr. F.'s learning, judgment, taste, feeling, and eloquence, very high honor. He does not make much ado about the trivialities of dialect, quantity, and various readings, like the cumbersome annotators upon the classicks, criticised in the Spectator; nor does he, like "piddling Tibbald," 'celebrate himself for achieving the restoration of a comma,'2 or the correction of an accent. But beauties are pointed out and commented on, with a critical taste and elegance, calculated to make the learner's task a luxury; while difficulties are cleared up with a fulness that leaves little need for oral instruction. The edition is in one volume; and I hope soon to see it supersede the clumsy affair of the too learned Samuel Clarke, which now has such fast foot-hold in our schools.
2 Johnson's Preface to Shakspeare.
You perhaps think it odd, that I have said nothing of the judicial systems of New England; and ascribe it either to my acting on Young Rapid's maxim—"sink the shop, Dad!"—or to my being cloyed with courts at home, and so, loathing them amid the countless attractions of my journey. Neither, neither—be assured. 'Though last, not least'—they have formed a leading subject of my inquiries: and to judge speculatively, as well as from what is told me of their practical operation (which I have had no opportunity to witness) they have some points worth considering, if not imitating.
The judiciary power of Rhode Island is vested in a supreme court, consisting of a chief and two associate justices; and a court of common pleas (composed of five judges) for each of the five counties. All the judges are appointed annually by the legislature. This feature alone suffices to stamp the whole system with insignificance: for what skill in jurisprudence—what independence of popular excitements and party influences—could be expected from judges whom the breath of a party leader can make and unmake, at each year's end? When to this we add, that the chief justice of the supreme court receives a salary of $650, and each associate $550, we need not wonder that no decision of the Rhode Island bench is ever quoted in other states. The governor's salary is $400; the lieutenant governor's, $200. But if, in scantiness of territory and a corresponding scantiness of means, this state is ordained by nature to be the San Marino of America, yet it is purely her own fault if, by the precarious tenure of her judicial offices, she reduces one of the most important departments of mind to the same diminutive scale, and goes far to make herself morally and intellectually also, the insignificant miniature of a commonwealth.