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ART. V. Hyperion; a Romance.

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By the Author of "Outre-Mer." New York: Samuel Colman. 12mo. 2 vols. pp. 213, and 226.

THE Romance of Hyperion must not be judged by the principles of classical composition. It belongs, preeminently, to the Romantic School. The scene is laid in the very

centre of all that is romantic in the land of recollections and ruins of the Middle Ages. It is steeped in the romantic spirit. The language is moulded into the gorgeous forms of Gothic art. The illustrations and comparisons are drawn wholly from the sphere of romantic literature. In tender and profound feeling, and in brilliancy of imagery, the work will bear a comparison with the best productions of romantic fiction, which English literature can boast. Some tastes will be offended by the luxuriance of the language, and the brocaded aspect which it cccasionally presents. A mind educated in exclusive admiration of the ancient classics, or in the modern schools formed upon their principles, may naturally be displeased with many things which occur in "Hyperion." We are ourselves by no means insensible to the force of strictures, which may be made upon it. But we remember, on the other hand, that nature is limited to no age or country; and art may select from the whole range of nature those objects which suit her purposes, whether they have been handled by the ancient masters or not, provided she do not transcend the limits of morality on the one side, nor sink to the region of common place, on the other. "Hyperion" must be judged wholly with reference to this view. The term romance has probably misled a great many readers. We have been accustomed to expect, in a work bearing this title, a prodigious amount of diabolical mysteries, trap-doors without number, subterranean dungeons, and the clanking of chains; fortunate, if we escaped with half a dozen ghosts, to say nothing of wizards and enchanters. Mailed knights, and dragon-guarded ladies, are also quite necessary ingredients in the genuine mixture called a romance. "Hyperion" is no romance of this description. Its quiet, delicate, and beautiful pictures contrast with the terrific scenes of old romance, like a soft, autumnal scene, compared with the landscape swept by the tropical hurricane.

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In simplicity of plan, "Hyperion" is also distinguished from what a romance is commonly understood to be. The action, if action it may be called, is carried on by as few personages as that of an ancient Greek drama. Nor are there any heroic achievements, which transcend the vigor of mortal arm; no battles astound us with their din, or shock us with their bloodshed. Why, then, is the book called a romance? The answer to this question is intimated in the remark we have already made; because its materials, thoughts, feelings, scenery, and illustration, are drawn from the regions of romantic sentiment and poetry. Two paths lay open to the author. He might have constructed a romance, which should have represented the romantic ages in their living reality. He might have gone back a few centuries, summoned the old knights from their tombs, repeopled the ruined castles of the Rhine, and told a tale of love, such as the passion was felt in the olden time. But this would have been a work of a more artificial character than the present. It would have had less connexion with the feelings and aspirations of the present age; it would have been less a part of life, and an outpouring of the heart. The other course was the one which the author has followed. He has represented his hero under all the influences of the romantic age, which a man of modern times may be supposed to feel. In order to give him the greatest impressibility, he has conceived him as a person of delicately-strung nerves, of a poetical cast of mind, and as a day-dreamer. Add to this, he is an American, and a man of sorrows. He is a lover of the Middle Ages; and the more earnest and profound in his love for them, from the fact, that he comes from the New World. This hero, with all his delicate sensibilities, his poetical reveries, his quick feeling of the beauties of natural scenery, and his familiar acquaintance with the storied past, he places in the very heart of the region of old romance. He is a traveller and a student. His memory is peopled with the tales and legends of the Rhine; he sees, in the mighty ruins of the Middle Ages, noble monuments of a glorious and poetical period, and his heart beats with rapture in the contemplation of them. There is something striking in the mode by which the author has reconciled the demands of the past, and those of the present; in his delicate adaptation of the character of his hero to the impression, which it was desirable that the romantic scenes

and monuments around him should produce, and the picture which he proposed to give. We are carried back to the illusions of the past, and yet we never desert the familiar present. We see the poetry and architecture of the romantic ages visibly mirrored in a modern mind; and yet that modern mind is such as may naturally be formed by the peculiar circumstances, and the heavy sufferings, which the author represents it to have passed through.

The passions which are unfolded in the course of the story are conducted upon the same principle. There is no modern complication of plot; there are no petty difficulties and entanglements, such as impede the progress of most modern heroes. There is a tale of love; but it is so taken out of the ordinary accompaniments of that passion, that it seems to belong more to a past and distant age than to the present. The passion remains; but it is so surrounded with the halo of poetry, and the recollections of other times, that its connexion with the real life of to-day, is like that of a cloud picture in the distant horizon, with the landscape of the solid earth beneath it. To keep up the consistency of the representation, the love-tale is one of unrequited passion. Thus the dreamy character, which ought to mark a literary work blending present realities and past illusions, is preserved throughout. This would have been interrupted, had the sober happiness of modern matrimony been allowed to close the scene. We should at once have stepped down from the fantastic heights of the Middle Ages, to the prosaic level of modern prosperity. The illusion would have been broken; the dream would have been over; and, instead of an uninterrupted picture of the poetical features of chivalrous ages, - warmed by the fire of passion, which is felt in all times, the imagination would have been forcibly led away to bridal favors, and domestic bliss, and household cares; things very excellent in their way, but which form no suitable conclusion to a gorgeous dream, like that of "Hyperion."

There are a few points, already alluded to, which deserve a more particular consideration. The first is the suitableness of the style to the scenes described. The scenery, we have said, is wholly of the romantic character; and the language, descriptive of such scenery, should be such as to awaken romantic associations, and no other, if possible. Now, the English language has two elements, each of which

predominates with a particular class of writers. In Johnson's time, the only models of composition were the ancient classics and the modern French. The Latin element of our language was then most in favor. Dr. Johnson's sesquipedalian verbosity had spread far and wide, and had a great weight of literary authority on its side. But the old ballad poetry of England had already begun to be studied, and was slowly working a revolution in the poetical style, and through that in the literary style generally. The sources of the language were explored, and the elder literature of England, — the dramatic, as well as the ballad poetry, and the glorious swan-like dirge of chivalry, the "Fairy Queen" of Spenser, awakened a feeling of fresh delight in the English heart. In short, the old romantic tincture, the Saxon coloring, which had been stamped on English literature ages before, began to reappear, and the cumbrous phraseology of Johnson and his imitators was laid aside for a style more akin to the original genius of the language. The palimpsest was freed from foreign matter and the old characters were restored.

It cannot be denied, that the most expressive and picturesque and national parts of our complicated language are the remains of the Anglo-Saxon. They speak the wants of the national heart; they recall the imagery that surrounded the national childhood; they carry us back to the associations, which blend with all our recollections of departed days; they touch the deepest chords of English feeling, and draw from them the readiest response, and the most powerful harmonies. They take us back to the rude old Saxon times, and the romantic manners, of the Middle Ages. Now, it is precisely this element which is most suitable to a romance, and especially one whose scenes are laid in Germany; and a careful examination of the style of "Hyperion," will show that this old Saxon element predominates in it to a very remarkable degree. And it is this element that makes the style so picturesque. The scenery of the Rhine, and the old ruins of the castles, stand in living light before the reader's eye, and are repeopled with the dim and dusky forms, conjured up from the romantic past. And the romantic legends, and old catholic usages, reappear, and convent bells are heard, and Gothic architecture is reinvested with all its hallowed associations. It would be difficult, we fancy, to find a book

more remarkable for this picturesque character than "Hyperion."

Another point deserving of more particular remark, is the literary criticism contained in the book. The author's mind and heart are full of the poetical literature of Germany; and he writes about it with the eloquence and enthusiasm of a lover. The criticisms, which he puts into the mouth of his hero, are plainly his own; and, without adopting them for ours, we hold it but justice to say, that they are marked by a clearness and warmth, which indicate a sagacious head as well as a sympathizing heart. This love of German literature has given a German tincture to the whole book, which is far from being out of keeping with its general scope and aim. We do not perceive, that the mistiness and obscurity, which are the besetting sin of German authors, have spread over the radiant pictures of "Hyperion" ; on the contrary, the author more than once takes occasion to reprove the supersublimated nonsense of the Transcendentalists. But it cannot be denied, that the sentimental feelings, which belong more to German than to English poetry, are perceptible in the general tone of the work; and that this sentimentality occasionally transcends the bounds of English reserve. Nor are we prepared to vindicate the tone of expression in every case. We would by no means hold up Hyperion" as a model of style for our countrymen. With all its excellences, it has defects, splendida vitia, — which, in any attempt at imitation, would degenerate into intolerable faults. With this caveat, we must say, that we have been borne away upon its golden tide of brilliant language, in spite of critical objections, and sometimes against our better judgment; and its rich discussions of letters and art have always given materials for reflection, and often feelings of delight. The translations from the German poets, which illustrate the literary conversations, are perfect gems in their way. Any one, who has attempted the task of poetical translation from a foreign tongue, will appreciate fully the excellences of these, and will understand the difficulties to be overcome. They are, we have compared them all, they are perfect transcripts of the original, line for line, almost epithet for epithet, metre for metre, and rhyme for rhyme. And yet, with all this faithful adherence to the original, they are as free and unconstrained in their movement, as if they were English originals. The highest

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