Let me but calmly suffer, O my God, TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. Ir has been long and justly lamented, that while almost every nation of Europe, however miserable its condition or humble its political importance, has a traditionary music, and national airs, our country alone does not yet possess these important characteristics. This is, indeed, a great and prominent defect in our social and political existence. Blest as we unquestionably are with more individual and general prosperity, than is enjoyed by any other people, and as strenuously attached to our national institutions, we yet in this country want an undefined something of national feeling, and of general sympathy which unites societies more powerfully than the mutual enjoyment of all these advantages. It is not the casual vicinity of our homes that makes a nation. It is not a cold and prudent calculation of the benefits of union and the dangers of dissention, which binds states together. It is a higher, and a more generous sentiment-the kindred feelings, the resembling habits, the consciousness of mutual esteem, the sense of common dangers; all these more than the calm deliberations of wisdom, come warm and rushing from the heart to make us not merely know, but feel that we have a country. It is this noble sentiment, which reason can neither form nor control, nor even sometimes approve, which thrills through our breasts at the remembrance of our country-which identifies our pride with its glory-which makes us blush for its failings, or weep for its misfortunes, or swell with its triumphs; and fixing on that country our undivided affections, surrounds its institutions with the sacred enthusiasm of the passions. In no manner can these feelings be inspired or preserved, more effectually, than by national and characteristic poetry. They thus approach us with all the fascinations of genius, at an age when the generous pas sions are alone awakened, and connecting themselves with our earliest and dearest associations, establish over our bosoms a seductive and durable empire. Their influence need not be told to those who know the power of physical sounds, in union with endearing recollections, or who remember, that since the time of Tyrtæus to the days of Dibdin, the songs and poetry of a nation have always prepared or accompanied its triumphs. "Let me make the ballads of a nation, and I care not who makes the laws," was the observation of a judicious and profound statesman, which is peculiarly applicable to the popular institutions of our own country. During the long interval of repose in which this nation has slumbered, the feelings of mutual kindness, and conciliation, which should attach us to each other, have, unhappily, lost too much of their influence. The national sentiment has been wasted in the natural improvidence of prosperity; or, sometimes, lost in the violence of our political animosities; till, at length, we have become too indifferent to the blessings, and almost strangers to the feelings which distinguish, and should endear our country. This may have many causes; but not the least, in our estimation, is the want of certain rallying points in our habits and manners: where, for a moment at least, we might forget the divisions which distract us, and remember only our native land-certain shaded and holy spots, where the verdure of patriotism might be always fresh, and where should never be seen the noxious weeds of faction. Such might be the national songs, in which the value of our institutions, the blessings of our condition, the peculiarities of our manners, and the triumphs of our arms, embellished by the graces of poetry, could be familiarized to our ordinary amusements, and entwined with our best and most natural feelings of patriotism. Instead of being condemned, as we now are, on our public theatres, and even in our domestic festivities, to hear and to sing the praises of foreign countries, and the triumphs of fo reign heroes, we might then, all of us, of all parties, and of all classes, unite in celebrating our own institutions, our own manners, our own statesmen, our own soldiers. Surely that degradation should not long be suffered. Seven millions of people-of such people too, intelligent, active, and en lightened, beyond all former example-born to higher destinies than were ever yet opened to any nation-the career of whose greatness and glory is rapid, constant, and almost irresistible; whose annals, though recent, are already splendid and glorious. Such a people have every claim to a high and bold expression of their feelings, their habits, and their affections. To encourage that expression, to cherish those feelings, and thus to form a new moral bond among us, is an object of great national advantage, and of much individual honour. Nor could any moment be more propitious than the present. The whole sympathy of our countrymen, all that remained of national sentiment since the revolution, has recently burst forth to honour the glorious achievements of our navy, which have kindled a new and holy spirit of nationality, and enabled the humblest citizen among us boldly to say to the world that he too has a country. These generous ebullitions of feeling should not be permitted to pass with the occasion that inspired them: they may serve as the foundation of an enlarged and liberal system of national poetry. Our naval victories—the proofs of what this nation is capable-cannot be too often cited and admired. They refresh the intellectual senses they make us proud of ourselves, and our country; and poetry can have no higher office among us than to embalm, in its purest essence, these brilliant deeds of heroism; to reflect, in all their lustre, the images of great and glorious triumphs; to familiarize the national mind to acts of high and generous heroism; and thus, by preserving the lofty tone of its patriotism, make the remembrance of the old become the cause of future victories. In advancing so great a national object, we have thought that this journal, from its wide circulation, and its having long been a repository for the fugitive productions of the American muse, might be rendered not a useless auxiliary, and we, therefore, cordially and anxiously urge all whose talents qualify them for such an office, to contribute their aid, by compositions of the class which we have designated. To the considerations which will crowd on the minds of those who can appreciate the value of such exertions, we cannot, it may be presumed, present any additional temptation; and it is, therefore, rather for the purpose of fixing the public attention on such a project, and of exciting a generous competition, that we propose Two Premiums, each of One Hundred Dollars, for the two best Naval songs, which may be forwarded to us, before the 1st of October next, It is not intended to restrict in any manner, the taste of the writers, as to the nature of the songs, which may be modelled on the airs most familiar to us, and even on those of the enemy, to whose tunes of national triumph we seem to have in some degree, succeeded by right of conquest, as well as of inheritance. The communications can be sent to us as usual, without any signation of the author-they shall be judged, if not with taste, at least with rigid impartiality, and when the successful candidate is announced, the premium, or any equivalent at his option can be demanded, and shall be immediately forwarded to him. de Our numerous poetical correspondents, whose contributions have inspired the intention of offering this premium, from the conviction that they could readily produce something honourable to themselves, and to the poetical genius of their country, will not, we trust, disappoint this favourite expectation. To them, and to all who are anxious to direct their talents to objects of permanent utility, we would address the spirited invitation of the poet: Ye generous youths! by Nature's bounty grac'd! Whose throbbing hearts have heard the call of Taste, With honest ardour, in the lists of Fame, Risk every hope, and rival every claim. - THE review of the exhibition of the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts shall appear in our next. The life of the late gallant captain Lawrence, with a portrait, is in preparation. |
