We confess that we regarded the first announcement of this rara avis with an evil and suspicious eye. The thing was improbable, we thought. Mr. Reynolds was quizzing us—the brothers Harper were hoaxed—and Messieurs Anthon and Co. were mistaken. At all events we had made up our minds to be especially severe upon Mr. Glass, and to put no faith in that species of classical Latin which should emanate from the back woods of Ohio. We now solemnly make a recantation of our preconceived opinions, and so proceed immediately to do penance for our unbelief.
Mr. Reynolds is entitled to the thanks of his countrymen for his instrumentality in bringing this book before the public. It has already done wonders in the cause of the classics; and we are false prophets if it do not ultimately prove the means of stirring up to a new life and a regenerated energy that love of the learned tongues which is the surest protection of our own vernacular language from impurity, but which, we are grieved to see, is in a languishing and dying condition in the land.
We have read Mr. R's preface with great attention; and meeting with it, as we have done, among a multiplicity of worldly concerns, and every-day matters and occurrences, it will long remain impressed upon our minds as an episode of the purest romance. We have no difficulty in entering fully with Mr. Reynolds into his kindly feelings towards Mr. Glass. We perceive at once that we could have loved and reverenced the man. His image is engraven upon our fancy. Indeed we behold him now—at this very moment—with all his oddities and appurtenances about him. We behold the low log-cabin of a school-house—the clap-board roof but indifferently tight—the holes, ycleped windows, covered with oiled paper to keep out the air—the benches of hewn timber stuck fast in the ground—the stove, the desk, the urchins, and the Professor. We can hear the worthy pedagogue's classical 'Salves,' and our ears are still tingling with his hyperclassical exhortations. In truth he was a man after our own heart, and, were we not Alexander, we should have luxuriated in being Glass.
A word or two respecting the Latinity of the book. We sincerely think that it has been underrated. While we agree with Mr. Reynolds, for whose opinions, generally, we have a high respect, that the work can boast of none of those elegancies of diction, no rich display of those beauties and graces which adorn the pages of some modern Latinists, we think he has forgotten, in his search after the mere flowers of Latinity, the peculiar nature of that labor in which Mr. Glass has been employed. Simplicity here was the most reasonable, and indeed the only admissible elegance. And if this be taken into consideration, we really can call to mind, at this moment, no modern Latin composition whatever much superior to the Washingtonii Vita of Mr. Glass.
The clothing of modern ideas in a language dead for centuries, is a task whose difficulty can never be fully appreciated by those who have never undertaken it. The various changes and modifications, which, since the Augustan age, have come to pass in the sciences of war and legislation especially, must render any attempt similar to that which we are now criticising, one of the most hazardous and awkward imaginable. But we cannot help thinking that our author has succeeded à merveille. His ingenuity is not less remarkable than his grammatical skill. Indeed he is never at a loss. It is nonsense to laugh at his calling Quakers Tremebundi. Tremebundi is as good Latin as Trementes, and more euphonical Latin than Quackeri—for both which latter expressions we have the authority of Schroeckh: and glandes plumbeæ, for bullets, is something better, we imagine, than Wyttenbach's bombarda, for a cannon; Milton's globulus, for a button; or Grotius' capilamentum, for a wig. As a specimen of Mr. G's Latinity, we subjoin an extract from the work. It is Judge Marshall's announcement in Congress of the death of Washington.
"Nuncius tristis, quem heri accepimus, hodierno die nimium certus advenit. Fuit Washingtonius; heros, dux, et philosophus; ille, denique, quem, imminente periculo, omnes intuebantur, factorum clarorum memoriâ duntaxat vixit. Quamvis enim, eos honore afficere solenne non esset, quorum vita in generis humani commodis promovendis insumpta fuit, Washingtonii, tamen, res gestoe tantoe extiterunt, ut populus universus Americanus, doloris indicium, qui tam latè patet, deposcere suo jure debet."
"Rempublicam hancce nostram, tam longè latèque divisam, unus ferè Washingtonius ordinandi et condendi laudem meret. Rebus omnibus, tandem confectis, quarum causâ exercitibus Americanis proepositus fuerat, gladium in vomerem convertit, bellumque pace lætissimè commutavit. Cum civitatum foederatarum Americanarum infirmitas omnibus manifesta videretur, et vincula, quibus Columbi terra latissima continebatur, solverentur, Washingtonium omnium, qui hancce nostram proeclaram rempublicam stabiliverant, principem vidimus. Cum patria charissima eum ad sedandos tumultus, bellumque sibi imminens ad propulsandum et avertendum, vocaret; Washingtonium, otium domesticum, quod ei semper charum fuit, relinquentem, et undis civilibus, civium commoda et libertatem servandi causâ, mersum, haud semel conspeximus; et consilia, quibus libertatem Americanam stabilem effecerat, perpetua, ut spero, semper, erunt."
"Cum populi liberi magistratus summus bis constitutus esset, cumque tertiò præses fieri facillimè potuisset, ad villam, tamen, suam, secessit, seque ab omni munere civili in posterum procul amoveri, ex animo cupiebat. Utcunque vulgi opinio, quoad alios homines, mutetur, Washingtonii, certè, fama sempiterna et eadem permanebit. Honoremus, igitur, patres conscripti, hunc tantum virum mortuum: civitatum foederatarum Americanarum consilium publicum civium omnium sententias, hác una in re, declaret."
"Quamobrem, chartas quasdam hîc manu teneo, de quibus Congressûs sententiam rogare velim: ut, nempe, civitatum foederatarum Americanarum consilium publicum proesidem visat, simul cum eo, gravi de hoc casu, condoliturum: ut Congressûs principis sella vestibus pullis ornetur; utque Congressus pars reliqua vestibus pullis induatur: utque, denique, idonea à Congressu parentur, quibus planè manifestum fiat, Congressum, virum bello, pace, civiumque animis primum, honore summo afficere velle."1
1 The sad tidings which yesterday brought us, this day has but too surely confirmed. Washington is no more. The hero, the general, the philosopher—he, upon whom, in the hour of danger, all eyes were turned, now lives in the remembrance, only, of his illustrious actions. And although, even, it were not customary to render honor unto those who have spent their lives in promoting the welfare of their fellow men, still, so great are the deeds of Washington, that the whole American nation is bound to give a public manifestation of that grief which is so extensively prevalent.