The Mysterious Picture. By Wrangham Fitz Ramble, Esq. New-York, Collins & Hannay. 1825.

We must confess we have been very agreeably disappointed in the perusal of this little volume. From its unpromising title--for we detest all mysteries, from those of Mrs. Radcliffe to that of Lord Byron-and having a hint that the author had dipped his pen in satire, we were disposed to class this production with that endless swarm of common-place trash which daily issues from our presses, making such an eternal din about sentiment and virtue; the effusion of small-witted drivellers, who either very charitably profess to set the world to rights, or else unmercifully abuse it because it will not be set straight. It is really quite refreshing, among this farrago of second-hand opinions, wishy-washy sentiment, and sickly morality, to light now and then upon the wholesome viands of common sense and original thought, served up in plain and manly language. Although introduced without any flourish of trumpets, there is a keen perception of whatever is weak and ludicrous, and a rich vein of satire, evinced in this volume; and at the same time a tone of sound morality and justness of thought, which proves it the offspring of no common mind. There is, besides, a boldness of design, and masterly handling, (the reader will remember we are speaking of a picture,) that shows we are not engaged with a raw hand; and we are much mistaken if this should prove to be the unfledged bantling of a tyro. In that insight into character, that ready detection and exposure of motive, and above all, in that skill in piercing into the most subtle windings of the most cunning of all labyrinths, the human heart, and ferreting out all the little follies and weaknesses that lurk there, our writer reminds us of the celebrated author of "L' Hermite de Chaussée d' Antin." There is not so much point and vivacity of expression in his satire, but its aim and object is of an equally high order. The manner in which these speculations are introduced, is by no means original, and we think a little clumsy. Like Don Cleofas, who was taken by the Devil to the top of a high steeple, and enabled, by unroofing the houses, to observe all that was going on beneath, our author is supposed to be taken to church by a Genius, who puts the people to sleep, (which feat, by the bye, it does not always take a Genius to do,) and lifting up the top of their scull-caps, shows him what thoughts and fantasies are flitting through the mind of each. This exposure of folly, of frailty, and of crime, is called The Mysterious Picture; and if our artist has given any thing like a faint resemblance, we must congratulate ourselves that the fabled proposi

tion of Momus of old, was not acceded to, and that a merciful Creator has not permitted us to view, through a window in the breast, the recesses of our neighbour's bosoms.

The first compartment into which the picture is divided-it should rather be considered a coup d'œil of the whole-is entitled "Human Depravity." Here are exhibited, with a sickening faithfulness of detail, all those petty deceits, crafty plans for taking in and over-reaching our neighbour, and systems of deliberate fraud, which the love of mammon so abundantly offers to the deluded heart; which, while contriving plans to steal from others the filthy lucre of this world, is itself cheated of its most precious jewel. The writer lays no flattering unction to the broad loathsome ulcer thus exposed. The bandage is torn, perhaps rather roughly, from the swathed limb, and each distorted articulation, and festering sore, displayed to the glare of truth. But we must hasten to give a specimen of the style and manner of the writer. The following is a fair one. He is speaking of the evils of banking institutions, a subject on which public feeling is sensitively alive at the present mo

ment.

"Perhaps no subject was found so fruitful of mischief, as the banking system; like a great sleeping monster, it rises to its weekly meals, and gorges every thing within its power. It has no heart, no sympathy; all within its bosom is as cold as death; it delights in the cries of children, and the tears of women; it never rests, until it gets every thing within its bed, and what it cannot devour, it destroys by filth. Besides the misery it occasions to its incautious dealers, it is of itself the source of the blackest crime.

"I do not scruple to say, that I saw on that occasion acts of the most abominable nature, from its highest to its lowest officers. Directors were contriving schemes to serve themselves and friends with an illegal and undue proportion of the joint and trust fund; some were actually engaged in covenous designs to embezzle it. Clerks were preparing to purloin thousands by various stratagems; some by saying they were knocked down and robbed; others by false keys; some by incendiaries, and others intended to run away altogether. Other officers imagined they could cheat the bank by keeping false books and forging checks, and many other such horrid acts were designed against the institution by its own members. Then again it threw out such temptations to the world. I saw some individuals burrowing under the ground like moles, to get to its vaults; others were making false keys; a great many were counterfeiting bills, while others were making a curious chemical preparation to change their amount. All kinds of plans and inventions were in train, either to make, alter, forge, counterfeit, or steal bank money; to break open merchants' shops, to rob desks and counter drawers, pick pockets, and especially to filch pocket-books; so that I could not but believe, and such is my honest conviction, that if the whole institution could be swallowed up as by an earthquake, leaving not a vestige behind, that with it would disappear one half of the crime and its demoralizing effects, which at present so deeply corrupt the frame of society; and as to the increase of private hap

piness, and the diminution of individual suffering and anxiety, the consequences would be incalculable "

p. 34.

There is something extremely forcible in the manner in which the following solemn truth is conveyed. A truth which, however it may have lost its effect by repetition, and however it may be stigmatized by the foolish and the wicked, as the very drivelling of preaching, will sometimes in silence and solitude knock with startling power at the conscience of the most depraved, and fearfully quell the courage of the boldest. The Genius is represented as saying to the author, who is reluctant to look upon the thoughts of others

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Why should you be afraid or ashamed to do so? There is One, infinitely greater than you, the source of all virtue, and the fountain of all purity, before whom you are as a loathsome worm, obliged daily to behold these vain imaginations; there is not a secret spring, or the lightest conceivable emotion of the mind, that is no instantly open to his view. And if these people are not ashamed to indulge before Him, what you will soon discover, why should they be before you, even if they were sensible of it? Dou you imagine they care more for you than Him? Besides, suppose that sudden death had seized them, would it not have taken them in these very thoughts? and will they not, as well as all others, in a coming day, be exposed to the gaze of an assembled world? They wrong themselves; you do them no injury; come then, and I will show you how to get at the contents of each story, drama, novel, romance, or whatever else you may choose to call it, in this sleeping library." p. 18.

In the next divisions, entitled " Vanity," "The Illusions of Pleasure," and "Pride and Love," our author shows that he is no stranger to the workings of these master passions; and the deceitful tenure by which we hold the goods and enjoyments of this world, is strikingly exemplified. In describing the lisappointed Author, he seems to speak very feelingly; he is so happily drawn, we must introduce him. Having failed in the various departments of poetry, essays, moral tales, and romances, all which attempts are happily hit off, as a dernier resort, he determines to try his hand upon politics.

He

"Here was a field, he conceived, that promised inevitable success. knew he had a talent for popular writing, and a most scorching vein of sarcasm. He would attack the highest characters first, and bespatter them with the most cutting invective. The writing of essays, by numbers, would be rather plodding, and bespeak a dull writer; he therefore resolved, like Junius, to address his letters directly to the individuals themselves."

After experiencing numberless mortifications in not hearing of his publications, which have been treated with silent contempt, he betakes himself to a reading room, where the climax of his misfortunes is capped.

"When arrived, a great crowd were assembled, and eagerly engaged in reading newspapers, and occasionally conversing upon the multiplied sub

jects which they furnish, and the political questions they so warmly agitate. Not a word about our author, until just before separating, when one reader broke out into a most vociferous strain, denouncing "certain letters" as containing the most incorrigible nonsense and sleep-producing stupidity that had certainly ever foundits way into print: that "writers of such trash, and printers of such trumpery, ought to be sewed up in a bag, and thrown into a diteh." He then proceeded to read a sentence or two for the amusement of the rest, and at every pause there was a roar of laughter, doubtless more affected than real, and made in slavish obedience to such violent denunciations. Such was the diversion afforded by these letters, that the whole collection unanimously resolved that all their future meetings should be wound up with a few paragraphs from this newlydiscovered magazine of bombast, by way of working off, in a broad hearty laugh, the fumes of better reading; which would serve to put every body in a good humour with himself, the company with one another, and give a better relish for dinner." p. 97.

We have no time to notice the dreamings of the Politician, in which there is some keen satire on the shifts and low cunning, by which the people are cajoled, and office-hunters and political slang-whangers foisted into places of trust and emolument. We must also pass over the more humorous account of the manœuvres of widows and widowers, who are candidates for matrimony. On the subject of Education, our author has expended his whole strength. He seems to have thought deepÎy on the matter, and manfully uplifting his voice against prejudice and error, boldly denounces the whole modern system of instruction. He is well aware of the ticklish ground he is upon.

"Error of opinion (to use his own words) will never be successfully overthrown, unless resolutely attacked. It has the great advantage of long acquiescence, and, on that account, has grown into a kind of cartilage. As before suggested, it is frequently nourished by tender passions, and guarded by affectionate associations, which, in a moment, spring at the least alarm, to repel the very first onsets of reason; and however open in attack, or sinuous in approach, there is the same unsleeping protection afforded to a long-indulged prejudice. I have glanced at one or two instances in former numbers; the present will contain another, which will, perhaps, kindle a flame around my head that may be difficult to extinguish. Nevertheless, I shall try it, under the old proverb, that "ventures make merchants." All undertakings are great according to their risks; I therefore go for " a crown or a cross. p. 158.

Although we cannot agree with the writer that the whole system of college education is wrong, constitutionally wrong, we must confess, that there is a great deal to be amended. We have neither time or inclination, at present, to enter into a discussion concerning the advantages and defects of the present system; but we recommend this article on Education to the serious perusal of all who have at heart the welfare of youth, and the moral culture of their minds.

Having thus freely expressed ourselves on the merits of this

work, and given fair samples of its style and quality, we feel no disposition to exercise our critical acumen in detecting the chaff. On the whole, we must repeat, that we consider this as no common-place production. It contains much deep thought, and what is better, it furnishes matter of thought to the reader. And although we could have wished he had looked a little more upon the bright side of the picture, and softened down a few of its asperities, we hail, with pleasure, this stranger in the domains of literature, and shall be much disappointed, if he is not received by others with a cordiality equal to our own.

ART. IV.-Memoir of the Life of RICHARD HENRY LEE, and his Correspondence with the most distinguished men in America and Europe, illustrative of their characters, and of the events of the American Revolution. By his Grandson, RICHARD H. LEE, of Leesburgh, Virginia.-2 vols. pp. 299, 238. Philadelphia: Carey & Lea. 1825.

In reverting to the period, when the differences between Great Britain and her colonies led to the conflict, which terminated in the establishment of the latter as an independent empire, it is extremely difficult to decide, whether the mass of talent, and the host of great men who arose to vindicate the rights of their country, in the council and the field, were naturally called forth by the excitement and the emergency of the times, and produced by the same causes, which in any other age, might have brought on the stage of action an equally illustrious band,--or whether their constellation of bright intellects was not rare as it was splendid, combining, under an overruling providence, to effect results, unparalleled in their past, and incalculable in their future operations.

It is with no vain and ignorant partiality for our own country and her worthies, that we challenge a scrutiny into the page of history, in order to detect an epoch in the annals of any people more prolific in great minds than that of our revolutionary conflict. The American is not to be told, that he must speak of his country's ornaments in the future tense. The past presents to him on its roll of renown, a list of statesmen, soldiers, and philosophers, on the wealth of whose fame other nations might have quietly reposed for centuries. Nor have we any reason to expect the return of an equally brilliant galaxy in our political horizon. And while we are enjoying the fruits of their toils, and witnessing the full and successful developement of the simple but sublime principles of self-government, which