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Page 34
Now, Sir, meaning no disrespect to any of our co-heirs of this great
quarter of the world, I am for none of this coparceny in a name that is
to mingle us up with the riff-raff colonies and off-sets of every nation
of Europe. The title of American may serve to tell the quarter of the
world to which I belong, the same as a Frenchman or an Englishman may
call himself a European; but I want my own peculiar national name to
rally under. I want an appellation that shall tell at once, and in a
way not to be mistaken, that I belong to this very portion of America,
geographical and political, to which it is my pride and happiness to
belong; that I am of the Anglo-Saxon race which founded this Anglo-Saxon
empire in the wilderness; and that I have no part or parcel with any
other race or empire, Spanish, French, or Portuguese, in either of the
Americas. Such an appellation, Sir, would have magic in it. It would
bind every part of the confederacy together as with a keystone; it would
be a passport to the citizen of our republic throughout the world.
We have it in our power to furnish ourselves with such a national
appellation, from one of the grand and eternal features of our country;
from that noble chain of mountains which formed its back-bone, and ran
through the "old confederacy," when it first declared our national
independence. I allude to the Appalachian or Alleghany mountains. We
might do this without any very inconvenient change in our present
titles. We might still use the phrase, "The United States," substituting
Appalachia, or Alleghania, (I should prefer the latter,) in place of
America. The title of Appalachian, or Alleghanian, would still announce
us as Americans, but would specify us as citizens of the Great Republic.
Even our old national cypher of U. S. A. might remain unaltered,
designating the United States of Alleghania.
These are crude ideas, Mr. Editor, hastily thrown out to elicit the
ideas of others, and to call attention to a subject of more national
importance than may at first be supposed.
Very respectfully yours,
Geoffrey Crayon.
* * * * *
DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON CRITICISM.
"Let a man write never so well, there are now-a-days a sort of persons
they call critics, that, egad, have no more wit in them than so many
hobby-horses: but they'll laugh at you, Sir, and find fault, and censure
things, that, egad, I'm sure they are not able to do themselves; a sort
of envious persons, that emulate the glories of persons of parts, and
think to build their fame by calumniation of persons that, egad, to my
knowledge, of all persons in the world, are in nature the persons that
do as much despise all that, as--a--In fine, I'll say no more of 'em!"
-REHEARSAL.
All the world knows the story of the tempest-tossed voyager, who, coming
upon a strange coast, and seeing a man hanging in chains, hailed it with
joy, as the sign of a civilized country. In like manner we may hail, as
a proof of the rapid advancement of civilization and refinement in
this country, the increasing number of delinquent authors daily gibbeted
for the edification of the public.
In this respect, as in every other, we are "going ahead" with
accelerated velocity, and promising to outstrip the superannuated
countries of Europe. It is really astonishing to see the number of
tribunals incessantly springing up for the trial of literary offences.
Independent of the high courts of Oyer and Terminer, the great quarterly
reviews, we have innumerable minor tribunals, monthly and weekly, down
to the Pie-poudre courts in the daily papers; insomuch that no culprit
stands so little chance of escaping castigation, as an unlucky author,
guilty of an unsuccessful attempt to please the public.
Seriously speaking, however, it is questionable whether our national
literature is sufficiently advanced, to bear this excess of criticism;
and whether it would not thrive better, if allowed to spring up, for
some time longer, in the freshness and vigor of native vegetation. When
the worthy Judge Coulter, of Virginia, opened court for the first time
in one of the upper counties, he was for enforcing all the rules and
regulations that had grown into use in the old, long-settled counties.
"This is all very well," said a shrewd old farmer; "but let me tell you,
Judge Coulter, you set your coulter too deep for a new soil."
For my part, I doubt whether either writer or reader is benefited by
what is commonly called criticism. The former is rendered cautious and
distrustful; he fears to give way to those kindling emotions, and brave
sallies of thought, which bear him up to excellence; the latter is made
fastidious and cynical; or rather, he surrenders his own independent
taste and judgment, and learns to like and dislike at second hand.
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