The daily national Whig. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1847-1849, 1849-05-28
G. J. INGERsOLL.

The reader, who has had the temerity to
read this authors History Of the War Of 1912,
will, we are sure, find his opinions forestall-
ed by the following admirably conceived and
finely executed criticism, from the Boston
Courier of the Gath Instant
Ingersoll again The Irishman who dug hole
down his cellar TO let the darkness out was but
a type Of this man or thing, as Mr.. Webster very
properly called him. He never opens his mouth or
ukes up his pen but the result lie an immense out
pouring Of darkness-and such darkness The mud
oi Acheron Is nothing 10 Il. The wsnderer through
Egyptian fogsa and Tartarean gloom may be said TO
move In the efiulgence OF crystalline sphere and
blue empyrean compared with the course Of him who
Is condemned to grope and founder and stumble
| through the B@otan bogs Of murky nonsense that
i fill Ingers,lrs pages. Mortal eyes never saw the
conceived OF such turbid puddle Of psychological
eops the brain Of the author. Its perfect Dead
Sea of dulness, Dismal Swamp Of black and sleepy
| stupidity, where ray Of light never penetrated: a
4 gulf OF unfahomable emptiness, with clouds and
thick darkness for covering, and an immensely Of
| nothing Within
| The hodge, odge Of trash which Is here called
history Is tho second part Of lngersoPs great
work" After the universal explosion Of laughter
which followed the publication Of his FIRST volume
one might have supposed he would have been saiisf-
ed with the bountfu portion Of public rdicule which
had fallen 10 his share. But no. This man walks
under shield Of seyen.fod asses skin: he is case.
hardened aga INST the public derision. His beasy
behavior In the case OF Mr.. Webster, In which his
buneling hand branded his own forehead with the
titles Of fasiier and caumniator without his uterinp
a syllable OF apology for the outrage he committed
shows tho obtuslty Of his intellect and his totnl in
sensibiliiy TO shame. He write a history A man
should have some small modirum Of character to do
this; some infinitesimal portion Of credit with the
public 10 gain belief for what he says. But who
would take the smallest thing on the word Of Charles
J. Ingersoll2
Words cannot describe tho labor OF going through
cage Of this inflated trash The toll of thieves In
the treadml, of Iriehmen in the docks, Of galley
slaves at the oar, Is nothing 10 the wear
some task Of going through Ingersolrs pa
ges Of dreary nothingness. The man has not a
clear idea definite conception Of anything under
the sun. His mind is farragnious chowder OF
irumpery where 1t ie impossible to make head or tail
of any particle of the ingredients. His language Is
SNAIL Of unmeaning vocabes, setting all syniax Mt
defiance his words arc shovel|ed out heller skeler,
like potatoes from cart, without any care where
the respectable English tongue so cruelty tomahaw-
ked; never was such smoky mess cooked up TO
regale reader of history. Tautology, fnstian bonn
bas bahos In understandable profuslon and confusion,
ar Ineersolrs beauties The stagnant mre of his
understanding is drbbled page after page through
murderous rents In English grammar, and inefiabIc
monstrosiiies of balderdash eloquence and the man
goes on delivering his rebound brains Of one
mooncaf of precious nonsense after another with
out the smallest suspicion what doll he Is Bray
cd in mortar Of scorn and rdicule he has been,
departed. | am not slut" says Audrey, though
thank the gods nm foul.n The founess Of In
gersol in like manner Is the thing In which he glo
rez