MANLIUS PISON LETTERS FROM PALMYRA.

THIS work originally appeared in a New York Magazine; English attention was first directed to it by Miss MARTINEAU, in her book on America. Upon the American publication of the Letters from Palmyra in a collected shape, a long and laudatory notice ill the London and Westminster Review introduced them to the British public; and Mr. BENTLEY has now rendered them easily accessi- ble to every one. We doubt, however, whether the work will realize the expectations which the panegyrics of the friendly critics may have raised. So far from the " lofty and tender beauty," or the " natural majesty," and 80 forth, of Miss MARTINF:AU, or the vouchment with additional recommendations of the critic.. the Letters from Palmyra appear to us little beyond a clever rhetori- cal effort of pains and ability. The writer seems to have but a superficial knowledge of the outward forms of classical antiquity— nothing at all of its spirit. The structure of his epistolary com- position has appatently been less taken from eicatto and PLINY than from Mr. Metmoret. His general style has been formed on that of BULVJER. but somewhat softened by a more sober taste; the writer often displays much fancy and luxuriance, with occasional touches of tenderness and judicious reflection, but has no po er of developing character, nor a particle of true dramatic spirit ; and the offspring of this union is a work of considerable elegance, but totally devoid of life and reality. Its phantasma pass before the mind like a pageant at a play, gorgeous but unsubstantial.

The sulject of the work, as may be readily guessed, is the state of Palmyra under the reign of ZEN0111A; the various characters svhom her vain and womanly magtukence drew to the city ; the war she sustained against AURELIArg, and her final overthrow. The machinery by which all this is introduced is vim isle and sufficient ; nor are the adjuncts badly devised. The elder brother of Lucius Manlius Paso accompanied Valerian in his disastrous Persian ex- pedition, %vas taken prisoner, and is supposed to have died; but a rumour reaching his family that he was still living, Manlius sets out to redeem him. Arriving at Palmyra, a Roman friend in the service of Zenobia advises him to send an envoy to ascertain the truth of the report, and to wait his return. Assenting to this course, our Roman is introduced to the Queen, her family, states- men, and courtiers; fulls in love with one of her daughters ; par- takes of the amusements of the court ; sees all (loathe worth seeing in the city and the country ; assists, as the French say, at a semi- official council touching the claims of Aurelian; remains as a neutral in Palmyra during the siege ; witnesses the execution of Longinus ; writes an account to his friend Marcus Curtius of all these and sundry other things ; and when Zenobia settles at Rome, is made happy by the hand of the Princess Julia.

Besides these points peculiar to Palmyra, the author endeavours to embody some of the intellectual characteristics of the age. His messenger into Persia is a travelling Jew merchant, whose

sole principle of action is a desire to reestablish Jerusalem : but though intended by the author as a type of the Jew of the

Roman empire, smarting under the contempt cast upon his faith and the recent and tremendous injuries inflicted upon his nation,

Isaac is merely a modern pedlar, of' a good heart, a fanatic head, and a better education than pedlars get in our times. Probus, ,a newly-converted Christian, travelling to disseminate the tidings

be Lath just received, personifies—not any particular sect at that time, for corruption had already invaded the priesthood, and

doctrinal differences were exciting hatred and uncharitableness amongst their flocks—but that rare avis the Scriptural Christian ;

and though he is of no utility in advancing the action of' the

story, and not of much in any other respect, yet he may be praised as an amiable but abstract creation. Longinus of course gures not only as a minister but as a philosopher, and represents

the Piatunists. Giacchus, the Roman Palmyrene, is represented

by the writer in the London and Westminster as an Epicurean : he rather strikes us as a humanized Stoic with a dash of Pyrrlio- ; however, he is the best of these representative characters, and perhaps of all the characters in the work. Besides these, we hear a good deal of, and once see, Paul of Satnosata, the worthy who, according to GIBBON, "considered the service of the church as a very lucrative profession, indulged himself freely in the pleasures of the table, and received into the episcopal palace two young and beautiful women as the constant companions of his leisure moments." There is also a hermit introduced, whose father, connected with the Apostolic times, was an associate of St. John. These features of the book, like many in the more direct story, are clever, but contrived : they are too obviously introduced on set purpose, instead of being the spontaneous outpourings of a teem- ing mind; and bear the appearance of trick rather than art. Nor is this defect redeemed by any classical characteristics in the execution, by any true views of the social circumstances of the age, by any very graphic descriptions, or even by a common knowledge of peculiarities and manners of the time. Nor let the convenient doctrine held by sciolists and echoed by stu- pidity be once more advanced against us, that minute learning is .as not necssary to write upon a classical subject. If the subject la rapid and at rikingasadnima, general learning may suffice for gems to seize and convey the general character, as PLUTARCH suited for SHAKSPEARE. But if manners and customs and the minutia of daily life are to be painted, then they must be drawn from seek knowledge as remains to us; else, instead of the firm exactness and individuality of truth, we shall have a dim, vague, and fancifka generality, or the incongruity of a modern soul and body in 04 clothes.

Here, in Piso's run down the Tiber, is an example of the kind we speak of; which, though prettily splendid, is too vague to Bug. gest any distinct ideas, and might apply to any navigable rivet We doubt, however, whether the Tiber was navigable in the sense the writer is speaking of. Ostia was the port of Rome; and to talk of ships proceeding to the capital, is something like placing the Pool of London above Westminster Bridge.

" AR soon as I had lost sight of you weeping on the quay, holding in yowlha's! the little Gallus, and the dear Lucilia leaning on your arm, and could no longer even by mounting upon the highest part of the vessel, discern the waving Di your hande, nor cause you to see the fervour with which I returned the sign of friendship, I at once left off thinking of you, as far as I could, and, to 'firm my thoughts, began to examine, as if I had never seen them before, the hunk. of the yellow Tiber. At first the crowds of shipping of every form, and fuss every part of the world, distracted the sight, and compelled me to observe what was immediately around me. The cries of the sailors, as they were eng iged is managing different parts of their vessels, or as they called out in violent trod abusive terms to those who passed them, or as their several gullies struck against each other in their attempts to go up or down the river, together with the frequent loarings and bellowing* of whole cargoes of wild beasts float the deserts of Asia and Africa, destined to the amphitheatre, intermingled with jargon of an hundred different barbarian languages, from the thousanda who thronged the decks of this fleet of all nations,—these sights and sounds at find wholly absorbed me, and for a moment shut all the world beside, even you, out of my mind. It was a strange yet inspiring scene, and gave me greater thoughts than ever of the power and majesty of Rome. Here were men aid ships that had traversed oceans and continents to bring the offiri igs of their toil and lay them at the feet of the mistress of the world. Arid over all thie bustle, created by the busy spirit of commerce, a splendour and gayety were thrown by numerous triremes and boats of pleasure, which, glitteriag under the light of a stinimer'e morning sun, were just setting out upon some exeur. sion of pleasure, with streamers floating from the slender ma.ta, music swelling up from innumerable performers, anti shouts of merry laughter from crowds of the rich and noble youths of the city, who reclined upon the decks beneath canopies of the richest dyes. As these Cleopatra barges floated aloft.. with their soft burden, torrents of vituperative epithet were poured upon them by the rough children of Neptune ; which was received with an easy indifference, or returned with no lack of ability in that sort of warfare, according to the temper cr breeding of the parties."

There are a variety of other improbabilities, either physical or moral ; but we will pass on to better matter. The work displays many traces of an acquaintance with philosophy and of a philos sophic spirit ; and the writer, if an American, seems to have looked at what is called popular opinion and its workings with diseerning eyes. The following is from an account of the feeling in Palm)ra after Zenobia's first defeat; and is as true now as then,—or rather, is a truth passing before us, applied to sixteen hundred years ago. "The intelligence thus received has effectually sobered the giddy citizens of Palmyra. They are now of opinion that war really exists, and that they are party concerned. The merchants, who are the princes of the place, perceiving thew traffic to decline or cease, begin to interest themselves in the affairs of the state. So long as wealth flowed in as ever, and the traders from India and Persia saw no obstruction in the state of things to a safe transaction of their various businesses and transportation of their valuable commodities, the mars chants left the state to take care of itself; und, whatever opinions they held, $ expressed them only in their own circles, thinking hut of accumulation by day and of ostentatious expenditure by night. I have often heard that their general voice, had it been raised, would have been hostile to the policy that has pre. vailed. But it was not raised ; and now, when too late, and these mercenary and selfish beings are driven to stone action by the loss of their accustomed gains, a large and violent party is forming among them, who loudly condemn the conduct of the Queen and her ministers, and advocate immediate sot:Hideaki' to whatever terms Aurelian may impose. This party, however, powerful though it may be through wealth, is weak in numbers. The people are op. posed to them, and go enthusiastically with the Queen, and do not scruple to exult in the distresses of the merchants. Their present impotence is but a just retribution upon them far their criminal apathy during the early stages of the difficulty. Then had they taken a ;ma, as they ought to have done, in the public deliberations' the rupture which has ensued might, it is quite likely, have been prevented. Their voice would have been a loud and strong one, and would have been heard. They deserve to lose their liberties who will not spare time from selfish pursuits to guard them. Where & government is popular, d even to no greater extent than this, it behoves every individual, if he values the power delegated to him and would retain it, to use It, otherwise it is by desteell and insensibly lost; and once absorbed into the hands of the few, a is not easily, if at all, to be recovered."

Gracchus has been taken with Palmyra, and is condemnid to death with Longinus and others. Piso visits his friend in prison: and here are the reflections of Gracchus on life, and an account of his philosophy; with which we will close.

" Piso, it is the simple truth when I say that I anticipate the hour and the moment of death with the same indifference and composure that I do any the most common event. I have schooled myself to patience. Acquiescence la the will of the gods—if gods there are—or, which is the same thing in the order of events, is the temper which, since I have reflected at all, I have eulti. vated, and to which I can say I have fully attained. I throw myself upon the current of life, unresisting, to be wafted whithersoever it will. I look with desire neither to this shore nor the opposite, to one port nor another; but wherever I am borne aud permitted to act, 1 straightway find there and in that my happiness. Not that one allotment is not in itself preferable to another, but Cleat there being so much of life over which man has no control, and cannot, if he would, secure his felicity, I think it wiser to renounce all action and en- deavour concerning it; receiving what is sent or happens with joy if it be good, without complaint if it be evil. In this manner have I secured ea in. ward calm, which has been as s fountain of life. My days, whether they hare been dark ones or bright, as others term them, have flowed along a smooth sad even current. Under misfortune, I believe I have enjoyed more from this iny inward frame than many a son of prosperity hay in the very height of his glory. That which so disturbs the peace of multitudes, eves of philosophers, al

prospect of death, halt 00caelooed nee not one moment'. disquiet. It is true I 'mow sot what it W: du I know what life is? but that is no reason why I should fear it. One thing I knew, which is 'hie, that it will come, as it comes to all, and that I cannot escape it. It may take ate where it will,

I shall be content. If it be bet a change, and I live again elsewhere, I shall be glad; especially if I am then exempt front evil, in my condition which as- sail mg here ; if it be extinction of being, it will but resemble those nights When I sleep without dreaming—it will not yield any delights, lint it will not bring affright or torment. I desire not to entertain, and I do not entertain, either hope or fear. I am passive. My will is annihilated. The object of my life has been to secure the greatest amount of pleasure, that being the best thing of which we can conceive. This I have done by acting right. I have found happiness, or that which we agree to tall so, in acting in accordance with that part of my nature which prescribes the line of duty. Not in any set of philosophical opinions, not in expectation, in futurity, not in any fancies or dreams, but in the substantial reality of virtuous action. I have sought to treat both myself and others in such a way, that afterward I should not hear from either a single word of reproach. In thia way of life I have for the mos_ 13 t_pe will. art succe.e. ded, as at this one can who will apply his i powers as he may I have his boar, which it may be is the last of my life, no complaints to make or hear against myself. So, too, in regard to others. At least I know not that there is one living whom I have wronged, and to whom I owe the least reparafon. Now, there- fore, by living in the best manner for this life on earth, I have prepared myself in the beet manner for death and for another life, if there be one. If there be none, still what I have enjoyed I have enjoyed; and it has been more than any other manner of life could have afforded. So that, in any event, I am like a soldier armed at all points. To me, Piso, to die is no more than to go on to live. Both ere events. To both I am alike indifferent. I know nothing about either. A. for the pain of death, it is not worthy a moment's thought, even if it were considerable. But it appears to me that it is not. I have many times witnessed it; and it has ever seemed that death, so far from being represented by any word signifying pain, would be better expressed by one that should stand for insensibility. The nearer death, the nearer apathy. There is pain which often precedes it, in rations forme of sickness. But this is sickness, not death. Such pains we often endure and mover; worn often than apparently are eu •

ivied by those who die."