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Art Intelligence.

MR. CRAWFORD is at work, in Rome, on the United States national monument to Washington. It will be the largest monument of the kind existing. Rauch's statue of Frederick the Great, at Berlin, is of considerably less proportions. The base of the Washington monument is a complete circle; on this a star, with six points, is raised, and on this rises the actual base to the equestrian figure. Six eagles surround the steps on the circle, and six colossal statues of eminent Americans surround the pedestal-Henry, Lee, Mason, Marshall, Allen, and Jefferson. The whole is on a gigantic scale, from sixty to seventy feet high. The figures of Jefferson and Henry are completed, and forwarded to Muller's foundry, at Munich,

to be cast in bronze. The artist is raising the figure of Washington's horse-a mound of clay.

Gibson's statue of Sir Robert Peel, to be placed in Westminster Abbey, is in course of execution. It will be finished in three months. The sculp tor is likewise engaged on another work of national interest. It is to be of colossal proportions, representing Queen Victoria seated on the throne, with attendant figures at each side, the one of Clemency, the other of Justice. The statue of the Queen is at present being raised in clay.

An engraving has been made of the Sully portrait of Jackson, in the possession of Francis Preston Blair, taken soon after the close of the Seminole war. It is similar to the large head

of Washington, from Stuart's original portrait;

it is consequently more youthful than the portraits familiar to the public, taken later in life. The habitual energy and vivid qualities of Jackson are well conveyed. It is engraved in an effective mixed line and stipple, by Mr. Welch, who executed the Washington head.

At the recent sale of the gallery of the late Duke of Orleans, at Paris, Ary Scheffer's "Francesca di Rimini," so well known through the fine engraving executed of it, sold for nine thousand francs.

The State Legislature of Pennsylvania has passed a bill, making an appropriation to aid in the erection of a monument in Independencesquare, commemorative of the original thirteen states, and the signers of the Declaration of Independence.

The recent exhibition of photographic pictures at the Society of Arts-the first of its kind in London-has proved eminently attractive. The collection was a very large one, including seven hundred and seventy-four specimens the results of the several processes known as Talbotype or Calotype, Waxed Paper, Albumened Paper, Albumenized Glass, and lodion. They have been contributed by French, German, and English photographers.

which shall cost not less than $50,000, and the association is now in correspondence with several distinguished sculptors in this country and abroad, and have offered $250 for the design which shall be adopted by them.

Professor Koeppen read lately a most interesting and instructive paper before the NewYork Historical Society on the "Monuments of the Acropolis, the discoveries made during the recent excavations, and the restoration of the temples by the direction and at the expense of the government of King Otho." Professor Koeppen was for years a Professor of History, Ancient Geography, and the Languages, at the Military College at Athens.

At a recent meeting of the United States Agricultural Society, at Washington, the erection of a monument to the late unfortunate Mr.

Downing, who perished by the burning of the Henry Clay, was determined upon by the farmSmithsonian grounds, themselves rare memoers and horticulturists, to be located in the rials of his genius and taste.

The Society of Antiquaries of Picardy, in France, announce that, by a decree of the government, they have been authorized to erect a statue in bronze of Peter the Hermit, in one of the public places of Amiens. Their circular states, that although that great event of the Middle Ages, the "holy war," has obtained a place among the recorded "glories," the apostle of the crusades has not yet a monument in his Hermit belongs not to France alone, but to the native city. It states, however, that Peter the

whole Christian world, and that all the "friends of religion" are bound to subscribe something toward the accomplishment of this object, most worthy to be recorded, as the French chroniclers word it, among the Gesta Dei per Francos! This is an emanation of religious madness.

A statue, by Rude, of Joan of Arc, or rather Joan Darc, has recently been erected in the garden of the Luxembourg, in Paris. The sculptor has attempted to reproduce the heroine's likeness from the sole portrait which exists of her-a pen-and-ink sketch, taken down in the margin of the record of her interrogatories by the clerk to the examiners. We also learn that more mural paintings have been discovered in the ancient church of Saint Eustache at Paris. It now appears pretty positive that the entire of the vast edifice was decorated with such paintings, and that they, a century or two after, having fallen partially into decay from damp, were, though of considerable artistic and historic value, barbarously covered with whitewash or plaster.

The Hotel de Ville, at Paris, in addition to its

Col-historical importance and architectural beauties, will shortly be one of the most gorgeously and at the same time most tastefully art-decorated monuments in Europe. Several distinguished artists have executed allegorical and historical paintings of great beauty on the walls and ceilings of the principal apartments.

An association has been formed at NewOrleans for the erection of a monument to Henry Clay in one of the public squares of the city. The monument is to be a colossal statue

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JOHN

JOHN GODFREY SAXE.

OHN GODFREY SAXE was born at Highgate, Franklin County, Vermont, on the second day of June, 1816. From nine to seventeen he worked on his father's farm and went to school. Wishing then to study one of the liberal professions, he entered the grammar-school of St. Albans, and, after the usual preparatory studies, the college at Middletown, Conn., where he graduated Bachelor of Arts in the summer of 1839.

He had no reputation while at college either as a writer or speaker, but was considered a fine scholar, especially in the languages, a very pleasant fellow, and the best talker in the place. Good talkers are seldom anything else, or seldom succeed as well in anything else-so much and so inVOL. II, No. 5.-CC

stantaneously are they appreciated by society, and so easy does talking at last become to them. Many a fine writer, like Coleridge, has eventually subsided into a merely good conversationalist. With Saxe it has happily proved otherwise. What is rather odd, though, considering the immemorial custom of all collegians, and the literary aspirations of most young men, he wrote nothing at college, nor until several years after he had graduated, when he was in apparently unpropitious circumstances, viz., in the holy bonds of matrimony, and the tedious study of the law. Among his college friends was Thos. B. Thorpe, now of New-Orleans, the author of many admirable western stories. To him Saxe has addressed a rhyming epistle full of college reminiscences :

"Ah those were memorable times,
And worth embalming in my rhymes,
When at the summons

Of chapel-bell, we left our sport,
For lessons most uncommon short,
Or shorter commons."

After alluding to Thorpe's talent for drawing and painting, whereby

"People very thin and flat,

Like aldermen, grew round and fat
On canvas-backs,"

he says:

"Ah, we were jolly youngsters then; But now we 're sober-sided men,

Half through life's journey: And you 've turn'd author too, I hear, And I, you'll think it very queer,

Have turn'd attorney."

Saxe's first movement toward the "turning" alluded to was to read law at Lockport, in the State of New-York, and afterward at St. Albans, his old schoolplace. In 1843 Saxe was admitted to the bar at St. Albans, and commenced practice as an attorney. When he was twenty-five he began to write verses, and his first published piece-(it was published in "The Knickerbocker Magazine," then, as now, under the management of our good friend, Lewis Gaylord Clarke)—his first piece, we say, not only related the story of his life at that time, as is the case with the poems of all true poets, if the world has the art to read them aright; but demonstrated that a new poet had appeared, and indicated the school of verse in which he was to be most successful. The reader will bear in mind the law-studies of Saxe; imagine, if he pleases, his want of practice; and then proceed to read and enjoy "The Briefless Barrister."

"THE BRIEFLESS BARRISTER. "An attorney was taking a turn, In shabby habiliments dress'd; His coat it was shockingly worn,

And the rust had invested his vest.

"His breeches had suffer'd a breach,

His linen and worsted were worse; He had scarce a whole crown in his hat, And not half-a-crown in his purse.

"And thus as he wander'd along,

A cheerless and comfortless elf,
He sought for relief in a song,
Or complainingly talk'd to himself.
"Unfortunate man that I am!

I've never a client but grief;
The case is I've no case at all,
And, in brief, I've ne'er had a brief!

""Tis not that I'm wanting in law,

Or lack an intelligent face, That others have cases to plead,

While I have to plead for a case.

*O, how can a modest young man
E'er hope for the smallest progression,
The profession's already so full

Of lawyers so full of profession.'
"While thus he was strolling around,
His eye accidentally fell

On a very deep hole in the ground,
And he sigh'd to himself, It is well!'
"To curb his emotions he sat

On the curb-stone the space of a minute;
Then cried, Here's an opening at last!'
And in less than a jiffy was in it!
"Next morning twelve citizens came,

('T was the coroner bade them attend,) To the end that it might be determined How the man had determined his end! "This man was a lawyer, I hear,' Quoth the foreman who sat on the corse; A lawyer? alas!' said another, Undoubtedly died of remorse!'

"A third said, 'He knew the deceased,
An attorney well-versed in the laws,
And, as to the cause of his death,-
"T was

no doubt from the want of a cause.'

"The jury decided at length,

After solemnly weighing the matter, 'That the lawyer was drown'd because

He could not keep his head above water!"

After the "Briefless Barrister," and one or two smaller poems, came "Progress," a satire, which was spoken before the associated alumni of Middlebury College in 1846, creating a decided sensation. It was published in New-York shortly after its delivery, and immediately became popular. It has been more quoted than any satire printed in the last twenty years. "In skillful felicities of language and rhythm," says Dr. Griswold, "general clear and sharp expression, and alternating touches of playful wit and sharp sense, there is nothing so long that is so well sustained in the one hundred and one books of American satire." In 1847 he wrote "The New Rape of the Lock,” and in 1848 "The Proud Miss M'Bride." For the last seven or eight years he has been practicing in the courts, writing verses occasionally, attending to the interests of his party in that part of the world-for Saxe is something of a politician-editing "The Burlington Sentinel," running for the office of district attorney, which he was talented and popular enough to gain, and writing and delivering college

and anniversary poems. In this last item sity, the enthusiasm of poetry, and are not of business he has done more service than impelled by their nature into musical utany other man, reciting more verses and terance. They may call in the aid of oftener, than all our lecturers together, verse to sharpen their effect, but it will Park Benjamin, perhaps, excepted. If never be of any high or inspired order. he has won applause by his lectures, It will be pipe and tabor music, and not and he certainly has, something is due that of the organ or the orchestra. Juveto his nice adaptation of them, and to nal sometimes gives us stately hexamehis voice and manner of speaking. Few ters; but then he was a very serious satirpoets can read well, either their own ist, and worked himself up into a very verses, or those of other people; hence lofty indignation." And yet wit and hutheir want of success in the lecture-room. mor possess one of the great requisites of But both Saxe and Park Benjamin are poetry-fancy: without that vague somefine readers, and, by their reading alone, thing which we call the fanciful, there can can make bad poems seem good ones. In be nothing truly comic. That which leads 1849 Saxe read another satire, entitled the poet to compare, which links together "The Times," before the Boston Mercan- opposites, and creates harmony from seemtile Library Association; in 1850" Carmen ing discord, is that which makes the wit Lætum," an after-dinner poem, before the and humorist in whatever manner he manalumni of Middlebury College; and in 1851, ifests himself. Dickens, in the matter of before the New-York University, a poem comparison, is as fine a poet as Longfelcalled " New-England." This last re- low, only that his comparisons are differmains unprinted, and will for some time to ent, and witty instead of poetical. "Wit," come, the poet being still engaged in re- says Hunt again, "may be defined to be citing it in different parts of the country. the arbitrary juxtaposition of dissimilar Saxe's present residence is at Burlington, ideas, for some lively purpose of assimiVermont. For his personal appearance lation or contrast, or both. It is fancy in we refer to the portrait prefixed to our its most willful, and, strictly speaking, its article we can vouch for its thorough least poetical state; that is to say, wit correctness; but it gives no idea of one does not contemplate its ideas for their peculiarity of Saxe-how indeed could own sakes in any light apart from their it ?-of his height and robust build. In ordinary prosaical one, but solely for the his epistle to the editor of "The Knick- purpose of producing an effect by their erbocker," he thus describes himself :- combination. Poetry may take up the combination, and improve it; but then it divests it of its arbitrary character, and converts it into something better." Humor and fun are more poetical than wit and satire, because there is more breadth and depth about them. They spring from, and affect the heart and soul of man, that part of him which is inherent and everlasting, not the work of colleges and schools, with a due infusion of tailors and perfumers, while satire and wit are in most cases the result of education, and chiefly affect educated minds. The wit of Sheridan and Congreve would be lost upon many a man who would split his sides with laughter at the buffoonery of a mere circusclown.

"I am a man, you must learn,

Less famous for beauty than strength;
And for aught I could ever discern,
Of rather superfluous length.

In truth 't is but seldom one meets
Such a Titan in human abodes,
And when I stalk over the streets
I'm a perfect Colossus of roads!"

The ancestors of Saxe were, we believe, originally Germans, the name "Saxe" being the English of " Sachs," Hans Sachs, the old ballad-writer of Nuremberg.

With the exception of Holmes, and perhaps Lowell, Saxe is the only one of our writers who has cultivated comic poetry with any degree of success. Indeed, they all steer clear of it, and the only thing comic about many of them is their most serious verse. How far the comic element, how far wit and humor in the abstract, can be considered poetry in the abstract, is a matter of endless dispute. "Wit and satire," says Hunt, "and the observation of common life, want, of neces

Judging them by their ideals, and by their effect upon ourselves, Saxe's truest poems are "The Old Chapel Bell" and "The Lady Ann." In the first, the bell speaks to a little boy who sits beside it in a half-dream, relating the incidents which have passed around it in other years, its

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"Years roll'd away-and I beheld
The child to woman grown;
Her cheek was fairer, and her eye
With brighter luster shone;
But childhood's truth and innocence
Were still the maiden's own.

"I never rang a merrier peal,

Than when, a joyous bride,
She stood beneath the sacred porch
A noble youth beside,

And plighted him her maiden troth
In maiden love and pride.

"I never toll'd a deeper knell,

Than when, in after years,
They laid her in the church-yard here
Where this low mound appears-
(The very grave, my boy, that you
Are watering now with tears!)
"It is thy mother! gentle boy,

That claims this tale of mine;
Thou art a flower whose fatal birth

Destroy'd the parent vine!

A precious flower art thou, my child-
Two lives were given for thine!

"One was thy sainted mother's, when
She gave thee mortal birth;
And one thy Saviour's, when in death
He shook the solid earth:
Go, boy, and live as may befit

Thy life's exceeding worth!
"The boy awoke as from a dream,
And, thoughtful, look'd around,
And nothing saw save at his feet
His mother's lowly mound,
And by its side that ancient bell
Half-hidden in the ground!"

Totally dissimilar, yet creating the same emotions of quaint melancholy and pathos, is "The Lady Ann." There is an indescribable sweetness about the story of her misfortune, and its effects upon her wandering wits. So would Ophelia, “ that royal flower," have mourned for the death of Hamlet, had not the willow broke, and precipitated her into the brook with her chaplet of wild flowers. And yet there is an air of bonhomie and good-humor about it, which perpetually remind us of Goldsmith. It does not read like a poem of this century at all.

"THE LADY ANN.

"She'll soon be here, the Lady Ann,' The children cried in glee; 'She always comes at four o'clock, And now it's striking three.'

"At stroke of four the lady came,
A lady young and fair;
And she sat and gazed adown the road
With a long and eager stare.

"The mail! the mail!' the idlers cried,
At sight of a coach-and-four;
The mail! the mail!' and at the word
The coach was at the door.

"Up sprang in haste the Lady Ann,
And mark'd with anxious eye
The travelers, who, one by one,
Were slowly passing by.
"Alack! alack!' the lady cried,
'He surely named to-day;

He'll come to-morrow, then,' she sigh'd,
And turning, stroll'd away.

"Tis passing odd, upon my word,'

The landlord now began;

A strange romance!-that woman, sirs,
Is called the Lady Ann.

"She dwells hard by, upon the hill,

The widow of Sir John,

Who died abroad, come August next,
Just twenty years agone.

"A hearty neighbor, sirs, was he,
A bold, true-hearted man;

And a fonder pair were seldom seen
Than he and Lady Ann.

"They scarce had been a twelve-month wed,

When, ill betide the day!
Sir John was call'd to go in haste

Some hundred miles away.
"Ne'er lovers in the fairy tales

A truer love could boast,
And many were the gentle words

That came and went by post.
"A month or more had pass'd away,
When by the post came down
The joyous news that such a day
Sir John would be in town.
"Full gleesome was the Lady Ann
To read the welcome word,
And promptly at the hour she came
To meet her wedded lord.
"Alas! alas! he came not back!
There only came instead
A mournful message by the post

That good Sir John was dead!
"One piercing shriek, and Lady Ann
Had swooned upon the floor;
Good sirs, it was a fearful grief
That gentle lady bore!
"We raised her up; her ebbing life
Began again to dawn;
She mutter'd wildly to herself-

"T was plain her wits were gone.
"A strange forgetfulness came o'er
Her sad bewilder'd mind,
And to the grief that drove her mad
Her memory was blind!

"Ah! since that hour she little wots
Full twenty years are fled!
She little wots, poor Lady Ann,
Her wedded lord is dead.

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